“No,” I agree.
“You okay?” Radimir asks me.
As my right-hand man, my Sovietnik, and most importantly my trusted friend, he wants to make sure that I am all right with everything that’s transpired.
“No, but I will be. Eventually,” I admit with a shrug.
“You’ll be better when you’re home with your girls. When you can touch and hug them; when you know that they are safe,” Maxim says.
I turn my head slightly to take him in and see that he’s staring out at nothing. He’s not really with us, but transported back to the past. He’s thinking of Maryia, a girl who was taken at a young age and sold into the hands of a monster. When he was tired of her, he sold her to somebody else.
The girls are handed and used from man to man until they’re no use to anybody at all, and then they are most likely disposed of, like animals. To the men that buy them, they are nothing but possessions, they are not people at all.
I don’t understand men who can treat human life in such a way. Women are beautiful, all of them, and to use and throw them away? I can’t comprehend it. My phone rings in my pocket and I groan at the name.
“Papa,” I answer.
“Your mother and I will be at your wedding. We’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” he says. I feel like shit for not keeping in closer contact with the old bastard.
“I should have called sooner. I have been preoccupied,” I admit.
“Sergei has filled me in, syn, I understand. You have to take care of your house and your business. With what he tells me has been happening, you have needed all of your concentration,” he says.
I nod as if he can see me, thankful for my father’s understanding. I know, however, that my mother will not be as understanding. She won’t say anything. She’ll bite her tongue, but I’ll be able to see the disappointment shining in her eyes clearly.
“Plan on staying for a while when you come, yeah? Meet Kiska and get to know Tati,” I offer.
When my father retired, they moved to Arizona, claiming my mother needed to get away from the smog in the city. Reality? My father loves their golf courses, and he needed to get away from his women; plus, an entire group of Bratva men and their wives retired at the same time. They spend their days golfing and their nights drinking vodka and partying as if they are still young kids. They love it.
“Yes, your mother would enjoy that. See you Friday evening,” my father announces before he hangs up the phone.
I shake my head with a smile on my face. It has been too long since I’ve seen my parents. I miss them, especially my father and his sound advice. I look up and connect eyes with Ziven, who has the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, and he’s grinning.
“What did you find out?” I ask.
“Their Pakhan, their El Jefe, is in the city, at a hotel, waiting,” he grins.
I call MadDog over and within minutes we’ve raided their hotel room and have their boss. El Jefe. He looks like a fucking pussy, but maybe that’s because we have him stripped naked and tied to a chair in MadDog’s warehouse, the blood and guts of his Capos at his feet.
I grin at him and watch his eyes wander around the room, taking in each of us. Some of us Russian, some of us bikers, and all of us men not to fuck with.
El Jefe is going to tell me what I want to hear before he joins his men in hell—even if it takes me all night long to get it out of him.
I PRESS MY HAND to my belly as I look at myself in the mirror. I move my arm around and look at the new cast. It’s a prototype that some fancy celebrity specialty doctor Kirill found has developed.
It’s called a Cortex Exoskeletal cast and it’s made of a recyclable polyamide material. It’s able to get wet, and has an intricate design that looks almost like lace against my arm. I was happy to see the big, bulky, uncomfortable cast go, and this one take its place. The doctor said I would be wearing it for the next five weeks or so.
“It almost matches your dress,” Ashley says from the door.
I turn and invite her into my room. I watch as she closes the door behind her and walks over to the chair by my sliding glass backdoor.
“Are you okay?” I ask as I sit down on the bed across from her.
“I should be. I should be happy to just be alive,” she murmurs.
“I’m here, talk to me,” I urge.
Kirill called me this morning to inform me that they would be home tomorrow evening—Friday evening, the day before our nuptials. Yakov will be back as well. I wonder if Ashley doesn’t want him to return, for whatever reason.
“I love him, I really do,” she sniffles.
“But?”
“With him being raised by Ivan and then the Bratva, I’m not sure he’s capable of loving me in return,” she says, looking down at her feet.
I’ve heard horror stories of Yakov and Emiliya’s father, Ivan Chekov. I don’t know how strong but sweet Emiliya was raised by such a monster, but if she can turn out the way she has, that means that goodness flows through Yakov as well.
“These men, they show their love differently than regular men,” I offer with a smile.
I watch as her spine straightens and she gives me a jerky nod before she stands.
“You’re right. I’m being silly. Maybe I just miss him. We haven’t been apart for more than a few hours since…” she doesn’t finish her thought, but instead gives me a watery smile and starts to walk out of my bedroom.
“Wait,” I call out. When she’s reached the door handle, she turns and faces me, waiting for me to finish my thought. “He loves you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Ashley.”
“Thank you,” she whispers before she leaves.
I feel badly. I feel as though she was looking for something, searching, and I wasn’t able to give it to her. I think that she needs a friend, a shoulder to lean on and cry on, one that won’t judge or try to fix anything. Someone to just vent to, who she can trust implicitly.
I want to be that for her, to help her with whatever is wrong. Maybe if I keep in contact with her, prove to her that I am a good friend and confidant, she will trust me, eventually. I have a feeling Ashley doesn’t trust all that easily.
I sigh and head out to the living area to help prepare dinner for the house, the last night it will be just us girls with Alex and Oliver. Tomorrow night all the men come back, and as excited as I am to see Kirill again, I’m also nervous about the wedding and the future.
I’m changing my entire life again, in just a short amount of time. I’m giving up my job, and being dependent on Kirill, and trusting in our future and our marriage. It scares me, but there is so much excitement and anticipation that the fear takes a backseat to the other feelings bursting out of me.
As soon as we hear that the men are in town, Haleigh and Emiliya force me to pack a bag and go with them. Apparently, they don’t want Kirill to see me before the wedding. I don’t think that he will be very happy with this turn of events, but I don’t voice my opinion. They’re so excited and adamant.
Once I am at Emiliya’s, I help her settle baby Rad and then start her laundry for her. I send her to bed to sleep. I don’t mind helping her out while I can. Kiska is still at my home with Alex, Oliver, Sonia, and Ashley, waiting for the men to arrive.
I jump when the front door flies open and Radimir’s giant frame fills the space. His eyes narrow on me and then he smirks. I almost melt on the spot. He’s hot—big, strong and scary, but hot as hell.
“Kirill is out of his mind,” he chuckles. My heart starts to pound in my chest at the thought of Kirill being upset.
“I should go. I don’t want him to be upset,” I murmur.
“Nyet. Sonia told him where you were. They were going over the wedding costs when I left. You may want to wait until he comes to you,” he chuckles. My face pales.
“How much was everything? Sonia never told me prices, she just started booking and buying things,” I whisper.
“Not to worry, Tati he can afford it. Wher
e’s Emiliya?” he asks as he closes the door behind him and drops his bag on the floor.
“I sent her to bed. She was tired,” I shrug.
“And Radoslav?” he asks, inquiring about his son.
“Asleep as well,” I say.
“What aren’t you telling me?” he asks, narrowing his eyes on me. I widen my own at his question and shake my head.
“That you are to be a father again,” Emiliya murmurs from the top of the stairs.
I watch in awe as Radimir turns and freezes at the sight of his sleepy wife at the top of the stairs. Her hair is messy, her makeup nonexistent, and her outfit a pair of short cotton shorts and a tank top. Nevertheless, she looks radiant. I feel like a voyeur watching them, watching this intimate exchange. Without another word, I sneak out of the living room to go to the backyard.
“You’re having my baby?” I hear him choke out as I close the door behind me.
Slowly, I make my way over to the pool and sit down on the edge, letting my feet and legs dangle into the cool water. Its calming and serene and quiet, something I haven’t had a lot of since my accident. Something I didn’t realize I missed. I close my eyes and just let the last minutes of the sun shine down on me before dusk fully takes over.
“Come home, krushka,” a raspy voice murmurs from behind me.
I jump slightly and turn to see Kirill. He’s dressed in a pair of nice, slate gray slacks and a navy blue shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His blue tattoos are on display, and my mouth waters at the sight of him. It feels like it’s been a lifetime since his hands were on me, touching and caressing my skin. I feel my nipples pebble at the thought.
“Krushka?” he chuckles as his eyes darken.
“I missed you,” I admit with a shrug as I stand. I slip my sandals on and make my way to him, placing my hand and my casted arm on his chest.
“This is pretty; much better than that godawful thing the hospital put you in, yeah?” he grins, looking down at my white cast resting against his dark shirt.
“Yes, it’s much better,” I admit, unable to look away from his face. I missed his eyes, the way they express what he is feeling when he allows them. I missed everything. “I should tell Radimir and Emiliya I’m leaving.”
“I text him already. Come home, Tati,” he grunts, his voice low and only for my ears.
“Okay,” I whisper.
I walk past Anton, Emiliya’s Byki, on my way to Kirill’s car. I smile and give him a small wave. He doesn’t react, his eyes following us until we are out of sight. Anton stayed with us the entire time the men were gone, but he was like a ghost. I forgot he was even around. When I asked Emiliya why he was so quiet, she only shrugged and said he talked her ear off all of the time.
“Tomorrow I make you my wife—tonight you dance for me,” he grins, taking me away from my thoughts of the quiet Anton.
“With this thing?” I ask, holding my arm up a bit as I slide into the seat of the car. I watch as he walks around the car then he starts the engine before he turns in his seat to face me.
“That thing doesn’t stop you from dancing for your man. Now, as long as you’re feeling okay, I need you, Tatyana,” he mumbles as his lips brush mine with nothing but a whisper of a promise. My body shivers and I nod as the car surges forward down the street.
The house is empty when we step inside. Empty and quiet. I look at Kirill in question and he shrugs.
“Kiska wanted to spend some time with her grandpa,” he grins. I know that he’s sent her to stay with him for the night.
We don’t bother doing anything except head toward the bedroom. I want to give him a show, and I want to give it to him with some of the new lingerie I’ve purchased. I don’t bother looking back at Kirill as I make my way into the closet.
I close the door behind me and sink down to the bottom drawer of the built in dresser. The panties I choose aren’t ones I bought at the expensive shop. No, I ordered them online. They are by far the most provocative thing I have ever worn. Sheer pink panties, almost the exact color of my skin, and crotchless. I slide into a pair of my stage heels and open the closet door.
Kirill is lying with the sheet pulled up to his waist, and he’s completely naked. One flick of my eyes to the pile of clothes at the side of the bed confirms it. I look back at him and he grins as his eyes travel up my body and then to my face.
“I want to tell you to dance, but I’m torn. I want to just fuck you, too,” he says.
“I’m dancing, put some music on,” I laugh.
I wait for him to fiddle with his phone and then music fills the room. There aren’t any words, just a slow, sexy beat, and I start to dance. I don’t want him to see just how sexy my panties are yet, so I dance as coyly as possible. It isn’t until I crawl up his body that I give him a sneak peak of my panties. I hear his intake of breath when he notices.
“Tati,” he groans when he reaches down and slides one of his fingers through my exposed center.
“I need you, Kirill,” I murmur before one of his fingers pumps inside of me.
“I want you, but I don’t want to hurt you. I want you to ride me. First, I need you to ride my face until you come,” he demands as he takes his finger from my pussy and wraps both of his hands around my waist.
I gasp as he slides himself beneath me until his head is resting on the pillow instead of the headboard. When he turns his head and his lips touch the inside of my thigh in a gentle kiss, I moan; then he bites down on my sensitive flesh and I can’t hold back my whimper.
“Get that pussy over here, krushka,” he orders. I comply.
I place my knees on each side of his head and I slowly sink down to his face. When I am only centimeters away, he grabs ahold of my waist and forces me down against his mouth while his tongue snakes out and licks my entire core. I instantly grab onto the headboard with my un-casted hand for support as I cry out.
“Ride, Tati,” he demands.
Without another thought, without being able to think, I grind my pussy against his face. The roughness of his beard against my thighs makes my skin break out in goosebumps. I move my hand from the headboard, sinking it into his thick hair as his tongue flattens against my clit before he sucks it into his mouth.
Throwing back my head, I moan as I grip his hair even tighter. I slowly move my hips in a circular motion as his tongue begins to flick my clit over and over. I can feel my orgasm building. My thighs begin to shake against him and then I ignite, weeks of sexual frustration bubbling into one giant eruption against Kirill’s tongue.
My fingers grip his hair as I try to catch my breath, but before I do, Kirill is moving me down his body and I feel his dick lined up to my center. I sigh as he pulls me down on his hard cock. Slowly, I open my eyes after I am fully seated on him. I reach up to his face, with my thumb, and I wipe the evidence of my orgasm away from his lips.
“Moyo zolotse,” he grunts.
“I missed this,” I murmur.
“Me too. I thought I would never have it again,” he whispers as his eyes, full of a raging storm, focus on mine.
I don’t reply with words; instead, I use my body. I ride him, achingly slow. I feel every single inch of him fill me every time I rise and fall down on his cock. His fingers grip my thighs tightly, bruising my skin, causing the slightest bit of pain—it’s perfect.
“Stay still, Tati. Take me,” he grunts. I can see the light sheen of sweat covering his chest.
I do as he asks, staying on my knees and keeping my body still. Kirill surges inside of me from beneath my body and I let my head fall back with a moan. His hands move up to my waist, and with all of his strength, he fucks me. I want to move. I want to chase my release, but he won’t let me. He’s in control.
“Play with that pretty clit, Tatyana. I want to watch you come this time,” he grinds out. Immediately, one of my hands flies to my pussy.
“Eye’s on me,” he demands.
I lift my head and open my eyes, focusing on Kirill as he takes
me higher and higher until I detonate around him. My pussy clenches as my body completely freezes.
“Keep playing with your clit,” he grinds out. My hand moves automatically at his command.
I continue to rub quick circles against my clit, and it draws out my orgasm while he fills me from below, hard and fast until he too freezes and his cock twitches inside of me. Kirill’s loud groan fills the room as his cum fills my pussy. I gasp when he wraps his arms around my back and pulls me down against his chest.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks. His hands trail down my back to my ass and back up.
“No, it was amazing,” I say as I blush and bury my face in his neck.
“Tomorrow, you’re finally to be my wife,” he says as he plays with my hair. One hand grips my ass, the other playing with the hair that’s resting against my back.
“And you’ll be my husband,” I agree.
“This is how it was always meant to be,” he murmurs as his lips brush against the shaved part of my head.
“I’m quitting the club,” I blurt out.
“Did you have a choice?” he chuckles as he squeezes my ass with his fingers.
“Promise me our relationship won’t change,” I whisper, lifting my head to look into his eyes.
“I will never promise you that,” he states, clenching his jaw.
I don’t say a word, my eyes falling to his neck as I try to keep from crying.
“Look at me,” he demands. I do. I lift my face and I let my eyes connect with his. “Our relationship will change every day, Tatyana. It will get better. I will fall in love with you more, and you with me. We will learn even more things about each other; and then when I watch you bring our next child into the world, it will change yet again. We will forever change, forever grow, and forever fall deeper in love.”
I look at him, staring at him in silence for a beat. Then, without a word in response, I press my lips to his and I take him in a deep, thorough kiss. I moan into his mouth when I feel him shift his hips and start to lift them, lazily fucking me.
Dancing for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 3) Page 26
