I quickly pull on my panties and shorts, ignoring the fact that his cum is starting to drip out of me. I follow behind him toward the bedroom. “Timofei,” I call out. He stops, not facing me, but waiting for me to talk to his back.
“I didn’t think you’d be upset that I was talking to a girlfriend. I don’t understand why you’re so angry with me. Why do you want to isolate me?” I ask, my voice firm. Inside, I’m a shaking, scared mess.
“You’re mine,” he states again. I wait for more. I watch and wait. Then he spins around, his face unreadable and completely expressionless. “You. Are. Mine, Devyn. Your old life doesn’t exist. You only see your family or talk to them with my permission. You may think that this marriage bridged some sort of gap, and it did, but not enough that you’re free to do as you wish. You’ll never have that freedom, Devyn.”
I blink at his words, wondering when he thought I’d ever had freedom in my life. “I’ve never been free, Fei,” I murmur. His eyes sweep down my body before he looks at me again, leveling me with his harsh gaze.
“You were free to lose your virginity,” he grunts.
I jerk back as though he’s physically hurt me, causing him to wince before he schools his features again.
I press my lips together, my eyes completely focused on him, but not wishing to say anything to further this argument. Then I suck in a ragged breath and accept his orders, his terms. In reality, I don’t have any choice but to do so. “Okay, Timofei. I’m sorry. I’ll ask you next time,” I relent on a whisper.
He nods before he turns away from me, again, and walks over to the side of the bed. Sitting down, he picks up the phone and I watch him, listening to him speak rapidly in French for a few moments before he murmurs a merci and hangs up.
“Clean up, dinner will be here shortly. We’ll be dining on the balcony,” he announces, his eyes on me. I nod and turn to walk to the bathroom. “Wear a dress,” he barks.
I detour to the closet and find a pretty light blue dress that Brenna packed for me, then snatch up a new pair of white lacey panties.
I hurry to the bathroom and decide to take a quick shower to rinse off. I didn’t do much today, but Timofei’s release sliding down my thighs makes me feel unclean and untidy. Once I rinse and dry off, I slip on my new panties. They’re bikini cut, but the back is completely see through, making them sexy with coverage.
I don’t bother putting my bra back on. I didn’t grab a strapless one, and this dress has spaghetti straps. It hangs loosely over my body and hits around mid-thigh, but you can’t see any part of my shape beneath. It’s just a light, pale blue, summery dress, nothing overly sexy or fancy. It would actually be perfect for touring the city, which I know Timofei has promised we’ll do. I’m wondering, after spending the day alone, if that will actually happen.
Running a brush through my hair, I don’t bother styling it. I let it fall down my back in soft waves. We’re not going anywhere, dinner is right here, and there’s no reason to make myself up completely. Timofei has already seen me makeup-less. There’s nothing to hide from him, really. We’re married now.
“What were you doing in there?” he asks as I open the door and step outside into the cool balcony. The sun has completely set, and the city lights twinkle all around us, reminding me of home.
“I took a quick shower,” I shrug.
He arches a brow in question as I walk over to the empty chair at the table. I spy the tray that’s been wheeled in with covered domed plates. “Duck confit,” he murmurs, lifting the dome.
It looks like an entire duck breast is sitting on top of a pile of beans and potatoes. My eyes widen as I sit down and take in the dish. I didn’t think to question French food, something I’ve never had before, but this doesn’t look appealing at all.
“Just try it,” Timofei grunts as he sets the plate in front of me. “If you hate, it I’ll order you a hamburger and fries.”
I watch as he sits down across from me and places his own plate in front of him. I start to pick at my meat with my fork and then hesitantly slide it into my mouth. It’s surprisingly delicious, and I’m grateful. I haven’t eaten in what feels like days.
“You need to be ready by eight-thirty tomorrow morning. You can grab some pastries at the café downstairs before we leave for the day,” he announces. I nod, keeping my eyes trained on my food.
“Okay,” I breathe as I take another bite of the duck, kind of afraid to try the potato concoction it sits on.
We finish our meal in silence; and though I don’t look up, I can feel Timofei’s eyes on me the entire time. I want to talk to him, to get to know him, but I don’t know how. He’s such a contradiction. One minute he seems almost normal, open and even approachable. The next minute he’s bossy, angry, and completely shut off.
“I didn’t order dessert. You can order something if you want to. I don’t care for sweets,” he states. I look up at him in surprise. Who doesn’t like sweets? I think to myself.
“I don’t need it,” I murmur.
“Suit yourself.”
I clear our plates, placing them on the tray before I wheel it against the empty wall to the side. I don’t return back to my seat. Instead, I walk a little further to the balcony rail, and lean against it, looking at the street below us.
It isn’t terribly late, and there are people milling around, some leisurely, some in a hurry. I wonder where they’re going, if they have loved ones waiting for them, or if any will be like me and locked away until another day.
Timofei’s heat is at my back, and I feel him shift my hair to the side before his lips touch my neck. This is why I thought we could be more, why I thought we could fall in love, because of moments like this one. Brenna was not as wrong as he claims she was. She warned me not to fall, not to hope, and yet, like a fool, I keep doing it.
One of his hands wraps around the side of my waist while his lips continue to kiss the side of my neck. I move my head slightly to give him more access. If I’m going to be in a marriage where I’m isolated, at least my husband—when he’s around—gives me sweet attention.
Things could be much worse.
I need to keep reminding myself of that.
I suck in a breath when the hand at my waist slides down my thigh and under the hem of my dress. Timofei’s fingers drag up the middle of my thigh until they’re pressing against my center over my panties. His other hand slips beneath the top of my dress and cups my breast. I shiver in his hold when he plucks my nipple.
“Don’t ignore me, Devvy,” he murmurs against my neck as his fingers gently brush my center.
I want more of his touch; I want him inside of me. My body needs him as though he wasn’t there just hours ago.
The breeze blows and I freeze, realizing we’re outside. Though we’re fairly high up, we’re facing a street and definitely not hidden from the world around us. “Relax. Take your panties off,” he murmurs as he moves his hand. I feel him wrestling with his pants behind me, and I wonder if we’ll be naked again, or if he’ll continue to take me whenever he feels like it, fully clothed and all.
I slip my panties down my legs, my heart beating in my chest at how exposed I feel just by removing that small scrap of fabric. Spreading my legs, I grab onto the railing and tip my hips, trying to anticipate his next move.
I drop my head when I feel his bare length slide through my center, touching my clit before he brings it back and does it again. His hand at my breast squeezes as he pushes the head of his cock against my opening. I tip my hips a little more as he eases himself completely inside of me.
“If you ignore me again, especially during a meal, I’ll paint your ass red. I don’t care how pissed off you are at me, it’s unacceptable,” he grinds out as he moves his palm from my breast to grip my hips with both of his hands.
My breath escapes my lungs when he plunges inside of me, hard and unrelenting. He sets a pace that causes my eyes to water. It’s rough and brutal. It’s more than we’ve done, and my center is alread
y sensitive from the amount of times he’s been inside me since we’ve been married. I’m unable to keep from crying out as he ruthlessly uses my body.
Tears I thought had all been cried form and fall from my eyes and down my cheeks. I watch as they hit the concrete of the balcony floor beneath me. If he notices, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t slow down his rough pace. It hurts, and I pinch my eyes closed, trying to relax, but it does no good. There’s no relaxing. He’s slamming into me too hard and too quickly.
I hold onto the railing tighter, my hands becoming slick with sweat and losing their grip. I try to calm my breathing, hoping that it will all be over with soon. I feel myself becoming light headed, and I hope that I don’t pass out.
“Fuck,” he moans behind me. “So tight, devochka,” he groans. I think he’s going to slow, that maybe he’s done, but he doesn’t. He isn’t. He speeds up, and his thrusts become more erratic, and though I thought it impossible—harder. “Goddamn,” he roars and finally stops. I can hear him panting behind me. Surely he’s exhausted himself.
He gently pumps in and out of me a few more times before completely pulling out and taking a step back. My dress falls back over my hips. I don’t have the strength to move. I’m also afraid to walk, afraid that it’s going to hurt even more than it already does.
“Don’t ignore me again, devochka,” he growls.
I hear the door close to the balcony, and I can tell that I’m alone. Letting my knees buckle, I fall to the ground. His release is sliding down my thighs, but I don’t care. My tears have stopped falling, and I gaze out through the slats in the railing to the city around me.
The city of love on my honeymoon. It feels more like a nightmare. It’s the reality I always thought I would have. The man is a different nationality, but his personality is harsh, unrelenting, and unyielding—just like I had always imaged.
My future. A bleak existence of having sex with him the way he desires. Carrying his children, birthing them, and raising them over and over again. Then one day we’ll be left alone and we live a quiet co-existence—him having affairs and me continuing to be completely isolated and alone. I’ll only be living for my children, and grandchildren, to visit me until the day I die.
“Please, God, don’t ever let me bring a daughter into this world,” I pray into the cool Parisian air.
My walk did nothing but put me in a bad mood. I thought if I took some time to myself to reflect, that I would come back to the hotel and to Devyn more centered.
Hearing her talking on the phone sent me into a jealous rage, and I didn’t handle that well. I didn’t care who she was talking to, though my first thoughts went to whomever it was she lost her virginity to. Then she ignored me throughout dinner, and it angered me even more.
After leaving her outside and taking a hot shower, I decide to get a drink from the wet bar. I need to calm my fucking ass down.
Being wound up like this isn’t good. I learned that lesson shortly after my mother died. I was collecting dues from one of our associates, and he didn’t have the money he should have. He tried to short me, and without thinking, I killed him.
I lost control.
I learned a lesson a long fucking time ago, a dead man can’t repay his debts. You never kill someone who owes you money unless it’s your only option—your last resort. I felt that same rage today when I heard Devyn on the phone, unknowing of who exactly she was talking to, but imagining the worst. It’s not a good fucking thing to feel, that rage, that instability. It makes me sick after the adrenaline has left my body.
Pouring a tumbler almost to the top with vodka, I take two healthy gulps before I finally decide to go in search of my young wife. I’m sure I was a little too rough with her earlier. I felt raw, I felt open, and I didn’t give a fuck if she got pleasure out of it or not. It was about me, my control, my dominance, and my fucking power.
Power.
Power is something I’ve struggled with my entire life. In Brighton Beach, growing up, I was someone. I could do whatever I wanted, the prince of the Bratva. I was fucking untouchable. Yet, as soon as I walked through the front door to my home, all power was stripped. I had nothing, something my father drilled into my head time and time again. I was nothing without him, nothing but a little worthless cunt.
Now, feeling powerless is not a goddamn option. I’m a man, and I fucking refuse. Except tonight, I felt myself losing grip on it, and I had to reclaim it the only way I knew how—but at what cost?
Walking around the suite, my drink in my hand, I look for her. She’s nowhere to be found, so I make my way back out to the balcony, sure that she can’t still be outside in the cool, dark night.
My eyes land on her. She’s exactly where I left her, except she’s on her knees and looking out through the slats of the balcony’s railing.
“Devochka moya,” I whisper.
She doesn’t move a muscle, and I’m sure she’s completely lost in her own head. Bending over, I set my drink down before I wrap my hands beneath her armpits and lift her body upright. I slide one of my arms beneath her knees and cradle her to my chest. I don’t bother looking at her face, not sure I’ll be able to handle the pain that’s assuredly there from my ill treatment.
Devyn doesn’t struggle as I take her to bed and lay her down on the soft comforter. I pull the sheets back on the opposite side and then move her gently to lie her head down on the pillow. I strip her dress off and toss it into a pile on the floor before I cover her naked body with the sheet.
Turning and walking away, I head back to my abandoned vodka and pick it up, finishing it in one gulp as I look out at my favorite city.
I need to get my head on straight. I need to get my shit together if I’m going to take over my father’s regime. I can’t lose control like that again. My desire for Devyn, for her complete surrender, it cannot be greater than my desire to take over the Bratva.
I move back to the bedroom and curse when I see her vacant eyes looking back at me from the bed. I strip out of my clothes and turn the light off before I crawl between the sheets next to her. Gathering her in my arms, I pull her small body against my chest. She stiffens for a few breathes before she finally relents and relaxes.
“It wasn’t my intention to hurt you,” I murmur into the dark.
I place my lips against the top of her head. Her body shakes slightly, and I wonder if she’s crying; but then she speaks, and her voice is clear of tears.
“I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t mean to go against your rules. Now I know, and I’ll do better. I’ll be better,” she whispers. It makes me feel like the biggest piece of shit on the planet.
“Devvy,” I murmur. I pull her closer to me, probably squeezing her too tightly, but not wishing to release her. “You’re fine, devochka. This is as new for you as it is with me. There are some big changes on the horizon, and I don’t always handle things well under pressure,” it’s not an apology, but then again it is. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow, it’s just you and me.”
“Okay,” she sighs.
I comb my fingers through her hair until her body finally completely relaxes and her breathing slows.
I don’t sleep. I replay tonight’s events on a loop in my head, over and over again. I hiss to myself, thinking about how truly rough I was. I was a fucking bastard. I don’t know how other men are with their wives in private, but I don’t want to be a harsh tyrant, and I certainly do not want Devyn to be scared of me.
There’s no denying after this evening that she’s probably terrified of me. I have some fucking work ahead of me tomorrow. The last thing I need is for her to be frightened of me, especially since our journey is about to get a whole lot fucking rougher as soon as we return home.
I WAKE WITH A start. Then I gasp and my eyes widen as they travel down to the blond hair that’s between my legs. I can’t control my moan when his tongue swirls around my clit. My hands fly to his hair, and I rake my fingernails down his scalp. Timofei lifts his gaze and looks up at me with hoode
d eyes as he sucks my clit into his mouth.
“Fei,” I sigh, rolling my hips closer to him. I can feel his beard against the sides of my thighs, and the sensation makes me shiver.
When his tongue moves down and spears inside of me, I throw my head back and arch even closer. I want all of him touching all of me. His mouth feels magnificent against my sore pussy. “Don’t stop, please,” I shamelessly breathe.
Timofei growls and continues to eat at me. He licks and sucks my clit before he fucks me with his tongue. In the back of my mind, I know that he’s been doing it a while, and I’m nowhere near coming, but it feels too good to say anything. I accept everything he’s giving me, the attention he’s showing me—selfishly.
When his nose nuzzles my clit, it sends a zing straight to my belly, and I lift my head. With a chuckle, he pulls away from me as I whine. He then slowly crawls up my body.
Wordlessly, he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth before he gently kisses and sucks on the rest of my breast, paying close attention to the underside. I find myself sighing at the sweet feeling. He moves and does the exact same to the other side before he kisses up my neck and presses the head of his cock against my center.
“I won’t hurt you again, devochka,” he murmurs before his lips brush mine.
I taste myself on him, and with a moan, he gently fills my body. His tongue swipes across my lips, and I open for him. I’m full of him, and he surrounds me completely. When he breaks our kiss, his blue eyes connect with mine as he gently rocks in and out of my body.
“Fei,” I rasp, hitching my legs up further.
One of his hands slips from beside my head to wrap around the back of my knee, and he spreads me, holding me open for him. His other hand moves to the back of my head and he presses a little more of his weight against me as he thrusts.
“Just because you’re my wife, Devvy, doesn’t mean I have the right to hurt you,” he murmurs against my lips.
Betrothed to the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 8) Page 8
