Living for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 4)

by Hayley Faiman

  “It’s my strongest desire for you, pchelka, your happiness,” I murmur as my eyes search hers.

  “We want such different things, and I know I’m not the type of woman you want at your side,” she says quietly as her eyes drop.

  My fingers flex and I close my eyes for a beat before I open them. I shake her a tad and she lifts her eyes to show me the hurt swimming in her light brown irises.

  “I didn’t mean them, those things I said,” I whisper.

  The look of pure hurt on her face, in her eyes, is enough to bring me to my knees.

  “You don’t want children. You don’t want me as your wife,” she announces.

  “Tell me what you want, Ashley. Whatever you want, I will give to you. If you want children, I’ll give them to you. If you want to wear my ring and be Mrs. Chekova, you will be. Name it and it’s yours,” I say.

  “I don’t want you to give me those things to try and keep me. We’ll end up resenting each other. I want those things with somebody who wants them as well. I want to be happy, but I want you to be happy too, Yakov.”

  “You make me happy, Ashley. Just you,” I mutter as I roll on top of her and cage her head between my arms.

  I don’t allow her to talk again. I don’t want to hear anymore; all I want is for her to feel me. I want to show her just how much I love her, and that I want only her. I rock my hips forward and rub my cock between the folds of her pussy and against her clit as I bury my hands in her hair and my tongue down her throat.

  I lift my hips and then slowly slide my cock inside of her hot cunt. Moaning inside of her mouth at the way she fits around me—like she was meant for only me. Ashley lifts her legs and presses them against the sides of my ribs, just the way I’ve taught her. But I don’t want that from her, obedience or training. I want her to just feel, nothing more.

  “I want to make love to you, pchelka. I want you to just feel me; don’t worry about anything else, just relax,” I whisper against her lips.

  Ashley’s legs hesitantly slide down and then wrap around my thighs. I pull out of her slightly before rocking back inside. She gasps as she arches her back and neck.

  Gently, I kiss the center of her throat before I rise a little higher on my knees, wrapping my hands around her waist as I look down at her.

  I continue to gently rock in and out of her body, feeling her take me, feeling her wrap around me, and enjoying something that has never happened between us before. This woman undoes me. She’s made for only me. But I need to give her some semblance of control as well, she needs to take from me.

  “What…” she begins to ask.

  “I’m going to lie down and I want you to take me inside of you. I want you to be in complete control. Ride me and enjoy it,” I murmur as I slide completely out of her and roll over to lie on my back.

  “Yakov,” she says hesitantly.

  “You’ve never been on top before, have you?” I ask.

  The question makes me feel like shit. I should have allowed her to do this, allowed her to take her pleasure, allowed her the freedom to feel for herself.

  “Not with just one man,” she whispers.

  I close my eyes, knowing what her words mean and hating them.

  Yet, my desire for her doesn’t wane.

  Her horrors don’t make her less beautiful or less desirable to me, no matter what I said all those months ago. Those words were meant to hurt her, because I knew it then like I know it now—I don’t deserve her.

  I climb on top of Yakov, straddling him, unsure of what to do next. He holds the base of his dick and lines it up with my pussy before wrapping his hand around my waist and putting pressure on me to sink down. I do, shuddering when I’m fully seated. Yakov’s hands skim my waist on their way up to my breasts. He cups them in his big hands before he pinches my nipples and gently tugs on them.

  “I’m yours to do with as you wish,” he mutters.

  I can’t stop the smile that spreads on my face at that. Never have I been in the position to do anything but follow Yakov’s instructions, in or out of the bedroom.

  I lift slightly and then slide back down, watching how his mouth gapes slightly and his blue eyes darken. He continues to play with my breasts, squeezing the flesh, pinching and tugging on my nipples before gently massaging them. As he alternates between movements, it feels so good that I begin to forget about watching his expressions as I roll my hips and enjoy the freedom of my own movements.

  “You’re so sexy, pchelka,” Yakov says huskily.

  “It feels different like this,” I whisper.

  “Yeah, you’re in charge now,” he mutters. “Soak it up.”

  I ride him slowly, rolling my hips and just feeling him inside of me, hitting me so different than he ever has before. I love it. I feel his thumb press against my clit and my eyes widen.

  “You feel so good, I’m going to come soon,” he grunts. It’s then that I notice the sweat on his forehead and the way his teeth are clenched together.

  I’m close, and when his thumb begins to rub against my clit, it doesn’t take long for me to come completely undone above him. My thighs shake and I gasp as my orgasm rolls through my body. Then I fall forward, placing my hands beside his head as I press my chest against his.

  “I belong inside of you, Ashley,” he whispers into my ear as his hips surge and he moves inside of me.

  “Jacob,” I whimper as he continues to thrust his hips from underneath me. I’m completely boneless and unable to move, but I’m enjoying the way he feels.

  “Just let me be where I belong,” he rumbles.

  I do.

  I let him be where he belongs as he continues to thrust in and out of my body. I bury my face in his neck and inhale the scent I’ve missed so much. I slide my fingers into his hair and hold onto his black locks. Gently, but firmly, I grip the strands as his hands grip my hips. Then, I hear him grunt in my ear over and over again. It’s the sexiest thing in the world, next to the sound he makes when he comes.

  “Oh, my,” I gasp as a second orgasm suddenly overtakes me.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” he rumbles. I feel him surge inside of me and then his cock twitches as he fills me with his release. “Such beauty. You give me such beauty, every time,” he murmurs, his breath hot and heavy against my ear.

  I open my mouth to speak when there’s a knock on my door. I shift and Yakov slips from me. I miss him there. It felt so good. He’s right. He was exactly where he belongs and exactly where I want him, always.

  My feelings for him haven’t changed. I thought that if I saw him again they might, but they haven’t. I still love him and I want only him. I must also admit that I don’t know if we want the same things out of life, He’s right, I deserve the life I want. As does he.

  “Go in the bathroom and clean up, I’ll see who’s at the door,” he grunts. I do as he suggests and hurry to the bathroom as he’s slipping his pants over his hips.

  I wrap my robe around myself after I use the restroom and tie my messy hair into a knot. There are men’s voices filling the living room and I hurry out, afraid that Yakov and Mika are fighting again. I am surprised to see Ziven in my living room, and then my eyes widen when I realize that I’m supposed to be ready for work.

  “I see you won’t be to the office on time this morning?” he asks with a knowing smile.

  “I’ll bring her in as soon as she is ready,” Yakov announces.

  “Ashley?” Ziven asks with an arched brow.

  “Yes, Yakov can take me. It’s going to take me a while to be ready,” I murmur.

  “I’ll let Kirill know to expect you later, then,” he smiles.

  I want to roll my eyes as his gaze shifts from Yakov to me over and over again with a coy smile on his lips.

  “Well then, I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing,” he chuckles before he turns and walks out of my apartment.

  My eyes widen as I see Mika standing right outside my door, taking in Yakov’s shirtless state and me—obvio
usly just out of bed and wrapped in a robe. His eyes narrow on me before he shakes his head and walks away.

  I feel terrible. I feel like I’ve led him on.

  “We aren’t finished talking, but I know you have to work,” Yakov mutters.

  “I don’t know what else we can say. Nothing’s changed. We want different things,” I whisper.

  “You don’t want me?” Yakov asks. He wraps one hand around my waist as the other cups my cheek.

  “Of course I want you,” I say, lifting my head to look into his eyes. “I have always wanted you, that will never change.”

  “Then we don’t want different things, because I want you too,” he says.

  “But we see our futures differently,” I point out.

  “Maybe,” he shrugs.

  I wish that he would just tell me the truth. Not what he thinks that I want to hear, but the truth. If he doesn’t want marriage and children with me, then he needs to leave me alone to try and find a slice of happiness without him, as impossible as that may be.

  I press my lips together and try to step out of his embrace, but his hand around my waist tightens and his eyes darken as his jaw clenches in irritation. I wait for his physical reaction. I wait for him to punish me, but it doesn’t come. He shakes his head and all of the irritation leaves his features, which shocks me and leaves me speechless.

  “I can’t tell you a damn thing. It would be wasting my breath to speak these words to you. All I can do is show you what I want. Show you how much you mean to me and how much I love and adore you,” he mutters.

  “You love me?” I ask in surprise.

  Never once, not one single time, has Yakov said these words to me. My knees buckle and his grip tightens even more. There will be bruises, but I don’t care. He’s just told me that he loves me.

  “You didn’t know?” he asks with surprise etched on his face.

  “How could I?” I ask. “You never told me, and then you left me.”

  “I love you, Ashley. I love you, pchelka,” he whispers before his lips touch mine.

  The kiss is soft and gentle, no tongues, and he doesn’t take it any deeper. My head is swimming with uncertainties and questions, but the one thing I know for certain is that we love each other and that thought leaves a smile on my face.

  “Go get ready for work,” he murmurs once he breaks our kiss.

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  I shower and dress for work quickly. I try to ignore the man who is not only consuming my head, as he has been for months, but also now consuming my apartment.

  Once I’m dressed and ready for work, I walk into the living area and find him leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee in his hand. It’s from a coffee place down the corner. The sight surprises me, but also makes me think of Mika and the other day when we shared donuts and coffee together.

  Suddenly, I feel completely conflicted. I love Yakov; but just because I love him doesn’t mean that we are right for each other. We obviously don’t want the same things from life. I don’t want to throw away my chance with a good man, a kind man who possibly wants the same things that I do out of life.

  I thank Yakov for the coffee and together we walk out of my apartment and toward his parked car. I buckle myself in and he drives toward my office building. His hand wraps around my knee and he gives me a gentle squeeze.

  “You’re thinking. What about?” he asks. He knows everything about me. He knows my quirks and my tells. I like that he knows me so well; but right now, I don’t want him to demand my thoughts.

  “I’m not ready to talk about it, yet.” I try to evade his question.

  “When you’re ready to talk to me, pchelka, I’ll be ready to listen—always,” he murmurs as he parks the car in front of my office building.

  “Okay,” I agree. I want to scream and yell.

  I want to demand that he tell me exactly what he wants his future to look like; but he won’t do as I ask, or he’ll lie to stop my dramatics. He’s already said he’d give me a baby and marry me if that’s what I wanted, but I don’t want him to do it because I want him to—out of obligation, or to try and appease me.

  I want him to do it because he can’t live without me, he needs me like air, the way I need him; and I want him to want a baby with me because he knows it will be the most beautiful life ever created. I don’t really even know if his declaration of love is real or if he’s saying it to win me back.

  “I’ll be here at six to pick you up,” he announces.

  “Yes, Yakov,” I agree as I open the door.

  His hand wraps around my forearm and I pause before I turn my head to look at him.

  “Don’t do that,” he grunts.

  “Do what?” I ask.

  “Turn into the meek robot that I left. I like this new, sweet Ashley that isn’t scared and isn’t completely agreeable.”

  “You do?” I ask, widening my eyes in surprise.

  “I do. She has a fire that is so bright, it’s blinding. I adore it the more I see it.”

  “What if I’m both? What if I’m her and the meek agreeable Ashley, too?” I ask.

  “I think you should be yourself, whoever she is,” he whispers as his hand slides up my arm to wrap around the side of my neck. “I love you, Ashley, every single version of you. I don’t want you to act a certain way, I just want you to be—you.”

  I nod, unsure of what to say. He shakes his head once with a grin before he lets me go. I can feel his eyes on me as I walk up to the office, and I continue to feel them as I step into the elevator. I take a sip of my coffee and wonder, not for the first time, exactly what I’m going to do.

  I need to think.

  I’ve been dreaming of having Yakov back for the past six months straight. Now that he’s here, I don’t know what I want. It makes me scared, nervous, and anxious.

  I WALK OVER TO my desk and quickly stow my purse away before powering on my computer. I chance a glance at Kirill’s office and breathe out a sigh of relief to see that the door is closed and the light is off. Hopefully he doesn’t know how late I am. I check his calendar and emails, taking care of a few replies before I start my tasks for the day.

  I’m focusing intently on trying to decipher Kirill’s notes when I feel a hand land on my shoulder. I yelp and practically jump out of my skin.

  I look up to find that the hand belongs to Mika. He’s looking down at me, but there isn’t anger or resentment shining in his eyes like I expect. Instead, he’s looking at me with nothing but warm concern.

  “Can we talk for a minute?” he asks.

  I want to tell him no, but I don’t. I glance down at my computer and note the time is close to my lunch hour.

  “Sure. I can take my lunch now,” I shrug.

  “I’ll take you down the street to that café you like,” he murmurs.

  “How do you know I like it?” I ask as I grab my purse from the side of my desk.

  “Ziven mentioned you go there a couple times a week.”

  Meaning, he asked Ziven what I liked. I feel even more horrible for stringing him along, for not knowing what I want—for being so damn confused.

  Mika rests his hand on the small of my back as he guides me out of the office building, and then continues to keep it there as we walk toward the café. It’s comfortable and normal between us, his light constant touches. I still enjoy them and I know I shouldn’t. I should only want Yakov to touch me and to pay attention to me; but I can’t deny that Mika’s attention feels nice.

  Once we’re seated, I order my favorite meal, not even questioning my ability to do so. It comes quickly and naturally. I wonder if it’s because I’m with Mika, or if I’m starting to change and to come into my own again. Mika grins and then orders his meal.

  “You did great,” he praises. I blush under his gaze. Then he takes my hand in his. “I know he stayed the night.”

  “He did,” I admit.

  “I can’t be a man who allows the woman I’m interested in to be with ot
her men. It isn’t in me,” he murmurs.

  “I’m confused,” I whisper.

  “Are you confused because you have feelings for both of us, or are you confused because you don’t want to hurt me?” he asks.

  My eyes widen at his words.

  “I like you, a lot. You’ve been so kind, and gentle, and patient with me,” I murmur, looking directly into his eyes.

  “But you love him,” he states.

  “I never stopped,” I admit.

  “You can love him, but that doesn’t mean that it’s a healthy relationship,” he points out.

  “I know.”

  “I want to give you time to think, but you know your answer now, so I won’t,” he says, leaning back in his chair.

  Our food arrives before I can answer him, and then when the waiter leaves, he stares at me expectantly. He’s waiting for his answer, and he isn’t letting me out of giving him one, either.

  I look over his face, his chiseled strong jaw, his light features and the warmth that radiates off of him. He’s bigger in frame than Yakov, but he’s warmer, and his demeanor is gentler. Everything points to him being a better match for me; my head even tells me that he’s better for me than Yakov, that he’d treat me better, too. Yet my heart, my heart won’t let the love that I hold for Yakov dissipate.

  Though the Yakov that I had last night and this morning was a completely different version of him than I’m used to—the tough, ask-no-questions, do-as-you’re-told version is the one I know well. The sweet, gentle, caring man who told me he loved me is not the normal Yakov, and stupid me, I want to know him better.

  “He’s different,” I whisper as I pick up my sandwich and take a small bite, trying to busy myself before I burst into tears.

  “I imagine a man desperate to get back a woman he considers his property would suddenly behave differently,” he shrugs.

  “Is that what you think this is?” I ask.

  “I think that he found out another dick was encroaching on his territory and now he’s here to stop that shit. I think that he doesn’t want you, but he doesn’t want anybody else to have you either. I think that to him, you’re his property, his slave, and you’re stepping out of line and he doesn’t like the way that makes him feel.”