Living for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 4)

by Hayley Faiman

  It doesn’t take long before I’m crying out his name with my climax. I have been so worked up since he touched me in the middle of the street hours ago. His lips graze my thigh before he crawls over the top of me and touches his mouth to mine.

  “I want you to roll over. It’s punishment time,” he whispers against my lips before his tongue delves into my mouth. He kisses me into a hazy fog.

  When I whimper, I hear him chuckle, and then his weight is gone and I turn my head to see him standing at the side of the bed, wearing nothing but a grin. He lifts his chin and I roll over so that my body is flat on the mattress, my head is turned to face him.

  I watch silently as he pulls out his bag from underneath the bed and then takes a few pieces of rope out, placing it next to me. I continue to watch as he closes his suitcase and slides it back under the bed.

  “Arms up,” he orders.

  I lift my arms and watch as he uses rope on each side of the headboard, testing his knots before he grabs my wrists with one hand and then proceedes to tie my arms together. I test the strength once he’s finished, and it’s strong, durable, and unmovable. He repeats the knots with my legs, but instead of tying them together, they are completely spread apart, as wide as possible.

  The rope is taunt all the way around, and I can’t move. I couldn’t even if I tried.

  It’s freeing.

  He moves about the room, behind me somewhere, so I can’t see anything that he’s doing.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  “Is that all you’re sorry for?” he asks calmly.

  “No,” I breathe.

  “What else are you sorry for?”

  “My jealousy,” I whisper.

  I feel the cane touch down against my skin in a tap. It doesn’t hurt, but it stings. He doesn’t do it just once. It becomes a rhythm, a slow, sensual rhythm against my bottom, moving down to my upper thigh. Then he repeats it on the other side. All the while, he’s talking to me in a soothing voice about how I have no cause to be jealous—I’m the only one for him, and he’s the only one for me.

  Yakov’s sensual taps start to get harder, the stinging sensations lasting longer, and he murmurs his unhappiness about my leaving, walking down the street alone, and putting myself in danger. I know that he’s angry, but he is completely in control as each strike aims true and firm against my flesh.

  I feel my skin heat and the stinging sensation spread throughout my whole body. It feels as though I’m alive, vibrating with each stroke of the cane against my ass and thighs.

  “Are you wet?” Yakov asks as he sets the instrument down against my hip. I feel the bed dip and two fingers slide inside of my wet center.

  “So wet, pchelka,” he murmurs as his fingers fill me, his thumb pressing against my ass. “I’m going to need your ass soon.”

  “Please,” I whimper as his thumb massages my entrance.

  “Not tonight. Soon, though. I want you needy for it,” he grunts before he pulls his fingers out of me completely.

  “I need it,” I cry out in frustration.

  My whole body feels as though it’s going to explode if I don’t get some relief, and he’s just worked me up even more. I don’t care where the relief comes from at this point, my ass, my pussy, it doesn’t matter—I just need it.

  “You’ll get your pussy filled tonight, unless you don’t want anything at all?” he asks.

  I can picture his brow arched and a smug grin on his face. I whimper as my response, too afraid to speak, too afraid he won’t make this aching go away.

  “You’ll need to cry before you come,” he announces. I could pull tears right now, but they wouldn’t be genuine and he would know it.

  I cry out as the cane taps my inner thigh. It doesn’t hurt, but it surprises me. I’m so swollen and riding the edge that it makes my belly tighten even more. He does it again, but on the other side, causing another cry to release from me.

  “Fuck it,” he grunts. I feel my legs sag as he releases them from the ropes, and his hands yank my hips back as his cock drives deep inside of me.

  “Jacob,” I scream out in pleasure.

  “Fuck,” he moans as his hand comes down and slaps my tender skin.

  He thrusts into my body relentlessly, without mercy, and I accept every single stroke blissfully. My second orgasm of the night is almost immediate and strong, stronger than the first, and it’s long and drawn out.

  I sob and cry out with the sensitive pleasure he brings me as he slaps my cheek again. He doesn’t stop pounding inside of me, over and over and over again. It’s so much all at once; and yet, it’s just enough.

  Yakov’s hand slips around my hip and his fingers begin to furiously stroke my clit as his cock thrusts in and out of me, bringing me to another orgasm quickly. Tears fall from my eyes as I sob throughout my release.

  It’s so much, it’s too much—it’s absolutely perfect.

  Then he stills and I hear him grunt before his cock empties inside of me before his body falls on top of mine.

  “You okay?” he murmurs against my neck as he continues to fill me with lazy, even strokes.

  “I am,” I sigh. He doesn’t stay inside and on top of me for long before he’s up and releasing me from the ropes that still bind my arms.

  Seconds later, I’m wrapped in his arms beneath the covers, and he’s stroking my hair. After care. The best part of a scene. It used to be the most affection I had when he would hold me and stroke my hair, murmur to me how good I was, and how much I pleased him. That isn’t the case anymore. He’s affectionate all of the time now. But this—this is still my favorite.

  I fall asleep wrapped in his warmth with the low murmurs of praise he’s awarding me. I feel good where I am. I never want to be anywhere else.

  I WAKE UP AND instantly know that I’m alone. It’s been three days since the caning punishment that Yakov delivered, and when I stretch, I hardly feel any of the evidence of his ministrations in my muscles. It makes me a bit sad. I love moving and knowing that each ache was caused directly by him.

  However, today I should be happy that I’m feeling better. Today, I’m going to lunch with Sonia, one of the Pakhan’s wives, and a group of other Bratva wives.

  I only know Sonia from my time spent with her in California, when we were all living together in Kirill’s home. The men were on some kind of mission and we were gathered together as a safety precaution. I like her a lot. She’s outspoken and in charge, but she has a huge heart; and her eyes are so kind, it’s like staring into a pool of warm water when you look at them. Warm, inviting, and happy.

  I was supposed to get together with her a few days ago, but I was too sore from the cane. I spent most of the day in bed relaxing, and the other part of the day soaking my body in the perfect bathtub.

  Yesterday, Yakov sent over listings for me to look at, and I spent the majority of the day making a list of the homes I wanted to see over the weekend. I couldn’t believe that he was giving me such input. Granted, he looked at them first; but the ones I didn’t care for, he threw the flyers in the trash without a second thought.

  I smooth down my blonde hair and take a last glance at myself in the mirror. Chocolate brown tights with tan high heeled booties, a long, light blue, sweater dress with a deep v-neck, and light makeup on my face complete my ensemble. I feel put together on the outside, but inside I’m a nervous wreck. The only person I’ll know at this lunch is Sonia.

  I talked to Haleigh yesterday, and she informed me that she used to be part of this circle of women as well. Though they are intimidating at first, she assures me that they will get better as I befriend them. She didn’t ease my apprehension one single bit.

  I’m not very smart, and I don’t have a vast knowledge of the world or how anything works, really. I’ve been hidden away for so long, in a world that is so different from the rest of society, I’m afraid they’ll all know how different I truly am.

  A knock on the door interrupts my fretting and I grab my tan clutc
h and hurry toward the door. I look through the peephole and see Leonid standing just far enough back that I can tell it’s him. I open the door with a smile on my lips and he grins back.

  “Did you check the door before you answered?” he quizzes me.

  “I did.” I nod and his grin turns into a bright smile.

  “Good. Mrs. Vetrova is downstairs,” he announces.

  “She’s alone?” I ask, arching a brow as I close the door behind me.

  “Her Byki aren’t allowed to be too present. They stay hidden. She hates having them around. She says she wants to feel free,” he shrugs.

  “I could see that,” I shrug.

  “I’ll not be hiding in the shadows,” he states.

  “Okay…”

  “My job is to protect you with my life, and that is what I will do. Hiding in the shadows could shave seconds off of my speed to get to you.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper, looking at my feet.

  “Yakov was very insistent that you are extremely important to him. He wants you guarded and protected. I don’t doubt that Pasha feels the same for his Sonia, but Yakov does not wish to take any chances,” he says. I can hear the underlying meaning between his words.

  Yakov doesn’t want to take anymore chances for me to be taken again. I’m fine with that. I don’t want to be anywhere other than at his side at the end of everyday. If he wants to have fifteen Byki follow me around, it’s definitely all right by me.

  “Ashley,” Sonia’s voice calls out as we walk through the lobby of The Mark.

  “Sonia, it’s so good to see you again,” I murmur as I walk into her open arms for a hug.

  “You look so good, so good,” she says, taking a step back, her hand wrapped around my shoulders as she looks me up and down. “You were far too skinny last time I saw you. You look healthy now. I’m sure Yakov is extremely pleased.”

  I blush at her words. Yes, he is extremely pleased with my more voluptuous curves. Though still slight, it seems as though I add to them almost daily, and I get nothing but attention and praise for them from Yakov.

  “Let us get some lunch. I have some lovely and not-so-lovely women for you to meet,” she grins.

  “I’ll be driving today, Mrs. Vetrova,” Leonid announces.

  I watch as her eyes alight with fire and she opens her mouth to speak. I wrap my hand around her forearm and talk before she gets a chance.

  “I would feel safer with Leonid at my side for the day. He’ll sit at a different table, but I’ll feel better with him in view,” I smile sweetly at her. I watch as the fight leaves her body and she smiles kindly at me, understanding where I’m coming from.

  “Yes, yes, okay. Let us go then. I have a, hopefully, nice surprise today. My daughter, Oksana, will be joining us.” She grins, and arm in arm we walk toward Leonid’s car, which is already waiting in the valet area for us.

  Sonia fills the ride to the restaurant with small talk. Thankfully, she does most of the talking, as I’m too nervous to say anything at all.

  Once the car pulls into the valet area of the restaurant, she takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. I wait for her to say something, but she doesn’t. It’s a simple gesture and also a comforting one.

  Leonid opens the car door for us and we slide out and walk into the restaurant with him on our heels. I can see the table before we arrive at the hostess station. Sonia walks right past the hostess and straight for the table full of beautiful women. There are two empty seats, but they aren’t next to each other, and I try not to let that bother me. There’s a pretty, black haired girl sitting there, her head turned around to stare at us.

  “My daughter, Oksana, who has apparently dyed her beautiful blonde hair black,” Sonia says. There’s an edge to her tone that I’ve never heard before. She sounds mad.

  “Sana, mom, everybody calls me Sana. And I was tired of being blonde,” she shrugs as her eyes flick to me and then she mumbles, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

  “Well, I think black suits you,” I shrug. She smiles, and she looks so much like Sonia, it’s unbelievable.

  “You’re Yakov’s?” a woman with a thick accent asks.

  “I’m his fiancée, yes,” I say as I sit down next to Oksana.

  “I’m Veronika. His fiancée? Where’s the ring?” she asks smirking.

  I look down at my hand and realize that she’s right. I don’t have a ring.

  “So there’s no ring, big deal,” a blonde woman says with a shrug. “I’m Natalia.”

  “Dimitri didn’t give you a ring. How did that turn out?” Veronika says. I gasp.

  The mention of the man who tortured me for months, sold me to countless men and kept me locked up in a house in South Africa, sends chills over my body. My face pales at the mere thought of him, even though I know he’s dead.

  “Dimitri was slime,” Natalia growls. “I’m glad he never gave me a ring.”

  “You and Dimitri?” I stutter as sweat gathers all over my body.

  “Natalia tried to help him, be a listening ear when Maryia died,” Sonia murmurs. I nod.

  “But then he disappeared and left me; a blessing for me, really. He was terrible.” Natalia shivers and, although it wasn’t a blessing for me that he disappeared, I could see how she would feel that way for herself. I would probably feel the same. He was not a good man at all.

  “No more talk of that piece of shit,” a woman says as she takes a sip from a tall glass of what looks like a mimosa. Oksana murmurs her name, Elena, to me under her breath.

  “I’m Dominika. Tell us about you, Ashley,” another blonde woman says from my left.

  “There isn’t much to tell, really,” I shrug as a waiter sets down bowls and plates piled with food.

  “We eat family style, hope that’s all right?” Veronika asks with a coy smile, challenging me to disagree.

  “No, that’s fine,” I smile.

  “Tell us,” Veronika urges again as we all take a plate and pass food around.

  “I’m nothing special,” I whisper.

  “Oh, I highly doubt that. There was a worldwide search just for you, Yakov’s little American Ashley. You’re special, all right,” Veronika grins.

  “Worldwide?” I ask, looking over to Sonia. Her eyes dart to her lap, obviously not wanting this conversation to happen at all.

  “Of course. I’ve never been so curious about a woman in my entire life. What is it that you have that nobody else does? Women have been taken, they’ve disappeared before, it’s nothing new. But a worldwide search for one woman, that was new. So, I gather your marriage is one of love?” Veronika asks.

  “You’re very rude,” Sonia says.

  “Curious, not rude,” Veronika replies, pointing a red painted nail in Sonia’s direction.

  “Rude, Veronika,” a brunette says, speaking for the first time. “We all know Ashley’s story, don’t make her re-tell it because you’re an unhappy, bitter bitch. Yakov is happy and Ashley is happy. You had to go and talk about Dimitri and put a black cloud over both Natalia and Ashley. Why are you here, again?”

  “Fuck you, Zoya. I’m here because my husband is a—” Veronika doesn’t get another word out before Sonia interrupts her.

  “Your husband is Boyevik. He’s a warrior, so what? Ashley’s fiancé is a Pakhan. You need to show your respect to him by being kind to his fiancée. You have a long way to go, girl. Your fake body, hair, and face won’t make you climb any higher on the social ladder with us. I’m the top, and Ashley’s right below me. So I’d be wise as to who you’re a cunt to,” Sonia states calm, cool, and collectedly.

  “I don’t have to take this. Once I tell Boris how you’ve treated me…” she huffs as she stands.

  “Boris won’t say shit. He doesn’t have the balls to go against his Pakhan, and he doesn’t have his ear. What are you going to tell him? You were being a bitch and Sonia put you in your place?” Leonid interrupts from his place at the table next to us.

  Veronika’s
face turns bright red and she storms out of the restaurant, leaving her fur shawl on the back of her seat.

  “I’ll personally deliver this to her Boris, later,” Leonid says as he takes the fur from the chair. “Enjoy the rest of your lunch, ladies.” Leonid turns with the shawl and walks back to his table.

  The rest of the lunch is calm, filled with talks of babies and husbands. It’s nothing like I anticipated. These are fairly normal women, dressed to perfection and painted up like gorgeous Russian dolls; but deep down, they are just women with husbands and families. I find that they remind me of Haleigh, Tatyana, and Emiliya, which makes me miss them even more.

  “How is your new husband?” Sonia asks, turning to face Natalia.

  “Better than my old one,” Natalia shrugs as she takes a bite of food.

  “New husband?” Oksana asks with confusion.

  “Yes, Natalia was married to a Torpedo a few months ago,” Sonia says as an explanation.

  “Married to?” Oksana asks, obviously still confused.

  “The contract was made and finalized, and then they were married,” Sonia says.

  “Why would you do that?” Oksana practically screeches, turning to Natalia with a look of horror on her face.

  “I’m a widow, yes, but the organization will only care for me for so long, and my husband’s money was not mine to keep, especially the way he died. So, unless I wanted to get a job and try to make it on my own with no children, no education, and no life skills, I had to marry someone else. I’m lucky that Stepan agreed to the match,” Natalia explains.

  “I never want to marry. Not like that, at least,” Oksana announces. Sonia makes a noise in the back of her throat.

  “You do realize that every single one of us married our husbands just like that, don’t you?” Dominika announces, clearly irritated by Oksana’s outburst.

  “Not Ashley,” she says, pointing to me.

  “Well, though Yakov and I weren’t matched as some of the others have been, I did belong to him for a time. Our situation was different, of course, but we were thrust together for a while. I’m lucky that I have fallen deeply in love with him, but no we were not a regular relationship from the start, nor are we now,” I say clarifying things in a way where I won’t need to go into detail.