Seducing the Badman (Russian Bratva #2)

by Hayley Faiman

  I have won.

  Again.

  I have seduced my husband.

  I only hope that this will be the last time. I am not sure my heart can take any more. I will if I must, but it is tiring and stressful. This man calls me a handful, but in reality, he is the one who causes such constant grief. So high maintenance, my Radimir.

  I am still sitting on Radimir, his softening cock very much inside of me, when the door bursts open. Standing in the doorway are Joslyn, Kirill, and a man I have only met once—Pasha. I have never, in my life been walked in on in a closed room as I have with Radimir. It is if nobody fears his closed doors. That, or the man needs fucking locks.

  I yelp, pressing my breasts into Radimir’s chest as I bury my face into his neck. Luckily, my hair covers my entire back, but there is no trying to hide nor deny what it is that we have just done.

  “Out,” Radimir growls.

  I hear the two men chuckling as they step out of the room. Joslyn doesn’t move. I can feel her angry gaze as she attempts to bore holes into my back. If I were being bitchy, I would turn around and make a scene. I would certainly gloat, but it is not worth it – she is not worth it. I feel sorry for her, attempting to take my husband, who is apparently devoted to me. Though, he had me wondering and worrying these past few weeks.

  “Joslyn, you have been fired. If you do not leave within three minutes, security will escort you out and you will not appreciate the ramifications of that,” he states. I can feel his body tighten beneath me. He is pissed and he is holding on by a thread.

  “Radimir,” she whines.

  My eyes widen when I feel his hand move as he presses a button beneath his desk. My father had a button such as this. His was for when he was tired of whomever was talking; it alerted his men. Usually, the person was dealt with permanently.

  “Rad,” I mutter. His hand around my waist squeezes me, and I promptly close my mouth.

  “Up you go, kotik. I have business to attend to. Unfortunately, I will not be coming straight home. I will, however, be home early this evening. I would like to take you out for dinner, so be dressed,” he murmurs into my hair. I slide off of his lap before I adjust my breasts back into my bra.

  I turn and gather my clothing, uncaring and unashamed as this Joslyn woman watches me. Her eyes are wide and shimmering with tears. I cannot understand a woman so desperate. Radimir is married, and he has not given her any signals that he wishes to be with her, or at least he claims he has not. Once I have pulled myself together, I walk over to the woman, well aware of Radimir’s grunt of disapproval behind me.

  “Has my husband given you any inclination that he would be yours?” I ask.

  I need to know everything, and perhaps asking a second time will prompt the truth from this bitch. Little looks and flirtations are one thing; promises are something completely different.

  “No,” she grinds out, moving her eyes to the ground. I assume the act is probably out of anger and not embarrassment.

  “Radimir, I will see you at home,” I say, opening the door to find a few of Radimir’s muscled Byki – bodyguards – ready to pounce at his command.

  “Emiliya,” Kirill acknowledges with a smirk and a nod. I can’t make eye contact. Instead, I feel my face heat with embarrassment. He chuckles as I hurry past them.

  Anton is standing exactly where he said he would be once I exit the large building. His eyes catch mine and I turn red again when he grins at me knowingly. Do I have freshly laid written on my forehead? I must.

  “Where to, Mrs. Zaleskya?” he asks, trying to hold his laughter in.

  “Home,” I reply. “Anton, do I have just fucked stamped on my forehead?” I ask arching a brow at my driver—my own Byki.

  “Your hair is a mess, your clothes wrinkled, and your face is flushed, Mrs. Zaleskya,” he points out as I slide my seatbelt on and click it in place.

  “Well, that explains it all then,” I murmur. He bursts into laughter. I find that I, too, see this situation as comical.

  “Radimir will be home early. We are going out to dinner tonight,” I say, chewing on my bottom lip, trying to decide which of my sexy new dresses to wear for our evening out in Los Angeles. I want to look perfect for him, and I want to feel beautiful for myself.

  “You will have fun. There is a new restaurant opening that he was scheduled to attend, this must be where he is taking you,” Anton offers. It is the most he has spoken to me. I enjoy the deep timbre of his voice. It is comforting.

  “How does one dress for a restaurant opening in L.A.?” I ask curiously.

  “How would you dress in Russia?”

  “On the arm of Radimir? I would dress as sexy as possible,” I offer with a shrug.

  “Kick that sexiness up a few notches and that is L.A.,” he says laughing. I blink at him before I grin. I have just the dress. I wasn’t going to buy it, but I did anyway. It is practically indecent, and it is perfect for tonight.

  Suddenly, I cannot wait to be home.

  I’m anxious to shower and get dressed for the evening at the side of my husband. The seduction of Radimir is not over. Tonight, I will make him one hundred percent mine again. He will never want to leave my side—or our bed.

  I TAKE MY TIME showering, putting on my heavy evening makeup, and styling my hair. With my dress, my hair must be worn up, so I arrange it in a messy bun with straight pieces haphazardly hanging down all over. Once I have finished my makeup, hair, and applied lotion all over my body, I slip my dress up my hips and slide my arms through the long sleeves.

  My dress is black, with gold shimmer mixed into the fabric. It is long-sleeved and covers my torso and chest completely. It is cut short, to just below my ass. One wrong move and the world will know exactly what I look like naked, as I cannot wear panties with it, either.

  The back is nonexistent. If I bend over the slightest, everybody will see…. everything. I slide my feet into six-inch, gold spiked, black high heels. I am going to blow my husband’s mind in this dress.

  I want to make him want me, but I also want to make him proud to have me on his arm this evening.

  “Em, we must leave,” he shouts from the other side of the bathroom door. I grab the little gold clutch, which holds a tube of lipstick and nothing else, before opening the door to my bedroom.

  Radimir is standing in the room looking at his phone. He has changed from his casual suit to a more formal one. This suit is three-pieces. He has black slacks, a vest, and a jacket. The lapels of his jacket are satin. The shirt underneath is white. His hair is disheveled, and he looks young, yet debonair. I want him. I want him to fuck me in that suit. He looks that good.

  “I am ready, Rad,” I announce, walking over to him and lightly pressing my lips to his. The move breaks his concentration from his phone and he shoves it in his pocket before wrapping his hands around my waist.

  “Your dress is missing the back, kotik,” he murmurs as his lips gently brush my skin, down the column of my neck, to where it meets my shoulder. I shiver at the feeling of his lips on me.

  “It is missing, but it is the style,” I point out. He pulls me closer to his chest.

  “We are late and I cannot fuck that hungry pussy right now. Perhaps I will fuck you at the restaurant,” he threatens. It doesn’t frighten me. Instead, it makes my thighs shake with anticipation.

  “Radimir,” I murmur. He nips my neck with his teeth before turning. His hand stays on my lower back, placing pressure there, and pushing me forward throughout the apartment.

  Anton is waiting outside at the car, grinning as I slide inside of the backseat. I almost roll my eyes at him, but I refrain. Radimir sits right next to me, his phone back in his hand. I wish to know what is so important, but I know better than to ask. It is surely about business, and that is none of my concern. My place is at his side. To listen to him, to be there for him, to accept him into my bed, into my body, and into my heart. My place is not in his business.

  “What happened with Joslyn?” I ask, cu
riosity getting the better of me.

  “She was eliminated,” he says coolly, distractedly.

  “Permanently?” I ask, arching a brow as I face him. He looks up from his phone with his lips tipped in a small smile.

  “Are you jealous, my little kotik?” he asks as he places his hand on the outside of my thigh, gently brushing his thumb over my skin.

  “Do not pussycat me, Radimir. Answer me,” I grind out in frustration, which causes him to laugh.

  “She was too much of a liability, and her persistence was her downfall. She could not be trusted. Threats did not work with her, Em. You must have seen this?” he asks, arching a brow. I nod. Yes, she was bat-shit crazy, is what she was.

  “She would have been a serious problem. She knew too much and was too brazen. Blackmail would have been her demise, anyway,” he shrugs as we pull up to the restaurant.

  “It would have. Then she would have to watch her back from me. Better to do what you did,” I point out. He chuckles.

  “I would hate to see the torture you could inflict on another person, Em,” he murmurs, placing a gentle kiss on my lips.

  “On that bitch? It would be endless,” I remark as the door opens. Radimir smirks before winking at me and stepping out of the car.

  I slide out as carefully as possible, with lights flashing in my eyes as I do. I hadn’t known there would be cameras everywhere—paparazzi and reporters. I feel as though I am back in Russia, except none of these people are calling my name. It is a bit refreshing. We are nameless, just two pretty people coming to an opening of a new eatery—a fancy new eatery. We are asked by a few different photographers to pose and smile for the cameras, and then they ask our names as well. Radimir keeps his hand at the small of my back the entire walk into the restaurant, and I cannot help but smile.

  I love his touch.

  Radimir takes champagne from a passing waiter as soon as we walk through the front doors of the restaurant. He hands one to me and I am giddy with excitement for the bubbling liquid. I try not to think about the last time I drank it, on the airplane, and how that ended. Instead, I think about all of the times Yakov and I snuck into the kitchen during a party of my father’s and ran off with a couple of bottles to get completely trashed in our rooms. Before he turned hard, before he started working for my father, back when we were young and innocent. Yes, those are much better memories of champagne than the airplane from weeks ago.

  “I have many people to converse with this evening. I wish for you to stay by my side,” he says as we slowly walk toward the crowds of people gathered in small groups.

  “Yes, of course. Where else would I go?” I ask in confusion. He shakes his head.

  “Nowhere,” he mutters, brushing his lips across my cheek before I hear a man shout his name.

  I look up to see Kirill is in this group of men that Radimir is guiding me toward. My face reddens at the sight of him.

  “Emiliya,” Kirill grins as he kisses each of my cheeks.

  “Radimir, who is this creature?” a man with a heavy Russian accent asks. I turn in the direction of his voice. I don’t recognize him, but I am a grown woman and I can speak for myself.

  “I am Mrs. Radimir Zaleskya,” I say in Russian as I hold out my hand to the stranger. He is tall and wide, older, refined; and yet, he reminds me of my father – dangerous and evil.

  “Your birth name then?” he asks in English after taking my hand and pressing his dry flaky lips to it. He is frightening, yet disgusting all at the same time. Radimir’s fingers dig into my waist and I realize, perhaps I am not such a grown woman; perhaps I should not speak for myself.

  “Emiliya Chekova,” I say just above a whisper. The man’s brows raise in surprise.

  “The Emiliya Chekova?” he asks.

  I immediately regret my I am woman thoughts from just moments ago. I tuck myself even further into my husband’s side, praying for him to shield me from this man. This man who is eyeing me like I am a prized beef.

  “Yes, Emiliya and I have not been married long,” Radimir speaks up. He begins to run his fingers up and down my spine, simultaneously soothing me and turning me on.

  “Lucky man. Very lucky man, indeed,” he says as his lustrous gaze roams over my body, yet again. A few moments later, he begs off from the group and walks away, most likely to make another woman feel uncomfortable.

  “Keep your eye on your wife tonight,” Kirill murmurs before he too leaves the group.

  It is now just Radimir and me; the warmth from his body has disappeared, and he wraps his hand around mine, all but dragging me away from the party. I wish that I could tug on his arm and stop him, but he is determined, and he is angry. I have screwed up. Everything between us is fragile, and I have messed up.

  Radimir drags me through the kitchen and to the back of the restaurant where there are stairs. He pulls me up a full flight before we enter an empty room. It is the entire top floor of the building, and it is completely desolate—empty, dark, and scary.

  “How did you know this was here?” I ask, looking around, my fear gone for the moment.

  “Kirill owns the building. This is a meeting place for us,” he freely admits, his hand still wrapped around mine.

  There is nothing professional about this space. It is bare bones, completely empty, not even a fold up chair to sit on anywhere.

  “What kind of meetings do you hold here?” I ask, not actually expecting an answer.

  “Meetings that need to be cleaned up, kotik. Meetings that need to be private and deserted during the day,” he explains. I suck in a breath, wondering if I have overstepped myself completely, and now this is going to be just that—a meeting that will need to be cleaned up.

  “And you brought me up here…”

  “To talk to you, to feed that hungry as fuck pussy, and to mark you as mine so that fat fucks like Konstantin don’t think they can openly look at my goddamn wife,” he growls before he pulls my body to his, slamming his lips down on mine. He is hungry, so fucking hungry, and I find that I am starving, myself. I shake off thoughts about him hurting me, I panicked in my own head, it’s silly. Radimir loves me. He truly cares for me. He wouldn’t hurt me, not like that.

  I wrap my leg around his thigh and press my breasts into his chest. I need to be closer to him. I need to feel him inside of me again. This afternoon wasn’t enough. It wasn’t rough enough. He wasn’t demanding enough.

  I need him to own me, to prove that he still needs me, that he wants me.

  “Do you need something, kotik?”

  “I need you to fuck me. I need you to be rough, Rad. I need everything you can give me,” I purr as I scratch my nails down the front of his suit. I have never needed him as badly as I need him right now. I need to know that he is with me, that he still wants me, after all we have been through lately. I need him.

  I am begging for his touch, for his absolute power over me.

  For him to own every piece of me. I am his and I want him to take me.

  Right here.

  Right now.

  “Turn around and place your hands on the wall,” he orders. I practically sprint to the nearest wall, placing my hands next to my head and pushing my hips out.

  “Hungry, greedy, and ready for me, Emiliya?” he asks, his voice nothing but ragged breaths filling the empty room.

  “Yes, Radimir, please,” I shamelessly beg.

  Only this man can make me beg.

  I have never been so needy for attention from any other human being on earth as I am for this man behind me.

  Radimir yanks my skirt over my hips as his hands squeeze my ass roughly. I feel his lips caress my shoulder from behind, and it takes everything inside of me to stay upright in my high heels.

  My hands are pressed against the wall, my fingers gripping at the flat stone, trying so hard not to crumple so that I may give my Radimir what he wants and what I need.

  “This pussy is dripping wet for me. No panties, kotik?” He hums the last word, pussycat,
and my breath becomes ragged.

  I feel his hands slide up my belly and each of them grab ahold of my breasts, squeezing so hard I will surely have bruises of his fingertips later.

  “These are mine, Emiliya. I mark them as mine,” he growls, his breath hot against my neck. “This body of yours is mine,” he murmurs before his teeth sink into the flesh of my neck.

  I cry out from the sudden burst of pain. I am shaking in his hands, but he doesn’t care, and to be honest, neither do I.

  “Your pussy is mine,” he groans as one of his hands slides down and he cups me. I shamelessly grind against his palm, wanting friction, wanting his touch.

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  I am his.

  Every single inch of me belongs to this very badman.

  “Spread your thighs wider, stick this ass and pussy out for me. Fucking offer yourself to me,” he orders as his hands fall away from me.

  I begin to spread my feet apart. When I am in the ordered position, I squeak out in surprise as his hand slaps my ass.

  “Pretty and pink, from your pussy to the handprint on your ass, and all fucking mine,” he murmurs as I hear fabric rustling. I let out a sigh when his cock slowly fills me from behind.

  Radimir’s naked chest presses against my back as his lips touch my ear, his hands are squeezing my waist and I am enjoying the delicious pain from all angles.

  “My mark on your neck is bleeding, kotik. It is so fucking beautiful. I think I will keep it there always. My teeth on your neck for the world to see, for the world to know that you are indeed – mine,” he whispers into my ear.

  Then he pulls his cheek back and slides his cock from inside of me before he slams back in—hard. I moan, arching my back even further, enjoying the pain he is bringing me. The spot he talks about on my neck, the pain is long forgotten. All I care about now is his cock inside of me, and the way it makes me feel – beautiful, needed, wanted and loved.

  “Rad,” I moan as his hand slips from my hip. His fingers hover above my clit and I want him there, I want him to touch me and to make me come all over him.

  “You come, and I will spank you so hard, you will not be able to sit for a week. Do you understand me?”