Forever my Badman (Russian Bratva Book 7)

by Hayley Faiman

  “Mika, wait,” I call out.

  “Today is for essentials. Then you can call a Byki to take you shopping for whatever else you desire while I’m working,” he continues, refusing to stop.

  He also doesn’t go toward the elevators, but starts racing down the stairs. I have to practically sprint down the steps, losing my balance a couple of times. I’m thankful to have the handrail at my side to grab onto so that I don’t fall on my ass.

  Once we’re in the parking garage, I see a car’s headlights flash, and Mika continues on his sprinting stride toward that sexy black vehicle. He doesn’t even bother opening the passenger side for me; he just sinks inside of the driver’s seat and starts the engine.

  Once I’m finally seated, I try to catch my breath. Exercise is not for me, never has been, and never will be—yet, I feel like I’ve just run a mile, and in my Rossi heels.

  Mika doesn’t say a word to me. He drives straight toward GUM, and I can’t help the pang of sadness that washes over me as we pass familiar landmarks, ones that I’d passed with my mother the last time I was in Moscow.

  The entire city, even the smell, makes me think of her. We park, and I hurry to catch up to Mika again. I don’t even attempt to grab his arm or hold his hand. He is in no mood to have me anywhere near him. I’ve upset him, and I can’t blame him for being angry with me. I’ve always liked things, nice things, and they’ve always been available to me—no budgets, ever.

  The shopping center is exactly as I remember, the bright lights and the signage of the stores mocking me each time we pass one that I’d gone inside of with my mother. It’s all too familiar, too many happy memories that now haunt me. I’ll never be here with her again. Right now, I don’t know what the future holds, and it scares me.

  Mika stops abruptly, and I watch as he presses his finger to a doorbell on the outside of a jewelry store. I look up and see that we’re standing in front of Tiffany & Co. My eyes widen and I wrap my hand around his and tug on it.

  He ignores me.

  Once we’re inside of the store, the sales girl looks at Mika in a way that makes my blood boil. Her chest moves with her panting breaths, and she looks at him through lowered lids. Her black hair is long and glossy, her makeup heavy but flawless, and her top dips dangerously low, showing off what I know must be fake breasts.

  She asks him something too soft for me to hear, and then Mika starts talking to her, using rapid fire Russian that is too fast for me to understand. I only catch every third word. He’s asking her about something expensive, exquisite and unique. Her eyes travel to me, and I watch as she narrows them before she says something back to him and then walks away.

  “Mika what’s happening?” I ask quietly.

  He ignores me. It’s really starting to piss me off now, especially since I’ve asked him a direct question. The sales girl comes back and shows him something. I refuse to look, turning my head to the side with a small stomp of my foot when I do.

  Mika’s low, deep, sexy as shit voice continues speaking, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from doing something stupid. Something like curling into his side and kissing his neck, holding him, and whispering to him.

  I want him to speak Russian to me when he’s inside of me. The words are so sexy sounding as they pass his lips. I don’t even care what he says. He could call me a screaming bitch and it would be okay—it has that much of an effect on me.

  Without warning, he takes my hand in his, and I watch in shocked fascination as he slides a gigantic, teardrop, yellow diamond ring, surrounded by smaller diamonds in a platinum setting, on my finger. He slides his wallet in his back pocket, tells the girl thank you, then tugs me behind him. We walk out of the store, and I’m shocked silent. That is, until the door to the jewelry shop closes behind us.

  “Mika, what is this?” I ask, my voice small, betraying me.

  “This is your engagement ring,” he rumbles.

  “But why?” I ask, looking up into his dark eyes.

  “You wanted a big, expensive ring. You got the biggest one they sold. Is it not enough?” he asks, arching a brow.

  “I didn’t say I wanted a big, expensive ring,” I whisper.

  “You didn’t have to. The way you talked about that traitor’s ring made it perfectly clear what you wanted. You think I can’t give that to you? I can. What else do you want? Should we go back inside and get matching earrings? A necklace?” he asks, like a smartass.

  “Oh, fuck off,” I growl.

  “Clothes?” he asks, completely ignoring me telling him to fuck off.

  I needed clothes. All I had were a few things someone threw in the closet. While they looked the right sizes, they were definitely not my style. I clench my jaw tightly and inhale deeply through my nose before I let it out.

  Mika smirks, placing his palm on the small of my back, and gently pushes me forward. We spend the rest of the evening shopping until the stores close. Though, I’m not the only one who needs clothes.

  Mika went to a couple different stores and ordered suits. He was measured, and paid for expedited services to have them ready tomorrow. He’s going to pick his new suits up in the afternoon. He didn’t ask my opinion on his new choices, not even on his shirts or ties. He was completely removed. I didn’t exist to him. I hated it.

  Without asking me what I wanted for dinner, he walked us to this little restaurant and ordered food to-go. I am discovering that the Russian my parents taught me wasn’t nearly enough. I should have paid attention more. I don’t understand a fucking thing anybody is saying.

  OKSANA LOOKS PISSED. CONFUSED, but pissed. She’s been this way all evening. Though I should care, I don’t. She’s pissed me off, too. So worried about some other man’s diamonds, throwing a tantrum about them, then going on about wearing them somewhere other than her finger—a way to keep the bauble.

  Fuck that.

  “Mika,” her soft voice says again.

  We consume dinner, at a restaurant close by our apartment building, in silence, though she hardly touched hers, and now we’re back in the temporary apartment, standing in the foyer. The ride back to the apartment was also in silence. I should try to make conversation, but I don’t know what to say to her.

  I want to demand that she return to that woman I had before she married Gavril, when I had her in my arms and she looked at me as though I was the only man on earth. Now, it seems that she is nothing more than the spoiled printsessa of Pasha Vetrov, and I’m not sure I can deliver what she expects me to.

  Everything swirls around in my head and I wonder what the fuck I got myself into with her. We’ve both been awake for too many hours in a row and need a good night’s sleep. I grunt, but don’t say anything, waiting for her to continue.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers. Her voice is just loud enough for me to hear her, but still very much a whisper.

  I walk away from her and into the bedroom. I don’t know how to respond. I don’t do well with apologies, giving or receiving. I remove my suit jacket, throwing it on a bench that’s at the end of the bed. My shirt and undershirt are next as I toe off my shoes.

  “Mika, why won’t you speak to me?” she asks from behind me.

  I unbuckle my pants and shove them down my hips and legs, stepping out of them before I turn to face her. She’s got tears coming down her cheeks, her makeup free face turning red as she cries. I close the distance between us, wrapping my hand around the side of her neck as I use my thumb to wipe some of the wetness from the apple of her cheek.

  “Let’s get some sleep,” I rumble.

  “Please talk to me,” she begs.

  “I know the life you’re used to. I’ll try to give it to you; everything you want,” I murmur, giving her neck a squeeze.

  “Why do you assume I only want things?” I ask as my eyes search his.

  He snorts, and it irritates me, but I try to keep my temper at bay. The last thing I want to do is get into a huge fight with him, not when I don’t know why he’s not t
alking to me. I want to get to the bottom of this first. Then I’ll bitch him out. Maybe.

  “I don’t assume it. I’ve already told you, Oksana,” he sighs.

  “But it’s not true. Whatever you’ve decided about me, it’s just not true,” I murmur.

  “It’s not?” he asks in disbelief.

  “Okay, maybe at one time it was. And I like nice things. I’ve always had nice things, so I won’t apologize for that; but honestly, Mika, my goal in life isn’t to get stuff. Not anymore,” I admit before my teeth sink into my bottom lip.

  “We’ll see,” he rumbles.

  I close my eyes as my body sags in defeat. He’ll never believe I’m not some materialistic bitch. I don’t know how to make him see otherwise.

  “I can’t believe you brought me here to just be a dick to me. You should have let me fucking stay there,” I say, trying to take a step away from him. He doesn’t let me go, though. He wraps his hand around my hip, and the one already on my neck tightens.

  “You want someone else? Your dad would have just handed you off to someone else. You don’t want me to protect you? To fight for you?” he announces, again.

  “At this point?” I arch a brow and watch as his face turns red in anger.

  His eyes sharpen and, without a word, he bends and wraps both of his hands around the backs of my thighs. Picking me up from the ground with ease, he carries me straight to the bed and deposits me carefully. I open my mouth to say something, but he shakes his head.

  “You open that mouth to do anything other than suck my cock or scream my name, I’ll spank your ass so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week,” he announces. My mouth snaps shut as my eyes widen.

  This is not the Mika I’ve had in bed before. This is someone completely different, and I can’t stop the thrill that slides up my spine.

  Mika flips me over and wrenches my hips back, my feet dangling from the bed and my hands fisting in the bedclothes below me. I feel my sweater being pushed up just as my leggings are being wrenched down. Without warning, two fingers thrust inside of me. I throw my head back, my hair flying through the air as I moan, pushing against his firm fingers.

  His palm lands against my ass in a solid slap, but it doesn’t hurt. He rubs the area, and I can’t help the whimper as his fingers curl inside of me. I want more, so much fucking more. I arch my back, pushing against him. He doesn’t give me more, though. His hand wraps around my hip and his fingers squeeze.

  “Take what you get, what I allow,” he growls. “You aren’t allowed to demand more, not in this bed.”

  I drop my head and pinch my eyes closed as he continues to fuck me with his fingers, refusing to touch my clit; refusing to bring me to a climax.

  “Zhopa” I growl.

  “I’m the asshole?” he chuckles. “Be a good girl now, Sana,” he whispers against my ear.

  “Oksana,” I pant. “I like it when you call me, Oksana.”

  “Okay, lapochka. I’ll call you Oksana,” he murmurs as his other hand slides around my hip and I feel two fingers touch my clit.

  “Oh, my god,” I breathe as my orgasm takes over me.

  One swipe, and I’m done. My thighs shake, and while I don’t scream, I do sob aloud as my climax completely renders my body both speechless and boneless.

  Mika’s hands wrap around my hips and he slams inside of me, stilling once he’s fully seated, freeing a long groan. He doesn’t wait for me to adjust to his size, like he’s done the other times we were together.

  This isn’t making love or even being remotely sweet. This is raw fucking. I feel his fingers tangle in my hair, and he wrenches my head back as his fingers bite into my hip. He slams inside of me roughly.

  My once boneless body alights with desire and excitement. I start to push back against his pelvis to meet his hard strokes. I hear him curse behind me. His hand pulls my hair more, and I lift off of the bed, my back now pressed against his chest, and his mouth at my neck.

  “You can be such a fucking suka,” he whispers against my skin. “But goddamn, Oksana, you feel good,” he rasps.

  It takes a second for his words to register, and I turn my head slightly as I try to pull away from him. His hand moves from my hip to wrap beneath my ribs, my breasts resting on his forearm. Mika’s hips don’t stop moving, no matter how hard I try to escape him.

  “Don’t be angry I called you out,” he murmurs.

  If I closed my eyes, I would call his voice sexy and soothing; but his words piss me off too badly to do that. I buck against him, and he groans instead of releasing me.

  “Fight me, lapochka, show me your fire,” he grins moving his hand from my hip to my clit.

  His fingers stop moving against my clit, then he slaps me there instead. I let out a gasp before I start to shake. He does it again, and I completely give up my fight, too turned on to even pretend to fight him another second.

  I’m so close.

  I’m seconds from another orgasm.

  I whimper, aware that I sound needy but not giving a shit. That’s exactly how I feel right now.

  “Come all over me,” he rasps against my neck. I feel his teeth sink into my skin as his fingers pluck my nipple while his other hand slaps my pussy again.

  “Mika,” I cry out as my body starts to vibrate and I come hard—so hard that I see stars.

  “Fuck,” he grunts. I feel his cock twitch inside of me.

  We’re frozen, him inside of me, my back against his chest. His hands still cage me, one gripping my breast the other against my pussy.

  “I can’t believe you called me a bitch,” I whisper.

  Mika gently eases out of my center before he releases me, lying me down on my side.

  “Why? Nobody ever called the printsessa a bitch before?” he asks on a chuckle.

  “You’re being mean on purpose. It’s not nice, Mika,” I whisper, lowering my eyes.

  Mika doesn’t say anything. He turns and walks into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. I yank off the ugly sweater dress and tights before I find the bag of new lingerie I picked out, taking out a cute nightie that hugs me from breasts to upper thighs. It’s stretchy and fits me like a glove. Made of pure silk, it’s absolutely delightful to the touch. It looks good, too. Too bad Mika won’t get a chance to touch it. I’m sleeping on the couch.

  I grab a pillow off of the bed and am making my way out of the bedroom just as he opens the bathroom door. I don’t bother looking at his gorgeous face. Instead, I start to stomp, adding extra movements to my hips so he can get a good, long view of what he won’t be having anymore as I flounce out of the room.

  Unfortunately, I don’t get far. Mika’s strong arm wraps around my waist and he yanks me back against his chest. I struggle and end up dropping the pillow in my fight. Mika spins me around and grabs onto my wrists, pinning my arms to my sides.

  “Calm the fuck down,” he growls.

  “Idi nahuey,” I scream, telling him to fuck off.

  “You ever try to sleep anywhere other than my bed again, you won’t like the consequences,” he rumbles.

  He picks me up and carries me to the bed, dropping me before he walks over to his side. I watch as he crawls in, sits up, wraps his hands around my waist and drags me across the bed to his side.

  “Is that a threat?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at the empty wall.

  “I don’t threaten,” he murmurs.

  His hand gently slides up my thigh and continues under my soft nightie before it rests against my belly.

  I don’t respond, mainly because I’m kind of scared. I don’t know what kind of threatening, non-threat, that was, but I’m also pretty sure that I don’t want to know.

  “You’re mine, Oksana. Maybe you don’t like that right now; maybe you don’t like what it looks like to be mine. But you are mine. It’s up to you how you want this to be. You want to fight me and be a bitch, then that’s okay. We’ll fuck rough every night and take our anger and frustrations out on each other. I’m okay with that,�
�� he says, his voice soft and gentle as his fingers slowly dip beneath the waist of my panties. “You want to be a good wife, a sweet wife, then I’ll give you the sweetness you deserve in bed, along with the rough you obviously crave.”

  I suck in a ragged breath when his finger gently swirls around my clit, teasingly soft and light. He pulls my panties down my legs before he returns his hand to my center.

  “No matter what, you will be my wife, Oksana. You will be the mother of my children, and there will be no way out of it. It’s up to you what kind of life you want to build with me,” he whispers, his lips touching my neck while his fingers continue to gently play with me. That’s exactly what he’s doing, playing, softly and gently stroking, stoking the fire building inside of me. “What kind of life do you want, lapochka?”

  “A happy one,” I sigh as I open my legs, lifting one and resting it back on his thigh behind me.

  “What does your happy life look like?”

  “You and me,” I admit dreamily. “Happy. Smiling, kissing, and holding each other.”

  “Sounds nice,” he murmurs, two fingers sliding inside of me while his palm rests against my clit. I can’t stop my hips from moving, feeling more of him and his touch against me.

  “Things?” he asks.

  “I don’t care, Mika. I only want you,” I admit shamelessly.

  “We’ll see,” he rasps as he pulls his fingers from inside of me and replaces them with his cock.

  We don’t speak. His fingers gently stroke my clit again, his cock slowly gliding in and out of me while his lips touch my neck. Every so often, his tongue snakes out to taste me.

  I come on a ragged breath, and he follows shortly after on a long moan. He doesn’t move from my body. His chest pressed against me, his cock inside of me, and his arms around me, we fall asleep.

  I HOLD HER, MY cock inside of her until it softens to the point where it slips from her warm heat. I feel like a dick for the way I’ve treated her, but I’ve let women walk all over me, lead me around by my cock for far too long. I’m not allowing Oksana to do that. She’s strong. One of the reasons I was immediately attracted to her is her strength, but that doesn’t mean that she gets full reign to do and say as she wishes.