Forever my Badman (Russian Bratva Book 7)

by Hayley Faiman

  “Do you think your new bride is in danger?” I ask, the thought crossing my mind. He’s due to be married in just under a year to an Irish Mob princess.

  “Probably,” he says. It sounds like he’s said it through gritted teeth.

  “I’m about sick of this shit,” I grumble.

  “No fucking kidding,” he laughs.

  “I’m marrying Oksana tomorrow,” I announce. I hear him suck in a breath. “I wanted to let you know.”

  “Keep her safe, yeah?”

  “Always,” I agree as I pull into the parking garage of my building. “Keep an eye out on your fiancée.”

  “I have three Byki on her at all times. They check in hourly. I’m too far to watch her myself,” he rumbles.

  “Three?” I chuckle.

  “I don’t trust those Irish pricks. She’s soon to be mine. I need my men watching her, and she’s still in New York,” he mutters.

  “As soon as we’re able, we’ll get back to Denver. I’ll have Oksana call you when it’s safe.”

  “Thank you, Mika,” he says, ending the call without allowing me to respond.

  I didn’t have anything to add, anyway. I shove my phone in the pocket opposite of the gun that still sits in the folds of my jacket, a hole now blown through the bottom corner, and walk into the elevator. It doesn’t take long for the car to rise to my floor.

  I step outside and type out a text to Sergei, announcing that all of the assignments have been completed. He replies instantly, telling me to call first thing the next morning, and schedule a time to meet up. I agree and unlock the apartment before I walk in, locking the door behind me. Shoving my phone back inside the pocket, I make my way toward the bedroom.

  Oksana is still in the room, showered and dressed for the day, her hair wet but braided to the side in a long rope. She stiffens but doesn’t look up from her book. She’s got a notepad in front of her, with a pencil in hand. Upon closer inspection, I see that she’s been drawing.

  “I didn’t know you drew,” I remark. I turn from her to the nightstand, on my side of the bed, to empty out my pockets, gun and phone included.

  “Did you kill someone today?” she asks, her voice distant but still sweet and soft.

  “Three someone’s, actually,” I admit as I remove my jacket and throw it to the corner of the room.

  She doesn’t say anything else, and I find that the silence isn’t comforting. It’s actually deafening, and I fucking hate it.

  “Put the drawing down, lapochka,” I order.

  I watch as she does just that, without hesitation, and I fucking hate that, too. I like her attitude, her little smart mouth—I love it, actually.

  “Timofei called me today,” I murmur, watching as a spark lights in her eyes. “Said your friend had called him, worried about you.”

  Oksana bites the corner of her bottom lip, and I chuckle.

  “He assured her that you’re fine. It was dangerous, you contacting her, lapochka,” I murmur.

  “I told you that I didn’t mean any harm,” she defends. I nod.

  “I know, but it was still dangerous. Your brother is under pressure and stress; not only with everything that happened at your wedding, but also about your father, and his new fiancée. He needs to keep her safe in New York, all the way from Denver. I assured him that you’re safe, and informed him of our marriage,” I announce.

  “He wasn’t angry?” she asks. I grunt.

  “Angry for what? He knew my intent when I took you,” I explain.

  “It’s just—” she murmurs.

  “Just what?” I demand.

  “I don’t know. I just wouldn’t think that he would be happy I was to be married so soon, again.”

  “He has his fiancée to worry about, your father and his antics. He’s probably happy that I’m taking care of you,” I announce, feeling my temper rise at her words.

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” she agrees with a nod.

  “You want to go back to him instead of be with me?” I ask.

  Her head swings up to look at me and her face looks stricken. She appears almost sick.

  “A lot has happened. I’m still processing. I didn’t mean anything bad by it. I’m sorry that I’m not all excited about everything that’s going on. You knew about Timofei’s plan ahead of time. I didn’t,” she announces.

  “I did,” I admit. “Honest to fuck, Oksana, you give the most mixed signals I’ve ever received. Either you’re with me or you aren’t. I’m tired of dicking around. We’re married tomorrow, or I send you home to your father,” I state before I turn around and walk away from her.

  I don’t leave the apartment like I want to. Instead, I walk to the office and slam the door shut, locking it behind me. I don’t want her to come inside and be soft and sweet, press her perfect fucking body against me, and make me feel like shit for yelling at her. Not when I’m absolutely fucking right.

  I SPEND ANOTHER NIGHT alone. Though, this time, I know that Mika hasn’t left the apartment. He’s holed himself up in his office and hasn’t emerged. I glace over at his suit jacket in the corner and cringe.

  I don’t want to know why he rolled it into a ball and tossed it in the corner, not when he’s already admitted that he killed three people yesterday afternoon. I’m not upset that he’s killed. I know enough about this life that I realize these men kill. I don’t always know the reasons, but I’m not naïve enough to think that they don’t end lives daily.

  After my shower, I style my hair, leaving it long, but loosely curling it for a little added volume. I apply my makeup, trying to make my face look as flawless as possible. Once I’m satisfied with my face and hair, I make my way to the closet and pull out the dress that I’d decided would be my wedding dress last night.

  I bought it without knowing exactly where I would wear the flowing, light blue maxi-dress. I slip it on over my head and take a look at myself in the mirror. I can’t wear a bra with it and one wrong move would have me showing everybody my breasts, but it’s still stunning.

  The neckline is such a deep, wide, V that it ends at my waist. There is a slim piece of fabric that wraps around my waist, and the rest of the dress flutters out to the ground. I finger the fabric and grin at the softness. It’s an organza type material, and the only thing holding up the back are a few crisscross straps, otherwise my entire back is exposed.

  I slip into a pair of flat, gold sandals and inhale a deep breath, my eyes catching my pretty yellow ring one last time before I walk out of the bedroom and into the living area.

  Mika is standing in the kitchen, his gaze aimed at his phone, something he must have grabbed off of the nightstand while I was in the shower.

  “I’m ready,” I announce as I walk into the kitchen.

  He lifts his head and his eyes sweep my body before they land on my chest and stay there.

  “Let’s go,” he grunts.

  “Is there a problem?” I ask.

  Mika walks directly to me, one of his hands sliding around my waist, the other around the side of my neck. He then brings his face inches from mine. I can feel his warm breath fan my face, and it’s then that I realize how much I’d missed him in my bed, again.

  “You look beautiful, and too sexy,” he murmurs.

  “Too sexy?” I ask on an exhale.

  “I’ll enjoy taking this dress off of my wife later,” he rumbles as his lips press against mine. His tongue forces its way inside of my mouth, and he does as he always does—he consumes me.

  I wrap my arms around his neck and press my body closer to his. He doesn’t move his hands. He doesn’t try to do anything more than kiss me. When he’s done, he nibbles my bottom lip before he moves his mouth to my ear.

  “I slept away from you last night because I thought you needed a little space. That was the last and final time it happens, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I breathe.

  “Sergei waits for us,” he grunts.

  Without another word, he releases me, wraps his hand around min
e, and tugs us to the door. It doesn’t take us long to get to the ZAGS, Palace of Marriages, where I see Uncle Sergei waiting for us outside.

  “How did this happen so quickly? I thought there would be a wait period?” I ask Mika as he helps me out of the car.

  “Sergei,” he says as his answer. Once we are standing in front of my uncle, he pulls me in for a quick hug.

  “Here are your papers,” he announces as he hands Mika two passports. They’re both Russian. While my parents were both born in this country, I was not.

  “Uncle?” I ask, looking at the passports and then back at him.

  “We’re Bratva; we handle shit,” he chuckles.

  I don’t ask anymore questions. I’m a little scared of what the answers may be. We don’t have to wait long, and I feel badly as we pass the dozens of couples standing in line to get to the front. Uncle Sergei opens the door and ushers us inside.

  The ceremony is quick. I don’t understand three-quarters of it, but I follow Mika’s lead. Within just a few minutes, we’re sliding rings on, kissing, and signing a marriage certificate before we’re out the door.

  “Mika,” I breathe as I look up at him.

  “Let’s go,” he grunts.

  I hear Uncle Sergei laugh behind us as Mika scoops me up in his arms and carries me to the car. He settles me inside and then speeds toward the apartment. I don’t know why he’s being this way, but I can’t deny that it’s sexy as hell. I want him again. I want all of him, and I want him now. I missed him more than I realized last night.

  “We’re married,” I whisper as the car slides into the parking space.

  “We are,” he grunts, stepping out of the driver’s side before he jogs over to help me out. I don’t give him the chance. I’m out and waiting for him before he can get there.

  “Why do I want you so freaking badly right now?” I ask as we jog to the stairs.

  “Adrenaline,” he grins.

  “I don’t know what it is, but I need you, Mika. I need you so bad,” I whisper as the elevator door closes.

  He presses my back up against the rear of the elevator and licks the seam of my lips. His hands wrap around my ass, squeezing it tightly before his lips touch the side of my neck, his cock pressing against my stomach.

  Without thinking, I shove my hand down his pants and grab ahold of his hard length, giving it a squeeze while he moans against my skin. He lets me touch him for just a moment before he shifts backward. My hand is forced to release him, and I pull it from his pants.

  The car doors open, and he wraps his fingers around mine, tugging me forward until we’re in front of our door. I watch as he unlocks it. Without a word, he then picks me up, like a bride, like his bride, and carries me over the threshold.

  “Mikhail,” I whisper, looking into his eyes as he carries me through the apartment.

  “Lapochka,” he murmurs.

  I’ll never, not ever, get tired of him calling me sweetie pie. I slide my hands from around his neck into his hair and grip the soft strands. Once we’re in the bedroom, he stops, and his lips brush against mine.

  “You’re mine now,” he rasps against my lips. “Forever.”

  “Forever,” I whisper back. Closing the distance between our mouths, I press my lips to his.

  Mika lowers me to the bed, his hips nestling between my thighs. His hands gently travel up my legs and grip the outsides of my thighs before they move to my ass and grip me there too, his fingers digging into my flesh.

  “Forever,” he grunts.

  I feel crazed, completely out of control, in a way that I have never felt before. I want to pull out my cock, ram it inside of her, and fuck her for hours. I want to make her scream my name, in pleasure or pain—I don’t give much of a fuck as to which right now. That is why I can’t be inside of her yet. Not until I get myself under control.

  I stand, releasing my grip on her, and take a step back, closing my eyes for a second to try and gain some composure.

  “Mikhail?” she asks breathlessly. The loose reign on my control slips just that much more. I should have never told her my birth name.

  “Undress for me, lapochka,” I rumble.

  Oksana nods her head and does as I’ve asked. She makes a show of it, too. My wife. My beautiful wife strips for me. I bite my lip as she slips the top down her shoulders, showing me what I already knew—that she isn’t wearing a bra. It only takes a second for her dress to pool around her feet.

  Once she’s slipped out of her shoes, she steps out of her dress and stands in front of me in nothing but a miniscule pair of white panties. I dip my chin and look at them before she giggles and then removes the material.

  “Get in the middle of the bed and touch yourself for me,” I rumble.

  “Mika, I can’t—I’ve never…”

  Her eyes are wide and her breathing picks up, a sure sign that she’s scared—and nervous, too.

  “You can, and you will,” I say, leaving no room for discussion.

  She nods her head with a jerk, and I watch as she climbs to the middle of the bed. I grin as she spreads her long, lean legs and hesitantly slides her fingers through her center. I start to undress myself. It’s better if I don’t touch her right now, and watching her touch herself—she’s absolutely stunning.

  “Oksana, come on, lapochka, show me,” I murmur as I drop my pants along with my boxers.

  “Mika. It’s so embarrassing,” she whispers as her voice wobbles.

  I wrap my hand around my cock and squeeze the head, trying to relieve some pressure.

  “Really? Because it’s one of the sexiest things I’ve ever witnessed before,” I say, encouraging her.

  She takes a deep breath, inhaling before she exhales, and then I watch with awe as she slips two of her slim fingers inside of herself and starts to really play. I was wrong. This is not one of the sexiest things I’ve ever witnessed before. It is the sexiest thing. I continue to stroke myself as I gaze upon her. She closes her eyes as her back arches and I assume she’s forgotten I’m even in the room.

  There’s a light sheen of sweat that breaks out over her entire body, and she lets out a moan that has my balls tightening and on the verge of making me lose my load. With a groan, I release the hold I have on my cock and climb up the bottom of the bed and between her legs.

  “Move your hand,” I murmur, my eyes focused on the way she’s touching herself, filling her sweet pussy with her fingers over and over.

  “Mika, I’m so close,” she groans.

  I wrap my hand around her wrist and apply a little pressure, stilling her movements. She whines, and it makes me chuckle as I pull her hand from between her legs. I bring it to my mouth and suck the taste of her cunt off of her fingers.

  “Please, please,” she begs as her head moves from side to side.

  “What do you need?” I ask with a smirk.

  “You, Mikhail. I need you,” she moans.

  Wrapping my hands behind her knees, I spread her legs wider and push them down, her knees pressing against her shoulders as I sink inside of her tight heat. Oksana whimpers and lifts her hands to hold onto my forearms.

  “I need to fuck you, Oksana,” I warn her.

  “Yes, yes you do,” she agrees with a nod.

  I close my eyes, hoping that I don’t hurt her, but knowing I won’t be able to hold back. I pull almost completely out of her before I slam back inside. I watch as she arches toward me and sighs. I do it again, then repeat myself, again and again.

  It doesn’t take her long. Her body was primed already; and when she comes, it’s on a sob as her body trembles beneath mine. I can feel her shaking, but there’s no way that I can stop fucking her. She’s too warm, too goddamn tight, and too wet.

  “Mika,” she murmurs. It sounds slurred.

  Her body goes limp as I slam inside of her, her pussy a warm, wet glove that squeezes me and threatens to keep me inside with each thrust. I feel a familiar tingle in my back that alerts me of my impending orgasm. I fuck her harder
, faster, chasing my release. When I come, it’s more of an explosion than anything else. I’ve never come so hard in my entire fucking life.

  I tip my head back and roar with my climax. My legs and arms start to shake, and I release my hold on Oksana’s legs as I fall against her chest, my face going straight into her neck. Oksana starts to run her fingertips soothingly up and down my back as I shiver against her.

  “My husband,” she whispers into the quiet room.

  “Forever, my wife,” I murmur against the sweat soaked skin of her neck.

  “I can’t believe we’re married,” she mutters.

  I lift my head and look into her eyes. I expect to see worry etched in her features, maybe even anger at the way our marriage and wedding happened, but it’s not there. She smiles, and my heart twists inside of my chest.

  “You can have a big party when we get back to the states,” I say. I don’t know why I offer it, but I want her happy, always happy.

  “I don’t want a party,” she says with a shake of her head. I push my hips against her, my cock still inside of her, and she gasps.

  “Don’t lie to me, lapochka. Your dress cost over a hundred grand. You want a party,” I chuckle.

  Oksana’s eyes narrow on me. If looks could kill, I have no doubt she’d be a widow for a second time in less than two weeks right now.

  “I can’t deny that, at one time, I wanted a fairy tale princess wedding. But, Mika, my papa gave that to me and it was horrible. Not just the day, but everything. My mama wasn’t there to help me, and it just felt all wrong. Everything was wrong.”

  “I didn’t think,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Our wedding, just today, it felt more right than anything that has happened since mama died. You feel right, Mikhail.”

  “I’ll make you happy, lapochka. Swear to fuck, I’ll make you happy,” I grunt.

  “I know you will,” she whispers before her lips find mine and she gives me a sweet, gentle, close-mouthed kiss.

  We spend the rest of the day naked in bed. I try not to think about the fact that her father is trying to have me killed. I’ll deal with Pasha tomorrow. Today, my only focus is my Oksana, and making her scream as many times as possible. Perhaps I’ll fill her with a baby, too. Pasha couldn’t take her, or me from her, if she was knocked up with my kid.