MIKHAIL IS A HANDFUL. I don’t always know what he’s thinking, or how he’s going to react to the simplest of things; but then he’ll surprise me and be so sweet and so affectionate, too. He is a roller coaster of emotions, just by himself.
I roll over to his side of the bed, but the sheets are cold. Damn the man and his early rising. I stretch before going to the restroom, then I root around on the floor for his shirt from yesterday. Sliding it on, I button the center of it as I make my way to the living area, the window overlooks the Red Square and it’s absolutely breathtaking. I don’t know if Mika sees anything though, it doesn’t seem like he’s focused on anything in particular.
“Yes, I’ll be there,” Mika grumbles as he stares out in the distance before he starts rattling off something in Russian.
I slip between the large window and his body, looking up at him. His hand wraps around my waist and he gives me a squeeze before he starts talking into his phone. I can’t understand him—not that I really care about listening in on his conversations.
Instead, I fall to my knees and gently slide down his sweatpants. He’s not wearing any boxers, and I stick my tongue out and lick the seam of his cock. I hear his breath hitch as he continues to talk on the phone.
Opening my mouth, I lean forward and take him down my throat, my hands wrapping around the backs of his upper thighs as I move around his dick. One of his hands slides into my hair, until he reaches the back of my head. His fingers twist to hold on.
Mika tightens his fingers in my hair and stills me. My eyes open, and I peer up at him. He mouths, stay still, to me. I do as he demands, my mouth open but my body perfectly still. He takes over, fucking my mouth, his cock sinking further and further down my throat with each thrust.
He barks something into his phone before he hits a button and tosses it behind him somewhere. Then his free hand wraps around the back of my neck and massages it gently while he fucks me harder and faster before he stills on a moan. I feel his cum slide down my throat as his cock twitches in my mouth.
“Oksana, fuck,” he mumbles as he takes a step back and pulls up his sweats. He then picks me up off of the floor.
“Good morning,” I grin up at him as I wipe the saliva from my mouth.
“Great fucking morning,” he grunts. “I want to make you come, but I need to get to Sergei’s office. I have to go over some work,” he murmurs as he cups my cheek, looking extremely disappointed.
“It’s okay. I’m going with Leonie and Ustin to the orphanage today, anyway,” I grin.
“No other stops, yeah? I still don’t know what your father has really put into motion. You stay with Ustin the entire time.”
“I will, Mika. I promise,” I whisper as my lips touch his.
“I’ll eat you nice and slow tonight,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Yeah,” I sigh.
He chuckles, slapping me on the ass as he steps back and turns to walk away from me. Bending over, he grabs his phone before he’s down the hall and into our bedroom. I shiver with anticipation as I walk into the kitchen and make myself a coffee.
A few minutes later, he walks into the kitchen, fully dressed in one of his nice suits, his hair still damp from the shower. He grins at me before he closes the distance between us and wraps one of his hands around the side of my neck. Mika presses his lips to mine before he kisses over to my ear, his hot breath sending chills over my body as my nipples pebble beneath his shirt.
“I’ll come home, we’ll order in some dinner, and I’ll finally eat you for dessert, yeah?”
I nod, barely able to breathe, completely incapable of speech.
“See you tonight. Be a good girl.”
I stand in the kitchen, panting as my husband walks out the door. When the lock clicks into place, it is a jolt to my body. I look at the time and hurry to the bedroom to get dressed myself. I am so excited to see all of those babies again today. I can hardly stand it.
Once I’m showered, I pull on a pair of tight jeans, booties, and a loose V-neck, navy blue t-shirt. My hair is down and wavy, but I don’t have time to do anything but throw it up in a messy bun. I apply a quick, light layer of makeup, and I’m walking out of the bedroom just as Ustin and Leonie are walking into the living room.
“Congratulations!” Leonie shouts as she hurries over to me and throws her arms around my waist.
“Thank you,” I laugh.
Ustin only lifts his chin at me, and then he walks over to the door and waits for us. Leonie and I don’t wait a second longer. We follow him and slip out of the door while he locks up behind us. She asks me a few questions about the wedding and is surprised to find out how rushed it all was, and that Sergei was the only person who attended it.
“Mika said I could have a party later, but I don’t want one,” I shrug.
“Why not?” she asks, eying me.
“I had a big party and none of it was happy. It certainly didn’t end happily,” I mumble.
“I can understand that,” she whispers. “It’s why I don’t ever want to marry again. Ustin knows this, and he doesn’t push. Although, I think he wants to marry,” she whispers.
“It’s hard.”
“It is. You’re so brave, Oksana, trying again with Mika,” she says. I feel like a fraud.
I wasn’t even married two hours before I was freed from the asshole. I didn’t suffer the way that Leonie did; although, I have a feeling that, had Timofei not killed him, Gavril would have insured that I suffered at his hand. He was a snake.
We climb into the car and our conversation ceases as soon as we’re all together and on our way to the orphanage. I watch out the windows, hoping that Mika is okay out there, wherever he is. I can’t believe my father. His actions are not that of a stable man, and I wonder if losing my mother is the only reason he’s become suddenly manic.
“Ready?” Leonie asks as she turns around to look at me from the front seat.
“Yeah,” I smile.
Together, the three of us walk into the orphanage and check in at the front. As much as I like the children, I find that I want that sense of calm that only babies can give, today. I tell Leonie that I’m going to spend my time with them, and she gives me a smirk and a nod before she heads over to see the older children. Her passion lies with the children she can play and converse with, but mine, my passion lies with the helpless innocent lives that don’t get the human contact they so truly deserve.
I smile at the nurse and walk over to the first baby in the row of bassinets. The baby is a girl. Her name is Zia, according to the little tag on the side of her bassinet. She’s five weeks old. My heart aches as I pick her up and hold her to my chest before walking over to the rocking chair and sitting down.
Five weeks ago, she had a mother. I shake my head as I rock her. She nuzzles closer to my neck, and I sigh. I now understand why my mother wanted a house full of babies. They’re soothing, beautiful, calming, and trusting. They need love, and, as their mother, you’re the one they need it from.
I close my eyes and think about my brothers and sisters who never lived. Papa thinks that I don’t know about the miscarriages because they were so long ago, but I remember.
I remember the pain that settled in my mama’s face each time she lost a baby. My papa didn’t always know how to comfort her, being a man—especially a Bratva man. Dealing with emotions wasn’t something he understood. So my mama would hurt more, her face would get sad; and when she thought she was alone, she would cry.
Spending the rest of the day switching from baby to baby, it is a mixture of calming, fulfilling, and saddening sensations all at the same time. Leonie comes to get me as I’m just putting the last baby in the room down. I smile and wave goodbye to the woman who has been feeding, changing, and caring for the children all day around me. She lifts her chin, but gives me a small smile as I leave the room.
“Are you okay?” Leonie asks as we make our way back home.
“I am. I was just thinking about my mother. She
passed several months ago,” I admit on a shrug.
“You miss her.”
“Some days more than others,” I say with a smile.
I do miss mama. Sonia Vetrova was remarkable in every way a woman could be remarkable. She was a devoted, loving wife and mother. She was also a strong Bratva wife. She didn’t put up with any shit, and her station as a Pakhan’s wife showed in each and every move she made.
I miss her every day, and I hate myself for being a bratty bitchy daughter to her. If I could have anything in the world, it would be five minutes more with my mother to apologize, to hug her and tell her that I love her.
“Stay here. I’ll take Oksana up,” Ustin says to his woman.
I thank Leonie for another wonderful day, and we make plans to go to lunch together tomorrow, maybe even visit a few boutiques and get our nails done. Her treat as my bridal shower. I laugh and wave to her as I join Ustin outside of the vehicle. We hurry into the building and he checks out my apartment before he tells me that he’ll see me tomorrow.
Once I’m locked inside, I decide to take a long, hot bath, and relax a bit before Mika comes home from whatever it is he does all day long.
“You finished these already?” Sergei asks as I hand him the files of the men I’ve killed for him. “You remember your way around the city, it seems. It’s been a few years,” he chuckles.
I let out a sigh before I shake my head. “Cell and car both have GPS. Not that hard to get around.” He nods with a smile still on his lips.
“You want more work? I have more.”
I think about his words. Maneuvering the city has been fairly easy, except, I don’t know which cops are paid off and which aren’t. I’ve had to be more cautious than I normally would on jobs like these. Shaking my head, I decide that I don’t what any more jobs. Honest to fuck, I just want to take my wife home with me, back to Denver, back to my crew.
“After that shit with Pasha putting a price on my own head, I wanted to get these done for you in case I had to leave suddenly,” I shrug.
“I’ll call Pasha,” he grunts. “He’s overreacting.”
“If it were Tatyana?” I ask, arching a brow, asking about his own child.
“I contracted Tati when she was a child so that this wouldn’t happen,” he says with a wave of his hand.
“True,” I grunt, falling back in a chair.
“I’ll call Ziven, deal with him first,” Sergei rumbles.
I nod my agreement. Ziven is my Pakhan. He really should know where I am.
“Once Pasha knows you’re married, then we deal with the backlash from his bruised ego. But you’re both under my protection here. He can’t touch you. If he does, he deals with me,” he grunts.
“What about the hit on me?” I ask.
“Your hair is even singed, and he’ll deal with me. He has to toe the fucking line, and he fucked up big time with this whole Gavril mess. He doesn’t want to fuck up again, or I’ll be the one running Brighton Beach, and he’ll be six-feet under,” Sergei says, his voice low and lethal.
I nod, already knowing that I never wanted to be on Sergei’s bad side. Now, I understand why, wholly and completely.
“Go home to your bride. I’m sure she waits for you,” he chuckles.
“She’s visiting babies in an orphanage today. Do you have anything else for me?” I ask, thinking I could use a little extra cushion in my bank account, and figuring I could take jobs one at a time.
“Orphanage?”
“I told her about my sister, my nieces and nephews. Ustin’s woman volunteers at a local orphanage a few times a week, so Oksana has been joining her,” I shrug.
“She has a good heart, much like Sonia,” he murmurs.
“She does, when you get past the spoiled printsessa part,” I laugh. He doesn’t laugh. Rather, he lifts a brow at me. I shake my head. “I know it’s an act, boss. I didn’t know Sonia, but I know Oksana, and she’s much softer than she lets on.”
“She is. Her mother was a hard as nails Pakhan’s wife from the outside, but anybody who knew her loved her because she was soft and sweet. She was strong and didn’t put up with anyone’s shit, except for maybe Pasha’s. How she put up with the man, I’ll never know,” he says, closing his eyes for a moment before he opens them. He’s not in the room with me; he’s completely lost in thought, in the past.
“Take care of, Oksana.”
I nod as I clear my throat and stand. I will take care of Oksana, because she’s mine, and because her softness deserves to be catered to. I decide to go on a walk before I go home, before I head back to her. I need some fresh air.
I make my way to Gorky Park. I haven’t been here since I was a boy. My mentor brought me and a few boys here once when we were teens. It was for business, to sell dope, but I remember the amusement park like it was yesterday.
When I am finally inside of the park, I’m surprised to see that everything looks new and clean. It’s a far cry from the broken, run down attractions I remember. The restaurants were nothing but fast food shitholes, but now they appear clean and there are lines waiting to get inside.
I’m wowed at the sheer amount of people that are simply walking around, and even more surprised at the number of children that are here. It is definitely not the place I remember. It’s brighter and happier. I even spy a group of people doing yoga. Nothing is left of the seedy place where I made my first sell and rode my first rickety Ferris wheel.
The sun starts to set, and I look at my watch, surprised that I’ve been walking around this place all day long, taking in the sights and inhaling the water from the river with which the park is aligned. I decide that it’s time to go home to my Oksana. I want to be near her, hold her, be inside of her, and taste her.
The apartment is quiet when I enter, but I hear Oksana’s voice from the bedroom. I quickly, but quietly, make my way to the sound of her voice. I am frozen still when I finally find her. She’s lying in the tub, the water and bubbles all around her, her head leaning back and her eyes closed as she sings to the song playing on her phone.
She’s the most beautiful vision I have ever come across.
I strip my clothes off as quickly as I can and walk over to the tub, stepping inside and sinking down in front of her. She squeals and flails around, making me laugh, and then her eyes narrow when she realizes who is in front of her.
“You scared the shit out of me,” she cries.
“I’m sorry, lapochka. Come lean on me,” I murmur. She rolls her eyes but does as I ask and stands before she turns around and sinks down, her back to my front.
I let my fingers run up and down her arms, her stomach and breasts, resting my chin on her shoulder, just enjoying her soft body against mine.
“Did you have a good day?” she asks softly.
“It was okay. Tell me of yours?” I urge, my voice just above a whisper.
“I stayed in the nursery all day. I just held every single baby that was there. They are so beautiful, Mika, every single one of them,” she whispers.
“Do you want them?” I ask.
“Children?”
“Yeah, lapochka, children. Babies?” I mutter as my fingers continue to graze her skin gently.
“A whole house full,” she says.
“You’ve not been taking any birth control, have you?” I ask, pretty sure of her answer already.
“No,” she says. I can practically see her chewing on her lip.
“Good. I want a whole house full, too,” I murmur.
“But so soon?”
“Ideally, I would like to wait a little, but the sooner you’re pregnant, the more you’re bound to me, and your father can’t try to take you from me,” I admit.
“I never thought about that,” she sighs.
“I didn’t want it to be like this; but honest to fuck, Oksana, I wouldn’t trade having you here with me, and you being my wife, for anything else in the whole fucking world.”
IT’S BEEN AN ENTIRE week since Mika and I had
our talk about pregnancies and babies. The days have been lonely, but the nights have been better than I could have ever imagined. Mika and I are growing close, and I’m falling more and more for him each day. I know that this is just the beginning, but we’re working through all of the things being thrown at us—together.
I exhale and force myself to get out of bed. My legs are shaky from the early morning orgasm he gave me before he left for work. My mind wanders to our conversation a few days ago, about babies, about trying to get pregnant in order to stay together, as if my father would rip us apart. I don’t want to think that my father would do that, not when I’m married and obviously happy.
Also, I’m not sure that I want to bring a child into the world for that purpose and that purpose alone. I feel guilty, and it feels wrong. A baby should be made to love and care for, not for some kind of protection. I may not have thought that way months ago, but after being around the babies at the orphanage, I know that they’re made to love, not for bargaining chips.
It doesn’t take me long to dress. I find that as the days pass, my need to look perfect all of the time is quickly diminishing. Back in New York, even if I were going to stay at home all day, I would always make sure my clothes were perfectly put together, with makeup, hair and shoes, too.
Now, I spend my days either lunching with Leonie or at the orphanage, where I’m spit up on or peed on, and I wouldn’t change a single thing about it.
I’m happier than I ever have been.
I wish my mama was around to see me now. I like to think that she’d be proud of the woman I am becoming. Though, I could use some cooking lessons. I haven’t made a single meal for my husband, and I wouldn’t even know where to start.
The knock on the door surprises me. I know that Ustin and Leonie are coming over; it’s another day at the orphanage for us. Later, we’re going to go to a cooking class, something of which I have yet to inform Ustin. I’m sure he’ll hate it, but I think that Leonie will have fun with me.
Forever my Badman (Russian Bratva Book 7) Page 9
