Owned by the Badman (Russian Bratva #1)

by Hayley Faiman

  My hands fly to his hair and I wrap my fingers in the messy golden locks.

  Maxim’s tongue slides inside of my center and I spread my legs farther apart, scooting closer to the edge of the counter, trying to get as close to him as I can. I need so much more, want so much more. His hands wrap around my thighs as he devours me.

  His golden blond hair between my legs, his tattooed skin covering mine, and his devious tongue are all too much. I rock against his mouth as I come, screaming his name.

  “Gorgeous,” he whispers as he stands from the floor. He picks me up off the counter and turns me around; his hand is on my back, pushing my chest down onto the counter.

  “I am going to fuck you now, angel moy. It will be rough. If you cannot handle it, you must tell me, yes?”

  I moan my answer because I can’t find any words.

  My brain is too foggy with my recent climax and my current need.

  Maxim roughly grabs my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh as he holds me up so he can easily slide deep inside me from behind. His mouth is on my shoulder, kissing and then biting down hard. I cry out from the initial pain and shock, but something unfurls deep inside of me, and I find that I like it … a lot.

  I push back on his cock, feeling blood droplets slide down my back, making me wetter than I already am. Maxim hums as he pulls out and then roughly thrusts into me, my hipbones crashing against the counter as he pounds into my center. His hand slides up my back and around my neck as he continues to pound deep, and hard, inside of my body.

  “Stay calm, Haleigh. Fuck, you feel so damn good,” he growls as his grip on my neck tightens. I feel my airway restricting.

  My heart begins racing and I start to panic. Then I hear Maxim murmuring for me to be calm and I let go.

  I relax my body as he slams inside of me, harder than before. I try to cry out, but my voice is gone.

  Maxim’s grip is firm around my neck, as his other hand slides to my clit. He begins to furiously rub circles against the sensitive nub, drawing me even closer toward my climax.

  “Come, fucking come, Haleigh,” he bellows, pushing me over the edge.

  I come—my body spasming around him, shaking uncontrollably with the most intense climax I have had. He then stills, his hand twitching on my throat before he finally releases it. His heavy body drapes over mine, trapping me against the once cold countertop that is now hot and wet from my sweaty body.

  “Such a good girl for me,” he whispers in my ear as he slowly slides his cock out of me.

  My body slumps. My legs are complete Jell-O.

  Maxim lifts me in his strong, capable arms and carries me to bed, his face nuzzling my neck the entire way.

  “Sleep, angel moy. Such a good wife, such a good girl,” he mutters as my eyes close.

  I fall into an immediate deep sleep.

  THE NEXT MORNING, I stretch and roll over to find Maxim’s side of the bed is empty. I almost panic, but then realize he must have already gone to work for the day.

  I take my cell phone from the bedside table, and am surprised to see that it is much later than I had initially realized. It is already ten in the morning. I should be up and doing things, but I find that I am feeling lazy and sore—deliciously sore. My phone starts to buzz in my hand. I answer with a sleepy hello.

  “Are you asleep still?” Maxim’s gruff voice barks.

  A few weeks ago, I would have cowered at his tone, but I know now that it is his business voice.

  “You wore me out last night, baby,” I whisper the last word, trying it on to see if I like it.

  “Say it again,” Maxim growls.

  “Baby,” I say before I hear him grunt.

  “I like that. You call me that now, yes?” he orders. I smile widely, even though nobody can see me, telling him yes.

  “I work late tonight, angel moy. Do not wait for me. I will eat out, so do not make me dinner,” he says. I try to swallow the insecurity, the fear that it is not really work he’s going to but another woman.

  “All right, Maxim. I’ll see you later sometime then?” I can’t help the way my voice weakens as the tears begin to gather in my eyes.

  “It is only work, Haleigh, I swear this to you. Just work.” He tries to reassure me, but I just nod as if he can see me. Brightly, I tell him to have a great day.

  “Have a good day, golubushka,” he whispers, hanging up before I can say another word. I am glad; who knows what kind of crazy I would come up with if he were on the phone a second longer.

  I spend the day trying not to think about what Maxim is doing tonight.

  Will he go to Catia?

  Will he go to somebody else?

  By the end of the day, the house is perfectly clean and I have paced the living room and kitchen about a hundred times. I glance at the clock every ten minutes after nine o’clock hits wondering where he is and what he is doing, or who?

  I talk myself out of him being with anybody just as quickly as I talk myself into him being with everybody.

  I pick up the phone fifteen times to talk to Sonia, but I end up putting it down before I dial her number. I feel stupid. Suddenly, there is a knock on the door and I rush to open it. My breath is stolen from my body by the person standing in the doorway.

  Amelia Stockhardt

  My mother whooshes right past me and into the living room without a single word, as if she owns the place—like she has every right to just walk into Maxim’s home. My home. I don’t know why she is here, and I don’t care. She hasn’t tried to contact me once since I have married Maxim.

  “How can I help you, Mother?” I ask, my voice like ice.

  “This home is nice, Haleigh. Too nice for you,” she states. I suddenly wish I had slammed the door in her face. She is a horrible person. Instead, I don’t say a word.

  “I don’t see any visible bruising, so I assume he isn’t hitting you too hard, then,” she quips. My eyes widen, and I just stare at her. Dumbfounded.

  “Maxim does not hit me, mother,” I say softly, my hand going to my throat to caress the delicate skin there. Not that he choked me that hard, but the skin is still a bit tender.

  “What does he do? Chain you up and fuck you like the purchased piece of meat that you are?” she asks, arching a perfect brow at me.

  My mouth gapes, and I can’t speak. I can’t do anything but stare at her in complete surprise.

  “You do know that we sold you, don’t you? He owns you, Haleigh, so you had better not piss him off. He can get rid of you the moment you do,” she announces, her eyes taking in a full scan of my body.

  “Mother …”

  It’s the only thing I can say because I am at a complete loss for words. I was not under the impression that Maxim saw me one day and just had to have me; I knew there was some kind of deal made but sold?

  “You look fat, Haleigh. You need to dance more and eat less or he really won’t want to keep you,” she continues, tapping her foot as if she is impatient about ... something. I close my eyes and ball my hands into fists before I speak.

  “You need to leave my home,” I say sternly. She cocks her head to the side and then smirks.

  “Silly girl, this will never be your house. This is Maxim’s, and by the looks of it, business is good for him. Maybe I’ll get rid of you myself and slide on into your place. I’m sure he’d appreciate a real woman who knows how to please her man,” she says with zero emotion to her voice and smirk placed on her lips. I step closer to her so I don’t scream or cry—or do both.

  “Go. You are not welcome in my home,” I say. My voice is as low and lethal as I can possibly make it.

  I don’t see it before it happens, but suddenly, I feel a thumping pain in my cheek. My mother has slapped me. I cup my face and turn my head back around to face her.

  “You’ll do well to remember your place, Haleigh. You are nothing but property. He owns you. What you feel for him is some fucked-up illusion, some fucked-up game, and he’s playing with your mind. Make no mistak
e, little girl, your life is in his hands,” she announces, smiling widely.

  I shake my head and she smiles even wider. She then takes my hair in her hand and pulls my head down so fast, I can’t even brace myself for the fall onto the spotless travertine flooring— flooring I spent well over two hours cleaning today. She lifts her foot before stomping onto my stomach with her sharp high heel, and then repeats the motion five more times on various parts of my torso. I can do nothing but moan every time she kicks or stomps on a part of my body.

  “Remember, Haleigh, you are nothing. You have always been nothing, and you will always be nothing. You are nothing but a bartering chip in this life, and you are nothing but property,” she informs me.

  My eyes are swollen from the combination of her kicks and my tears, but I watch as her foot goes back and then, all of a sudden, she is gone.

  “Dimitri, hold this bitch.” I hear a booming voice from somewhere in the distance and then I see my Maxim crouched down, his beautiful golden hair right in front of me, his handsome scared face in my sights.

  I sigh at the sight of him.

  “Baby,” I whisper slowly, lifting my arm to cup his cheek.

  “The doctor is coming, Haleigh. I will kill her. I will kill her right here in front of you. I will watch her bleed like she has made you bleed.”

  His voice is fading and I close my eyes, letting sleep take me. I can’t seem to keep my eyes open a moment longer.

  I turn my head to Dimitri, who is holding the very beautiful but very cold and extremely stupid mother of my wife—my mother-in-law. She sneers at me for a beat before she smiles. It is kind of scary, and I am never scared. I am the one who scares others.

  “Maxim,” she purrs.

  I know that tone. I have fucked many a woman who have used it; not because I liked them but because I knew they would spread their thighs.

  “You hurt my woman? My wife? For what reason?”

  I can’t even voice her fucking name. In fact, words are becoming very difficult and my gun and knife are looking mighty nice at the moment. My fingers twitch and ache to pull out a weapon and show this bitch exactly what the fucking devil looks like.

  “Why did you want her? You aren’t beating her, that I could tell. I hurt her because she thought she could have a smart mouth with me, and I had to teach the little bitch a lesson,” she hisses.

  I don’t think—I do. I punch the bitch in the face. I punch her as hard as I would punch any man and it is fairly satisfying. I watch her look of surprise right before her head lolls to the side.

  Stupid bitch.

  “Call her husband to come and collect her. Let me know when he is here and tie them up in my office. Someone will pay for Haleigh’s bruises and blood,” I tell Dimitri in Russian.

  If that bitch is conscious, she won’t know what I have said. Dimitri flashes me a small smile and nods.

  “Haleigh did not deserve one bruise on her body, you know this,” he announces. I shake my head at my driver, my right-hand man, and my only friend.

  “I know this. That is why these fuckers pay, friend,” I say, pointing at the passed out cunt in his grip.

  Dimitri nods and then hustles away to do what I have asked of him. I gather my beautiful—beaten wife—in my arms and take her upstairs to wait for the doctor.

  I pick up the phone, calling Pasha and Sonia. I ask them to come to the house and explain briefly what has happened. I know that by the time they get here, the doctor will most likely be finished with his assessment of Haleigh’s injuries. Then I will know how to handle her sorry excuse of a mother.

  A knock on the main door interrupts my staring contest with Haleigh’s too still body, and I wrench it open to see the doctor standing right in front of me.

  “Dr. Utkin,” I grumble. He nods silently, following me with his big medical bag in hand.

  “I came home this evening and my wife had been attacked.” My eyes meet his and he nods without words, but I can see that he does not believe me.

  It wouldn’t be the first time that one of us had beaten our women and then called him. I cannot blame him for thinking the worst. Dr. Utkin is one of us. I know that whatever happens behind closed doors will stay with him until death. He carries the same stars on his knees that I do, stars that dictate we will never fall on our knees for the authorities. Though, his body is not riddled with as many tattoos telling the horrible stories of his life the way mine does. Nevertheless, he does have his fair share.

  “She is in here,” I motion. He walks directly to the bedside.

  “Have you moved her?” he barks in Russian.

  I answer him that, yes, I did—from the living room, where I found her, to here. I watch as he begins to poke around my wife’s beautiful body and all I want to do is rip his fucking hands off just for touching what is mine. She is mine.

  “I do not sense any broken bones, Mr. Lasovska.” His hands go toward the inside of her thighs, and my own ball into fists.

  “Has she been violated; do you think?” he asks.

  “No,” I growl.

  “I want to do an ultrasound of her stomach, just to make sure that she does not have any internal damage. Her stomach is bruising quickly, and I don’t like the way it looks,” he informs.

  I swallow thickly, nodding. There is a presence at the door, and I turn slightly to see Sonia making her way inside.

  “Oh, Maxim,” Sonia cries, throwing herself at me. I have no choice but to embrace the woman.

  I don’t like hugs, but Sonia is the closest thing I have to a mother, and I will never turn down affection from her.

  “Who did this?” Pasha barks. I shake my head.

  “Sonia, you stay with Haleigh and the doctor. Pasha and I have business.” Sonia’s eyes go wide, and she nods in understanding.

  Sonia knows that the business I mean is not for financial gain but for retribution; and, Christ, but the woman smiles, liking the idea of whoever has done this to my beautiful little dove being taken out. If I wasn’t so worried, I might smile back at her, but I don’t.

  Pasha and I walk downstairs just as Dimitri is walking in with Haleigh’s father in front of him, his hands bound and his mouth gagged. He looks at me and his eyes widen before they begin to form tears—pussy.

  “Her father?” Pasha asks in English.

  There is no reason to bring him here hooded or to speak in a language he will not understand. He will never leave this place—not alive anyway.

  I motion for Dimitri and Pasha to follow me into my office, where the cunt is bound, gagged, and tied to a chair. Her eyes scan the room in a panic. I want to laugh in her face—stupid bitch.

  “Please, Mr. Stockhardt, join our little meeting.”

  I lean my hip against the front of my desk as Dimitri shoves the dickless bastard into the chair next to his cunt wife, Amelia. I motion for Dimitri to remove their gags and am met with wide, fake as shit, doe eyes from the wife. The husband is shaking, and I wonder when exactly he will piss himself because a man this spineless always pisses himself.

  “Do you know why you are here, Joseph?” I ask. His eyes slide to his wife’s before they narrow and his mouth pinches together.

  My own eyes scan these people, two self-absorbed pieces of shit. I wonder how in the fuck they made that beautiful creature who is upstairs beaten and battered. How did she turn out so fucking sweet and innocent?

  “You don’t do a very good job of controlling your bitch, Joseph. She came over here and hurt my wife—your daughter. I do not know the extent of the damage she has done, but her body is broken, bruised, and bloodied. I will not tolerate it,” I calmly state before I continue, lowering my voice, “you will both die.”

  Amelia looks at me and begins to plead for her life.

  “I’ll do whatever you want,” she begs. “Fuck me any way you want, however you want. I don’t care, just don’t kill me,” she begs again. I throw back my head and laugh at her piss-poor attempts to persuade me.

  “I don’t
want to fuck you, Amelia,” I bark, watching as she pales before her devious eyes meet mine.

  “I am a woman, Maxim. A woman who knows how to please a man—even a monster like you. Fuck my ass, fuck my face, fuck my cunt. I’ll do whatever you want and you’ll fucking love it,” she offers, smiling as if her offer means anything to me.

  My shoulders shake with my laughter. Pasha is looking at her with complete disgust. It isn’t the first time a woman has offered herself as a sex toy before she is dealt with. I’ve taken a few up on their propositions before I have killed them in the past. There is nothing like watching the hope flare before it is extinguished. I can be a sick bastard, this I know, but I feel zero temptation at this cunt’s proposal. I would never do that to Haleigh, especially not to this woman who has betrayed her.

  I meant it when I said there would be no other women.

  “Haleigh pleases me just fine, Amelia, and your stretched-out cunt and asshole are not tempting in the slightest,” I say, keeping my tone even and bored. I watch as she flinches and then I see her anger explode at my words.

  “How can I fix this?” Joseph asks, ignoring his wife’s whoring. I turn to him and pull my gun out of my waistband. The silencer is already attached. I don’t need to hear the blast to know that a man is dead. I point it right at the center of his forehead.

  I lean in to whisper to him.

  “You die.”

  I pull the trigger and watch as the man slumps down in his chair. His brains and skull explode behind him. I feel a bit dissatisfied at how easily he expired. No torture, no finesse, just a clean kill. It feels too respectful for the cunt-bitch that he is. Amelia begins to scream, but I cut her off by pointing the weapon at her head; she smartly shuts her trap.

  “I should torture you after what you did to my wife, you stupid fucking cunt,” I growl.

  I feel Pasha’s hand on my shoulder. Her eyes flick to him in hope that he might save her. I want to laugh. Little does she know, Pasha is the scariest fucker in the room—not me.