Tempting the Badman (Russian Bratva #5)

by Hayley Faiman

“When you look at me, would you be heartbroken, would you be devastated if I were no longer around? When you aren’t with me, do you think of me? Do you want to be with me? Are you distracted because you are thinking of me?” she asks.

  I am all of those things. Every single one. Inessa has distracted me since the moment I met her. My cock has wanted nothing but to be inside of her—that’s not love, though. And she’s mine, so if she were to be gone, that would infuriate me. She’s not for anybody else but me.

  This notion of love that she seems to be focused on is ridiculous. She’s my wife, and it’s my job to provide and protect her, which is what I’m trying to do.

  Love has absolutely nothing to do with it. Love is just some feeling. It means absolutely nothing. I could say the words to shut her up, but they would lack conviction.

  “Feelings don’t matter, Inessa. What matters is that you’re my wife—mine. What matters is that I protect you, I provide for you, and all of this I do for the simple fact that it’s my duty, but also because I want you to be happy. I want to see your beautiful smile aimed at me.”

  “How can I be happy when you leave me all day and all night, going to a brothel and fucking other women?”

  Instinctually I reach out to backhand her, but when I see her brace herself for impact, cowering, I freeze. Dropping my hand, I decide to run it through my hair, frustrated with her and also angry with myself for almost striking my pregnant wife. Fuck.

  “I don’t fuck other women, Inessa. I’ve already told you this. We’re not going to keep having this pointless discussion. I have no reason to lie. I could tell you I do fuck them and you will do nothing. You won’t leave because you can’t. You’ll accept me as I am because you have no other choice. But hear this, and hear it good, because I won’t be saying it again. I don’t fuck other women,” I growl.

  Inessa nods and I hate that she looks terrified of me. I hate the distance between us. It’s not just physically, but it’s her as well. She’s closing me off from her, and I loathe it.

  I like my yagodka with her sweet smiles, her kisses, the way she ignites for me when we’re just standing in the same room. I don’t like this version of her, this guarded, closed off version.

  I wrap my arm around her back pulling her toward my chest, my face dipping low so that I can look in her eyes, so that she can see the truth and hopefully believe me.

  “I’m telling you the truth, Inessa. Alla kissed me. Alla and I used to fuck, but I’ve not touched her in months, and I did not pursue her today, not at all,” I murmur, pressing my lips against hers.

  “I can’t do this. I can’t just watch you leave my bed every day and go—there, then accept you back like you’ve just gone to a normal job,” she whispers, wrapping her small fists into my shirt and holding on.

  “It is a normal job. I manage their schedules, I vet their clients, and I balance the books, making sure they don’t try to take money from the house. It’s a lot of paperwork, it’s a lot of whiny bitches, it’s a lot of phone calls, and it’s a lot of accounting,” I explain. She shakes her head.

  “It’s the bitches part,” she whispers.

  I chuckle as I wrap my hand around her back and pull her closer to my body, feeling her soft against the length of my front.

  “Yagodka, how many times do I have to tell you? It’s only you, Inessa,” I murmur before I press my lips to hers.

  I kiss her, sweeping my tongue through her mouth, tasting all of her. I feel her body stiffen and then relax before she presses against me. Her hands fly to the back of my head and her fingers fist in my hair before she tugs my head back. I grin at the fire brimming in her eyes.

  “I don’t trust you,” she whispers.

  “You will, Inessa,” I whisper.

  Inessa’s stomach makes an awful noise, and I pull back to look down at her.

  “Are you hungry?” I mutter with a grin. She shrugs and I shake my head.

  “Let me feed you,” I whisper, pressing my lips to hers as her stomach makes the horrid noise again.

  I don’t wait for a response before I pull out my phone and order takeout. I order from the Portobello Café, a place that I know she enjoys. Sautéed chicken with artichoke hearts over a bed of penne pasta for Inessa, and Sunday dinner for myself, which is meatballs, sauce, and kielbasa on rigatoni smothered in ricotta.

  I prefer traditional Russian foods, but Italian is a close second for me. Inessa would always choose Chinese over anything else, something that I’ve learned from observing her over the past few months, but I’ve seen her reach for pasta too, so I decide to order something I know that we both like.

  “You ordered Italian?” she asks after I end the call with the restaurant.

  “You like it,” I shrug.

  “How’d you know? It’s not like we’ve gone out on dates or anything,” she murmurs.

  “I pay attention to what you like, Nessa. Believe it or not, it’s important to me.”

  She stares up at me with wide eyes and then narrows them on me, placing her hands on her hips.

  “Dominik,” she hisses. “There you go again, so hypocritical, following me around, and yet you’re out doing whatever.”

  I don’t bother responding. I wrap my arm around her waist and haul her into my chest before I slant my head and take her in a kiss. My other hand tangles in her hair at the back of her head, and I sweep my tongue inside of her.

  Once she whimpers into my mouth, I know I have her exactly where I want her—as mine. I slide my hand from her waist to cup her ass and then gather her dress to pull it up and over her hips before I dive my hand inside of her panties.

  “Nik,” she whimpers as I move my hand to cup her pussy from behind.

  “You’re mine, Inessa. My wife. Nothing is going to change that,” I murmur, kissing her neck as my fingers slide through her damp center.

  “I don’t want you working down there,” she murmurs.

  “You don’t have a say in what I do or where I work, but I won’t purposely hurt you. Being with another woman hasn’t crossed my mind in months, there’s only you,” I inform her. Her body stiffens.

  I don’t stop gently caressing her center or kissing her neck. She has to understand that my job isn’t something I can choose to keep or quit and move on. This is my life.

  I feel her body relax, and I walk her over to the bed before I pick her up and gently lay her down. I swiftly remove her panties before spreading her thighs. Without a single word, I throw her legs over my shoulders and I lick her pussy with one long stroke, swirling my tongue around her clit.

  “Nik,” she moans as her hands fist at her sides.

  I’m determined to make her come before dinner. I slide two fingers inside of her and make a come-hither motion while I focus my mouth on her clit. I suck, I lick, and I flick the bud over and over again while continuing to fuck her with my fingers. Nothing could stop me right now. Listening to her whimpers and cries of pleasure is everything to me.

  “Oh, shit, Nik,” she cries out.

  I feel her pussy clamp around my fingers as her back bows off of the bed. I continue to gently stroke in and out of her with my fingers as I simultaneously continue to lick her clit.

  I hear the buzzer and I know that the food is here. Begrudgingly, I pull myself from Inessa’s body and leave her in a pile on the bed to go handle the delivery man.

  “Time for food, yagodka,” I murmur against her mouth before I brush my lips over hers and walk away. She opens her mouth, most likely to argue with me, but I ignore her and walk away.

  It only takes me a few minutes to get the food handled. When I turn to take it into the bedroom, I’m surprised to see her coming my way wearing nothing but one of her nighties. It’s sexy as fuck—a soft light blue color. It’s short, so short that if she turned around, I’d no doubt see the bottom cheeks of her ass poking out. But that’s not what has me transfixed. It’s her dark pink nipples poking through that has me frozen in my spot.

  “You’re eating
pasta in that?” I ask, arching a brow.

  “I am. I’m starving, too,” she says with a grin, turning toward the dining room.

  “You’re doing this to torture me?” I ask as I follow her ass, which would be hanging out if she didn’t have little panties on.

  “Do you want me to change?”

  “No,” I grunt.

  I’m going to be hard as fuck watching her eat. I grin as I think about that. Oh, she thinks she’s going to torture me. She has another thing coming.

  “I don’t play games, Nessa,” I murmur as I set the food down in front of my normal chair.

  “Games?” she asks, arching a brow.

  “You’ve come, and you think you’re going to make me suffer a little while we eat—those sweet nipples on display in this tiny little nightie.” I make a tsking sound as I shake my head. “C’mere,” I mutter.

  Her body whirls around and she looks at me with confusion, but she walks toward me anyway, following my command.

  “Panties off,” I grunt.

  “Dominik,” she says hesitantly.

  “Now,” I bark.

  I watch as she shakily discards her panties and walks over to me. Games. She thinks she wants to play cute games when she’s come and I’m hard as nails? I’ll show her games.

  I disrobe, taking everything off until I’m completely naked, and she watches with wide eyes. Then, I sit down in my chair and take both containers of food out, sitting them side by side before I stand and turn my chair around so that my back is to the table.

  “Come, sit,” I chuckle patting my thighs.

  “Dominik,” she whispers.

  “You want your dinner tonight, you’ll have it with my cock inside of you, and you’ll feed me while you do it, too,” I grunt.

  “Nik,” she breathes—and, fuck, my cock hardens even more. She must see it, because her eyes widen and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip.

  To my surprise, she straddles my thighs and positions my dick right at her entrance before she sinks down, her eyes never leaving mine.

  I wrap my hands around her hips and help guide her down all the way, adjusting so that I’m in as deep as I can be in this position.

  “It’s only you, Nessa. I can’t give you words of love, but you have to know that there’s only you,” I murmur, cupping her cheeks. She nods as she moves slightly, her tight glove of a pussy so warm and wet around my cock. “You need to eat, and then you need to feed me.”

  “Okay,” she whispers.

  I groan when she leans forward to get some food. She brings her container between us and starts to put some on her fork, but I take it away from her.

  I feed her, my woman, my wife, the mother of my child. Suddenly, all those things aren’t as scary or daunting as they were before—maybe because I almost lost all of them in one split second, when Kelly aimed his gun at her.

  Inessa switches the containers and feeds me once she’s full. Though, as she does, I use my hands to touch her. My fingers skim her thighs, and even gently touch her clit. I know it affects her. Every time I do it, there’s a hitch in her breath.

  “Nik,” she whispers as her eyes stay connected to mine. My only response is to smile.

  Once my food is gone, I rip her nightie completely off and toss it behind her. Leaning forward, I capture her nipple in my mouth as I help guide her along my cock. Inessa moans, throwing her head back as she rides me, her body beginning to move with fervor as my mouth devours her gorgeous tits.

  “Oh, my god,” she gasps just as I feel her pussy clench and squeeze my cock.

  I release her nipple from my lips with a pop as I grab onto her waist tightly and slam her down on me. Using her pliable, tired body to fuck me until I hold her down, my cum filling her as I groan out my own climax.

  “Nik,” she murmurs as her body falls forward, her face nuzzling my neck.

  “Only you, Nessa. Fuck, yagodka, only you,” I mutter.

  “WE HAVE A PARTY to attend,” Dominik announces as he walks into our bedroom.

  It’s been one month of contentment. Dominik has tried to make an effort to come home every night around midnight, but he also takes a dinner break and eats dinner with me every evening as well. We wake up together, and more often than not, we leave the house together. I go to my office and work, and he goes to his.

  The brothel is still an elephant in the room, but I’ve been trying to accept the fact that this is his job. I just wish he didn’t have to go down there. I’ve been wanting to broach the topic with him, about moving his office here to the house, or just anywhere else except there.

  “What is it for?” I ask.

  It’s Friday, and I’m dressing for another long day. Today, Konstantin leaves the hospital, finally, and then I have three showings this afternoon; one to a set of clients who have made it their mission to become the pickiest people on the planet, I’m convinced.

  “Thanksgiving. Pasha is having it. Something to do with his daughter. I’m not sure. We’ve been invited, so we’ll attend,” he states.

  “Okay,” I agree.

  Thanksgiving isn’t anything I’ve really celebrated before. Uncle Pavlov wasn’t much of a cook, so usually we went out to the Oleandr for a nice dinner, and then home.

  “Will Uncle Pavlov be invited?” I ask as I tug down my sweater, noticing that it’s much tighter at my belly than it was even last week. I suppose I need to go shopping for maternity clothes.

  “Yes, he’ll be there,” Dominik murmurs. I look over at him, curious as to why he’s gone so quiet, and I notice he’s staring at my stomach.

  “Nik?”

  He doesn’t speak before he’s sitting on the bed next to where I’m standing. Then, without saying a word, he maneuvers me until I’m in front of him. His hands span my stomach and he looks up at me with awe.

  “You’re growing,” he murmurs.

  “You see me naked every night, Nik,” I point out. He shakes his head with a grin.

  “I’m focused on your pussy, on your tits, and on your mouth. I’m not focused on this part of you when I’m fucking you, yagodka,” he grunts.

  “Then, yes, I’m growing. I’m already three months, Nik. Next week starts my second trimester,” I murmur.

  “Fuck, it’s going by so quickly.”

  “We should start thinking about where we’ll put this bundle once it’s here,” I whisper.

  “We need a new house,” he grunts.

  “Dominik, we don’t. This apartment is huge,” I state.

  “Scarsdale. We need to raise a baby in Scarsdale.”

  “Nik—” I start, but he holds up his hand to quiet me.

  “Find your dream house. Money is no object. I didn’t have a nice house. I want that for this baby,” he says. I nod. How do I try to argue with that? I can’t.

  “Since we’re talking,” I start to say. He looks up to me in confusion. “I haven’t said anything, but I’m not comfortable with your office location. Is there a way you can do your side of the job elsewhere?” I ask, chewing on my bottom lip nervously.

  “Elsewhere?” he asks, arching a brow.

  “Like not in a brothel?” I deadpan.

  He hums as he runs his hand along the waistband of my skirt until he unzips it from behind. My breath hitches as he pushes my skirt down, along with my panties. His fingers slide along the crack of my ass and then through my center before reaching and circling my clit.

  “Dominik,” I hiss as my hands fly to his shoulders.

  “My wife doesn’t like me working around all those women?” he chuckles before he picks me up and turns so that I land with my back on the bed.

  “You know I don’t,” I murmur as he spreads my thighs and then places his shoulders between my legs.

  “Mmmm,” he hums. His tongue licks my center before sucking gently on my clit.

  “Nik,” I half-scold, half-moan.

  “You know I’m yours,” he whispers, lifting his eyes to look up at me.

  “They’re p
rostitutes, and you’ve had sex with more than one of them,” I whisper as my eyes fill with tears. Hormones, I’m going to blame the hormones; but honestly, the situation makes me so sad all of the time.

  “They are. But you’re mine, my wife,” he announces before he thrusts his tongue inside of me.

  My back bows and I whimper as he fucks me with his mouth. He’s all tongue, lips, and teeth as he shows me just how much he desires me. I’m a quivering, whimpering mess by the time I come, but I’m nowhere near satisfied with his response to my question.

  This is a diversion. As he slides up my body, his fingers shifting his pants down and positioning his cock at my entrance, I ask him what I haven’t asked in at least a month.

  “Do you love me, Dominik?”

  “Inessa,” he grunts as he fills me in one swift thrust. I shift my legs, hiking them up, and wrap them around his waist.

  “Do you?” I ask again as I cup his cheek with my hand and dive my other hand into the hair at the nape of his neck.

  “You’re my wife. I’m devoted to only you,” he murmurs before his full lips brush mine. His hips continue to move, his cock slamming inside of me with each thrust.

  “Dominik,” I whisper into his mouth.

  He rips his lips from mine and fucks me, hard, harder than he has since he found out I was pregnant. His furious eyes are focused on me, and when he comes, he pulls out immediately after. I feel his loss between my aching legs and watch as he yanks his slacks up and narrows his eyes on me.

  “What is between your legs will not convince me of love, Inessa. In fact, you ever try to use your pussy to convince me of anything again, and you won’t like the consequences,” he practically shouts before he walks away. I hear the apartment door slam as my first tear falls.

  I hadn’t meant to try to convince him of love, or anything. Maybe, inadvertently, that’s exactly what I was doing? I want him to change his office location. It makes me uncomfortable that he’s around all of those women the way that he is, day in and day out.

  Also, I want him to tell me he loves me, because I love him. I think I fell for him the second my eyes landed on him. I knew he was for me, that I wanted him; and in the beginning, I was willing to accept him anyway he offered himself. Now, now that we’re married, now that we’re having a child, I want his love, too.