I glance at him from over my shoulder. He’s sitting with his back against the headboard, his socked feet crossed at the ankles, and his eyelids hooded and directed straight at me.
I don’t want to dance for him. I have danced for hundreds of men. For Kirill, I just want to be myself. The me I hide from the world. But I don’t think he wants that anymore. Maybe that is part of me that’s now dead for him. I’m this object, this thing that hurt him, and now he’s going to use me up until he’s had his fill.
I close my eyes and I dance, grateful for the quick shower I took after we arrived here earlier. My face is now bare of makeup and I don’t feel sexy, but he wants me to dance, so… I’ll dance for him.
I pluck a routine from my head, something I know will fit in with the music, and I begin. It’s a routine where I can pretend to be demure at first. Throwing flirty glances from behind my shoulder while my hips tell another tale, swaying seductively.
I slowly shimmy the tank top I’m wearing up and over my body before I throw it to the side and turn around to face him. Bare breasted, I begin to make my way to where he’s lounging on the bed. My eyes flick down to his crotch and I notice that he’s already hard.
At least physically we still work for each other, even if nothing else.
I push my shorts down and over my hips before I climb up his legs, from the foot of the bed to his hips. Straddling him, I slide my hands up my stomach, pinching my nipples before I run my fingers through my hair and thrust my chest forward.
Kirill doesn’t touch me, or even speak.
Slowly, I begin to unbutton the rest of his shirt. He sits up slightly and shrugs it the rest of the way off. I wrap my fingers around his belt and start to unbuckle it when his hand halts my movements. He tugs me down and my chest collides with his before I yelp in surprise at the sudden movement. His eyes look directly into mine and just stare for a moment.
“Lie on the bed, tits and face on the mattress, ass in the air,” he commands.
“Kirill,” I exhale. He’s scaring me. Everything about him in this moment is frightening.
“I have very little patience when it comes to fucking, Tatyana. I’m going to fuck you and I’ve told you how I want it. I expect nothing less than a yes, sir from you, and for you to get into position,” he explains. I can’t stop the gasp at his harsh words.
“There will be consequences for your disobedience,” he warns.
I close my eyes in resignation.
This is what my life has come to. More importantly—this is what I deserve.
Tatyana is so vulnerable to me right now. I should feel like the fucking bastard I am, but I don’t.
I can’t.
Too much time has gone by and now she’s exactly where I want her.
She’ll do exactly what I want, with her face in the mattress and her ass in the air.
I can’t look into her face again when I fuck her, it makes me feel too much. No—from now on, I can’t see her eyes, I can’t see the expression she makes when she comes. No—from now on, I’ll fuck her from behind—always from behind.
I run my hands up her thighs and grab on to her ass before I spread her cheeks apart. Her pussy is pink and still phenomenal looking. Her asshole looks pretty as well. I’ll take her every way I can by the time I’m finished with her this time around.
I’ll use her up.
I release her with a smack before I finish undressing myself.
“Do I scare you, Tati?” I ask, knowing damn well she’s frightened. I can see her body trembling.
“Yes,” she whispers truthfully.
“Open your mouth,” I instruct.
I lean over her and shove two fingers into her mouth before I order her to suck. She does, hesitantly at first, and then she really starts to suck, and lick my fingers. I pull them out of her mouth before I moan, then I slide them inside of her wet cunt. She whimpers as I finger her. I enjoy the tight glove of her pussy around my fingers.
“Do you want my mouth on this pussy of yours?” I ask as I continue to feed her hungry cunt. She’s pushing back against me every so often, enjoying herself.
“Y-Yes,” she admits.
“Yes, what?” I ask, halting all my movements.
“Yes, sir,” she whispers.
I’ll take it. Of course I’ll take it. She’s given me a sir and it makes my dick ache. She’s bending to my will and I fucking love it.
I take my hand out of her and crawl up the bed before lowering down onto my elbows. With my nose at her core, I inhale her scent. It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve smelled anything as good as Tati’s pussy.
One long lick through her center, and I feel almost high. I lap at her, my tongue flat against her soft flesh. She mewls like a kitten as she pushes her pussy closer to my face, searching for more friction. She won’t find it from me until I decide to give it.
“Don’t move, Tatyana. You don’t have permission,” I murmur against her wet pussy lips. She whimpers and I chuckle. She’s going to be a fun toy for me to play with.
“Please, sir,” she sighs. I know that she will be easily trained to satisfy me.
Some of the men I know are into serious kink, and I’ve dabbled but never found any true enjoyment in having one hundred percent control over a woman. I’ve always enjoyed a bit of spunk in my bedmate, but this complete domination over Tati is immensely satisfying. I wonder how far I can push her, how far will she let me go before she fights me?
I don’t say a word before I slide my face away from her and rise to my knees. I don’t tease her; I don’t prepare her. I slam inside of her with one swift motion and grin when I hear her cry out into the sheets.
I should have concern for her if I’ve hurt her, but I don’t. I also don’t give her a second to relax or get used to the intrusion. Instead, I fuck her with my strength.
I dig my fingers into the flesh on her hips and I pound inside of her, taking my aggression out on her pussy. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t be treating her this way, but I’m too fucking angry.
I suck my finger into my mouth before I use it to massage her tight ass. I doubt she’s ever been taken there. I’ll remedy that for her. By the time I’m tired of her, she’ll be all used up, everywhere.
I ignore her sharp intake of breath as I begin to fuck her ass with my finger. My eyes are trained on the way my dick is fucking that wet cunt and my finger sliding in and out of her ass. I can’t see or hear anything else but that. Its fucking carnal and I feel like an animal, a wild animal, as I take her.
I feel her pussy begin to flutter and then squeeze my cock. It causes a groan to escape my throat and then I ram my dick far inside of her with one last thrust before I climax, filling her body with my cum.
I want to collapse on top of her, to wrap my arms around her, but that’s not what we have. Once that starts, it will be difficult to break away. I know how good it feels to wrap my body around hers, to stroke her pretty, soft, blonde hair, and to confess my dreams with her in my arms.
Never fucking again.
I pull out of her and walk to the bathroom to shower. I can’t smell like her all night long. I’ll go fucking crazy. I leave her in the middle of the bed and I don’t look back at her sated body. I don’t want to know if she’s pissed off at me, disappointed, angry, or happily gratified by my dick.
I don’t want to know a damn thing about how Tati feels.
If I do, then I might fucking care, and I can’t.
Not anymore.
KIRILL HAS TO BE the coldest man I have ever had in my bed. Not that there has been a plethora of men in my bed, but still. He’s nothing like I remember him to be. Perhaps I have built him up in my mind over the years and have forgotten the true him.
I roll over slowly so that I don’t wake him and I just look at him. He’s still the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes on, even if he’s a bit rougher looking than he was a decade ago.
“You need to take a picture, Tati, it will last you longer,”
his husky voice murmurs.
My eyes widen and I move to get out of bed.
Unfortunately, I’m not fast enough and his arm wraps around my waist and pulls me into his side.
“Kirill,” I whisper.
“Why were you looking at me like that?” he asks as his fingers travel up my spine and tangle in my hair.
“I wasn’t looking at you any way,” I say, avoiding his question. His eyes pop open and I am met with his darkened, gray anger.
“You lie to me,” he rasps.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, unable to look away from his dark eyes. He has me frozen in place.
“The thing is, Tati, it does matter. You are not to keep one thing from me ever again. You must tell me everything.” His fingers tighten into a fist and wrench my head back. My scalp burns from his roughness and I gasp. “You have lied, and omitted, and run from me for a decade. This will never happen again, Tatyana. I am to know every time you wish to walk out of a room. You have no freedoms; you have no privacy.”
I’m frozen, my scalp screaming in pain; but beyond that, I’m frightened. I know he is hurt, angry and betrayed, but now he’s wanting something completely different from me. I’m not just this object he wants at his disposal. No, now I’m some kind of possession for him. It’s scary as hell.
“I will not be your possession, Kirill. I messed up, I was young. You cannot punish me forever,” I grind out through my clenched jaw.
“That, Tati—that is where you are wrong. You are my possession, and if you want to remain living under the same roof as your daughter, you’ll abide by my rules.”
“What do you desire, master?” I ask, being a complete smartass.
“Cut the shit. Today we leave for Los Angeles,” he grunts before he releases me and climbs out of bed.
I watch him walk into the bathroom and hate myself for enjoying the view so much. He’s suck a prick.
I crawl out of bed and wrap the hotel’s robe around my body before I emerge from the bedroom and into the living area. Kiska is sitting at the table enjoying a hearty breakfast of pancakes, bacon, and orange juice, just as happy as can be.
This is why I put up with him.
Looking at her, seeing her smile as she cuts her sweet breakfast, seeing her surrounded by the luxurious hotel, all these things I could never give her, even if they are just things. And then there’s the one thing she needs most out of all of this, her father.
I don’t agree with everything he’s said. How he wants to marry her off when she’s older to a man of his choosing. He’s barbaric and archaic, but he already adores her. It’s painfully obvious. I will sacrifice myself for the happiness of my child.
“Morning, mom,” she greets me through her bite of food. I smile as I walk over to her and kiss her forehead.
“You and dad, you slept in the same bed?” she half asks, half announces.
“Yes, Kiska, and we’ll continue to do so. We are leaving for Los Angeles this morning. That is where Kirill lives, and he would like us with him now that he has found us,” I explain before I watch as her mouth drops open.
“So you’re together?” she asks in a hushed tone.
“We are.” I try to smile, but I’m afraid it comes off fake as hell. Kiska narrows her eyes for a beat before she goes back to her food.
She then begins to tell me all about the new e-reader that Kirill gave her and how it was already loaded up with hundreds of books. She’s in heaven and I can do nothing but smile for her. By the time she has finished telling me all about her new read, Kirill has walked up to the table to join us.
I stand and excuse myself to get dressed for the trip. Kirill’s hand shoots out and wraps around my wrist. His thumb gently circles my skin before he releases me. It’s a subtle touch, but it confuses me, nonetheless.
Who is this man?
This man who runs scalding hot and ice cold in the matter of minutes?
He makes my head completely spin.
“When did you have time to get Kiska an e-reader?” I ask in confusion.
“I had the concierge do it. Kiska told me her love of reading; though I should have guessed, she is your daughter,” he shrugs and I blink away the tears that form.
Such a small detail that used to be such a huge part of my life, and he remembered. Just as I remembered his favorite vodka, he remembered this about me. I can’t help that ache that threatens my chest again. I love this asshole, bastard of a man.
We’re in the car a total of five minutes before Kiska begins to talk excitedly about moving. She’s asking Kirill question after question about the schools, the libraries, the ocean, the beaches, and everything else a nine-year-old girl can think to ask. When she asked him about shopping, I couldn’t contain my giggle.
“I do not shop, Kiska. I don’t know,” he explains.
“How can you not shop? You have to buy clothes,” she points out.
I can’t help myself or stop myself from laughing. It is obvious that Kirill’s shopping includes the place he buys his suits from and probably nowhere else.
“My personal assistant purchases everything I need. She is extremely helpful,” he murmurs. My spine straightens and I feel jealously wash over me.
“What’s her name? Is she pretty?” Kiska asks, out of nothing more than pure young-girl curiosity.
“Her name is Sabina and she is very lovely,” he admits.
It makes me nauseous—completely and totally nauseous. I hate her already, but there’s nothing I can do about it. He’s already informed me that my feelings, my wishes, they don’t fucking matter. I turn my head to look out the car window before I say something stupid, something out of my place.
The rest of the six-hour car ride is filled with Kiska and Kirill’s voices. I don’t say a word. I am here to be with my daughter and to be a vessel for Kirill’s cock, nothing more.
My heart aches, and at the same time, I just feel plain sick. My life is in complete shambles, yet my daughter has never been happier. I’ll suffer, my heart will suffer because hers is finally full.
“What city do you live in, papa?” Kiska asks once we have entered Los Angeles. The freeways are jam packed with people, and it is obvious that we are in the heart of the city.
“West Hollywood, but my offices are downtown,” he explains.
I still don’t know much about the state of California. In fact, this is my first time to Los Angeles. Everything is new and different, and I take it all in, even if it is only the freeway walls. Kirill takes an exit and it is like we are in another world.
The streets are hilly and the houses are perched on top of the hills, looking over the city. It reminds me a bit of San Francisco in that sense. We pull up to a solid gate and I watch as Kirill enters a number into the keypad and it opens. We drive up a steep hill to a white house. It doesn’t look like much from the outside. It appears as though it was built in the 1960’s, but looks can be deceiving and I have a feeling this house is amazing on the inside.
Wordlessly, I climb out of the car and walk over to the edge of the hill. We’re high up, and I can see the city below. At night, it is going to be a spectacular view with all of the twinkly lights from the buildings and houses below.
Kirill calls out to me and I turn, abandoning the view to make my way inside of my new home. My new prison. Once I walk inside, I gasp at the space.
The floors are wood, a honey color, and the walls white and light gray. It is so open feeling. The drop down living room has a large, L shaped, white leather, tufted sofa that sits low to the ground; and there are four huge floor to ceiling windows that show the swimming pool and the cityscape behind it for a view.
I suppose if I have to be in prison, at least the house is nice and the pool is fantastic looking.
Kirill doesn’t give us much time to absorb the room before he starts giving us instructions.
“I have to go into the office and meet with some of my men. Before I leave, my friend Ziven will stay with you until your Byki w
ill arrive. Listen to Ziven and do as he says. Also, Sabina, my Personal Assistant, will be by sometime today to get your clothing sizes so that she can have the proper attire sent here. If you wish for anything special, just tell her and she’ll do it for you. Kiska, whatever you want your room to look like, she’ll do that, too. She decorated my home; she is good at many things,” he rambles. All I can think about is that I’m sure she’s good at everything, and that I already hate her.
I leave the women of my life in Ziven’s capable hands. I should have waited until I introduced him to them before I left the house. I shouldn’t have been waiting in the car for his arrival, and left immediately after he pulled up.
I should have done a lot of things.
But I did not.
Instead, I left for my office. I sent a message to both Radimir and Maxim to meet me there. We have things to discuss, mainly the Cartel’s insider and Agent fucking Green. The sooner we get to the bottom of both of those problems, the faster our whole organization will be up and running again.
Once I arrive downtown, I take the elevator to the top of the building. Maxim and Radimir have offices below me, as do the rest of my men. But I have the entire top floor to myself, only sharing it with Sabina. When the elevator car opens, I see Sabina sitting at her desk. Her eyes lift to meet mine and I am greeted with her smile.
Sabina is lovely, a true Russian beauty. Born and raised in the United States, she is a citizen, but she was brought up in a Russian household. Her parents don’t even speak English, and her father was a very successful Torpedo, a hitman. He has since retired from the life. She stands to greet me as I walk over to her. She always dresses sexy yet professional, and today is no different. She’s wearing a short, clingy wrap dress that is extremely low cut and shows off her well-endowed cleavage.
Dancing for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 3) Page 7