Dancing for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 3)

by Hayley Faiman

  “Ballet?” I ask.

  “I used to be a professional ballerina. Kiska was asking me about it. She said she’s always been curious about dance,” Haleigh informs me. I turn to Kiska who is looking away from me, avoiding me.

  “You’ve never expressed this to me, Kiska,” I say gently, not wanting to embarrass her in anyway, but it concerns me. I’ve never told Kiska she couldn’t do something. I have always tried to be supportive of whatever she’s wished to do.

  “I’ve always been interested. They look so pretty up on their shoes,” she whispers. I wrap my arm around her and open my mouth to speak, but Kirill beats me to it.

  “Your new school has a fine arts program, Kiska. They offer ballet. I’ll inform the headmistress that you are interested,” he states.

  “Really?” she breathes.

  Although I was going to offer finding a studio, I like that Kirill has been the one to offer the activity. Maybe I should be jealous that she’s looking at him like he could hang the moon, but I’m not. I’m the exact opposite. I love that they’re sharing a moment between each other. There have been too many missed moments between father and daughter; and though I know from now on they will share many, it is nice to be witness to this first beautiful one.

  “Yes, of course. Whatever your heart desires, Kiska, it is yours,” he says with a wave of his hand.

  “Those words could bring you troubles,” Maxim chuckles.

  “No doubt,” Kirill laughs.

  We spend the next few hours in the company of our friends. By the end of the evening, I consider them my friends as well. We have laughed and enjoyed wonderful conversation. Emiliya and Haleigh have invited me on a shopping and salon trip in the future. They apparently do this often. I’ve never been able to enjoy something like that, not until now. I’ve been too busy working and providing. But now, now I can enjoy life a bit more.

  It’s exciting, this new life of mine, and I can’t wait for it to start.

  Finally, as it was meant to be.

  I PICK UP THE phone, my fingers shaking as I scroll through my contacts. Ziven watches me, dipping his chin in silent encouragement. I chance one last look out at the front of the house before I press send, looking for any sign of Kirill. If he would just show up unannounced, then I could abandon this foolhardy mission.

  “Here goes nothin’,” I murmur.

  The phone rings and rings, before sending me to voicemail. I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to have been sent there in my life. I close my eyes as the greeting finishes and then I speak.

  “Ryan, it’s Tatyana. I need to meet with you. I’m ready to talk. I need you to come to the club I’m working at now. Please come by tomorrow night. I can’t have Kirill find out I’m meeting with you.” I rattle off the address before I press the end button. My voice was shaky and I was nervous as hell. Hopefully he’ll think it was for other reasons completely, and not because I do not want to ever see him again.

  “You did good,” Ziven compliments.

  “Thanks,” I shrug, feeling anything but victorious.

  “Nothing will happen to you, Tatyana,” he grunts.

  “I hope not,” I whisper.

  I watch her dance.

  It’s not the first time I have seen her nude body on the stage. In fact, it’s not even the fiftieth. I went to her shows in San Francisco every single chance I had. Mainly because she’s beautiful, but also because she’s superb at her job.

  One sway of her hips makes my cock hard.

  I watch as she peels the flimsy bra off of her and frees her big tits. Fuck, I’m a tit man, and hers are spectacular—and real. Not many women have real, big tits anymore, but Tatyana does. And the rest of her body is solid, muscular, yet feminine and sexy as sin.

  I have no doubt that I’ll be buried inside of her cunt eventually. Sooner rather than later, too. She’s called me here today, and I know that that Russian bastard must have hurt her. She’s ready to snitch on him, and I’m more than willing to take her information and then her body.

  When her song ends, I wait. I want for her to come to me. For the first time, but not for the last. She’ll be coming to me and for me more often than not from now on. I’m going to make her sweat, too—beg for me. After the rejection she’s served me the past ten years, she’s going to pay for it all.

  “Ryan,” her soft voice floats through the hidden alcove I’m seated in. I wanted our conversation to be private. I also wanted to touch her, maybe watch her touch herself.

  “Tati,” I groan at the sight of her bare breasts in front of me.

  “Sorry, they don’t let us wear tops out on the floor,” she shrugs and it makes her tit shake.

  “You called me,” I say, trying so hard to keep my hands to myself.

  Fucking her is only my second priority. I have to keep my dick in check. My top priority is getting information to give to my client. He’s been paying my salary since I’ve been on sabbatical, and I need to start providing information to him, and fast, or no telling what he’ll do to me. I shiver at the thought.

  “I did. Kirill isn’t the boy he used to be. I’ll tell you whatever you want, just protect me,” she begs.

  I smirk at her, unable to hide my excitement at the turn of events. She’s mine. Soon, all of her will be mine as well. For now, all I need is her information. The information she can provide about her lover.

  “I need you to tell me his habits, his whereabouts, who he meets with and when,” I tell her, my excitement taking over, so much so that I can’t hide it—even a little.

  “He doesn’t tell me about his days, Ryan. He leaves the house in the mornings and usually comes home in the evenings. Once he’s left in the night, but he was home before the sun rose. I don’t know where he goes or who he meets with,” she explains. I feel a bit deflated.

  “Can you wear a wire? Carry a microphone or a GPS chip?” I ask.

  “I don’t go anywhere,” she says.

  “Will you plant a GPS chip on his car?” I ask arching a brow.

  I watch as she chews on her bottom lip, worrying it, stressing it. Then she nods. It’s hesitant, but it’s there, nonetheless. I dig a chip out of my pocket. I came fully prepared for this meet. I explain to her where on the vehicle to hide it. Then, I tell her once this is finished, I’ll take complete care of her. For now, she needs to act like everything is fine.

  “Thank you, Ryan, so much. Whatever I can do to pay you back when this is finished, I’ll be completely willing to do for you,” she says, dropping her voice. It’s so fucking sultry and sexy my cock presses against my jeans.

  Oh, she’ll be paying me back all right. She has ten years of payback. I’ll have all of her as often as I want her, anywhere I want her, and any part of her body. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s going to be my sex slave. Completely and totally at my mercy.

  And that Russian brat of hers? I’ll give her to my boss. He’s a sick and twisted fuck. He’ll use her to her full potential. The little bit of my conscience I have left won’t let me actually hurt a child, but I have no use for her, so she has to go.

  I can’t wait to have Tatyana bound and completely helpless as I make her scream for me. Blood curdling fucking screams.

  I leave the strip club a few moments later and go in search for something to play with. Something easy and willing. Someone that won’t go crying to her parents. I take my car down Hollywood Blvd. and find the perfect little prostitute on the corner. She’s young, new, I don’t recognize her at all.

  Perfect.

  I hurry backstage after Ryan leaves. I feel like I need a shower just from his filthy gaze on my body. He’s not right in the head. I felt it before, but tonight it was beyond anything I have ever experienced. I could almost see his psycho in the room. It filled the space.

  “He wants me to put a GPS device on Kirill’s car,” I inform Ziven as I walk backstage.

  I’m going to earn Kirill’s love and trust back if it’s the last thing I do. Ziven has promis
ed his protection and has also told Semion of my plan so that he too can keep me safe here at the club. Semion used to be Haleigh’s Byki, so he knows what he’s doing. He also knows exactly who Agent Ryan Green is and cannot stand him.

  “Authority is a pain in my ass,” Ziven mumbles. It makes me giggle.

  I look at his boyish, clean shaven appearance and I can’t even imagine him being a stone cold killer. However, I’m not naïve enough to think that he isn’t. He is a trusted member of Kirill’s team for a reason, and it isn’t because of his humorous personality.

  “Have you been in trouble with the police before?” I ask as I get ready for my next show.

  “Police, never. They’re paid off. Feds, yeah. They’re always looking for glory. They want to prove what big balls they have, just like this piece of shit. After ten years, you would think that he’d get tired and move on to a sure thing, but no. He wants to crack some big fucking case, get his fifteen minutes of fame.”

  I nod in agreement. It seems that Ryan wants exactly that—fifteen minutes of fame. He’s been like a dog with a bone for years, even though he’s had no real leads or evidence. It seems like a waste of time, resources, and money. It doesn’t seem right.

  I shake off my bad, gut feeling and get back to work. As per Kirill’s demand, I don’t work the floor, only the stage. Semion informed me that my tips wouldn’t be as much this way, but he would compensate me for lost wages because I would surely draw a crowd, and crowds mean money.

  This was Kirill asserting his authority, but I don’t mind it. He is allowing me my freedoms; he is pacifying my need for the illusion of independence.

  For that, I’m grateful.

  Maybe it’s silly. No, it is silly. There’s nowhere I can go. Kirill and I have always been destined to be together, contractually and fatefully. He is the father to my child and he deserves to have her in his life.

  Today, I wouldn’t go anywhere, even if I felt like I could. Circumstances could change, and I want to have my own money in case this happens; but today, I have no desire to leave the man I love—have loved and, honestly, probably will always love.

  I spend the rest of the evening dancing when it’s my turn, and by the end of the night, I feel a sense of worth. I know I’m a stripper. I feel dirty and demeaned to a degree, and I probably always will, but I also feel like I’ve done an honest night’s work. So, in a sense, I feel a bit of pride.

  “Ready?” Ziven asks as I slide my arms through the oversized cardigan that covers my tank top. I’m already in a pair of jeans and sandals, my hair still big, my makeup still dark, and my body still covered in oil.

  “I am,” I say with a grin before I grab my bag and throw it over my shoulder.

  Ziven and I walk to his car and he holds the door open for me to slide into the passenger seat. I look at the clock and yawn at the sight. Three-thirty in the morning, and tomorrow night will be a repeat of the same. I’m only working weekends, so that my weekdays are for my family—a demand of Kirill’s, and one I could agree with, since now my money is just that, mine.

  “Do you have a girl?” I sleepily ask Ziven as we start driving home.

  “A girl?” he asks, arching a brow. I roll my eyes and wait for his answer.

  “I have someone. She’s girlish. She hates me, though,” he smirks.

  “Is she pretty?” I ask.

  “Would I want some troll?” he snorts before he continues. “She’s lovely. Red hair, whiskey colored, amber eyes, petite but curvy where it counts. She is very pretty, American, innocent in face.”

  “So she looks young?” I ask.

  “She is young,” he informs.

  “How old?” I ask, arching my brow this time.

  “Twenty. Too young for me, but I want her anyhow. She thinks I’m scum,” he shrugs.

  Instantly, I can see the hurt he tries to hide. I too thought Kirill was scum for a while after I left him. I thought that everything Agent Green told me was factual truth and that he was a horrible person. I wanted to believe it all, but something niggled inside of me and I couldn’t.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “It doesn’t matter. Her father got himself caught up in our business and not in a good way. My job is to keep an eye out for her, and on her.”

  “For insurance against her father?” I guess.

  “You’re too smart,” he chuckles as we pull into the driveway.

  “Show her your humor. Show her all of your good and no way could she ever think you’re scum. My guess? She doesn’t anyway. She’s probably just as into you as you are her, but she feels guilty and she feels like it’s wrong for her to feel that way,” I say with a smile as I open the door and step out.

  “Do you know these feelings from experience?” he asks.

  “You’re smart too, Ziven,” I wink before I turn and walk away from him and into the house I share with my lover and my daughter—my family.

  The house is quiet when I step inside, but it isn’t cold or scary. It’s still warm and inviting, just sleeping. Quietly, I make my way toward the bedroom that Kirill and I share.

  I haven’t seen him since this morning when he left for work. He sent a man to watch over Kiska before I had to leave for work, and though I didn’t really want to leave her alone, I also didn’t want her to see where I was going. I stayed on the phone with her until Kirill arrived home for the evening, as he was just fifteen minutes behind my departure.

  Now it’s four in the morning and it has almost been twenty-four hours since I’ve laid eyes on this man. Just seeing him is something I deprived myself of for ten years, something I hadn’t realized hurt so fucking much it left a permanent aching in my chest.

  I slip into our room and quietly lock the door behind me. I look over at him, sleeping. He’s gorgeous, always, but in sleep he looks younger. He looks like the boy I remember. Gentle and sweet, his hardened edge gone. Though, the roughness he possesses now isn’t all bad. It’s part of him, part of the hard life he’s lived. I look a little rougher, harder than I did when we met as well. I can appreciate all the pieces of him, everything that has made him the man he is today, but it’s still nice to think about the boy he was.

  “Come to bed, moyo zolotse,” he grumbles huskily without even opening his eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I tried to be quiet,” I whisper.

  “I heard the car drive up, Tati. It’s part of my job to be alert. Now, come to bed so I can sleep with you in my arms for a couple hours,” he rumbles. I suppress the shiver that threatens to run through me at his sugary sweet, for him, words.

  “I’m covered in oil. I need to shower first, then I’ll be to bed,” I murmur. His eyes pop open and focus on me.

  “Oil?” he says gruffly, yet much more awake sounding.

  I set my bag down before I start stripping my clothes off.

  “Yes, oil, for the stage,” I say. He grins.

  “Come to me,” he murmurs, a smile still on his lips.

  “Kirill, seriously, it’s not sexy feeling, I need to wash it off.”

  “Get that sexy as fuck ass over here, Tati, and don’t make me come and get you,” he demands.

  I swear my pussy convulses at his words, and before my tired brain can catch up to the rest of me, I’m removing my bra and panties as I walk over to the bed, crawl up and straddle him.

  “Oh, this is sexy. You lied to me,” he groans as his hands slide up my thighs. I purr when his thumb grazes my clit.

  “Okay,” I sigh as his thumb passes through my pussy lips and settles on my clit again.

  “Ride my thumb, bring yourself close, but don’t come,” he orders.

  I look down on him in surprise, but his thumb is rubbing firm circles against my clit and I’m not about to argue a fucking thing.

  I do as he says.

  I ride his thumb, wishing his cock was filling me, but knowing that he wouldn’t give me what he wasn’t ready to give me, even if I begged.

  I feel his chest rumble with a groan and I look b
ehind me to see his hand stroking his cock. My eyes stay glued to the action as I continue moving against his thumb. It’s hot, the sight of his big, strong hand on his big, hard cock. My belly clenches along with my pussy at the sight.

  “Tati,” he demands. My head whips back to face him. He’s grinning, obviously having caught me ogling him.

  “I want it, Kirill,” I say, making a demand of my own.

  “It’s yours, krushka. But first, climb up here. I want to fuck your mouth while I eat that pretty pussy,” he mutters.

  “I worked all night, Kirill. I got hot,” I say wrinkling my nose up. He rolls his eyes before he grabs my hips and forcefully pulls me so that I am directly over his face.

  “I could give a fuck. I want to taste your pussy, and I’ll do that when I want. Now you can ride my face like this, or you can turn around and give me what I want,” he says, arching a brow.

  I know the right answer, and I also know what I want. I want that big cock anywhere inside of me. Right now, he’s offering it in my mouth, and I’ll take that with a smile. Fast as lightning, I turn around and straddle his head as I lower myself completely on him, my pussy on his face and my mouth at the tip of his dick.

  “Open your mouth and take it, Tati. Just feel. Feel me eat this delicious pussy of yours, and feel me fill that smart ass mouth of yours. Then, after you come, I’ll fill your tight pussy,” he promises.

  I grin.

  I want that.

  All of it.

  I open my mouth and moan when he sucks my clit as he surges deep inside of my throat. I relax against him, completely. My breasts pressing against his stomach and my pussy against his face, relishing in the way his beard feels against my sensitive flesh.

  Fuck.

  I take everything he gives me, every surge against the back of my throat. When I come, I scream around his cock, my vibrating throat causing him to moan against my clit as he sucks it harder, intensifying everything.

  I’m completely boneless when I feel him slide out of my mouth and then from beneath me. I hear rustling and then Kirill grasps my hips with his hands and fills my pussy with one quick thrust. I cry out into the sheets as he fucks me, hard and fast, and thoroughly.