Collared by the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 11)

by Hayley Faiman

  The men leave. My eyes stay glued to Sergei whose face is turning redder by the second. When he lets out a roar, I hurry to his side. He doesn’t say a word, his lips crash down against mine in a hard, bruising kiss before he releases me.

  He takes his phone out of his pocket, placing it to his ear. “Yeah, they were here. We’re good?” he asks. I hear another voice speak, then Sergei talks again. “One officer is a nephew, Deripaska. I need everything,” he growls.

  Sergei’s gaze meets mine as soon as he ends the call and then he lowers his forehead, pressing it against my own. “So strong, krasotka. You are so goddamn strong,” he growls.

  His hands lift to cup my cheeks, and his lips brush my own gently. “Let’s go home,” he rasps.

  “Please,” I breathe.

  We leave the apartment quickly, Panya in a fit of nerves trailing behind us. Once we’re in the backseat of the car, my Byki driving us, only then do I have the courage to ask Sergei some questions.

  “Can we talk?”

  “Nothing will happen, Raisa. The police will drop it. I’ve already sent a message to those officers’ boss. I expect his call at any moment. If they keep their jobs, they will be lucky. They did not do their due diligence. I am in the clear.” He turns to me, his eyes cold and dark. “I am always in the clear.”

  I nod, biting the corner of my lip before I speak again. “Okay. But, can I ask you. What happens when we’re back at the estate?”

  He looks nervous as his eyes search my face. Clearing my throat, I clarify. “Will our relationship go back to the way it was the last time we were there?”

  He tilts his head to the side, his lips twitching. “Do you want it to?” he asks, arching a brow.

  “I want what you want,” I lie.

  He chuckles, shaking his head, his eyes losing their dark undertone and they’re practically glittering. “I like your strength. I like you, Raisa. How about we continue with the way things are. I’ll have days where you have specific instructions, but for now, until then, you are free to roam the house and grounds of the estate,” he pauses, his eyes darkening slightly before he adds. “Clothed.”

  I smile, nodding my head. “I think I would like that, Sergei,” I breathe.

  His lips touch mine, caressing mine and I know that this man, this wonderful man is not only my owner, he’s my king, and he’s the man I’ve fallen completely head over heels in love with.

  SERGEI

  We arrive at the estate and immediately I instruct the Byki to take Raisa inside. I have phone calls to make, and she cannot hear them, any of them. She kisses my cheek before she bounces away, up the stairs and into the house. I watch her go, mesmerized by her ass, yet impressed by her outstanding resilience.

  “Mr. Orlov, the officers have been dealt with,” the man on the other end of the line states.

  I chuckle. “Thanks. I was warned that if something happened to him it would be pinned on me. He had some kind of vendetta, not sure why,” I shrug as if he can see me.

  “You know how these people are, he was probably angry about being eighty-sixed from the club,” he chuckles.

  I grin. “I’m sure. By the way, your complimentary room is ready for you at any time,” I explain to the Moscow city police commissioner.

  “See you soon, Sergei,” he grunts. I can tell he’s smiling, dreaming of his women, toys, and pleasures no doubt.

  Ending the call, I dial Nikolai. “We good?” I ask.

  “They are in the back. Looking scared shitless,” he chuckles.

  I smile, looking down at my shoes. “Good. Bring them to the front. We will be waiting for them,” I announce.

  Turning toward the house, I make my way inside. It doesn’t take me long to find Raisa. She is standing at the entrance of the playroom. She doesn’t move, even when I wrap my arms around her from behind and rest my chin on her shoulder.

  “Do you wish this to be your room? Or would you like to continue residing with me? In my master suite?” I will oblige whichever decision she chooses. Whatever she wants, it’s hers, always.

  She turns around in my hands and wraps her arms around the back of my neck, tipping my head back. “I wish to reside in your room, but I would still enjoy some time in here,” she says, her cheeks pinking with embarrassment.

  Lifting one of my hands from her waist, I cup her cheek with my palm, enjoying her soft skin beneath my fingertips. “Don’t you know, Raisa?” I ask.

  She shakes her head, I continue looking at her, enjoying the way her blue eyes sparkle and shine. Unlike the way she came to me, Raisa’s eyes are always bright and happy now.

  “You may have whatever you wish. I own you, you are my slave, but Raisa,” I rasp, lowering my face to hers and pressing my lips against hers. “You own my heart, krasotka.”

  She presses her lips closer to mine and I groan when her tongue slides alongside my own. I open my mouth, allowing her entrance for a moment before I take over the sweet kiss. Slowly, I break our touch, wishing that I could back her into that room, tie her up and have an all afternoon session, alone.

  Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the small piece of jewelry. “I will never marry, Raisa. This isn’t an engagement ring, but you are more than what any wife could be to me,” I explain as I slowly slip the diamond on her finger. It’s gigantic, ostentatious, and absolutely perfect.

  “You are mine. Dripping in my diamonds. My queen.”

  She gasps, her eyes dropping to the ring, then back up to mine. “Sergei,” she breathes.

  “Mine,” I growl.

  Her lips form a beautiful smile. “Yours.”

  Releasing her, I take a step back, lacing my fingers with hers. For the first time in my life, I hold hands with a woman. Taking a step, I tug her behind me into the foyer. As soon as we stop walking, the door swings open. I position Raisa in front of me, wrapping my hands around her waist and I wait as Nikolai breezes past us.

  I know it when she realizes who is in front of us. Her gasp is so loud it fills the room like a loud boom. The two men in front of us freeze in their spots. Neither of them in on this moment either. She thought that she had no memory of her life before, she was wrong. She remembers them, as she fucking should.

  “My queen. Raisa. I would like you to meet your brothers, Zeno and Tasher.”

  EPILOGUE

  TWO MONTHS LATER

  SERGEI

  “Shit,” I curse.

  “I wish I had better news, Sergei,” Oliver mutters.

  With a heavy sigh, I thank him. “You enjoying California?” I ask.

  “We do, Sergei. Thank you for everything,” he mutters.

  It sounds like he’s going to cry, so I tell him that his payment has been deposited, that some treats have been sent, and I end the call before he can respond. He’s emailed the file to me and I glance down at my email notification, feeling a heaviness I didn’t expect.

  I print the files, deciding not to read them, Oliver has already explained in detail to me what they say. Gathering the documents, I stand from behind my desk and walk out of my office. Heading toward the backyard, I smile at the sight in front of me.

  Raisa is sitting with her brothers, they are all three smiling, and if I’m not mistaken, perhaps even laughing. The sight does my black soul good. Unfortunately, I’m going to ruin their good mood. Walking outside they must sense me, and my doom. The men straighten, but Raisa just watches me.

  Taking a seat across from her. I lean forward, the papers in my hands, and my elbows resting on my thighs. “Zeno asked me to gather information on Ryska months ago,” I say before I clear my throat.

  “What did you find?” Tasher asks, his voice full of hope.

  I shake my head. “When you were split from her, Raisa. She was sold to a man in the Middle East. She stayed in his care for a year before he transferred her,” I explain.

  “Just tell us, Sergei,” Zeno grinds out, obviously upset by the situation.

  Nodding, I keep my gaze focused on Raisa. “
She was diagnosed with disease at seventeen. She had been living in a brothel. It wasn’t a good clean place, it was infested, the women not protected from the men or the potential of diseases they carried. I’m sorry, krasotka. Her death was probably relief,” I explain.

  Raisa nods, her eyes filled with wet tears, but my good girl does not let them fall. Zeno and Tasher stare at their shoes. Their moods obviously soured now. I do not blame them for it. This was not the news we wished for.

  “She is free,” Raisa whispers. Her brothers look at her, but she only stands and takes a few steps into the sunshine. “Ryska is free in her death. She would have never been free in her life, she would have never ended up like me,” she announces, turning to face us. “She is free, and we should be thankful for that. I am,” she nods.

  Zeno and Tasher stand, walking over to her, they flank her and place their hands at her back. “She is free, my sister,” Zeno states.

  “A butterfly amongst the flowers,” Tasher rasps.

  The rest of our evening is somber, but there is a peace around us as we enjoy drinks and dinner as a family. I wish my Tatyana and Kiska could be here, but I know they will be soon enough. This is a life I never thought I would have. A woman of my own, one that I love. A child, a grandchild, a son-in-law and brothers-in-law.

  It is a breathtakingly beautiful life.

  TWO WEEKS LATER

  RAISA

  I hear the clip click into place and then the sound of the chain clink as Sergei wraps it around his wrist. I clench my thighs together, my center pulsing with need already. Sergei tugs against the chain and I crawl next to him.

  The music in the club is a low hum, the base, however, vibrates through the floors and makes my already achy body, pulse with need. The sound in the room slowly fades away as I focus on the sound of Sergei’s shoes clicking against the concrete floor.

  He stops. He sits. I shift back on my knees, resting my ass against my heels. Keeping my head down, I focus on the ground in front of me. I feel Sergei’s hand in my hair, combing through my ponytail, then he wraps it around his fist and I suck in a breath expecting him to tug my head back. He doesn’t. He holds me, and my breathing starts coming out in pants with my anticipation.

  “Isn’t this a pretty sight,” a woman’s voice announces.

  Sergei chuckles. “It is, isn’t it,” he says. “Come, sit,” he offers.

  I watch as liquid leather walks by me and I recognize her red-soled high heels. It’s Mistress Katrina. Behind her, a woman crawls much like me. She’s collared and cuffed in black, instead of diamonds, but she’s naked just like me.

  “You’re doing well?” Sergei asks her.

  She hums. “You were right, Sergei,” Katrina sighs. “I made Lusha mine, officially. However, I do still enjoy her with others, that will never change, but I needed to admit to myself, to the world, that I love her,” she explains.

  My heart beats rapidly. I remember hearing the name Lusha. Zakhar took her, he kept her in the trunk of his car. I smile, happy in the fact that she’s loved by Mistress Katrina.

  “Good,” Sergei grunts.

  There is movement out of the corner of my eye and then Katrina and Lusha pass in front of me, again. This time leaving our area. I stay in my spot, waiting, wishing, hoping for what is to come next. I’m practically vibrating with want, desire, and need. Sergei has kept me on edge for three days. Bringing me to the brink of orgasm, just to stop. It isn’t for punishment, but because this has been something we’ve been looking forward to and he’s been excited with anticipation.

  Sergei finally tugs my head back, I let out a moan when my neck arches and my scalp burns from his grip. He turns my head, using his grip in my hair, and my eyes meet his.

  “Stand. Walk over to that banister, spread, and bend over. I want a full view of what he is doing to her on stage, and your pussy,” he growls.

  A shiver runs up and down my spine as I slowly stand. Sergei releases my hair and my chain as I take a step forward. I’m barefoot, and naked save for my diamonds. My clothes and shoes were left at the entrance of the club. It’s the sexiest place I’ve ever been. I love being at home with Sergei, but this could become a close second.

  Once I reach the banister, I spread my legs wide and bend over, showing him my wet center. I hear him grunt behind me and a smile tips my lips. My eyes search the crowd in front of me and then I focus on the stage.

  There is a woman strapped to a cross, naked. The man stands to the side of her. He wields a whip and I hum when I hear it crack. I watch as red blooms on her pale skin when he brings it down against her body. It’s beautiful, watching the hungry look on his face as he marks the girl, making her his.

  Sergei’s cock presses against my center, a moan escapes from the surprise. His hands wrap around my hips as he surges deep inside of me. He leans over my back, his lips pressing against my shoulder. “I want you on that stage next time, krasotka,” he rasps against my skin.

  Turning my head to the side, I look back at him as best as I can. “Will you make it hurt?” I breathe.

  He lifts his head, a wicked smile on his lips. “You can count on it, my queen.”

  My own smile appears, and I push my ass against him, moaning at the feel of him. “I can’t wait,” I admit.

  His fingertips grip my skin even tighter. He pulls out of me, then slams back inside. I hold onto the banister with my fingers, whimpering with each deep stroke of his cock. His hips pound against my ass with each thrust. My body screams for release and I pinch my eyes closed, knowing that he doesn’t want me to come until he tells me, but I’m so on edge I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold off.

  “I want this entire fucking club to hear your screams, Raisa. Come on my cock, and scream my name when you do,” he orders.

  I don’t hold back. I can’t. My stomach twists and I scream his name as I come, my body wracking with the sobs of sweet relief. The entire club hears, some of them watch, and I could care less. My thighs burn, they shake as he continues to slam into me over and over again until he finally finds his own release.

  SERGEI

  I pull her naked body against mine. I’ve divested her of her diamonds, save for the ring I slid onto her finger two months ago. Her bare breasts press against my chest and she lets out a heavy sigh. Her ass is red, fingertip bruises litter her thighs, and bite marks litter her tits. Every mark is breathtaking.

  My woman is exhausted, and she should be. I used her body, abused it, and played it until tears mixed with cries of pleasure. Her first orgasm against the banister was just the beginning of the night. She needed a real session; one in a new environment and I knew she was finally ready. She loved every second of it, too.

  Pressing my lips to the top of her head I can’t believe that she’s mine. That I love her. Me? I love a woman.

  My phone rings and I reach for it. My voice is hoarse as I answer the call.

  “Papa?” It’s Kiska, my granddaughter.

  “Kiska,” I mutter.

  “I just wanted to hear your voice,” she sighs.

  I frown. “Is everything okay?”

  “I love you,” she says. “Everything is fine, I was just missing you,” she admits.

  I smile. Make that three women, I love three women. My Raisa. My Tatyana. My Kiska.

  “I love you too, Kiska. You be good, yeah? I’ll see you soon.”

  “I will.” I can hear the smile in her voice. We talk for a few moments, and then she tells me that it’s time to begin her ballet lessons. We hang up and I look down into Raisa’s now open eyes.

  “You’re a good papa,” she breathes.

  My smile widens. “Sleep, my queen.”

  “Love you, Sergei Orlov,” she sighs.

  I hold her a little tighter.

  “Love you, krasotka.”

  Also By Hayley Faiman

  Men of Baseball Series—

  Pitching for Amalie

  Catching Maggie

  Forced Play for Libby

>   Sweet Spot for Victoria

  Russian Bratva Series—

  Owned by the Badman

  Seducing the Badman

  Dancing for the Badman

  Living for the Badman

  Tempting the Badman

  Protected by the Badman

  Forever my Badman

  Betrothed to the Badman

  Chosen by the Badman

  Bought by the Badman

  Collared by the Badman

  Notorious Devils MC—

  Rough & Rowdy

  Rough & Raw

  Rough & Rugged

  Rough & Ruthless

  Rough & Ready

  Rough & Rich

  Rough & Real

  Cash Bar Series—

  Laced with Fear

  Chased with Strength

  Flamed with Courage

  Forbidden Love —

  Personal Foul

  Kinetic Energy

  Standalone Titles

  Royally Relinquished: A Modern Day Fairy Tale

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  About the Author

  As an only child, Hayley Faiman had to entertain herself somehow. She started writing stories at the age of six and never really stopped.