Living for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 4)

by Hayley Faiman

  The elevator doors open and he removes his hand from my pussy before he begins to limp toward our room. It’s the first time I’ve seen him limp so badly in the past few days. I do need to check his stitches and make sure that I don’t need to have Dr. Pavlov come to the room and tend to him.

  Once we’re inside of the room, he grunts. He can only make it to the sofa before he collapses. I rush to his side and kneel down next to his thighs.

  “What a good girl to sit just how I like you,” he murmurs.

  “I’m going to check your legs,” I huff. However, I can’t help the zing that shoots straight between my legs at his praise.

  I unbuckle and unzip his pants before he lifts his hips so that I can gently pull them down his long legs, along with his boxers. Then I remove his shoes and socks. I watch as he removes his shirt and tosses it to the side of the sofa and onto the floor. I run my hands over his skin from his ankles up to his thighs.

  Gently, I remove the bandages that cover each of his thighs and inspect the sutures. I breathe a sigh of relief when I notice no blood or anything else oozing from them. They look angry and irritated, but they don’t look or smell infected by any means.

  “Promise me you’ll take better care of yourself,” I whisper.

  “I’m fine, pchelka,” he mutters as he cups my cheek and locks his pretty, light blue eyes with mine.

  “You scared me,” I whisper.

  “Tonight or the whole ordeal?” he grunts.

  “All of it. I hate how dangerous your job is,” I admit.

  “It’s not just the job that’s dangerous,” he states.

  “I know,” I murmur.

  It’s not just the job that’s dangerous because he is dangerous as well. I’ve always known that he is a badman, a man who takes, and wrecks, and controls. I’ve never cared how bad he is, or about the things he’s done, not as long as I knew that he always came home to me. I didn’t realize just how frightening and dangerous his position is, that not only is he doing dangerous things, but he’s also in danger from other men like him, or men that are even worse than him.

  When I lived in the apartment we shared, I lived in a dreamland, unaware of the real world around me.

  I take his hardening cock in my hand and grip it before I run my hand over it, pumping it a few times. Then I lean down and wrap my lips around the head, swirling my tongue before I envelope the entire length of his hard dick down my throat.

  “Pchelka,” he moans as his hands fist the back of my hair.

  I swallow around his hard length and whimper as need fills my own body. I can feel my pussy pulsing and growing slick with my arousal, with my need for him. Pleasuring him always brings my desire crashing forward. Yakov yanks my hair back, releasing my throat from around him.

  “Get up here and ride my cock,” he growls.

  I don’t protest. I quickly strip myself of my clothes, wanting him inside of me as badly as he wants me there. I place my knees on each side of his thighs, resting them on the sofa as I straddle him. I watch as he alines his cock with my entrance and then dips his chin in a silent order for me to sink down. Without hesitation, I do.

  “I love to watch you take my cock,” he murmurs in fascination. “Tell me how you feel.”

  “So good,” I mutter as I sink fully down on his lap. His hand taps my ass, making it sting slightly.

  “Not good enough,” he grunts.

  “I feel full, like nothing else could fit between us. You feel warm and slick. You make me want to move and grind against you, and it’s taking every ounce of my self-control not to.”

  “I want you to fuck me. Use my cock for your own pleasure tonight, pchelka. Be selfish. I’ll come no matter what, but I want to watch you completely unravel,” he whispers.

  “Will you touch me?” I ask quietly.

  “Nyet. This is you in control. I want you to show me how you’re living for me. Use me. Show me how happy you are. Use your body to express it, not just your words,” he mutters before he nips my hardened nipple with his teeth.

  I start to rock gently, because I don’t want to hurt him. I’ve not done this position much, and only for the first time just recently. I feel odd and uncomfortable at first. Yakov doesn’t scold or tell me how he wants me to move, though. No, he stares at me with an intense, heated gaze, and it fuels the fire beneath my skin even more. With each rock, rise, and fall of my hips, I gain momentum and confidence. When his teeth sink into his plump lower lip, a shiver breaks out over me.

  He likes it.

  He likes how I move on top of him.

  “Can I touch myself,” I breathe heavily as I take him harder, grinding against him with my downward stroke. Nevertheless, I know that I need more.

  “Please do,” he chuckles.

  I tweak both of my nipples, which causes him to groan before I slide a hand between my breasts and down to our connection.

  I don’t immediately begin to play with my clit, but instead, I separate my fingers at the base of his cock and feel where our bodies meet. He’s soaking wet from my pleasure, and he’s so warm. It feels amazing. I then move my fingers to my clit and I begin to stroke myself.

  “Pchelka,” he groans.

  I can’t say a word in response. My body breaks out in a sweat as I strum my clit even harder and faster. I continue with my hurried movements as I slide up and down on his cock. My mind is filled with nothingness, and then all of a sudden, bursts of light come from all angles as I close my eyes and I scream my climax.

  Yakov’s hands press against my back, and with a few short lifts of his hips, I hear him groan as he succumbs to his own release.

  “Jacob,” I sigh against his neck.

  “Marry me tomorrow,” he mutters.

  I sit up, his cock half-mast and still inside of me, and I look at him in shock.

  “What?”

  “Marry me tomorrow. I don’t want to wait another second before you’re mine,” he says.

  “What about your sister? Your family, our family?” I ask, thinking about Emiliya, Radimir, Ziven, and all of our friends in California—not to mention Pasha and Sonia, and our friends here.

  “All I care about is you. I want you to be Mrs. Chekova, and I want my baby filling your belly. I almost died. If something ever happened to me and you weren’t taken care of…” he trails off.

  “Nothing is going to happen to you,” I say, wrapping my hands around his cheeks.

  “I’m not going to demand you marry me tomorrow, but for me, it would ease my worries,” he says.

  I don’t think before I answer, because the vulnerability in his statement is enough to make even the strongest woman weak.

  “Yes. Tomorrow, we’ll marry,” I breathe as I lean down and brush my lips against his.

  We spend the rest of the morning making love. We don’t fuck, we don’t have sex, we make love, and then we fall asleep. I’m wrapped in his arms, and I’ve never been happier.

  In a few short hours, we’ll go down to the courthouse and I’ll officially be Mrs. Yakov Chekova. I never thought I would ever be anything but his slave. I never thought he would whisper words of love in my ear. I never dreamed he would want me to be the mother of his children.

  I close my eyes with a smile on my face.

  I’m the happiest girl in the entire world. Here I am, living for my badman—but also, living for myself, too.

  THE COURTHOUSE IS BUSY. If we were anybody else, we’d be standing in the long line outside of the marriage licensing door. Fortunately, we’re not just anybody. I’m Yakov Chekov and, amongst other authority figures, I have a few number of judges on my payroll, as does Pasha.

  I called Pasha about an hour ago and informed him of our plans for the afternoon. It didn’t take long before he and Sonia invited themselves along to join us.

  Pasha claims it is because Sonia forced him to bring her along, but I know the man well enough to realize that he wanted to come just as badly. He lives for the happy moments in life, soaking th
em up and enjoying every single second of them. He knows that at times they can be hard to come by.

  I wrap my hand around Ashley’s and guide her toward the Judge’s chambers. I am lucky that I haven’t had to come into this building for anything other than this, so far; but I’m not too cocky to believe that I won’t find myself here for something other than this happy occasion.

  “Is that—?” Ashley gasps as Sonia and Pasha come into view.

  “They wanted to be here,” I murmur.

  Ashley stops dead in her tracks, as do I. I turn to her with a confusion marring my face. Looking down at her, I am surprised to see tears welling in her pretty brown eyes.

  “Thank you,” she whispers. I don’t know what she’s thanking me for, so I wait for her to continue. “Thank you for giving me this, friends and a family.”

  “Pchelka, I didn’t give you anything. They’re yours because they adore you as much as I do,” I murmur.

  She doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t get the opportunity as Sonia turns Ashley away from me and envelops her in a big hug.

  “Don’t be upset. We couldn’t let you two get married all alone,” Sonia announces.

  “Congratulations,” Pasha grins, holding out his hand for me to take. I do so before gripping his palm and shaking his hand.

  “Thanks,” I mutter.

  “You look just beautiful,” Sonia gushes at Ashley. I watch my woman smile as she casts her eyes down and her cheeks pink with embarrassment.

  Ashley does look absolutely lovely.

  She’s wearing a light pink skirt that hugs her hips and ass all the way down to her knees. On top, she’s wearing some flimsy, tight, white thin strapped blouse that’s tucked into her skirt and dips at the swells of her breast, showing just a hint of her delectable cleavage.

  I gave her a set of diamond earrings before we left the hotel that she’s wearing on her ears. The pink diamond tennis bracelet that shimmers on her wrist is also something I surprised her with this morning. I have a matching pink diamond necklace that I’ll be placing on her neck before I fuck her later. I called Harry Winston jewelers and had them delivered, I wanted it all to be a surprise for my bride.

  Her blonde hair is in a simple bun at the top of her head, and it showcases her long, delicate neck. On her feet are a pair of dangerously high, white heels.

  She’s the sexiest bride I have ever seen.

  “Shall we?” I ask, tucking my hand inside of my pant’s pocket to try and hide the semi-hard cock I’m now sporting.

  Together, the four of us walk into the judge’s chambers. He’s waiting for us and looks between Pasha and me in a bit of surprise before he audibly gulps.

  Perhaps we look a little frightening? I don’t know.

  I lift my chin to him and he shakily stands, holding out his hand for both Pasha and me to shake.

  “Would you like to get started?” he asks, his voice wavering.

  “Yes,” I nod. I hold out my hand and Ashley slips her petite hand in mine as she moves to stand closer to my side.

  The judge speaks, but I can’t hear him. My eyes are focused on the cool blue irises of my soon-to-be husband standing in front of me. I’m taken from my shameless staring when Yakov squeezes my hand before he begins to speak his vows.

  “Ashley, the second I saw you, I knew that you were special. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew that I had to protect you. I wanted to keep you safe and just keep you. I didn’t know that you would make me a whole man.

  “I love you, pchelka. I vow to always protect you, always keep you safe, and guard you with my life. Though I’ve failed at that task in the past, I refuse to fail ever again. I vow to bring a smile to your pretty face every day, and to give you your heart’s desires. Say you’ll be my wife and be at my side for eternity?”

  I don’t even attempt to stop the tears from falling down my cheeks, surely ruining my makeup. I whisper my yes through my sobbing. Somewhere to my side, I hear Sonia sniffle, and I know that Yakov’s beautiful vows have gotten to her as well. The judge looks to me and clears his throat, obviously waiting for me to voice my own vows to Yakov.

  “Jacob,” I clear my throat to try and compose myself before I continue, locking my eyes with his. “I saw something in you from the beginning. I knew that life was worth living just by looking into your blue eyes. Thank you for proving me right. You are worth living for, so is the life you’ve provided me.

  “I promise to always give you the life you deserve. I promise to stand by your side and love you with all that I am, every second of everyday. I love you. I’ll stay at your side for eternity because that is where I will always belong,” my voice cracks at the end of my speech and I shake slightly as tears still flow freely down my face.

  The judge instructs us to put rings on each other’s fingers. My heart starts to race with the knowledge that I don’t have a ring for him. Yakov chuckles and hand’s me a plain, black band. It’s sleek and sexy, just like him; and when I slide it onto his finger, my belly clenches—it’s that sexy on his hand. Then he takes my hand and slides my own ring on.

  My eyes widen at the sight of my ring. The light pink diamond is rectangular shaped, and it takes up the space from below my knuckle to the bend in my finger. It’s surrounded by white diamonds, and set in a rose gold band.

  “Yakov,” I whisper.

  “You may kiss your bride,” the judge announces.

  Yakov slides his hand around the nape of my neck and pulls me into his chest before he bends down and brushes his lips with mine. I lift my arms and wrap my hands around his shoulders before I open my mouth and let him deepen the kiss.

  He takes my cue and thrusts his tongue into my mouth, tasting and taking like he always does. I moan, but freeze when I hear someone clear their throat behind Yakov. He lifts his head with a shrug and a chuckle before he wraps his hand around my waist.

  Yakov and I sign the paperwork we need to complete the marriage, and the judge assures us that he’ll do all the necessary filing. The men shake hands and then we leave the judge to his day.

  “We’re taking you out for a celebratory dinner,” Sonia announces.

  “Are you okay to go?” I ask Yakov, noticing that his gait has slowed and he looks as though he’s in a little bit of pain.

  “Yeah, pchelka, let’s celebrate,” he murmurs.

  The four of us go to our cars and we head toward Brighton Beach. I don’t bother asking Yakov where we are going. In Brighton Beach, you eat Russian food; and since I’m with three Russians and we’re celebrating, I don’t expect anything less.

  The Oleandr restaurant comes into view, and Yakov parks before he comes and helps me out of the front seat.

  “This is Sonia’s favorite restaurant. She says out of all the ones here, this one reminds her of home the most. I know she wanted to bring you here for her celebratory dinner. If you prefer your Italian restaurant, we can go there instead,” Yakov murmurs.

  “No. The day I marry my Russian prince, I should be eating Russian cuisine,” I grin.

  “Prince,” he scoffs as he places his hand at the small of my back. He gently pushes me toward the entrance, where Pasha and Sonia are already waiting.

  “You are my prince, my savior…”

  “Yours. I’m just yours, pchelka,” he quietly says as we approach our friends.

  We’re seated without a word from anyone in our party. The hostess’ eyes widen at the sight of us, and she grabs menus and quickly ushers us to a private booth in the back. Only seconds later, a waiter arrives with shot glasses of vodka for our entire party.

  “A bottle of Cristal for my bride,” Yakov rumbles as he slams his shot glass down.

  “Yes, sir,” the waiter says before he hurries away.

  We spend the evening eating and drinking, eating some more, then drinking even more. We’re the last people in the restaurant, and Yakov has to order a cab to take us back to the hotel, since neither of us can hardly walk.

  “Pchelka,” Ya
kov slurs as the cab takes off toward our destination, after dropping off Pasha and Sonia.

  “Yessss?” I slur back.

  The world is spinning around me and I can’t stop the giggle that erupts from my throat. I’m drunk. I’ve never been drunk before in my life, and I’m drunk—on my wedding night.

  “What’s funny?” Yakov grunts.

  “I’m drunk,” I whisper between my giggles.

  “You are…”

  “On my wedding night, with my handsome husband,” I sigh as I curl closer to his side.

  “You’re a mess,” he chuckles as he digs in his pocket and throws a wad of cash to the cabbie. He swings open the door and practically yanks me out by my arm.

  I wrap my arms around his waist and let him drag me upstairs to our room. I’ll be so happy when we’re finally in our new home and not a hotel. As we arrive at the door to our suite, Yakov starts to bend and wrap his arm under my knees.

  “No,” I protest. He ignores me and grunts as he picks me up.

  He’s only able to take two steps across the threshold before he has to release me.

  I watch as he reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. He shoves it into my palm and I look down. It’s a pink diamond pendant that matches my new wedding ring perfectly.

  “Yakov,” I breathe.

  “I had so many plans for your body tonight, pchelka,” he whispers as he limps after me toward the bedroom.

  “How about I ride you until we pass out, and maybe tomorrow we’ll do your plans?” I ask, turning around and arching a brow.

  “Sounds perfect. I want you in nothing but the diamonds I’ve bought you,” he grunts.

  I hurry to the bedroom, fastening my necklace on before I strip out of all my clothes, wearing nothing but my new earrings, bracelet, necklace and wedding band.

  My head screams as I open an eye and then I regret the decision immediately as the room begins to spin. I roll over and drape myself over Ashley’s warm body, grunting when I feel the injury to my shoulder pull and ache. Fuck, I drank a shit-ton last night. I don’t remember anything past stumbling into the hotel.