“Radimir,” I stifle a scream when he pinches my clit. How will I be able to keep from coming? I need him so much, he feels so good, and I can already feel my pussy beginning to tighten and convulse, ready for my climax.
“Do not come or I will punish you, Em,” he warms before his fingers begin to lightly play with my clit in circles, taps, and soft petting. Fuck, it is too much.
“It’s too much,” I moan pushing my hips back. He doesn’t stop his thrusting, the slam of his hips into my ass, or the gentility in which he is petting and playing with my sensitive nub.
“You feel good, my kotik, so good. Your pussy was made only for my cock.” I grunt as he fucks my body—fucks and plays. It is too much.
One of Radimir’s hands slides up my back to fist in the back of my hair, surely messing it up. I don’t care. All I care about is grinding my teeth together to keep from coming. I try to think of something else, but when his hand in my hair yanks my head back, I whimper. His other hand is still stimulating my clit, and I can’t hold myself up a second longer. My hands fall from the wall. One of them, I place on top of his over my clit, and with the other, I grab onto his bicep.
“I am so close, Emiliya. You have been such a good little blyad. My good whore. You may come on my cock whenever you wish now. When you do, I want you to scream my name. I am going to come so deep in your pussy that we will surely make a baby tonight,” he murmurs, his lips just a whisper over my skin.
Then his teeth sink into my neck, in the same spot he has already claimed is bleeding, and he fucks my body with all of his pure, brute power.
“Radimir,” I scream as tears well up in my eyes. My legs shake as I finally come.
“Fuck, yes,” he grunts as he fucks me even harder, something I did not think was possible in this moment. “Squeeze my cock. My whore. My kotik. My wife,” he roars. I feel his release fill my body as he shutters behind me.
If I could fall to the ground, I would. The only thing holding me up is Rad’s hand in my hair and his hand that is still pressed against my clit. I feel his lips brush against the bite mark on my neck and I shiver. I like that he has marked me. It will be seen by all tonight. I am proud to wear his mark, even if it means that other people may not understand the meaning of it. I do, and that is all that matters.
“This is so beautiful right here, kotik,” he murmurs, licking the skin before kissing it again. His body is still, frozen, his cock inside of me.
“Everyone will see, Rad,” I mutter as he slides out of me and I start to readjust my clothing.
“I want them to see,” he says harshly.
I turn around to face him. His eyes are not angry like I had anticipated from his outburst. Instead, I see hurt right before he bends down to pick up his pants, bringing them back over his hips.
“Rad,” I whisper as I slide my hands up his naked chest. My eyes scan all of his detailed, blue tattoos. Every one of them a meaning, every one of them heartbreakingly beautiful.
“No,” he tenses. I don’t let him step away from me. I press my body into his as my hands wrap around his neck.
“Your mark on me is beautiful. I love it. I just don’t want other women to look down on me, or other men to think of me as the kind of woman I am not. I am yours, only yours, Radimir. What we have is not meant to be shared with the world,” I say, looking into his eyes, trying to ensure his understanding.
“You do not want other men to think you are blyad?” he asks as if he is truly confused.
“I know that I am blyad, but only to you. A mark like this may give men the wrong impression of me. First impressions mean everything, my husband,” I say, twisting his hair in my fingers.
“This a lesson from your father?” he asks, his brows pinching together.
“Yes. On the outside, poised perfection is how one must always behave,” I say as my eyes continue searching his. I feel his fingers dig into my lower back as he pulls me even closer to his body.
“No man will look at you any differently, kotik. You are gorgeous, which means I cannot stop them from looking in your direction. But these men will not think of you as anything but Mrs. Radimir Zaleskya. To them, you will never be labeled blyad, and do you know why?” he asks, his voice low and demanding. I shake my head instead of attempting to speak.
“Because if they even suggest that you are anything other than Mrs. Radimir Zaleskya, I will bring them up here and fucking torture them,” he warns. I gasp.
“Radimir.” His lips come down to touch mine before I can say another word.
“Do not speak, Emiliya. This is the way I am. I am not a man who will accept another saying anything about my wife. So, a man says something, then he will just be eliminated. Maybe I make an example out of that fat fuck that thought he could look at you earlier?” he grunts. I shake my head.
“Okay, Radimir. No man will say anything to me then,” I murmur while he finishes dressing and making himself presentable again.
“I need to use the restroom,” I say as he wraps his hand around mine and tugs me forward.
“Nyet,” he barks, continuing to walk. I pull his hand to stop him and he turns to face me, fire burning in his eyes. “You want to use the restroom to wipe my cum from your pussy, no?” he asks harshly. I nod once, afraid to speak. His eyes are burning with something, something frightening, and something not to be defied.
“I refuse this of you. I want my cum leaking all over your thighs, marking your pussy as mine,” he grunts. I hold my hand up to him as I bend my neck.
“My finger bares your ring and my neck your teeth marks, why must I feel your cum sliding down my legs, too?” I ask.
“Because. You are mine,” he shrugs. He takes the hand I was holding up and pulls me behind him. He is being unreasonable, and for some reason, his brutish behavior makes my poor sore pussy ache for more of his cock.
The man is a barbarian, yet I want him again.
I AM BEING AN asshole. I am being overbearing, and I have made my own wife uncomfortable. If I were a good man, I would do something to alleviate her right now. But I am not a good man, so I will not. I wrap my hand around Emiliya’s waist and pull her even closer to my body. I can feel her shifting her legs in obvious distress at the cum that must be gathering on her thighs.
I can’t help the smirk that plays on my lips, remembering how deep I was buried inside of her just moments ago. I move my arm from her waist to around her shoulders so that my thumb can caress the evidence of our rough love making—my mark, my teeth that pierced her skin and made her bleed for me.
A flash of blonde comes at me from the corner of my eye. I recognize this blonde tornado, and I sigh. Haleigh and Maxim have arrived. I look past Haleigh, who is almost directly in front of my oblivious wife. I grin at Maxim as his eyes are focused on his wife’s backside.
“Emiliya,” Haleigh calls.
My wife stiffens in my arm before she turns and sees Haleigh practically barreling toward her. The women wrap each other in hugs just as Maxim appears to shake my hand.
“We have much to discuss,” he murmurs.
I nod. He knows about Emiliya’s kidnapping and my being drugged. He knows that it was Dimitri who orchestrated the whole thing, and how Kirill and I took care of the situation. I do not know what else he wishes to discuss with me. If it involves work, then this is not the place. There are too many outsiders here at this party.
“We can discuss this evening. The apartment next to ours is empty. Kirill owns the entire building. It is full of our kind,” I don’t say the word Bratva out loud in public.
“Yes, I have already unloaded Haleigh and the babies’ shit there,” he murmurs. I look to him in confusion.
“Pasha and Sonia are there playing grandparents for a few hours,” he says with a shrug. I wonder what is happening.
“Yakov?” I question, low enough so that Emiliya will not hear me.
“Nyet. He is busy with legitimate business of Ivan’s. He and his Ashley are in Moscow. We have issue w
ith authority.” He hisses the last word and my brows furrow.
“Let us go, then. Sounds like we need to talk. Kirill is here. I call him and we go,” I announce, which causes Maxim to jerk his head. I follow his gaze to Kirill, who is angrily talking on his phone. I do not know what he’s saying, but by the look on his face, he is fucking livid.
“Stay here with Maks and Haleigh. I be right back, kotik,” I whisper in Em’s ear. I place a gentle kiss on her temple and walk toward Kirill.
When I arrive at his side, he clicks the phone off and then looks up at me in anger. I put my hands up in a—not me—stance, and he shakes his head.
“Maxim Lasovska is here. Pasha is in the apartment next door to mine. We have problem with authority. We need to talk,” I murmur as low as possible.
Kirill nods once before he stomps off. I take that as my cue to leave. Maxim and I gather our women, who are talking a mile a minute, and I wave at Anton, who is playing on his phone in the front seat of the SUV. I am glad that I brought the larger vehicle, since we are now a foursome.
I feel badly for our early departure, as I was not able to feed my Emiliya. I can only hope that the few appetizers and glasses of champagne were enough to tide her over until I can get some actual food in her belly.
“Mr. Zalesky, Mr. Lasovska,” he murmurs as the girls get in the back, followed by us in the middle seats.
Maxim is tapping his foot nervously and it worries me.
We walk inside of the apartment next door to ours, which is filled with two babies, Pasha, Sonia, Sergei, and four Byki –bodyguards. It looks a crowded mess, but Sonia is smiling brightly as if she is in heaven. I nod to Pasha, who I already knew was here from my earlier meeting with him and Kirill. Now, we must discuss business.
“You stay here with the babies, Golubushka,” Maxim murmurs.
Emiliya turns to me with nothing but worry and questions swimming in her eyes. I wrap my arm around her and press my lips to the mark on her neck. My mark. The mark that showed all those bastards at that party that she is fucking mine. They looked, too. I watched them take in my Emiliya’s body. Her ass swaying in her short as fuck skirt; her entire back exposed; her tits obviously bouncing with each step, as she wasn’t wearing a bra.
Then when those hungry eyes traveled up and spotted my mark on her neck, I watched their backs straighten and their bodies go stiff before they turned to look toward me. Fuckers knew. I should have been pissed, hungry eyes on my wife. I should have been angry, but the looks of respect and fear that I earned for marking her in a bold way, it made my fucking dick hard.
Fear and respect always make my cock hard.
“Stay with the women, kotik,” I murmur against her skin. I give a nod to Anton and another Byki who will stand watch over the Bratva’s most prized jewels—our women and children.
Pasha locks the door behind us after we exit, and then we take the few short steps to the apartment that I share with Emiliya. There are well over a dozen men gathered, and I know that this must be a bad omen. I recognize many of them:
There are –
Pakhan’s – bosses
Sovietnik’s – councilors —second in command to Pakhans
Brigadier’s – Authority who are in charge of a small group
Krysha’s – Extremely violent enforcers
Torpedo’s – hired killers
This many men of different districts and status’ together in one room cannot bode well for what is about to come our way. This looks like a meeting to prepare for war.
Can I be ready for war? I can yes, but that risks putting my Emiliya in danger again, and I am not sure I wish to even contemplate that. I look over to Maxim and I can see he is thinking much of the same thoughts.
“We are all together because the American FBI has been watching us for a while. It was of no concern to me, because we are secretive and we tie up loose ends without issue. Ivan Chekov and our own Dimitri fucked us over,” Kirill explains. You can hear grumblings from the men around us.
“We will not be able to meet up like this again in the future. From now on, we will go back to codes and burner phones. It is too dangerous otherwise. Our shipments of guns and drugs will be minimal to survive, from now until further notice. There will also be no trips from Moscow to the US. Borders for us are locked down after everybody has returned home from this meeting,” he finishes, looking around as he waits for a response.
“Will the Cartel be an issue if we are on minimums? They will soon discover and peddle their shit in our territories,” one of the Sovietnik’s says.
I can’t help but wonder the same thing. Though, the drugs aren’t my specialty. I run real estate investments, and my men collect protection money from our district, along with loans and interest—but drugs are a huge profit for the Bratva, as is the gun trade we’re involved in.
“We still have plenty of muscle and men on the streets. Let us not allow the Cartel’s to be an issue, yes?” Sergei booms.
I look over to my mentor, the man who saved me, and I grin. Hard assed fucker, is what he is. I have missed my old friend since leaving Moscow to live here in sunny California. He is usually the man I look to for advice. He would have been helpful during the past weeks with Emiliya, but the time difference has made communication difficult between us.
“That is not realistic,” a brigadier calls out.
Maxim and I stay silent. Sergei is not somebody to question; and by the clench in his jaw, I know that he is pissed.
“Are you saying that the Bratva is not strong enough to hold back those pussy Cartel fucks for a few months, even a year? If your district does not have strong enough men, then we have bigger issues at stake here,” he roars. The room becomes silent.
Sergei is right.
We are Bratva.
We are scared of no man, of no authority, and of no other group.
“Stay vigilant. If you are in fear your district is being compromised, then send me a message from your burner phone. Send to Sergei if you are in Russia or Europe. Keep your mouths quiet and your noses seemingly clean. Yakov Chekov is still working on cleaning up Ivan’s cluster fuck of a business. He is in the process of selling it all off, piece-by-piece. He will be back to us full-time within the year. Tonight, we drink. Tomorrow, we stay out of prison,” Kirill announces. The men all breathe a sigh of relief that the meeting is over.
Vodkas are brought out by the Byki, and we proceed to drink as a family. We are a family, these men here in this room together, along with the thousands that total our numbers around the world. It is important that we stand united. Brother and warriors together. Without our bond, our group will disassemble. We are only as strong as our weakest link, and hopefully that was Dimitri, who I fucking killed like the goddamn animal he was.
“Your Emiliya?” Sergei asks me a few hours later. He takes another shot of vodka that he does not need.
“Perfection,” I admit shamelessly with a shrug.
“Good. I knew she would be good for you, my boy,” he murmurs, clapping me on the shoulder.
“You did?” I ask in confusion.
“I have known of her her entire life. Ivan has always been a problem, and I kept him close, trying to figure out his secrets. Obviously, he was good at hiding his insanity. Emiliya was so beautiful, even as a girl. So timid and shy, yet with a fire burning in her eyes. After her mother died, she tried to hide that fire, but I always saw glimpses of it. I see the same in you.
“I know where you come from, lest you forget. I know the road you have traveled has been rough. I also knew that only a special girl could be for you. That cunt you had for a while was not good enough to lick your shoes.” He takes a deep breath and a shot before he continues.
“I hated the bitch. When the opportunity came for Emiliya’s safety, no other man would do. I told Yakov you were the man capable of keeping her safe; but in all honesty, I wanted her for you. I could give a fuck if she is happy. I wanted you to be happy. I wanted you to have everything y
ou deserved,” he mutters right before his eyes slide closed. He passes out from too much vodka.
Sergei, the slick bastard. The fucking slick piece of shit. He doesn’t care for Emiliya, but he cares for me. I should be angry that he doesn’t give a flying fuck if she’s happy, but I’m not. Without his meddling, without his knowledge of the woman in the next room, and without his ability to see her fire—a fire that burns so fucking bright when she is alone in my arms—I wouldn’t have the only thing I have ever craved.
My Emiliya.
I clap the older man on his shoulder and stumble to the door. I need her now more than ever. Drinking too much can bring out my demons, and I am afraid tonight will be rough.
Without Emiliya, it will be unbearable.
I must go to her, fuck her until I am exhausted, and then pray for a dreamless sleep.
I SIT STRAIGHT UP when I hear stumbling, and my eyes widen at the dark hulking figure coming my way. I blink once and then let out a breath. It is Radimir, and he is swaying, completely drunk. I giggle as I reach out to him to steady his body. His hand wraps around mine before he sits down on the sofa, where I am currently sleeping.
“Come to bed,” he slurs, tugging on my arm. I shush him.
“The babies are sleeping,” I whisper. He grunts as he drags me out of the apartment and to ours, next door. I gasp when I walk inside and see all of the men camped out. There has to be at least seven bodies asleep in chairs, and a few just on the floor.
“Radimir,” I hiss.
“There were more. They were able to crawl back to their apartments. Come to bed, kotik, I need you,” he murmurs.
I look up at him. He doesn’t just want me; I can see it in his eyes—he truly needs me. I do not hesitate before following him into the bedroom. I lock the door behind me as, for whatever reason, people tend to burst in on us. I then watch as he quickly sheds his suit. It has only been hours since he has been inside of me; and although my pussy aches from his hard fucking earlier, I want him.
Seducing the Badman (Russian Bratva #2) Page 20