“Cut her up before you kill her. She does not deserve to go so quickly,” he whispers as he puts her gag back in place. He walks back to the desk, perching on the edge to watch. Sick fuck.
I do exactly as he says. I make slices and cuts all over her body, relishing in her muffled screams. I continue with deep gashes in her breasts, stomach, and thighs until her body goes limp. Then I slice her wrists before I slit her cunt throat.
“Mr. Lasovska, I am finished,” the doctor calls from the other side of the door, as I finish wiping off my knife.
I take in my body and notice in appreciation that I didn’t get too much blood on myself. I motion to Dimitri and quietly order him to clean up the mess; he smiles a wicked grin and nods. Pasha and I walk out of my office and are met by the doctor.
“I have finished.”
“Tell me of her injuries,” I encourage, trying to calm myself from the adrenaline of just killing and torturing my in-laws.
“She is badly bruised, of course. No broken bones and no internal bleeding or injuries that I could tell. I was most concerned with her organs because of the high heel shoe marks on her torso. Luckily, I think she came out pretty unscathed. She will be extremely sore. I have given a bottle of pain medication to help. If she throws up excessively or seems out of it, call me back,” he says. I nod taking it all in. I feel relieved that she was not more seriously injured.
I hand the doctor an envelope of cash and leave . He can let himself out of my home. I rush upstairs to see my wife—my Haleigh.
Once I am upstairs, I burst into the bedroom and take note that Sonia is sitting on the bed, stroking Haleigh’s hair and singing an old Russian lullaby. My tongue is thick in my throat at the sight. I never had that. I never had a mother to hold me, to sing to me when I was ill, and I never knew I wanted it until this very moment. Haleigh did not have that type of mother either, it seems. We are two people who have not been loved by our families. I wonder how can we come together and have one of our own?
Maybe this whole plan of mine, this whole obsession over my ballerina, has been a mistake?
Should I let her go to find a man capable of loving her?
I grind my teeth at the thought.
I would kill anyone who dared to touch her. I proved that just a few moments ago.
Pasha walks up behind me and places his hand on my shoulder, giving me a gentle squeeze before he speaks.
“She will be all right, Maks. You will help her, and you will protect her. Do not beat yourself up for this. Shit happens. I have never seen you as complete as I have the past couple of weeks. This life you have begun with her by your side will be a good one. As long as you stick together, you will come out of it with beauty you never knew existed,” Pasha says softly—as if he can read my thoughts. As well as my mentor knows me, he probably can. I nod and walk closer to the bed, closer to Sonia and my poor bruised wife.
“Take care of her, Maks. I know you will. The doctor injected her with pain medicine before he left, but she is to have these pills every four hours,” Sonia instructs softly before wrapping her small hand around my bicep, giving it a light squeeze. She walks out with Pasha at her side, leaving me alone with Haleigh.
I sit down on the white chair she had delivered just this morning, and I watch her chest slowly rise and fall. Everything comes crashing down as my adrenaline fades.
I have killed her parents.
Granted, her mother tried to hurt her, maybe even kill her, but is what I have done to them unforgivable in her eyes?
I have never cared about taking another human’s life in the past, especially if warranted. I was going by eye for an eye with her parents, but was I too hasty in my decision? They harmed what was mine, and I took action without thinking about how Haleigh would feel.
I don’t think I can go on in this life if she hates me.
Will she hate me?
I despise the fact that I do not know her well enough to gauge her reactions.
“Maxim.”
I hear faintly from somewhere. My head jerks up to see Haleigh’s green eyes focused on me. I fall to my knees at her side and brush the hair back from her beautiful face.
“Angel moy,” I whisper harshly. I can almost feel tears gathering in my eyes. If I knew how to cry, I think I would right here and now.
“My …” I put my finger over her lips.
“I know. You never have to worry about her coming here again,” I say, leaving out the fact that they are dead, so it is impossible. Haleigh nods and I give her some more pain pills.
“Tell me how to help you,” I murmur to her, my knuckles lightly running over her bruised cheek.
“Just hold me, baby,” she mutters.
I crawl into the bed next to her, my tiny little wife, and I hold her.
I kiss the side of her neck, comforting her until she falls back asleep in my arms.
Where she is forever meant to be.
THE SUN FEELS DELICIOUS against my skin.
It is the first time Maxim has allowed me to venture outside since my mother's brutal attack. I am relishing in the warmth of the sun’s rays beaming down on my body. I am in a little turquoise bikini and a big floppy hat, sitting next to the swimming pool, eating a bowl of grapes and drinking a bottle of water.
I feel like I should be on a poster advertisement or something.
It has been two weeks since my mother showed up and assaulted me, beat me, and stomped on me like I was nothing. Two weeks since she told me, essentially, that she and my father sold me to Maxim. I haven’t brought up the conversation to him, how she said he owned me, because deep down, I have always known it.
Maybe she thought she was shocking me by telling me such things. I have been under no illusions that this marriage was anything but an arrangement. A financial arrangement. Though I have never known the details, I have always known the truth. I am not as stupid as my mother claims.
I watched my parents’ once extremely lavish lifestyle slowly dwindle, and I saw how worried my father was becoming, losing weight and gaining dark circles under his eyes. My mother who never wore clothes a season behind started doing just that; nothing new was coming into the home and then suddenly when my marriage was announced, they magically had money to throw around. It was all so obvious—to me, at least.
Maxim is controlling and possessive, but he isn’t cruel and he doesn’t hurt me. He can be so kind and gentle; if he does own me, then I am glad. My life could have turned out so much worse.
“You’ll get burned, golubushka,” Maxim announces from the doorway.
I turn slightly to see that he has a smirk on his lips. I look down at my stomach and legs. I have one hundred proof sunblock on, but the bruises on my skin are that yellowish color and I was hoping the sun would help fade them a bit.
“I thought you were working,” I ask, taking a sip of water.
Maxim slowly walks toward me, his big body effortlessly moving in a way that mesmerizes me. When he stands next to me, his knee nudges my shoulder and he grunts. I figure this is some man language for move, so I slide up as he straddles the chair behind me pulling my back against his chest. Aside from lying next to each other in bed, this is as close as we have been, physically. Maxim has refused to touch me until my body has healed completely. It is completely frustrating.
“I come home to see my wife. I hate leaving you alone all day,” he murmurs, his voice deep and rough.
I feel his full lips on my shoulder as he places a soft kiss on my warm skin. I shiver as his hands travel down my arms to rest on my outer thighs. I remove my hat and take a chance by lightly kissing the side of his neck.
“I have missed you, Maxim,” I whisper against his cool skin.
Maxim’s fingers twitch on my thighs, and I feel one of his hands sliding up my belly and into the small triangle of my top. One of his fingers lazily circles around my nipple, making me arch my back in search of more. I always want more when it comes to my Maxim.
“Angel moy,
I have missed you so very much. How are you feeling?”
I want to tell him that I’m feeling horny, but I don’t think I could ever say those words to him; I would probably die of embarrassment.
“Much better. The sun feels fantastic,” I whisper breathlessly as his other hand slides toward the juncture of my thighs—so close to my center but not close enough.
“You have put on some weight. You look fantastic,” he groans in my ear as his hands simultaneously grab my flesh roughly, causing my body to break out in goosebumps. I cry out from the pleasure of his touch.
“Maxim, please,” I beg.
I feel his body rumble beneath me as his hand finally slides between my legs. From the front of my bikini, his finger drags down my center. I whimper at the feeling of his warm digit touching me.
“Wet already, golubushka,” he observes.
I press my lips to his neck and lightly lick his skin, tasting the salty spice that is Maxim. I am wet. I have been watching him care for me for days, wanting him, needing him as I have never needed anything in my life.
Maxim’s finger slams inside of me, and my back bows at the suddenly full feeling.
I moan.
He continues to pump his finger in and out of me, pausing his rhythm to swirl his slick finger around my clit before sliding it back inside of me again. All the while, his other hand pinches and pulls my nipples.
“Fuck. Get on your knees. I can’t wait,” he mutters. I do exactly as I’m told because I want him so badly my body is shaking with need.
On my knees, on the lounger, I wait for him. I listen as his belt clinks against the concrete, my body humming with anticipation. The rustling of his clothing fills the air. A slight breeze blows as Maxim releases the ties of my bikini bottoms and then the top, letting the scraps of fabric fall where they may.
One of his hands slides down my spine, then through the crack of my ass, and I push back into him.
“I want this ass, Haleigh. Fuck, you look so perfect like this—the sun shining on your blonde hair, your ass in my face, and your pussy gleaming with your need,” he practically purrs, slowly sliding himself inside me.
I moan at the way he fills me, always with a bit of pain when he is all the way inside. I love it. Maxim gives me pain, but he also gives me more pleasure than I ever imagined possible.
“Baby,” I whisper as his hand slides around my neck. I sigh at the feeling of his warmth surrounding me as he thrusts in and out of my center.
Maxim’s hand twitches at my throat, ceasing my intake of air as he roughly takes me from behind. He releases my throat and allows me to breathe for a beat or two before he continues with the process all over again.
My heart is pounding in my chest, the adrenaline coursing through my body. I relax, taking what he gives me—his hard, fast thrusts and his firm hand. Being wrapped up in him and having him wrapped up around me … nothing could be better than this moment.
“I feel your pussy, baby. Come all over me, Haleigh. Squeeze my cock like only you can,” he moans, the grip on my throat tightening at the same time as my pulsing pussy.
I try to scream, but nothing comes out of my mouth. Maxim is thrusting so hard into my pussy, one foot flat on the concrete, the other leg pressing against my outer thigh. He has one hand wrapped around my hip and the other around my throat.
I feel his hips still behind me once my orgasm has started to leave me in a giant pile of jelly. Then I feel him come deep inside. His warm cum filling me so full, it sparks a something inside of me—a rush of need and want.
“I love it when you come inside of me, Maxim. It feels so good baby,” I whisper with a raspy voice. Maxim is still inside of me, his cock twitching as his lips brush my shoulder.
“I love filling you with my seed, angel moy. Come inside, you take nap now,” he orders huskily.
I moan, unable to move my limp and lazy body. Maxim chuckles behind me as he pulls his pants up hips before picking me up and carrying me, completely nude, to our bedroom.
“Tomorrow night we have a dinner party. Since you’re feeling better, I will RSVP.” His voice is tender, soft even, as he tucks the sheets around my bare body.
“Do I need to take anything to this party?” I yawn, unable to keep my eyes open as I listen for the answer.
“No, it’s business, not so much pleasure, golubushka.”
I mumble something unintelligible as sleep takes over.
“Ti ochen nuzhna mne – I need you so much,” he whispers before he walks out the door.
The dinner party is as Maxim said—business not pleasure. I am standing in a private room of some fancy restaurant wearing a short, all lace, hot pink dress. The dress has a nude tube dress slip as the lining; then over the top is a sheer lace overlay with long sleeves. It basically looks like I am completely nude under the lace, making me slightly uncomfortable. Maxim picked it out of my closet, and I would do anything to make that man happy, so here I am.
On my feet is a pair of four-and-a-half-inch Louboutin glitter high heels. A diamond tennis bracelet from Tiffany’s is on my wrist along with matching diamond earring studs—gifts that Maxim slipped into my palm just two hours ago after he took me hard against the closet door when he saw me in the dress.
Maxim hasn’t stopped touching me all evening, and I am relishing in the closeness of him. The way he sweeps his thumb across my knuckles or the way his hand rests on my lower back or my hip. I practically purr when his hand tangles in the back of my hair to rest against the back of my neck.
“Gregori, have you met my Haleigh yet?”
Maxim has introduced me to so many men, all Russian names and all extremely difficult to remember and pronounce. I feel like my head is spinning out of control. My body is turned slightly and I hold in the gasp caught in my throat at the man before me.
Maxim is gorgeous, beautiful even, but this man is out of this world. He is tall, his hips thin, but his upper body strong and solid. His jaw is chiseled perfectly, and he looks like he has been formed from stone. He is that perfect. His bright blue eyes meet mine and, coupled with his light blond hair, he is exquisiteness personified. He smirks and my knees wobble a bit.
“The pleasure is all mine, paver mne, milaya moya.”
Maxim growls next to me. While I have no clue what Gregori has said, I can only assume by Maxim’s growl and Gregori’s flirty smile that it was not something he should have said.
“Calm down, Maxim. You can’t expect to introduce me to your gorgeous wife and for me not to comment or look. You are a lucky man, my friend,” he offers with a slap on Maxim’s shoulder. Maxim waves him off.
“You get whatever woman you want. Stay away from mine,” he murmurs. Gregori throws his head back in jovial laughter.
“I get bed warmers a plenty, you are correct. But a good woman in my bed? Never,” he whispers, his eyes never leaving mine.
My own eyes widen at his words. Maxim pulls me closer to his body before he leans over and mutters something too low for me to hear. I watch as Gregori smirks and then full-out smiles at my Maxim’s words, whatever they were.
“How had I not thought of this before? You amaze me, Maxim.” Gregori slaps Maxim on the back and then saunters off toward another group of people.
“What did you say to him?” I ask, curious about the change of secret topic.
“I told him the only way he could get a good girl like me was to get his head out of his pretty ass and stop looking for them in whore houses.” He shrugs as if this is normal conversation.
My eyes bug out at the thought of that beautiful man paying for it when we could just walk into a bar and wink. I know panties would be flying in all directions.
“Why would he go to those places? He’s too handsome to pay for it,” I accidentally blurt out. Maxim looks at me with raised eyebrows.
“More handsome than your husband, Haleigh?” he asks. I bite my lip, shaking my head.
“Not more handsome, Maxim. He is pretty, though,” I confess.<
br />
Maxim raises an eyebrow at me again, and then grins wickedly. I don’t even know how to perceive that look. I have never seen that look. He looks deviously playful, and I don’t know what that means for me. Suddenly, I feel as if my head is spinning as Maxim grabs my hand. He pulls me away from the party and down a hallway.
“Maxim,” I hiss, trying to pull out of his grasp. He is holding on to me firmly as he tugs on me. Then he steps into a room and pulls me inside, slamming the door behind him and pushing my back against the now closed door.
“Maks,” I groan as his lips touch my neck, and I feel his hips grind into my stomach, his length hardening beneath his slacks.
“Lift your skirt up your hips, angel moy,” he orders. I shiver at his words, and I open my mouth to protest.
I mean we can’t do this here, can we? This is supposed to be a business dinner.
“Nyet, Haleigh. Do as I say,” he barks. I jump, not unused to his barking commands, but nervous because this is not our home and we are not alone.
I do as he says because he is looking at me as if he is ready to devour or spank me at any second. Maxim grabs my panties and rips them from my body, shredding the fabric. I hear the clink of his belt seconds before he thrusts his hard cock inside of me, filling me. He slams my back up against the door with the sheer force of his hips while my legs wrap around his thick waist.
“Fuck.” His chest rumbles as my head falls back against the door. I accept his punishing thrusts, loving how he makes me feel, loving how I make him feel. Out of control – needy.
“Baby,” I gasp when his hips grind hard into me, sending shots of heat through my veins.
“Say it again, golubushka. Makes my cock harder,” he grunts.
I cry out when he starts to piston in and out of me with so much force, I swear my body is going to break in half. I can feel his fingers digging into my ass as he holds me in the perfect position to feel every inch of him.
“Baby,” I moan, my release on the edge, needing a little something extra to topple me over.
Owned by the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 1) Page 10