Owned by the Badman (Russian Bratva #1) (29 page)

“My men went in and cleared out the house. We sold or dumped their clothes, but I had them put anything personal in storage in case you ever wanted to go through it.”

His voice sounds so clinical, and I can tell he doesn’t want me to go and look through all their crap. Neither do I. Except for my great-grandmother’s necklace brought over from France. I wore it on my wedding day, and I think I would like that one thing for myself.

“No, thank you.” I shake my head slightly, and Maxim runs the back of his fingers against the side of my breast.

“What about Torrent and the police?” His eyes slice to mine, and I know that whatever he has to say could possibly scare me.

“The American police, they bow to me. Torrent nodded with understanding and left to places unknown. He knew who I was when I married you. He knew a lot and knows to keep his mouth shut.”

I nod, understanding his words. Torrent is wherever a man goes when his bosses are murdered by the
Bratva
. He is probably serving some other family, most likely another rich family who will say too much in front of him.

“You amaze me. I thought for sure you were going to despise me,” Maxim confesses.

“Never, Maxim. I love you, and my parents were not upstanding members of society. I’m not sure I could have ever forgiven my mother for her actions or my father for selling me to you— even if it did end up being a good thing.”

“Yes, but I am worse because I rid this world of them.” His voice is deep and husky.

“You did, but it was not for greed or anything like that. It was because my mother attacked me, Maxim. She was not right in the head. Though you could have called the police, I would assume that it wouldn’t have mattered? Calling them?” I ask. Maxim licks my collarbone before speaking again.

“You assume correct,
golubushka
.” He chuckles.

Then, all conversation ceases as Maxim slides his shirt over my body and makes love to me the only way that he knows how. His body surges into mine hard, rough, and fast as I come around his perfect cock.

T
HE DAYS ARE LONG
and lonely, but Maksimilyan fills them with gurgles and sweet kisses while we wait for Maxim to come home. Some days he is home by five, others not until the wee hours of the morning, but he is working. Not once has he smelled like another woman, and he is always,
always
, trying to get inside of me.
I never deny him
. I want him just as badly as he wants me. I have never been so happy.

Tonight, however, I am preparing for a dinner party. Maxim’s boss, aka: the scariest man on earth and his wife are coming over. Maxim tells me they both speak English fairly well, and although he doesn’t know the wife well, he believes we will get along. A pang of sadness fills me when I think about Sonia; I miss her and her friendship so much.

I am dressed in a tight black scoop neck jersey dress that comes down to my knees and flatters my new curvy figure but doesn’t show off too much. I don’t want to look slutty for Maxim’s boss and his wife.

Dinner is
chicken
kiev
, a chicken breast flattened and rolled around a slice of butter and fresh parsley, breaded and deep fried; we'll also have a green salad, asparagus, potato wedges, and
ptchie moloko
for dessert, which is a cake with marshmallow filling topped with chocolate.

Since being home with Maksimilyan, I have been practicing my cooking and wanted to make somewhat of a traditional Russian meal for Maxim’s boss. I want to impress them and I want them to like me.

“
Angel moy
, I am home,” Maxim calls out as I am just finishing the dessert.

The table is set, the food is finishing in the oven, and I have donned my pink high heels.
I am ready
.

“
Dobriy vyechyer
,” I call out in a horrible Russian accent. I try to tell my husband good evening, but I know that I have botched the whole thing.

“That was good,
golubushka
. I am very impressed,” Maxim praises. I beam up at him, proud that he is impressed with me.

“Where is my son?” he asks, kissing my forehead as his hand grabs a handful of my ass.

“Sleeping until our guests arrive. I wanted him to be rested.” I sigh as Maxim hums, his hand dipping lower, his index finger tracing the inside of my knee. I shift slightly, feeling that burning need begin to rise inside of me. It happens every single time my husband touches me.

“They will be here soon,” I breathe. My voice is low, husky, dripping with sex and need.

“Then we must hurry,
angel moy
,” he whispers in my ear.

I hear his belt clink and the whoosh of the fabric as it lands on the stone flooring. My dress is lifted to my waist and my panties shoved to the side as Maxim enters me with one hard thrust from behind. I gasp before I moan at the feeling of his hard length deep inside of me.

“Hold on to the counter,” Maxim demands.

I do as he says, right before he slowly slides out of me. He then thrusts back inside, so hard, burying himself.
It takes my breath away
. One of Maxim’s hands slides around to the nape of my hair, tangling roughly in my perfectly curled blonde locks. He tugs my neck, my back arching, achingly, at the bowed angle, but it only fuels my fire. The jolt makes me wet, and I moan.

“You look so fucking sexy right now. Your dress pulled up, your head pulled back, my cock deep inside of you—at my fucking mercy, my good girl.
Mine
,” he growls.

I whimper, feeling my center clench around Maxim’s hard length, trying to keep him where I want him, but he is right—I am at his mercy, and I love it.

Maxim doesn’t stop plunging inside me, slamming into me as hard as he can. His pure raw strength is more than perfect;
he
is more than perfect. The hand bruising my hip slowly reaches around, sliding down the front of my panties. He begins to lightly tap my clit with two fingers, sending jolts of electricity thrumming through my body.

“I want you to come all over my cock, Haleigh,” he murmurs as his teeth sink into the flesh at the side of my neck.

His fingers slap my clit one last time, and I do as he wills; I shatter, my body pulsing and my mouth opening to let out a noiseless scream as I fall down the rabbit hole of bliss. I don’t even know when Maxim comes. I am a mindless pile of flesh, my body resting against the granite countertop.

“You are amazing,
golubushka.
” He kisses up the side of my neck, taking my earlobe between his teeth and lightly sucking on it as he pulls out of me and readjusts himself.

“I better go clean up,” I say drowsily, trying to stand on my wobbly jelly legs.

“
Nyet,
you will not,” Maxim barks as I readjust my dress. My wide eyes meet his and he just smirks.

“Maxim, we’re having a dinner party. I cannot have
you
coming out of me all evening,” I say in horror.

He throws back his head in laughter, hooking me around the waist and bringing me into his chest as his lips capture mine in a slow, soft kiss.

“I like knowing my cum leaks between your legs. I like you to have a reminder of who you belong to,
angel moy
, especially with my boss here,” he mutters, kissing the tip of my nose. I huff and roll my eyes at my crazy, dominant, caveman husband.

“Here, my mother told me wearing my hair down was vulgar, but she had no clue what vulgar was.”

I wrinkle my nose and Maxim throws back his head and laughs again. I want to be irritated at his irrational words, but I can’t be, not when he laughs, as it is so rare. I just let him get away with whatever because it is such a beautiful sight.

The bell rings, breaking me from my husband’s rare laughter moment. Maxim kisses my temple before winking and heading to the door. At the exact moment, I hear Maksimilyan crying out in his bedroom, so I let Maxim handle the guests while I tend to my sweet boy. Maksimilyan is giggling by the time I walk into his expertly decorated bedroom. I quickly kiss his round cheek before I change his diaper and his outfit.

I walk into the living room to find Maxim serving drinks to our guests. Radimir and his model-gorgeous wife are standing, taking drinks from Maxim. Champagne for the wife, and vodka for Radimir.

Maksimilyan claps sending each person’s gaze my way. Maxim smiles softly at us and walks straight to Maksimilyan, grabbing him and kissing his cheek, whispering words I don’t yet understand in Russian. I smile at our guests and introduce myself.

“Hello, I am Haleigh Lasovska.” I hold out my hand and try not to tremble under the scrutinizing, terrifying gaze of Radimir.

“Radimir,” he grunts.

I turn to his wife—a tall, thin, light blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman with perfect curves. She almost looks as if she ordered them from a catalog. Her cheeks are thin and her features sharp, unlike my own rounded ones.

“Klavdia,” she says, holding out her hand in a limp way.

I know why she does it this way, it is so that men will kiss her hand, but I won’t. Instead, I loosely take it and kiss her on each cheek as my greeting. She gasps in surprise. I was raised by social climbers; I know what snooty people want and this bitch oozes snoot. She is no Sonia, that’s for sure.

“This little man of ours is Maksimilyan.” Maxim beams proudly as he bounces our happy baby a few times, making his blue eyes twinkle.

“Dinner is ready if you are hungry,” I offer.

The stiff couple nods once before turning to go into the dining room. I give Maxim a side-glance, and he just shrugs and winks.
Ass
.

The dinner is tense, to say the least, but as soon as the men begin to talk shop, I smile at Klavdia and try to engage her in conversation. I want to get along with the wife of Maxim’s boss. I know she isn’t Sonia, but I also know that with what these men do for a living, they need strong women behind them.

“So, how long have you and Radimir been married?” I ask as she pushes her food around the plate, never taking a bite. She looks up at me and smirks.

“We were joined four years ago. Like you, I was purchased. Radimir holds no affections for me, neither do I for him. He fucks who he wants and me who I want. Obviously, you and Maxim fuck, though, because you make baby.” She points at Maksimilyan, and I pale at her words.

How did she know how Maxim and I came to be married? I don’t even know what to say to her.

“Your husband told me one night after he fucked me with his fingers. The man is good. He was drunk as hell, though, so his cock wouldn’t work. I doubt he remembers, crying his little pity party to me about his little American wife.” The fork slips from my hand and clatters against the plate as I gape at her.

The bitch and my fucking husband. I try not to get mad; I try so hard because I knew Maxim wasn’t completely faithful to me the year we spent apart. He told me that his cock hadn’t been inside of another woman since me, but I knew that for what it was. He was omitting.

This, however—
oh, hell no
. This bitch is eating my food, sitting at my dinner table, telling me that my husband finger fucked her and how much she enjoyed it.

“I can’t believe you just said that to me,” I whisper in shock.

“What, did you think that he would not fuck around with another woman? You, little girl, need to wake up. These men, they are men, and they will fuck who they please. You do not ask questions and you do not get a say in what they do with their cocks. You stay home and take care of babies. You spend their money, but you do not ask questions.” She sounds like she knows from experience, and I suddenly feel sorry for her. Radimir does not love her. Hell, I doubt he even
likes
her, and it’s sad, but that doesn’t excuse what she’s saying to me.

“Maxim and I aren’t like that. We are faithful to each other now. We are honest,” I say pleadingly. It sounds forced. She chuckles and I am surprised by the pleasant sound of her voice.

“He lies to you, silly girl. Maxim will not keep his dick dry for long. So he fucks only you for a while until you trust him, to make his life here at home happy. He sacrifices. Soon, though, he lets a whore suck his cock, then maybe the next time he finger fucks her while she sucks, then he just gives up the fight and fucks her pussy before he fucks her ass. Then he comes home to you and fucks you on your back before he rolls over and goes to sleep,” she announces. If it didn’t hit so close to home, I might be offended.