Dancing for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 3) (25 page)

Kirill and I drive quietly toward the club. He’s different tonight. His mood more somber than usual, and he’s preoccupied. I wonder exactly what’s wrong, but I don’t feel comfortable enough to outright ask him.

Years ago, back when we were young and dating, he would sometimes get this way. I would ask what was wrong and he’d always distract me, kiss me, touch me, and fuck me, until I forgot there was anything troubling him. I think in some ways he hasn’t changed much. If I asked him what was going on with him, he’d probably do the same things.

“You go and get ready. I’ll be somewhere—
watching
,” he says with a smirk. I give him my own smile before I shake my head as I grab my duffle bag and slide out of the car.

I can feel his eyes on me as I walk into the back entrance of the club. Usually, eyes on me isn’t something that I welcome; but since I know they’re Kirill’s, I tip my lips in a grin. I’m about to dance for him, solely for him. I love it. I love that he’s going to be watching and that he’ll be excited.

I feel a rush of adrenaline run through me as I sit down and start applying my thick stage makeup, creating my stage persona. I’m called Tatyana, but I don’t act like me when I dance. It’s like something takes over my body and I just—
move
.

I curl and tease my hair after I finish my makeup, then I dress in a skimpy, shimmery gold bra and panty set. They’re completely see-through, leaving zero to the imagination. Tonight, I want to look my sexiest for Kirill.

Maybe it’s sick, me dancing naked in front of a room of men while he watches.

Maybe there’s something wrong with
him
for being turned on at the thought.

Maybe there’s something wrong with
me
for being turned on at the thought.

I don’t know
.

But I don’t really care, either.

I just know that I want him to be happy. That, and
I
want to be happy. Being able to support myself if something happens makes me happy, even if the actual occupation doesn’t fill me with pride. I don’t know exactly what makes Kirill happy yet. Maybe it’s just having Kiska and me at his side; whatever it is, I want to give that to him. I want to give him
everything
.

I step out on the dark stage, and when the music starts, I don’t move—not until the lights turn on and illuminate me. I’m grateful they make it difficult to see the audience, it makes it easier.

Tonight, the nerves are gone, replaced with pure adrenaline and excitement. Kirill is here. He’s watching me and I know he likes what he sees, so I dance—for him.

I dance for my badman.

When the song is over, I hurry off of the stage, trying to catch my breath. One of the hostesses brings me a stack of money as my tips. I give her a small stack of her own as a thanks without a word exchanged. She dips her head and is off to do her job.

Semion didn’t want me out on the floor at all, even to collect my tips from the stage. Kirill’s insistence. I didn’t protest. It would be fruitless. Obviously, what Kirill wants, he gets—always.

I go back to the dressing room and prepare for my next dance. I do this a few more times until it’s time to close the club and head home.

I’m exhausted, my adrenaline long ago spiking and then leaving. But then I walk out of the dressing room fully dressed to find Kirill leaning in the hall, his ankles crossed and his shoulder pressed to the wall.

When his eyes lift to mine, they’re smoldering. The adrenaline returns, and suddenly, immediately, I’m no longer tired. I press my lips together and walk directly over to him. His magnetic pull is too strong, there’s nowhere else I would rather be.

“You were like a star up there,
moyo zolotse
. You shined so fucking bright. No… not a star. You were the sun,” he murmurs so quietly nobody else but me could hear him. I reach up and cup his bearded cheek with my hand.

“Take me home,” I whisper, unable to say anything else. His words were absolutely gorgeous, and for him, generous.

Kirill wastes no time. He grabs my hand and pulls me behind him, practically dragging me toward the car. Semion calls out to us and waves goodbye with a big smile on his face—a knowing smile. I don’t have time to return the smile as I’m practically running behind Kirill’s long stride.

When we reach his car, he swings me around and my duffle bag falls to the ground as my back is slammed up against the passenger side door. I’m unable to even collect my thoughts before his mouth is on mine and his hips are shoved against my belly, his hard length pressing against me through our clothes. Immediately, I wrap my hands around the back of his neck and twist them in his hair.

I part my lips when his tongue slides against the seam of mine, and I let him inside. His hand slides up my shirt and he wrenches the cup of my bra down before he takes my nipple with his fingers and tugs on my sensitive bud. I let my head fall back and moan as I wrap one leg around his thigh and rub my pussy against the hardness beneath his slacks.

“I want to fuck you right now, Tati,” he murmurs as his lips slide down the column of my neck.

“Yes,
please
,” I beg. I want him, I want him so damn badly. The hours of foreplay were too much.

“You should have visited me in my booth,” he grunts before he nips my shoulder. Then releases me.

“I didn’t have an escort. The bouncers were too busy tonight, there were three bachelor parties,” I mutter, looking at his neck, disappointed that I wasn’t able to fuck him in that booth. I wanted it, and I wanted him all night long.

“You’ll have to wait until we get home. Then, you’ll be punished,” he warns.

“Kirill,” I whine. I enjoyed my last punishment, but I doubt this one will be as pleasurable.

“Hush,
krushka
. You’ll take it and you’ll like it,” he says. I press my thighs together in anticipation.

I move to the side and he opens the door for me to climb inside of the car. I’m frustrated and extremely turned on. I want his hands all over me, his lips, his beard and mouth.

I want all of him, and I want it now.

“Take your pants off,” Kirill instructs as we merge onto the freeway. I hesitate, which is apparently the exact wrong thing to do.

“If you do not take your pants and panties off
now
your punishment will be worse, Tati,” he warns.

That puts me into hyper drive.

I immediately strip my pants and panties off simultaneously, sitting with my bare ass on the leather seat of his car.

“Spread those thighs for me,” his voice rumbles the command. I do as he says, my brain totally incommunicado, my body doing exactly as he demands.

I suck in a breath when I feel his fingers gently pet my center as he drives fast down the freeway with the flow of traffic. I shift my hips, searching for more, but I’m slapped on the thigh for my efforts.

“Keep still,” he barks harshly.

I keep my legs wide and my body stone still as instructed. He begins gently petting me again, and it feels good, soft,
unlike
him. I stifle a moan when he shoves two fingers inside of me and presses his thumb against my clit.

Fuck, how am I not supposed to move?

He starts to slowly, gently, and with purpose, fuck me with his fingers.

I throw my head back against the headrest of the seat and whimper. My fingers curl into balls, my nails biting into my palm at my attempt to keep still.

“Good girl,” Kirill coos.

I want to growl at him, but I don’t.
This
is my punishment.
This
is what I must endure for not joining him as he requested between sets.

I can feel the wetness seep down the crack of my ass and onto the soft leather of his seat. I don’t care. My eyes are too busy rolling into the back of my head as I try my hardest not to do what I want to do—thrust my hips against him and ride his hand with everything I have.

“Your cunt is so tight, Tati. You’re getting close,” he whispers.

I whimper. Nothing else is able to escape my lips. I’m thankful my brain is remembering to breathe at this point.

“Now, I want you to put your pants back on. Walk inside of the house and then strip bare. I want you in the middle of the bed, on your knees, waiting for me,” he instructs.

I whip my head to the side to look at him in surprise as he pulls the car into the driveway.

“You’re leaving me like this?” I ask in disbelief.

“This will be the end of your punishment if you follow my directions,” he says, his voice soft and gentle, so different from his usual gruff harshness.

I quickly pull my pants up my legs, foregoing my panties, which I grab and shove in my bag. Then I run.
I don’t walk
. I don’t say a damn word to Ziven as I zip past him toward the bedroom. In the background, I faintly hear his chuckles ring through the house, but I could give a damn.

I want my orgasm
.

I want Kirill’s cock between my legs, bringing me blissful pleasure.

I want it all.

I strip my clothes as soon as I cross the threshold into our master bedroom. I leave a trail to the bed. I climb onto the middle, on my knees, and I wait. I stare at the door like a puppy, waiting. My heart racing. I wait for Kirill to grace me with his sexy as sin presence.

I feel like I’m going to explode. Kirill is taking his sweet ass time. My thighs are shaking, and I’m seconds from touching myself just to get relief when the door finally swings open. He’s so fucking sexy standing in the darkened doorway. Silently, he turns and locks the door behind him before he stalks my way.

“You look miserable, my little
krushka
,” he smirks.

My eyes widen and then narrow on him. I
am
miserable. I’m in fucking pain, but I don’t tell him that. The satisfied look on his face would only get even more smug.

“Please, Kirill,” I finally breathe. He’s too far away and fully dressed. He’s killing me.

“Is this enough punishment?” he asks, pursing his lips together.

I nod frantically and he chuckles as he finally begins to strip his clothes off. I breathe a sigh of relief when he finally joins me on the bed, completely naked.

“I want you to ride my cock tonight, Tati. Show me how much you wanted me, needed me, and enjoyed me watching you,” he murmurs as his lips brush mine and then travel down my neck.

“I loved it, having you there,” I admit.

“Then I shall endeavor to go more often, my
krushka
,” he whispers as he moves to lie down, taking me with him.

“You would, really?” I ask in surprise.

“And watch your shows? Watch my Tati dance so fucking sexy she makes every single man in the room hard? Fuck yes, I would. I’ll be there as often as I can, watching you, waiting to fuck you after—knowing that my cock is the one you ride,” he murmurs before he tugs on my nipple. “Now get to riding.”

I shiver.

Then I do as he’s demanded.

I ride him.

I do it slow, and I give him another show, a private show. By the time I’m almost finished, I don’t just explode, I completely shatter above him. He doesn’t.

Instead, he picks me up and throws me back before he fucks me so hard I almost see stars. Then he stills seated deep inside of me, and comes before he collapses on top of me.

“Thank you, Kirill,” I whisper once we’ve both caught our breath.

“For?” he asks, his lips touching my neck.

“Letting me dance, not being crazy and jealous about it. Allowing me to still have a semblance of freedom,” I murmur as I stroke the smooth skin of his muscular back.

“I’ve let my anger with you go, Tati. I want you to be happy here with me, love me; and you, my Tatyana Orlova, can have and do whatever you wish. As long as my cock is the only one you take, and as long as you sleep and wake in my bed, you are not a prisoner. I could never treat you as such, no matter how angry I am with you.”

“I love you, Kirill Baryshev,” I whimper. He lifts his head and looks down at me, his eyes focused completely on mine, and then he blows my fucking breath away.

“
Ya budu vsegda lvublt tebya
, Tati.
Always
. I was so hurt when I thought you left me. I was so angry when I found out you did it and you lived. But those extreme feelings were because I loved you so fucking deep all at the same time.”

Neither of us says a word as Kirill slides his semi-hardened dick inside of me and he slowly makes love to me.

For the first time in years, he makes love to me, and it is the most beautiful thing I have experienced— aside from bringing my daughter into this world.

Kirill’s eyes never once leave mine, and when I come, he growls before he thrusts a bit harder and follows on the heels of my climax. Then he bends his head and gives me a long, slow, sweet, and wet kiss.

It is perfect.

It is love.

Our love.