Owned by the Badman (Russian Bratva #1) (10 page)

I
WAKE UP WITH
a weight bearing down on my body; it is so heavy that I cannot even roll over. Cracking one of my eyes open, I wince at the dryness. I have never cried so much in my life. My head aches from the tears, my eyes are dry, and I can tell they are swollen. I look around, unable to move anything but my dry swollen eyes, and see that there is a tanned, tattooed arm with golden hair wrapped around me, holding me firmly in my spot.

This is the first time we have woken up together since our wedding weekend, and my stupid body loves it. I slowly try to wiggle out from underneath him when I feel his muscles tighten and pull me even closer. He buries his face in the back of my hair and I revel in the feeling of him being so close, showing me affection. I feel so stupid for relishing in his slight affections, knowing that this is the most affection I have ever been given and I am starving for his touch.

“Stay here with me, my beautiful wife. Let me hold you.” His words are hushed, soft and sweet.

No matter how badly he has hurt me, I cannot deny him
anything
, which I know will be my demise and downfall. I roll over in his arms, facing him. His blue eyes are softer than they have been in the past. His face is relaxed from sleep, and his blond hair tousled. He looks like a dream come true.

“I will not hurt you like this again. You must believe me,” he murmurs. His hand trails lightly up and down my spine. I want to purr like a kitten, it feels
so
good.

“This is new for both of us, and we will make mistakes, Maxim, but I don’t want to be that foolish woman whose husband sleeps around on her. I know what we have is not love. Maybe one day it will be, but for now, can our relationship start by having respect for each other? I will respect you and be with only you and do the things you wish of me as long as you do the same.

“I know you are a man and are not used to answering to anyone, and I don’t want you to answer to me, just this one thing is all I ask. Respect me enough to be with
only me;
and if you can’t do that, if you feel that I am lacking in something, come to me and we can make different arrangements,” I say, trying to keep my voice soft.

Inside, my stomach is fluttering with nerves and fear at what his response will be. By the end of my speech, Maxim has gone from relaxed and lackadaisical to tense and taut.

“No other arrangements will be needed,
golubushka.
You and I together,” he affirms. I place my hand on his cheek and rub his bottom lip with my thumb before I smile.

“Yes, you and I together, Maxim.” I lean in and kiss him lightly right before all hell breaks loose.

“Get your pathetic, lazy ass up. Mr. Maxim doesn’t want a lazy, fat cow for a wife,” Yulia barks.

Maxim sits straight up to look at her. Yulia’s step inside of our bedroom falters a bit as she sees Maxim’s bare chest sitting up next to me in bed. I wrap the sheet around my naked body and lean my back against the headboard. I almost smile at the look of panic on her face.

All of a sudden, Maxim starts barking in perfect,
rapid
Russian. I have come to love that sound from his lips. I have no clue whatsoever what he’s saying, but it’s music to my ears. I watch as the loss of color to Yulia’s face becomes significant. I honestly don’t think what Maxim is telling her is anything good, and it shouldn’t be. She’s a horribly mean person. Her bottom lip trembles and my initial reaction is to feel sorry for her, but I can’t. She has been heinous to me for days, and she deserves everything Maxim is saying to her, whatever that may be.

Once Maxim stops talking, I see Yulia nod once and then turn to walk away. Her cream-colored suit barely makes it out of the room before Maxim’s angry gaze focuses on me.

“She talks to you like that and you don’t tell me?” His accent is thick, his voice deep, and rough. I know that he is pissed.

“I didn’t want to bother you. I am used to it.” My eyes dart around, unwilling to focus on his. I can’t.

“Look at me,” he demands, so I do. I lift my eyes, and they clash with his angry gaze.

“You are my
wife
. Do you understand? You are head of this house when I am not home. You were her boss. Never should she speak to anybody in this house that way, especially a Lasovska, and you are just that.
Mrs. Lasovska.
Nobody, and I mean nobody, talks to you in that manner and gets away with it. Yulia will not be returning. It is up to you if you would like to have another cook and housekeeper,” he announces.

The breath has been sucked out of my lungs. I feel as though I have been dismissed, but Maxim is looking at me, trying to gauge my mood, or my feelings—or
something
.

“I would like to try to do the cooking, Maxim. I don’t think I would clean that well. I have never done it before,” I admit. With a smirk on his lips, he nods.

“I hire a housekeeper to come a few times a week, yeah? My beautiful wife will cook my meals for me?” he asks, almost playfully. I find myself smiling back at him, feeling a little lighter.

“Yes, Maxim. Though I must warn you, I might not be any good at it,” I say. His big hand slides up my bare arm, wrapping around the back of my neck while his lips kiss the front of my throat, making their way up to my ear.

“My beautiful wife will cook for me, and it will be fantastic because it will be from her lovely hands,” he murmurs, pulling my body down to lie flat on the bed before he rolls on top of me. I am now underneath him, and as much as I want to hate it, I can’t.

“Don’t you have to go into work today?” I gasp as his lips begin to descend to the tops of my breasts, gently tugging the sheet out of my clenched fingers.

“I work from home. I spend the day apologizing to my wife, for my mistreatment of such an exquisite creature,” he whispers as he continues kissing down my body.

I can’t help it, and I surely can’t stop it—I cry. Magnificent, happy tears—but tears nonetheless.

“No tears, my little dove. Only pleasure,” he mutters. With that, his head disappears between my legs.

I feel my thighs part by his wide shoulders as his warm, wet tongue slides over my core, sending shocks of pleasure surging through my entire body. I spread my legs even wider for him, draping them over his massive shoulders, feeling him hum his agreement to my wanton move.

With my back bowed and my body so close to release already, I am pressing my center into Maxim’s face when, all of a sudden, he stops. I whimper in protest and open my eyes to see him on his knees between my legs, naked and
smiling
.

“
Maxim
.”

My breath hitches as the beauty of him,
my husband
. His broad shoulders, packed with muscle, and his tattoos, spattered all over his body. His hair is
wild
and his eyes, dark blue, focus completely on me.
If only he could always focus on me this way.

“I want you,
golubushka
. Will you let me have you, my wife?” he asks.

I nod my answer, unable to speak. Maxim guides his hard length into me and stills once he is completely seated in my body. Our eyes completely focus on each other; our bodies are completely stock-still. We are feeling our connection and enjoying it.

This is close to what I imagine making love feels like. I push everything out of my mind; the hurt, the fear, and the
betrayal
. What I have right here and now is too beautiful to muddy with mistakes and regrets.

Maxim gently pulls out and slides back inside me. His movements are achingly slow, but his eyes focus on mine and it is the most breathtaking moment of my life. Cupping my cheeks in his hands, he slowly continues to make love to me.

It isn’t rough, and it isn’t needy; it is slow and it is gorgeous.
This
is making love—this is what it feels like for your lover to cherish you. When his nose slides against mine, I almost cry again.
Almost
.

“You are my wife. I am your husband. I am sorry,” he groans.

For him to truly apologize and mean it is everything to me. He doesn’t have to, and yet, he still does it. It gives me hope that we could have more; that maybe one day he will fall in love with me the way I am already falling in love with him.

“Maxim,” I sigh, unable to say anything else.

He kisses my face, my neck, all the while slowly sliding in and out of my body, building a burn that promises to smolder until he is ready for it to ignite. He is in complete control. I love being beneath him at this moment.
I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

“Are you ready to come,
angel moy
?” he moans, pushing himself deep inside, causing me to whimper with need
.

I need to come
.

I need to feel him everywhere, and I try, without words, to convey that to him.

Maxim grabs the insides of my thighs and spreads my legs farther apart, almost painfully so, as he pulls himself out and then surges deep inside of me. His eyes are downcast and focus on where our bodies join.

I notice he likes to watch our bodies meet, and it turns me on to see him so enjoying himself. His hair hangs down over his forehead, sticky and slicked with sweat, and his teeth sink into his bottom lip. He looks so sexy watching us, watching himself, and watching my body take his.

I wrap my hands around his forearms and hold on as he begins to thrust harder inside my wet center. The smoldering feeling of my release is now gone, and I am on fire as I come around him. My body pulses and my back arches. My voice calls out for God and Maxim all at once incoherently.

Maxim doesn’t stop; he keeps up his grueling pace as sweat drips from his face onto my chest. Then his whole body goes still and I feel him release inside of me with a loud groan before his arms give out and he falls on top of me. He's smashing me into the mattress, but I cannot care. I love the feel of his heavy body against mine, and I love knowing that
I
am the one who made him this exhausted and spent.

“Such a good girl, such a sweet girl.
Lyubimaya moya
—my sweetheart.” He exhales, completely out of breath.

We lie together, my arms and legs wrapped around him for at least thirty minutes until we are breathing normally and clammy with damp skin.

Maxim lifts his head and gently removes the strands of hair from my face that are stuck with damp sweat behind my ear as his eyes completely focus on me. I have no doubt he is here with me at this moment. He frowns slightly as he runs his fingers through my hair, and I know it is because he hates the color and probably the cut.

I wonder if Sonia will take me back to get it fixed?

The house phone ringing interrupts us, and Maxim rolls off me to answer it. I mourn the loss of his weight on top of me and his softening length inside me.

“
Nyet
, not today, Sonia,” he growls. I watch as he looks at me, holding the phone out, a pout on his lips—it is comical.

“Sonia,” he grumbles. I take the phone from his hands gently pressing it to my ear.

“Dear girl, what on earth is that man doing home at this hour?” she asks; I can hear a smile in her voice.

“He is working from home today,” I say softly. My eyes lock with Maxim’s, and he is scowling.

“So no lunch today?”

I ask her to hold on and cover the phone with my hand.

“Sonia and I had made lunch plans, yesterday. She said she wanted to introduce me to the other wives, would you like me to cancel?”

Maxim’s scowl deepens and I almost laugh at him. He usually looks impassive; sometimes happy, but never has he looked like an angry child.

“I tell you to cancel, and I look like bastard. I tell you to go, and I am pissed off. No winner here,” he scoffs, and I almost giggle.

“Maxim, if you want me to stay, I will just reschedule,” I offer, and he crosses his arms over his tattooed chest, his eyes narrowing on me.

“You make me pay, though? Stay angry with me for being selfish bastard?”

I love when his English gets all broken. Right now, it is all I can do to hold back my laughter. I don’t answer him. I just tell Sonia to reschedule for tomorrow. I also ask her if she can make a spa appointment to change my hair color back—Maxim smiles when he hears that. Sonia is laughing the entire time. She can hear Maxim act like a
petulant child,
as she puts it.

“You should go to lunch. I do not want you mad with me,” he says.

I shake my head and crawl over to his side of the bed and into his lap. I am enjoying this easiness, without the drama of Catia and Yulia. Maxim and I are good together, learning things about each other, and I am fully enjoying myself with him.

“I will stay home with my husband,” I breathe, kissing his neck before I lick the blade of the dagger tattoo on his shoulder.

“Again,” he murmurs. My eyes focus on his as I lick his dagger again. His hand grabs onto my thigh tightly, his fingers surely leaving five perfectly round bruises on my flesh.

“I want to fuck you from behind. Will you let me?” he asks, making me shiver at the words. Doesn’t he know that whatever he wants to do to me, he can?
He owns my body,
and he makes me come alive with just his touch.