Owned by the Badman (Russian Bratva #1) (11 page)

“Maxim, what happened to the man who informed me that anything we do together is nothing to be ashamed of? You do not need to ask me. Take what you want,” I offer, my belly quivering with anticipation.

I know I am goading him with my words. But when he looks at me as if he is ready to devour me, I don’t want him to question himself. He is all man. Big, strong, scary, and so very handsome. He should never question the way he wants me.

My body is thrown onto the bed, stomach first, and I hear a crack before I feel my ass sting from the palm of his hand. It hurts, but when he rubs the area gently, I push my ass into him. I moan at the feeling that is taking over my body.

I am wanton, I am needy, and I feel greedy—
for him
.

“
Angel moy – my angel
,” he whispers, interpreting his words as he slides into my wet core.

I am sore, but it feels so
good
to have him there,
inside me,
where I feel happiest. Nothing else matters when he is deep inside my body, when his eyes are focused on any part me, and when it is just the two of us—
together
. Maxim slides his hand up my spine and into my hair while the other has a firm grasp on my hip.

“Maxim.” I gasp as he wrenches my head back, his thrusts becoming stronger, my body accepting everything he is giving me and loving it.

Maxim doesn’t slow down. He plunges deep inside of me,
roughly
. My scalp is screaming in pain, and I know my hip will bruise where his fingers are digging into my skin, but I don’t care. The more bruises that litter my body, the more I feel as though he cannot control himself. It gives me confidence to know I affect him this way.

My voice is unrecognizable as I moan with each hard thrust. I can feel my body climbing toward my release, and my eyes roll in the back of my head when, all of a sudden, he slaps my ass with his palm again.

“Keep your eyes open, Haleigh. You will be aware when I come inside of you,” he orders, rough and so commanding.

I shiver at his words, his voice deep and husky. I feel his thumb press against my anus, and my whole body tightens in response.

“Relax,” he coos, bending down slightly to whisper into my ear, slowing his hard thrusts, before he continues. “I won’t take this ass today,
angel moy,
but I will take it because you are
mine
.”

My whole body breaks out in a sheen of sweat. He laughs behind me as he picks up the punishing pace again. He reaches around so his fingers press and rub against my clit, sending bursts of pleasure through my whole body. I scream with my release and, seconds later, I feel him twitching inside of me with his climax right before collapsing on top of me, pushing me into the mattress, again.

“What a good girl, I have,” he murmurs as his nose slides along the back of my neck. I shiver one last time before I pass out from complete exhaustion.

I wake hours later, alone, and I roll out of bed only to wince at the pain between my legs. Maxim was very rough the last time. While I loved it, I wonder how often it will be that way between us. I don’t know how regularly my body can handle the punishing of his hips and cock diving inside of it the way he did.

I shower and dress in one of the outfits Catia picked out for me. It is a pair of dark navy blue satin-cuffed shorts. On top, I pull on an off the shoulder, loose white and navy stripped shirt. On my feet, simple gold flat sandals. For a dancer, I am extremely clumsy in real life and stick to flats as much as possible. I decide to leave my hair down. Although I know Maxim isn’t fond of the color, I want to wear it down the way he likes.

I slowly make my way downstairs in search of Maxim, and I hear his voice, deep and low, talking on the phone through his office door. The door is closed, so from past experience with my father, I know not to disturb him. A glance at the clock tells me it is well past lunchtime, and I am sure he did not make anything for himself. I decide to thoroughly acquaint myself with the kitchen and make us both lunch.

Thankfully, the fridge and pantry are stocked with plenty of food. I decide on sub sandwiches for lunch; then for dinner, I am going to try to cook an entire meal. Maxim isn’t a small man, so I make a giant
Dagwood
-style sandwich for him, piling the meat, cheese, and tomatoes high on top of the bread.

I set everything on the table and go in search of him, hoping that his office door will be open or that he will not get angry with me for interrupting his work.
Luckily, the office door is now open
. I stand in the doorway, afraid to walk inside.

“Come,
angel moy.
” His voice is soft, and he hasn’t even looked up from his paperwork.

I slowly walk around his desk and perch myself on the edge next to him. His eyes travel my legs and up to my face with hunger and a smirk on his lips.

“I made lunch, Maxim, if you are hungry,” I say. His smirk turns into a full-blown smile.

“You make lunch for me, Haleigh?” He asks, his smile is so wide, his teeth are showing.

He is so handsome in this exact moment, I wish I could take a photo and cherish it for always. Gone is the scary hardened man, and here, in front of me, he looks almost boyish.

“Just sandwiches, Maxim. It is not the first time I have made you a sandwich,” I say, thinking back to our mini honeymoon weekend and how I made a few small sandwiches for us.

I kick my foot out in shyness, letting it swing a bit, still perched on the edge of his desk. He shakes his head, standing, and I follow his lead. I feel his arm wrap around my waist as he pulls me into his side. He is wearing light wash jeans and a black cotton t-shirt today. His feet are bare and he looks so young this way. I have never seen him so comfortable looking.

“You make them with your hands. It is more than just a sandwich you feed me. Your man you nourish,” He grins.

I shake my head smiling; sometimes, the man is too much. His words make me feel mushy and gooey on the inside.
I love it.

We eat quietly, but Maxim makes moaning sounds every so often as he shoves the food into his mouth. I was right on the amount of meat to put inside. Maxim is thoroughly enjoying every bite of his meal. I only eat about a quarter of mine, the bread filling me up so fast that I can’t eat anymore. Maxim’s eyes narrow at me as I sit back and just watch him eat.

“You eat more,” he barks, and the harshness of his voice makes me jump.

“I can’t. The bread was too much,” I almost whine.

“You sit here until you eat more. You are too skinny. It is unhealthy,” he orders.

I bite my bottom lip, feeling like a child,
like his child
, and that isn’t right. I am his wife.

“I am not doing it on purpose, Maxim. I physically cannot eat more,” I try to explain. I watch as he shakes his head. His eyes focus on me, dark and menacing.

“I don’t care. You could have my baby inside of you. You eat properly. You are too skinny. A baby could not survive inside of you,” he states before he stands up and leaves me at the table.

I feel the color drain from my face and my body starts to shake nervously. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought about getting pregnant, but with everything else happening to me and around me, I hadn’t truly thought about it.

I could very well be pregnant. Maxim knows it as well and hasn’t tried to prevent it at all.

Does that mean he wants me to be pregnant?
I panic … I am too young to have children. I am not ready. I certainly wouldn’t know what to do with a baby once I had it. I try to take another bite of food, but now, I feel so sick. My head is swirling with too many thoughts.

I need to do something to get my mind off everything—
babies, marriages, affairs, and mean housekeepers.

I leave the breakfast room and go outside. Walking, I make my way to the little lake. I slip off my shoes and feel the grass between my toes. It is the first time I have been barefoot outside in my life. My mother would have a conniption, but I can’t care.

I take a few cleansing breaths before I bend at the waist and stretch.

Slowly, I begin to dance.

Stretching my underused limbs, my legs, my torso, and my arms. My body feels so stiff at this moment, and I realize I have not danced for over an entire week. I have never gone this long without dancing.

I dance my favorite part—
Sleeping Beauty, Act II: The Vision
; Tchaikovsky’s music playing in my mind. He is my favorite composer for dancing. His music is so hauntingly beautiful and so fun to dance to. I am lost in the moment and don’t hear anybody approach me.

“You take my breath away every time,
angel moy
.” Maxim’s voice is soft, but I don’t mistake his soft voice for kind words or a kind heart.

“Maxim,” I murmur, catching my breath and refusing to look at him. Instead, I train my eyes on the lake before me.

“I worry,
golubushka.
It makes me unreasonable. I know this,” he offers. It isn’t an apology but an excuse.

I nod once. At least he knows when he is being an ass; that is the first step, right? I am sure that he knows, but he truly does not care. He isn’t offering me an apology of any kind, just ensuring me that he is aware he is a jerk.
How comforting.

“You ignore me, now? I upset you so much you ignore me?” His voice is harsh, and I know he is becoming angry again.

I don’t want today to be a bad day, not when it has started so wonderfully. I turn around to look at him and don’t see anger written all over his face but worry.

“I am not angry, Maxim. I wish I could please you better. I wish I looked like other women. I wish for so many things,” I finally agree. I gasp when he sweeps me into his arms.

“You never wish to be somebody else,
angel moy
. You are perfect to me. Yes, I say you are too skinny, but that is only because I want you healthy—so that you will be with me forever.” His words are but a whisper, but I hear them as if he has screamed from the rooftop.

I am unable to speak. Instead, Maxim lays me down on the soft, cool grass and holds me. One of his hands cradles my head, the other around my waist, and half of his body is over mine. I feel like we are in a movie. His eyes focused on me and his face so very serious.

“I want very much for you to be happy with me, Maxim,” I admit. Because I do.

I want this second part of my life to be filled with joy, a major piece that had been missing from the first part of my life.

“I choose you to be my wife, Haleigh. You make me happy by being mine.”

His lips crush onto mine before I can think about his words or what they mean. Then I feel his length harden against my belly and his hips push into me as the hand on my hip slowly slides under my shirt. His warm hand travels up my belly and covers my breast, over my bra.

“We’re outside,” I gasp, breaking away from Maxim’s hard kiss.

“We are alone,
angel moy
, and in a few moments, you will know how it is to be free, making love in the warm sunshine.” He grins.

I open my mouth to say something to stop him, but Maxim’s tongue slides deep inside, warm and strong. I moan and truly forget that we are, indeed, outside in the wide open. I forget further when Maxim slides the clothes from my body and makes love to me with his mouth, causing me to scream with my release. Then he slides his length deep inside of me bringing me to another orgasm.

I wonder why I ever resisted in the first place. He is right, it feels very freeing—my body bare and the sun shining down on us. Just two people enjoying each other, loving each other’s bodies, and finding our place with one another.

T
HE NEXT AFTERNOON
, I am dressed in a coral strapless sweetheart dress that is tight at the bust and waist and then flares out at the hips to the mid-thigh. It makes me look younger than my age. I feel a bit like
Taylor Swift,
but it is extremely feminine. Paired with nude high heels, I feel like a woman instead of a girl.

I wrap my hair in bun on top of my head, and the only jewelry I wear is my gigantic wedding ring. Sonia called a different spa to make an appointment later this afternoon to try to get my hair fixed after we have lunch with the other wives. I am so nervous; I don’t know whether to throw up or smile.