Owned by the Badman (Russian Bratva #1) (15 page)

T
HE 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.

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.