Dancing for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 3) (10 page)

It is a beautiful thing, seeing a father and daughter together. Kiska and Kirill are like twins. They do little things the exact same way; like the way they scrunch up their noses when they’re trying to think of what they are going to say next. The way they eat their chips, dipped in plain sour cream. It is worth the heartache I will endure, simply seeing them together.

I stand back, watching, staying out of the way so that they can have their moment together. They don’t need me in the middle of their bonding. I’ve had her to myself for nine years. Kirill deserves some time as well. If I were a less selfish woman, I would let him have her and stay here, only seeing her on occasion. I couldn’t do that, though. Kiska is a part of me. I wouldn’t be whole without her.

“We will move on Friday. The school is being notified, and tomorrow I’ll ask for Kiska’s records. My assistant is going to help you with the house and anything else you might need,” Kirill announces. I do nothing but nod.

“Tatyana,” he calls. I turn to face him.

I’m staring out at the bay again. I have been for the past few hours, leaving him and Kiska to their bonding. I’m trying to stay out of the way while still being present, in case she needs me. Or maybe, in case I need her. I’m not sure.

Lately, I feel as though Kiska has been the one taking care of me and not the other way around. I haven’t been able to give her an easy life, but hopefully, all that has changed now.

“Yes, Kirill,” I murmur, looking over at him.

His once crisply ironed, black, button up shirt is now untucked and wrinkled, the top few buttons undone, showing off a bit more of his delicious chest. His pants are creased as well, and I wonder when he took his shoes off, because he’s only in his socks.

“You’ll like L.A. It’s just as pretty as it is here.” He nods out at the skyline. I can do nothing but shrug.

“I’m sure it is. I haven’t really spent much time noticing how the city looks. I’ve been too busy living down in it,” I mutter. “Speaking of, I need to go to the club and resign. Also, I work tonight.”

“Not tonight,” he grunts. I sigh.

“I’m not going to leave them shorthanded, Kirill. It’s my last shift before I get a few days off. I’ll tell them that it’s my last shift in general,” I announce.

“I don’t want you going down there, it’s not safe and I have no
Byki
here,” he says. His voice is hard and unrelenting.

“Fine,” I sigh as I take my phone out of my cardigan’s pocket and call my manager.

I explain to him that I have to move, that it’s an emergency—sudden and completely unexpected. I apologize, but he’s more than gracious with me. I’ve known him for eight years. He’s the man who hired me. He stops my rambling and tells me to take care of myself, to take care of Kiska. Then he says he’ll be a reference for any club I want to work at in the future. I thank him over and over again before I hang up the phone.

“All is well?” Kirill asks a few minutes later.

“Where is Kiska?”

“She wanted to read before bed. I figured it had to be close to her bedtime, right?” he says as he walks up next to me. I still haven’t moved from my spot near the window.

“It is. She enjoys reading before bed,” I murmur.

“Like somebody else I know,” he whispers as his hand gently rests on my shoulder. His thumb rubs circles against the base of my neck.

I close my eyes for a moment and enjoy his hand on me. I also think back to a time when, much like Kiska, I would lie in bed and read before I could sleep. It didn’t matter if he had physically worn me out or not. I loved to read. I haven’t picked up a book since she was born. I’ve been too busy and too exhausted to; I also haven’t wanted to. It would make me think of him and I didn’t want to think of him if I didn’t have to. All thoughts of Kirill depressed me.

“Not anymore,” I whisper.

I feel his lips touch my neck and then wrap around my earlobe before his teeth sink down in my flesh.

“You should. You enjoyed it so,” he whispers as his hand slides around my waist and up to cup my breast.

“I’m not the same girl I was,” I say.

“No, you are not. But it was something you enjoyed. You will have the time again, Tati. You can do whatever you please with your free time now,” he whispers against my neck.

His warm breath sends goosebumps over my skin that I cannot control. His words, however, hurt me.
Free-time
, as if I am a prisoner or a child. In all honestly, I suppose that I am.

“I don’t enjoy it anymore, Kirill,” I lie. I flat out lie.

“Then you will find a new hobby. It doesn’t matter. You have money and time at your disposal now,” he says, taking a step back from me.

I turn around to face him and am surprised to see such ferocious anger swimming in his eyes. I look down, avoiding his penetrating gaze, and sigh.

Money and time, both luxuries I have not been able to reward myself with these past years; both things that he can give me now; both things coming with a price tag I don’t think I’m capable of being able to pay.

My freedom and my heart
.

My heart has always been his, always will be. But my freedom, I’m not sure I want to give that up.

Without a word, he wraps his hand around my wrist and tugs me toward the bedroom, our bedroom. I don’t know how Kiska will react. She’ll probably be pleased to think of us as together—rekindled. She is much like me when I was a child, a hopeless romantic—before life threw me curveball after curveball.

Kirill pulls me into the room and locks the door behind me. He’s still angry. At what, I’m not sure. Can he be so angry that I don’t read any longer? That I don’t enjoy the things I once did an entire lifetime ago?

“Dance for me,” he orders as he walks over to the nightstand. He places his phone into the speaker dock and turns the volume up.

The tune is sexy and low. No words, just music. I had forgotten this about him. My Kirill enjoyed music. He would always say that lyrics were merely a distraction. He wanted to hear the actual notes of each song. He said the story the music told was usually so different than the lyrics portrayed. I loved that about him. Not very often would he show any sensitivities, but in this, he reminded me of a poet or a painter who enjoyed scenery.

I glance at him from over my shoulder. He’s sitting with his back against the headboard, his socked feet crossed at the ankles, and his eyelids hooded and directed straight at me.

I don’t want to dance for him. I have danced for hundreds of men. For Kirill, I just want to be myself. The me I hide from the world. But I don’t think he wants that anymore. Maybe that is part of me that’s now dead for him. I’m this object, this
thing
that hurt him, and now he’s going to use me up until he’s had his fill.

I close my eyes and I dance, grateful for the quick shower I took after we arrived here earlier. My face is now bare of makeup and I don’t feel sexy, but he wants me to dance, so… I’ll dance for him.

I pluck a routine from my head, something I know will fit in with the music, and I begin. It’s a routine where I can pretend to be demure at first. Throwing flirty glances from behind my shoulder while my hips tell another tale, swaying seductively.

I slowly shimmy the tank top I’m wearing up and over my body before I throw it to the side and turn around to face him. Bare breasted, I begin to make my way to where he’s lounging on the bed. My eyes flick down to his crotch and I notice that he’s already hard.

At least physically we still work for each other, even if nothing else.

I push my shorts down and over my hips before I climb up his legs, from the foot of the bed to his hips. Straddling him, I slide my hands up my stomach, pinching my nipples before I run my fingers through my hair and thrust my chest forward.

Kirill doesn’t touch me, or even speak.

Slowly, I begin to unbutton the rest of his shirt. He sits up slightly and shrugs it the rest of the way off. I wrap my fingers around his belt and start to unbuckle it when his hand halts my movements. He tugs me down and my chest collides with his before I yelp in surprise at the sudden movement. His eyes look directly into mine and just stare for a moment.

“Lie on the bed, tits and face on the mattress, ass in the air,” he commands.

“Kirill,” I exhale. He’s scaring me. Everything about him in this moment is frightening.

“I have very little patience when it comes to fucking, Tatyana. I’m going to fuck you and I’ve told you how I want it. I expect nothing less than a
yes, sir
from you, and for you to get into position,” he explains. I can’t stop the gasp at his harsh words.

“There will be consequences for your disobedience,” he warns.

I close my eyes in resignation.

This is what my life has come to. More importantly—
this is what I deserve
.

Tatyana is so vulnerable to me right now. I should feel like the fucking bastard I am, but I don’t.

I can’t.

Too much time has gone by and now she’s exactly where I want her.

She’ll do exactly what I want, with her face in the mattress and her ass in the air.

I can’t look into her face again when I fuck her, it makes me feel too much. No—from now on, I can’t see her eyes, I can’t see the expression she makes when she comes.
No
—from now on, I’ll fuck her from behind—always from behind.

I run my hands up her thighs and grab on to her ass before I spread her cheeks apart. Her pussy is pink and still phenomenal looking. Her asshole looks pretty as well. I’ll take her every way I can by the time I’m finished with her this time around.

I’ll use her up.

I release her with a smack before I finish undressing myself.

“Do I scare you, Tati?” I ask, knowing damn well she’s frightened. I can see her body trembling.

“Yes,” she whispers truthfully.

“Open your mouth,” I instruct.

I lean over her and shove two fingers into her mouth before I order her to suck. She does, hesitantly at first, and then she really starts to suck, and lick my fingers. I pull them out of her mouth before I moan, then I slide them inside of her wet cunt. She whimpers as I finger her. I enjoy the tight glove of her pussy around my fingers.

“Do you want my mouth on this pussy of yours?” I ask as I continue to feed her hungry cunt. She’s pushing back against me every so often, enjoying herself.

“Y-Yes,” she admits.

“Yes, what?” I ask, halting all my movements.

“
Yes, sir
,” she whispers.

I’ll take it. Of course I’ll take it. She’s given me a
sir
and it makes my dick ache. She’s bending to my will and I fucking love it.

I take my hand out of her and crawl up the bed before lowering down onto my elbows. With my nose at her core, I inhale her scent. It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve smelled anything as good as Tati’s pussy.

One long lick through her center, and I feel almost high. I lap at her, my tongue flat against her soft flesh. She mewls like a kitten as she pushes her pussy closer to my face, searching for more friction. She won’t find it from me until I decide to give it.

“Don’t move, Tatyana. You don’t have permission,” I murmur against her wet pussy lips. She whimpers and I chuckle. She’s going to be a fun toy for me to play with.

“Please, sir,” she sighs. I know that she will be easily trained to satisfy me.

Some of the men I know are into serious kink, and I’ve dabbled but never found any true enjoyment in having one hundred percent control over a woman. I’ve always enjoyed a bit of spunk in my bedmate, but this complete domination over Tati is immensely satisfying. I wonder how far I can push her, how far will she let me go before she fights me?

I don’t say a word before I slide my face away from her and rise to my knees. I don’t tease her; I don’t prepare her. I slam inside of her with one swift motion and grin when I hear her cry out into the sheets.

I should have concern for her if I’ve hurt her, but I don’t. I also don’t give her a second to relax or get used to the intrusion. Instead, I fuck her with my strength.

I dig my fingers into the flesh on her hips and I pound inside of her, taking my aggression out on her pussy. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t be treating her this way, but I’m too fucking angry.

I suck my finger into my mouth before I use it to massage her tight ass. I doubt she’s ever been taken there.
I’ll remedy that for her
. By the time I’m tired of her, she’ll be all used up,
everywhere
.

I ignore her sharp intake of breath as I begin to fuck her ass with my finger. My eyes are trained on the way my dick is fucking that wet cunt and my finger sliding in and out of her ass. I can’t see or hear anything else but that. Its fucking carnal and I feel like an animal, a wild animal, as I take her.

I feel her pussy begin to flutter and then squeeze my cock. It causes a groan to escape my throat and then I ram my dick far inside of her with one last thrust before I climax, filling her body with my cum.

I want to collapse on top of her, to wrap my arms around her, but that’s not what we have. Once that starts, it will be difficult to break away. I know how good it feels to wrap my body around hers, to stroke her pretty, soft, blonde hair, and to confess my dreams with her in my arms.