Page 38 of Merciless Union
I swallow, looking down at her. “I thought you’d like it.”
The sound she lets out is a mixture of a laugh and a sob. “Why would you think I’d like it? You’ve never asked me what I want in the bedroom. You’ve only just took, took, took.”
I rub a hand over my face. “Because I’m your husband. What I say goes.”
“Not when it concerns my body!” she yells at me.
I blink, taken aback by her sudden anger.
“Yeah, you heard me,” she continues. “You were too rough with me, Maxim. It hurt.”
“But you had an orgasm.”
She sighs. “True. Somehow, you’re good at giving that to me. But that’s the only thing. Nothing more.”
I scoff. “That’s because I never promised anything more. I told you my expectations for you. It’s not my fault you misunderstood.”
Anger flashes in eyes as she uncurls and stands up. “I didn’t misunderstand anything. You’re a certifiable ass, Maxim.”
“Watch it,” I growl. “I’m still your leader.”
She huffs. “At this moment, I don’t really care. You know, today, I went out to lunch with your mother and sisters. I only did that for you. To showyouthat I was making an effort with your family because I know you expect me to be this perfect wife. And then I come home, and instead of getting some peace and quiet, you practically assault me.”
“Assault you? I did no such thing.”
She doesn’t back down. “Yes, I was willing to have sex. But I did not agree to you spanking me. You just take my body whenever you feel like it. But what about what I feel like? Huh? When do I get a say in what goes on in our bedroom?”
“You want a say? You were a virgin when we met. What do you know about sex?”
“I know enough. And for some reason, you keep making love to me in this way, if you can even call what we do making love. It sure doesn’t feel like it most of the time. It feels like you don’t want to look into my eyes. Like you don’t want to kiss me. Why, Maxim? Why don’t we have sex in other positions? Just because I was a virgin doesn’t mean I don’t know about missionary. Why haven’t we done that? Answer me.”
I lean over her, grabbing her wrists. “You don’t get to boss me around. As for why we only fuck the way we do, it’s because you’re my trophy. Nothing more. Why would I grace you with the respect of making love? You don’t love me. And I sure as shit don’t love you.”
She gasps, ripping her wrists out of my hold. “Why are you so cruel? What made you this way?”
“Maybe it’s just who I am.”
“No.” That one simple word catches me off guard. Her next words surprise me even more. “Does this have to do with your father?”
I scoff. “My father? Why would you bring him up? What gives you the right even to utter his name?”
She looks at me … with pity. “Kira told me today that your father was a hard ass. That he controlled Elena so badly she never got to live her life. Did he do something to you?”
“Don’t talk about my father,” I growl.
Her eyes search my face. “Did he hurt you, Maxim? Beat you? Scare you? Is that why you’re so closed off you can’t even look into my eyes when we’re having sex? Because while I may be inexperienced, I know enough to know that what we’re doing isn’t normal. You haven’t even given me a proper kiss yet.”
I look at her lips. They’re plump, almost turned into a pout. I ache to kiss her, but I don’t.
“What do you want me to say, Arina?” I throw my arms wide. “That my father beat me almost every day of my childhood? That the only way I ever made him stop was when I got bigger than him and could hurt him myself? Do you want to learn about the sad, tragic, pathetic life story of the big, bad, Bratva leader? Will that make you happy?”
“Of course not,” she whispers.
“Good. Then you don’t need to know about my past. It’s a weakness, and I don’t show my weaknesses to anyone.”
“Because you can’t. I think you’ve formed it in your brain that you don’t want to. But I know you share your weaknesses with at least one person—Kira. You’ve protected her, showed her love. You’re capable of it. Why don’t you show any of that to me?”
I stare at her, breathing heavily. I can’t find an appropriate answer, so I turn away from her.
