Stripped by the Sinner (Underworld Sinners Book 5)
STRIPPED BY THE SINNER
AN UNDERWORLD SINNERS NOVEL
HAYLEY FAIMAN
HAYLEY FAIMAN BOOKS, LLC
CONTENTS
Also by Hayley Faiman
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RUSSIAN BRATVA STRUCTURE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Hayley Faiman
Stripped by the Sinner
Copyright © 2022 by Hayley Faiman
All rights reserved.
Editor: My Brother’s Editor. Ellie McLove.
Proofreading: My Brothers Editor. Rosa Sharon.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Visit my website at: http://hayleyfaiman.com
Created with Vellum
ALSO BY HAYLEY FAIMAN
Men of Baseball Series—
Pitching for Amalie
Catching Maggie
Forced Play for Libby
Sweet Spot for Victoria
Russian Bratva Series —
Owned by the Badman
Seducing the Badman
Dancing for the Badman
Living for the Badman
Tempting the Badman
Protected by the Badman
Forever my Badman
Betrothed to the Badman
Chosen by the Badman
Bought by the Badman
Collared by the Badman
Notorious Devils MC —
Rough & Rowdy
Rough & Raw
Rough & Rugged
Rough & Ruthless
Rough & Ready
Rough & Rich
Rough & Real
Cash Bar Series —
Laced with Fear
Chased with Strength
Flamed with Courage
Blended with Pain
Twisted with Chaos
Mixed with trouble
SAVAGE BEAST MC —
UnScrew Me
UnBreak Me
UnChain Me
UnLeash Me
UnTouch Me
UnHinge Me
UnWreck Me
UnCage Me
Unfit Hero Series —
CONVICT
HERO
FRAUD
KILLER
COWBOY
Zanetti Famiglia Series —
Becoming the Boss
Becoming his Mistress
Becoming his Possession
Becoming the Street Boss
Becoming the Hitman
Becoming his Wife
Becoming her Salvation
Prophecy Sisters Series —
Bride of the Traitor
Bride of the Sea
Bride of the Frontier
Bride of the Emperor
Astor Family Series —
Hypocritically Yours
Egotistically Yours
Matrimonially Yours
Occasionally Yours
Nasty Bastards MC —
Ruin My Life
Tame My Life
Start My Life
Dance into My Life
Shake Up My Life
Repair My Life
Sweeten My Life
Underworld Sinners—
Stolen by the Sinner
Bound to the Sinner
Caught by the Sinner
F*cked by the Sinner
Stripped by the Sinner
Rejecting the Sinner
Loved by the Sinner
Offspring Legends—
Between Flaming Stars
Beautiful Unwanted Wildflower
Esquire Black Duet Series –
DISCOVERY
APPEAL
Forbidden Love Series —
Personal Foul
Kinetic Energy
Standalone Titles
Royally Relinquished: A Modern Day Fairy Tale
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In my world, I like everything stripped down, something that’s really truthful.
JOHN WAITE
RUSSIAN BRATVA STRUCTURE
Pakhan – The Boss: Controls everything.
Sovietnik – Councilor: Adviser and most close trusted individuals to the Pakhan.
Obshchak – The Bookmaker: Collects all money from Brigadiers and bribes from the government.
Brigadier – Authority: Captain in charge of a small group of men.
Boyevik – Warrior: Soldier, works for a Brigadier.
Kryshas – Covers: Extremely violent enforcers.
Torpedo – Contract Killers
Byki – Bulls: Bodyguards
Shestyorka – Associate: Errand boys. Lowest rank in the Russian Mafia.
CHAPTER 1
RUSLAN
She throws her head back, her hair flying around as I thrust into her from behind. My hips slam against the flesh of her ass over and over. She moans, pushing herself backward for more. The table that she’s bent over jumps slightly forward with each thrust, but it’s sexy as shit.
Fuck me, but she can really take what I give her and that is something almost spectacular. Tipping my chin down, I watch as my cock moves in and out of her. It’s completely wet from her cunt. It’s a damn gorgeous sight is what it is.
She pushes backward, continuing to meet every single stroke of mine. Then I watch as her hand moves from the bed and disappears between her legs. Her long fingernails gently skim my balls, and I can’t hold back my moan from the sensation.
Jesus fucking Christ, this woman is going to be the goddamn death of me. And I’m not sure that I would mind going if that was the case. My lower back tingles and my balls draw up. I’m so fucking close, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to hold off much longer.
Thankfully, I don’t have to worry about it. On the next thrust, her pussy clamps down around my dick and she
comes. She doesn’t hold in her noises. She doesn’t attempt to be demure or hide anything from me.
She gives me everything, just as she always does. She cries out with her climax, the sound bouncing off of the walls around us. I continue to fuck her, pulling out almost completely, then slamming inside of her three more times before I bury myself deep, staying buried and then I come on my own loud roar.
We stay where we are, her bent over the table attempting to catch her breath, me with my hands gripping her hips, buried inside of her attempting to catch my own breath. Closing my eyes, I let out a sigh before bending over her body. Then I touch my mouth to the side of her neck.
“Stay the night,” I demand.
I want more of her, so much fucking more. Without sounding too much like a pussy, I want to wake up next to her before slipping inside of her and fucking her again. I can never get enough of her. I’ve never been so physically attracted or have desired anyone quite like I do her.
“I can’t,” she breathes. “I need to leave.”
Begrudgingly, I take a step backward, slipping from her body. I watch as she slowly stands up straight, then turns around to face me. She’s completely naked and I take in her spectacular form. I almost forget what I wanted from her, mesmerized by her perfection.
“Where do you go?” I ask as I pull my boxer briefs to my hips.
Her red-painted lips press together. She lifts her hand, gathering her long dark hair. I watch as she slides it down her shoulder, covering one of her tits from view. I’m instantly disappointed that she’s covered any part of herself.
She takes a step backward, reaching for her dress and slowly slips it over her head, she shimmies it down over her ass. The hem stops right at her midthigh. I fucking hate that she’s put it back on, even though it’s sexy as shit on her.
“It doesn’t matter,” she murmurs as she turns her back to me and slips back into her high heels.
Walking over to her, I reach out, wrapping my fingers around her bicep, and gently tug her around to face me. She tilts her head back, her eyes finding mine as she lets out a sigh. She doesn’t want to tell me where she goes, or anything about herself other than her first name.
I should love this, as someone who doesn’t do relationships, this should be perfect for me. But I’m finding that the loss of control, the fact that she won’t tell me anything about herself, it’s starting to seriously bother me.
This has been going on for months. She comes here, we fuck, she leaves. I almost feel as if I’m her kept whore. Except she only pays in pussy and ass… though I find that it’s really the only form of currency I would accept from her.
Lifting my arm, I cup her cheek and slide my hand to the base of her head, pulling her neck back a bit farther, forcing her to look nowhere but my eyes.
“It does, luchik,” I say. “If some man is going to try and kill me for fucking his wife, or a father for fucking his daughter, this is something that I should be prepared for.”
Her lips curve up into a small smile and she tries to shake her head, but I don’t let her. I don’t give her the leeway to move her head even a fucking inch.
“Ruslan,” she breathes.
She doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t give me any kind of explanation. Which makes me think that there could be someone knocking on my door in the future, ready to fucking kill me.
I decide that I’m going to find out the fucking truth.
I can’t let this go on much longer, not until I at least know the truth of it all. Research is my job. This is what I do. I’m tired of waiting for her to give me some kind of fucking answer. She’s hiding something that she doesn’t want to tell me, and I need to find out if that’s going to get me killed.
Releasing her, I stand to the side to let her pass. She doesn’t move. She stays frozen in her place, her gaze shifting to me. I stare straight ahead, even though I can feel her attention on me. She’s watching me, waiting for a reaction. I don’t give it to her.
“I’m sorry, Ruslan,” she whispers before she walks out of the front door of my condo.
Looking down at my watch, I wince at the time. I need to get to the club. For whatever fucking reason, I am now the manager of a gentleman’s club. Soblazneniye. Not only the manager of the club but also of the women who work for the club as well.
It’s time for Soblazneniye to open. I can’t think about her anymore, about where she’s going after this—at least not today.
But soon I’ll know.
ISABEL
Slipping into the driver’s seat, I push the button and start the engine of my Audi. Looking to the side, my gaze finding Ruslan’s condo, I wince. I don’t even know how it got this far. I don’t know how I got myself into this position.
Gripping the steering wheel, I let out a heavy sigh before I shift the car into drive. Looking straight ahead, I tell myself for the millionth time that I’m never doing this again. Never again. I am going to stay away. I’m going to be good. This is not only for his safety but for my life as well.
It’s a lie. I also know that I’ll be right back here sooner rather than later. I cannot stay away from him, from his touch, from his kiss—from the way that he makes me feel.
Clearing my throat, I ease out onto the street, and I head home.
Home.
What a joke.
More like a mausoleum.
I hate it there, I always have. I was forced to marry Azar Shokri in an attempt to bring the Russians and the Persians together into an alliance. I don’t know why the old Pakhan, Vova Krupin, demanded it.
My father was not special, he didn’t even hold much of a rank, but I was forced to marry a man that I wanted nothing to do with. In a situation that I wanted absolutely nothing to do with, not at that age… not at any age.
Pulling my car into the circle driveway, I park behind the first wife’s car. I’m the third wife. I’m nobody special—nothing special. I am just the youngest, but I am nothing and have nothing. Not in this family and not in life. I am a little toy doll. Ignored by the women completely, ignored by Azar until he wants to play with me.
The car was given to me as my fifth-anniversary gift, which also happened to be my twenty-first birthday. It’s just a status symbol. Azar likes the world to know that he keeps all three of his wives in the lap of luxury. Fancy cars, clothes, bags, shoes, and jewels. All of which I could give two shits about.
Child bride is something that I would never refer to myself as, but that’s exactly what I was. Azar married me on my sixteenth birthday.
Married.
A marriage that is in ceremony only.
Nothing is legal between us. I’m not legally his anything. Just because he believes in polygamy doesn’t mean that it’s legal in the United States, especially in California. Doesn’t mean that I agree with it either.
But contractually, between the Bratva and the Persian Mafia. I am his wife. No matter how much I hate him or the life that I live with him and his other two wives. No matter how many times I’ve dreamed about running away. No matter how many times I sneak away to be with Ruslan, I belong to Azar.
Slipping out of the car, I tilt my head down as I walk into the house. Stepping into the foyer, I make a mental note of what I need to do in the next couple of hours. I need to take a shower, then I need to help the others with dinner before Azar comes home. Though the other two wives don’t really allow me to do much other than chop up vegetables.
“Isabel,” a deep voice calls out as soon as I close the front door.
Lifting my head immediately, I turn in the direction of the voice and blink. It’s Rostam, the head of the Persian Mafia, sitting in the reception room all by himself. He is the new man in charge, his father was taken out by the new Pakhan of the Bratva, and he has taken over his entire organization.
Change can be bad, but in this case, I think that it has been good. Rostam is much more stable than his father ever was, more in control as well. And I don’t know the new Pakhan, but I can’
t imagine anyone being much worse than Vova.
I like Rostam, he’s fair and kind. I’ve never seen or heard him make any rash decisions. Although he’s much like his father in the sense that he’s on the search for his four wives. Having four wives is very important to the men.
He gives me a smile and I find for the millionth time that I wish he were my husband. Maybe if I were married to him, it wouldn’t be so bad to be with him, to be in this life. My husband, he’s completely intolerable. He’s cruel, he’s uncaring, unkind, and he’s horrible in bed. He’s selfish in every sense of the word. Every day is its own sense of fresh hell.
“Rostam,” I say softly.
He lifts his hand and motions for me to go into the room with him. I really need a shower, need to wash the scent of Ruslan off of my body before Azar comes home, but at the same time, I can’t deny Rostam if he wishes to speak to me.
Walking over to the chair across from him. I sink down on the cushion as I give him a smile. “How can I help you? Do you need something to eat, drink, anything?” I ask in an attempt to be a good hostess, knowing the other wives would hit me for being rude to anyone.