Lawless 2 (The Finale)

by Amarie Avant

  Wait a minute! I covet space, all of it. But Simeon isn’t dominating over me, forcing tension in my neck to look all the way up. He chews his bottom lip, and my eyes plunge again. Fuck, what is this? A circus? Oh crap, it’s my turn to volley the ball back into his court.

  “Okay, then?” I scowl. Shoo! As he’s not a man to hold his tongue, I cock a brow.

  “Does the water make you sick?”

  “No.” My eyebrow lifts.

  “Are you . . .” One of the most powerful men in the world uses his hands to gesture in an attempt to probe me. Wow! What happened to choking out the truth?

  “Actually, Sim, I’ll head in early tonight.” All the fear clinging to my skin at the thought of turning my back to him disintegrates. My hand starts for the door.

  Voice made of steel, he asks, “Are you pregnant?”

  I whip back around, still favoring the strength of the door for my sanity. “No.”

  “Assuming you’re pregnant and the baby isn’t mine, I’ll—”

  “Simeon,” I cut in. On graceful feet, I start toward him. Hurt flickers across his face as I brush by. Heading toward the sliding glass doors, I pivot the conversation. “You’ve proven to be a creature of habit. Breakfast. Workout. Shower. A new book every Thursday. Lunch with me. Harass me while I do nothing. Dinner. Repeat. It’s dinnertime now . . .” Alright, Asya, where the fuck are you going with this assessment? Clearing my throat, I conclude, “Let’s eat. Okay?”

  Damn it, Simeon has a face carved by Michelangelo, and yet, for all the intricate artwork, I can’t perceive an emotion. When the wide planes of his shoulders lift in another nonchalant shrug, I read him well.

  And that reading scares me. I stalk out of the open area.

  Outside, stars flicker in an indigo sky. The vivid moon ripples in the water’s reflection. Our chef’s boat lulls over the water, docking along the small pier farther out. The team is fast at work with fresh seafood on a wooden table. Crabs wiggle around in a woven basket.

  Smiling comes easy. Because my heart hurts so bad this time that shoving my lips upward means nothing. Too bad I didn’t have this demeanor in Cape Town. At the perfume imperium, where I was fired from before working as a maid with Kosta, I was offered a good wage. I could’ve made a great life had I grinned more at the wealthy tourists.

  End of story.

  I think about the morning after my coronation. My mind played me, inventing a foolish ‘Happily Ever After.’ What was I thinking?

  Chapter 37

  Simeon

  Anastasiya’s smile is brighter than the stars above as she chats with the chef. I’m fixated on how my destiny won’t offer the slightest grin for me. Over forty-five days ago, I almost made the mistake of my life, and I can’t blame her for not forgiving me. My cellphone vibrates in my pants. A select few callers have this number.

  At the last moment, I stop moping and press the answer button. “Dah?”

  “The girl hacked through the library Chutin will be at in a few weeks. Though security will be more comprehensive, she’s confident that she can do it again.” Kirill makes mention of the hacker we utilized a while back.

  The kid hadn’t wanted anything more to do with us after first getting into Irek’s system. Not a young lady blinded by money, I’d already given her everything she dreamt of, an allowance to house her family for four years at a prestigious tech school in the States. Since her dreams weren’t greedy, I’d had an accountant add a little something extra to a trust fund for her.

  “So, she responded?” I blink a few times. I’d reached out to her myself. The kid had a secure future and denied a Pakhan, even if she declined over the phone. If it weren’t for weeks on this tropical island, I might’ve threatened her life already.

  “I paid her a visit.”

  “What do you mean?” I growl.

  “Take it easy. Dot had said she’d be tough to break. Then I met her. She was a child. I’ve never expired a kid, even if one had it coming. Respectfully speaking, she had conditions.”

  I grit my teeth for a moment but end up chuckling softly, aware of how Kirill’s visit concluded. “What?”

  “A message for you, and a message for Square Head, whom I’ve determined is Dot. Anyway, the girl said you were politer this time during your last chat with her. She agreed to the mission. Only wanting to know—”

  “How Anastasiya replied,” I groan.

  “Dah? So, what is it Asya should have replied to?”

  The kid had the same request when I reached out, days ago. She’d stopped me from my offering her the world again to ask if I’d told Asya about how her parents were still alive. When I told the kid it was complicated, she’d told me not to call her about anything else until I had Anastasiya’s reaction. After the girl had accessed Irek’s security, finding them had been my last request. She succeeded. Apparently, she didn’t strike new deals without confirmation that her time hadn’t been squandered by old deals.

  Changing the subject, I ask, “Which library?”

  “A library you’ve given generously to in the past. Not sure what business the kid is interested in, but she did the job in less than it’ll take me to return through customs. Also, we have inside men willing to share everything from the president’s planned speech. Everything.”

  I hang up the phone with the exact date of the event and an assurance that abducting Chutin will be an easy job. But what of Anastasiya’s parents?

  Like Asya’s letter, which tilted my entire world upside down, I had kept another envelope close to me. This one outlined Anastasiya’s true lineage. In Los Angeles, she’d shot down my offer to find them. Now, the kid felt vested in knowing. But Anastasiya won’t allow me close enough to break the news.

  The kid had snorted and hung up in my face. I can still hear the sound of it. I’m not a fucking suka. I’m a Pakhan. Jaw stiff, I start outside again. Anastasiya is hurling a knife at a runaway crab, screeching, “Oh my God!”

  “That one was crawling rather quickly,” the main chef assures.

  “Fast as lightning,” Asya chortles. When she looks up, eyes leveling with mine, her exhilaration fades.

  “We need to talk.” I slide out her chair.

  “Why? I helped with the ceviche. I don’t need you complaining about my eating habits. I’m eating.” She claims the seat, popping a chip into her mouth.

  “Mr. Resnov.” The main chef shakes my hand. “Welcome, welcome. Have a seat, Chief. The missus learned a few things and was a marvelous asset in the creation of tonight’s dinner.”

  I stare at Anastasiya. She dunks another chip into an obscene amount of ceviche, using her mouth for something other than shit-talking or just engaging in discussion with me. She hates me, and the truth is all over her face.

  “Can we talk?” I growl.

  Anastasiya arises, and I do too.

  “I’m not—”

  “Feeling well?” I grit out.

  “No. I mean, yes. I mean, I’m not pregnant.” She shoves at her chair, but the back of it is wedged into a wood plank.

  The wind must’ve carried her argument because the chef stops packing up to hold out a bottle of champagne. “The two of you are expecting! Congratulations are in order.”

  “She’s not,” I sigh, kneading the back of my neck to mask my disappointment.

  “I can’t be.” Asya shoves the stubborn chair back and stalks inside.

  “Tidy up and leave dinner in the kitchen,” I order, then follow Anastasiya inside. She struts into her room and starts to shut the door. I wrestle it out of her hands, using my body as a wall to send her backward, before closing and locking us inside. “Talk to me.”

  Thick lips hardly move as she snaps, “I’m not in the mood.”

  “Because if you’re pregnant, I’d be so fucking elated, Asya.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t mind if you’re having the mudak’s baby, believe me.” I clasp her face. “I won’t ruin us this time. My mom will pay for her actions
, but ultimately, I’m a man, Anastasiya. I have faults, and I’m fucking begging you to let me fix them!”

  “I’m not.”

  “All that matters is you’re pregnant with an innocent baby in your stomach. I’ll be the best father. I’ll love the child no matter what he or she looks like. I’ll promise in blood if I have to.” I move down to my knees.

  “I’m not pregnant,” she groans, prying my hands from around her.

  I hold steady, captivated by her dancing gaze. “Is it . . . that you can’t?”

  “What?” Thick hair begins to cloak her face.

  I reach up, stroking the strand away from her eyes. “Outside, you said you can’t. When we lost our other baby, did something—”

  “No. I don’t know!” She falls to her knees, sinking down to my level. The water churns darkly, a swath of blackness beneath us. It seems to dawn on us at this precise instant that we were speaking of the child we lost without our baby being the facet to a revenge tactic.

  “Can I hold you, just fucking hold you?” I implore. “Nothing more.”

  She climbs into my lap, her legs spilling on one side of me, her breast pressed against my chest. Bitter tears sink into my neck as she silently cries. For the first time in my life, I do too.

  Anatoly has beaten the snot out of me. He’s commanded his byki to do the same. Learning to fight back was my only option, not crying. And here I am, holding my entire world in my arms.

  I’d be a liar if I said going these last few weeks without slamming into Anastasiya’s pussy had not driven me crazy. With each shower, another release. Every night, it’s taken more out of me not to bust down her door when I hear her whimpered dreams. I hold her until her sniffles abate. Then I lay her sleeping body in her bed with my arms around her.

  For the next eight hours, vengeance flies out the window. It was Asya and me, and the baby I never had a chance to meet. If Anastasiya’s pregnant, I don’t give a fuck who is the dad, myself or Chutin.

  The baby will grow up loved by two parents, one being me. Our baby will never wonder if its mother and father love him or her. All I have to do is the opposite of what my parents demonstrated, that’ll set the foundation for success.

  The next morning, all the air evaporates from my lungs when Anastasiya’s eyes flutter open. Relief washes over her.

  “Sim, you’re still here.”

  “Should I?” I unwrap my arms from around her frame.

  Her tiny hand is no match against my bicep, but I allow her to readjust me back over her waist. “No,” she breathes. “Kiss me.”

  I start to climb down.

  Her legs move restlessly. “Simeon, I’m begging you to kiss me.”

  “I was on my way to.” A knowing moan sparks over her, and she giggles.

  I climb back up and laugh a little before planting my mouth on hers. “I’ll start here,” I say, tasting her. “But I must warn, those other lips of yours, succulent.”

  “Hmmm.” She groans.

  “I miss them as much as I miss you.”

  I flip Anastasiya on top. Another fit of cackles vibrates against me. Her hair fans down as she kisses me. “Can I show you how much I’ve missed you, moya milaya?”

  Voice heady, she replies, “Please.”

  “Put that pussy in my face.”

  “Fuck,” she groans, grinding against me. “You want my pussy in your face.”

  I grab her, lick her cheek. “All over my fucking face, my Tsarina.”

  Chapter 38

  Anastasiya

  Urgency, passion, and desire thread as I climb up. His cock pierces against his underwear, begging for attention. All my resolve is a bottle shaken to the brink, and ready to explode. I climb up Simeon’s muscular body like he’s a fucking tree, might as well be. The dress adorning my skin is shoved up over my hips. Simeon plants a kiss on the inside of my thigh, his teeth sinking into my flesh as he shoves my thong over.

  His nose nuzzles my sex. The vibration of his groan has undone me. I clutch at the headboard. The first orgasm comes quickly and shamefully free. Damn it. I begged to get off the rollercoaster! Now, I’d punch, kick, and fight to the death to stay on this crazy ride. Ride his mesmerizing fucking face.

  “Oh, Simeon! I love you. I love you,” I grunt, slamming down on his tongue. The dysfunction of us consumes me like a wildfire. My moans have his hands claiming my hips tighter. He coaxes my curves into a rhythm. I’m gliding and swirling, dancing and screaming.

  “Cumming! I’m cum….” My voice breaks into gibberish. The ache between my thighs spreads like a firework, stealing the air from my lungs, incapacitating my entire body. Arms draped over the headboard, I ground down on Simeon, growling deep in my diaphragm. I sound like a fucking animal!

  Water drenches his chiseled jaw, along with it all the pent-up aggression. His hand slams against my ass. I’m almost tempted to ask if he can breathe, but the pain serrates across my skin, and I buck, swerving on his tongue until my G-spot is stroked.

  The oh-so-magical button makes me want to crawl into a fetal position and suck my thumb for the rest of my life.

  Kidding.

  I climb down and grab his glossed mouth, delighting in the sweet concoction of us. “I’m not letting you go.” I sink onto his cock. “I’ll kill you.”

  In a flash, I’m flipped onto my ass. My legs fly into the air. Each thrust is pure, dripping erotica as he enunciates every word. “Your pussy is murdering my cock. So tight. Strangling me.”

  “Never let me go.” My legs encircle his thick waist, yanking him close, never wanting to separate.

  His hand clamps my neck, body melding over mine. Simeon whispers into my ear, “I got you, Anastasiya. From now until the end of time.”

  Again, our mouths find each other in a sweltering kiss. No oxygen is required. We thrive off each other. And when we cum, our mouths, our tongues, our bodies become a living declaration of our love.

  I’m worn out, wrapped in Simeon’s ropey arms. Sleep comes and goes, sex following the same routine. When I awaken after the fourth or fifth fuck, Simeon’s staring at me thoughtfully.

  “Asya, there’s something I need to tell you . . .” His voice trails off as I groan. He plants kisses across my nose and cheeks. “Nothing bad, I promise.”

  “Don’t ruin a good thing, Sim. I held out for a month-and-a-half. I will double down!”

  His calloused, yet soothing hands frame my face. He’s not in the least bit smiling at my joke. “While you were missing, I had hackers attempt to compromise Chutin’s agenda, satellites, everything. But out of all the persons assigned, one girl was able to do it.”

  “Okay, then we’re killing Vo—that mudak soon,” I gulp down trepidation and the need to refer to Irek as the wolf. “I thought it would take ages to infiltrate his—”

  “Other hackers were defeated. But this girl did it, she even found evidence of the data that had been tampered with, but by then, you were back. She’s good. Though, that’s not what I’d like to discuss.” Simeon runs the backs of his fingers across my flesh. “Once she completed her assignment, I asked her to find your parents.”

  I plant my palm over his hand, ceasing the loving stroke. “Parents? What an unfamiliar term.”

  “Asya, neither of them are dead.”

  I mock. “They’re dead to me, dead period. No difference, Simeon.”

  Strong arms become my haven as I attempt to climb from the bed.

  “Asya, you’re angry with me?”

  “No.” I look up at Simeon. His firm grip isn’t rough enough. Something in me misses the hard domination. The threats. The hurt that can hurl this underlying pain that only a mother and father can cause back into the void.

  “Then what?” His Russian accent grows into a hoarse rasp. He’s making all the right moves. He might as well sign a petition for women’s liberty. I growl, beneath his touch. My eyes are begging for more than he’s willing to give.

  “Choke me,” I murmur. “Hurt me. Do something!”
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  Thick eyebrows furrow together. “Nyet.”

  “Sim, I need you.” I wriggle beneath him, in a seductive groan.

  “I’m trying to have a fucking conversation with you, Anastasiya. Your parents have been found alive. All my capital is at your disposal. We can visit them this instant. I’ll be by your side every second of—”

  I reach up, catching his bottom lip in my mouth, addicted to the taste of copper. His cock grows harder between us, piercing the inside of my leg. Fuck, his dick is the only portion of him conceding to me.

  “Moya—”

  My legs fly around Simeon’s waist, fingernails embedding into his pectorals.

  “Hurt me, Sim,” I threaten, nipping his bottom lip. “Or I swear, you’re in big trouble.”

  A deep groan vibrates from his chest to my lower abdomen. Lips plaster down on mine. Losing oxygen, I feel like my brain goes dead. I arch my hips as Simeon thrusts into me. One punch of his cockhead against my cervix sends my eyes rolling back in my head.

  Damn. We played normal for long enough. We cried over our child together for the first time ever. Now, I covet the insanity of him because discussing those donors isn’t an option. Those bastards ruined my life.

  Chapter 39

  Simeon

  My heartbeat slams against Anastasiya’s back. My mouth washes over the nape of her neck. With her in my arms, I pinch at her hardened nipples, inflicting pain because my cock is worse for wear, balls too.

  I’d slammed so hard in her pussy that each hit sent my balls clapping at her clit. Each hit propelled her tight cunt to suction my dick. Now she’s spent, again. I thought she would sleep for ages after we had gone at it the first few times. But this was . . .

  Demented.

  Hard-core demented.

  The tension which wound her up while I told her a small bit about her parents faded. I want to tell her again that I’ll be there for every second of her discovery of them. I’ll hold her hand when they offer the excuse of how she ended up in an orphanage. I’ll glare at them as they ask, “Did you have a good life?” You know, the shit people hope had occurred when they didn’t follow through on their end of the bargain, raising their own child.