by Amarie Avant
“Yes! Keep fucking me. Just like that,” I groan, training my eyes on the voyeur’s baby blues. His slick finger caresses my mouth. I bring his finger to the back of my throat, tasting my juices and slamming back on Simeon.
“Don’t stop fucking me, Sim,” I groan, noticing how I’m only regarding the man I love.
Pure lust shines in the stranger’s eyes, telling me exactly what he wants.
Simeon’s thrusts become measured. My slick walls suck in his cock, exhilaratingly slow. At the same pace, I lower my head into the other man’s lap. He poises his shaft at my hungry lips. The urge to suck his cock is unbearable.
Simeon forces himself so deep, stretching my trembling walls. Mouth wide, I take more of Blue Eyes.
Each punch of Simeon’s dick into my pussy, and I’m choking more of the stranger down. Our groans increase. Simeon’s pace is urgent. His balls applaud my clit with each thrust.
My mouth works at the voyeur’s cock, his fist in my hair. My senses are heightened. A tidal wave courses through me as Simeon recklessly dives in and out, sending the stranger’s member bashing into my tonsils. My mouth feels lovely, expanding to capacity. My walls stretch to the same rhythm and depth. The dual sensations flood my mouth with saliva and my psyche with dark erotic thoughts. It feels like I’m being consumed from the inside out as they play my body any which way they crave.
With so much cock in my mouth, I strangle instead of screaming at the top of my lungs. The Tsar’s pace becomes barbaric. A thrill runs through me as both men tense. Cum volleys deep into my core and shoots down my throat.
“Simeon!” I shout, the thick, creamy cum glossing my lips.
Simeon falls into me, seemingly unaware.
The man in front of me, grips harder on my ponytail, bringing my face up. The mask has disappeared from his heavenly features. His gaze cuts through me. “When I cum, you swallow all of it, Nastiya.”
The erotic dream fades fast. I slam into a seated position. The nickname, “Nastiya,” rings in my ears, fading to black. It’s replaced by Kosta’s snide words: “Will you become the little fuck toy of all the Resnovs, too?”
Rubbing a hand over the back of my neck, I hurry to a standing position.
“What the fuck was that?” I ask myself, my bare feet meandering around the expensive carpet. They say dreams mean the opposite of reality.
Kosta’s super dead.
Simeon is too jealous. We are way too jealous for a threesome.
But Mikhail . . . that was way too much love.
I almost sprain my ankle, turning to glance at our bed. Relief floods through me. An early riser, Simeon isn’t in the room. After leaving Sofiya to walk in the snow, we finalized Angel’s arrangements.
“We didn’t even have sex last night,” I murmur, pacing again. But that should be a plus. We comforted each other.
“Okay, today, I’m meeting with the liaison to the Castle Girls, then Sim and I are completing one of our communication assignments.” My pace falters instantly. This sure as fuck won’t be a topic of discussion.
A knock at the bedroom door sends my shoulders jumping. “Calm down, Asya,” I groan, then speak up, “Yes?”
A maid enters. “Tsarina, may I be of assistance?”
“Yes,” I reply anxiously, then scale down my nerves by waiting a beat. “I’m scheduled to have lunch with . . .”
“Faina?”
“Yes,” I nod, chewing my lip. “She’s the liaison, who attempted to meet with me months ago.” I stop speaking, wishing Luka were here. “Tell Faina I’ll meet her at the hospital in lieu of lunch first. Please.”
“Anything else?”
I close my eyes and sigh deeply. “As a matter of fact, yes.”
The maid blinks a few times. Her wane fingers fidget as she awaits my response.
My voice perishes to a scarce octave. “Is there a doctor or midwife in the general vicinity?”
“Dah.” Her frail hands stop their nervous dance, and she smiles up at me. “I will go—”
“One more thing,” I call her back, my eyes closing momentarily as I sigh.
Chapter 45
Mikhail
After all the time I waited patiently, she came to me. Drinking in every inch of Anastasiya, I feel behind myself for the brocade couch, sitting before my legs can buckle. This is Los Angeles all over again, except I’d been running after her. Anastasiya leans against the closed door of the palace bedroom, no desire to close the space between us.
“You were supposed to leave, Mikhail.” Her plush, pink-tinted lips pull into a line.
“You’re highly aware of my reason for staying.” I swirl the glass of scotch in my hand, having poured myself a drink mere moments before she arrived. Crystal-like residuals, my preferred substitute for Nastiya, eddy in the dark amber.
“I assumed you had more brain cells.” Her fingers clash with mine as she snatches the drink from my lips. “What’s in this?”
I snort. “You give a fuck today, I see. For sixty-four days, how many of those minutes, seconds did you think of me, Nastiya?”
The glass goes hurling into the empty fireplace. “Once, Mikhail.”
“One single occasion.” I fork a few fingers through my hair. My eyes are a fury of truth. There is no need to declare my every waking moment was spent on her. “Damn, that drink would come in handy right about now.”
“Good Doctor, that’s who you are,” she begins in a collective voice. My eyes are on her peep-toe shoes. Black, glossy toenails peek through. Far away, she resituates herself in a wide-legged stance near the door. “When I think of you, I pray for the best, Mikhail.”
“What’s best for me? Seems the two of us have vastly divergent notions of what the other one needs.” I start out of my seat. Sharp, honey eyes zero into my skin.
Lips curved into a half-smile, I elect not to unsettle Anastasiya any more than she already is. I head toward the bottle of scotch on the dresser. Picking up a silver spoon, I open up a pill bottle and begin to crush the contents into a new glass. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and ask you a silly question.”
“How about returning to your life.”
“In the past sixty-four days, because clearly, I counted them, did Simeon see you crying in the shower? Breaking down, tears in your eyes?” I glance over my shoulder to eye her. Vivid images flit across my face. Sentiments won’t fail me even past the memory loss of ripe old age. “Sim aware of everything?”
Her thick, pouty lips draw into a line. “Yes! Is that what you need to hear, Mikhail? Simeon supports me?”
“Is that a yes to the former or the latter, Nastiya? Yes, to you breaking down at the thought of showering, and yes to everything it encompasses?”
She leans against the wall, the side of her tiny fists slamming into the wood. Tap. Tap. Tap. “It’s a solid yes, Mikhail.”
“At the cabin, you scurried off—”
Anastasiya cuts in, “I didn’t.”
“Alright, jetted away once you were stitched up. Not a single word. But before, when you got in the shower. You broke. I was there for you.” My fingers curl under, impressing upon my palms at the thought of how I came running. My vision of perfection, literal and physical, had shattered. “You wanted to cleanse the dried blood. Then you broke down, a sopping mess.”
She whispers, “Sim’s aware of what Oleg did.”
I nod. The amber is a perfect rendition of her eyes as it splashes into the glass. I can feel her behind me, closing in, doing all the things she should have done months ago. Drawing toward me instead of falling into Simeon’s snare. Her hand is over mine as I grab my drink.
“Go home, Mikhail.” Her breath tickles the center of my back, warming through my shoddy V-neck. “Save people.”
“I want you.” My voice volleys, tone laced in darkness I’ve kept underfoot. “I gave you alcohol for the pain. Stitched you up. Hardest thing I’ve ever done. Had you so motherfucking close. My hand was a fraction away from your breast as I mende
d your warm brown skin. Let’s not mention—”
“Then don’t!”
“No, I think I will. I was the nice guy. You cried in the shower. I helped you. Wrapped you in towels. Cut down the cold chill. But you tell me to save people. All I ever wanted to do was save you, Nastiya.”
I move around, arms encircling her waist before she realizes how taboo our nearness is. I bring her body flush to mine, leaving no space between us. “I’ve brought the dead back to life, kick-started hearts. Focused long and hard before telling mothers and husbands the person they loved most in the world died on the table.”
Through a flurry of lashes, her honeysuckle orbs look up at me. Her voice hardly meets my ears. “You will continue to save lives and comfort people.”
“Why? For a man who’s desperately saved lives, and called orders, which weren’t as effective, I haven’t saved the one who meant the most to me. I dare you to tell me we hardly know each other, Nastiya, I will.” I stop, my lips in a hard snarl.
“Shut up!” She growls.
My eyes bite closed at the thoughts of the taste of her mouth.
Her face softens in contemplation then blazes darker. “The longer you stay here, Mikhail, the more at risk you’ll be.”
“So be it.” I plop back onto the couch and down the entire glass. “That’s why I lace my drinks. Lowers my moral compass. I’m waiting for Anatoly to possess Simeon, change him into the paranoid-schizoid he was destined to be.”
“For what?”
“So, when Simeon loses his fucking mind, I’ll strike, and the Seven will see no fault in me.”
“God, Mikhail, how many of these damn drinks did you have? It’s midday.” Anastasiya struts over. Her fingers strum through my hair. She yanks my head up. “You’re an idiot. I thought of you once. Are my lack of feelings for you worth your life?”
“Dah.”
“I’m so done lending a hand. You saved me, but we’ll be together soon at the rate you’re going. Dead together, asshole.”
My eyes rove over Anastasiya’s skirt, her ass, her hips as she sashays to the door. The shape of her has me in a trance. Suddenly, I’m in the cramped bathroom at the cabin. Water raining over her heated flesh, drawing her body out of the shower as she cried about the sadist, Oleg. We were leaving this dark, seedy world. I tasted it. She was in my clutches, ready to let it all go.
“Wait, Nastiya.” My voice dips in emotion. “You and I were supposed to chat that next morning, sweetheart. I was going to tell you that Simeon was only looking for you to kill you. To murder the woman he claimed to love. That I loved you. Those were my only intentions. I’d tell you about Sofiya.”
“Heh, I appreciate the intel on Simeon. I’ve had it to here with Sofiya,” she murmurs, facing me.
“Sit,” I pat the seat beside me, “for a few. You owe me nothing. I’m asking you to, Nastiya.”
“Good Doctor,” she groans.
“C’mon, stop stressing the ‘good’ crap. You’ll let me say goodbye, won’t you?”
Chewing in her bottom lip, Anastasiya hesitates. Confusion flushes her skin. I’ll seize this moment. We are not Bratva, she and I.
She isn’t the Tsar’s Tsarina.
She hates this world. During our walk in Vegas, after she told me to look up, our story didn’t end there. No, it had only begun. We walked the seedy strip. Her eyes a bright, unquenchable light, her aura unmatched, as she became mine. True love gives strength. It perceives something in a person that no one else does. Being passionately loved is courage. My love for her will create a braver woman, help Asya let go. Simeon dims her shine, ruining her. No more. I’ll continue to feed that shine.
Chapter 46
Simeon
Seated in my office, I slide the paperwork regarding Anastasiya’s parents back into the top drawer. My curiosity is piqued, but I’ll respect her wishes. I return my attention to my cellphone. An arms dealer is prattling about what he’s bringing to the market.
“Dah, I agree with your proposal,” I reply, into the speaker, when he lets up on the fast-talk.
This is my first day back in the office. So many things to do, yet I’ve delegated my time to align with Anastasiya’s return from seeing the Castle Girls. The Bratva will not come between us.
The arms dealer continues to try and upsell me when I was already sold.
I cut in again. “I’ll have one of my guys schedule a meeting.” I glance at the open door to my office to see a vaguely familiar face. The maid whose ass came to fruition in my face while Mikhail slung accusations at me has a hip leaning against the doorframe.
Eyeing her curiously, I continue into the receiver, “Don’t waste my time. Dah?”
“You have my word,” comes a second before I hang up the phone. With an eyebrow lifted, I gesture for her to enter. There are many servants here. The older ones are readily recognizable as the turnover margins are low because the incentives are high. I can’t recall seeing the eager blonde more than a time or two, one of which included her as being a vessel during the argument with my cousin.
“I have news to share about the Tsarina—”
My hand cuts through the air. “That won’t be—”
“She’s pregnant.”
My mouth moves into a straight line as she mentions that another maid requested a home visit about an hour ago from the doctor on the premise.
When she’s done sharing, my mouth twitches at the side. “Had you waited your turn to speak, you’d have heard my entire statement, which would’ve indicated I don’t appreciate gossip.”
Her eyelashes flutter, confusion converting into a twitchy smile. “I assure you, it’s not hearsay. A midwife was on the premise for—”
“You are dismissed.”
She stays put.
I clear my throat. The byki at the door enters.
Sighing, I ask, “Miss, what is your name?”
“Claire.”
“Claire is fired.”
“What? I don’t—”
The byki’s gun goes off, traces of brain and blood jut from the side of her head as a .9mm bullet exits the other side.
“You’ll excuse me as I leave you to have this cleaned.” I stand up, walk around the table, and exit the room.
Discord will not be tolerated. The dead suka had an underlying motive in sharing information about Anastasiya. People like her and Kosta don’t belong near my Tsarina or me.
My mother is another example. However, she astonished even me by seeking shelter in a cave with Kirill having to watch her all night. I hadn’t made any stipulations, but I was told it was the worst night of her life. She began walking again at first dawn, only to arrive about thirty minutes ago. Sofiya is now cut off from all funding due to her.
Kosta, Sofiya, the likes, they’re all lumped into one big bag of shit. The type of people I refuse to fuck with.
“Where is Anastasiya?” I ask another byki at the end of the stairs. While I’d rather respect her wishes to tell me she’s pregnant at her own time, I’m anxious.
He sends out a message and then says, “The Tsarina went to Mikhail’s room a few minutes ago.”
Don’t get jealous. You trust her.
Not him.
I contemplate allowing her space. All those trusting exercises roam through my head, and when I come to, I’m at the door to his room. Knocking is all I can consent to.
“Come in,” Anastasiya calls out.
I wriggle my tensed jaw and enter.
They’re sitting on loveseats across from each other. Asya smiles up at me, her legs crossed respectably, but with those hips and thighs.
“Sim.” She pats the seat next to her. “You won’t believe what Mikhail had in mind for us. He suggested a welcome home party.”
“I did.” My cousin offers half a smile.
“I was persuading Mikhail otherwise. But he was relentless. Said he’s heading back to Los Angeles now that everything is right between us. We all know you aren’t big on parties. And the two
of you aren’t so close.”
“Nice gesture, but nyet.” I eye her, my heart swelling with love. “Anastasiya, may I?”
“Well then, no party.” She arises. “Mikhail, if I don’t see you after I return from an outing this evening, then there’s always next time, right?”
“That’s right.” He pounds a happy fist into the air.
I cock a brow, but she’s up. My eyes shower over her flat abdomen. I take her hand and pull her out of the room, closing the door.
“You’re pregnant?”
Chapter 47
Anastasiya
Simeon is on his knees before me, hands clasping my stomach. His head is planted against my belly, then he pulls up my shirt and plants kisses over the taut surface.
“Sim,” I groan.
He’s far from listening. He mentions how I don’t have to answer, and a maid told him without prompt. Now, she’s dead.
“You killed her.” I clutch his jaw, looking down at him.
“Nyet.”
My head tilts. “Well, is the maid dead, Sim?”
“Dah. Not my fault.”
“You’re a monster.” I remove myself from his embrace and stalk down the hall.
He’s up in seconds, planting an arm around my waist and guiding me into a library, one of many in the palace.
“Asya, I won’t have anyone around who is against us. She’s deceased. End of story. I wish she hadn’t said a word, but I’m fucking elated.”
I can’t stare at him. Leather and lemon-scented wood cleaner funnels down my nostrils.
“I . . . I never.” I gulp down the lump in my throat, running my fingers over worn encyclopedias. “I never got a chance to meet the other girls I was supposed to the day Irek had me taken. I can’t be late.”
His massive shoulders fall. “How far along are you?”
Gaze leveled with his, I reply, “I’m not ready to talk about this, Sim.”
His hands go to the top of his head. “Don’t go. Not right now, moya milaya. It’s not my intention to compromise your Castle operation. Talk to me, baby, first. We made that promise.”