Fearless III

by Amarie Avant

  Damn it, Simeon. We had his and her guns. Falling for him expanded my horizons. Books for days. Death too. We were two psychotics who fucked mad, loved sensually, murdered together.

  The handles fit snug in my palms.

  “Where have mama’s babies been?” I mutter in Russian. Okay, so I don’t use the language aloud to anyone else. It hurts Simeon that I don’t speak our native language. He’s sentimental. He should worry, because if he’s not in pain by my hand, then he’s claiming my heart again. He’s better than my shitty ass heart. There are only two people who ever truly loved him. One is his mother. The other is an asshole. Yup, that’s right. Me.

  I press one of Mama’s Babies into the band of my new cotton pajama pants. The tags for my clothes are on the floor. Friggen Simeon. If he wasn’t wearing tailor-made, he was tossing price tags in annoyance.

  I start out of the room. Simeon is seated, facing the cockpit. He gave me guns and dares to have no fear about me using them.

  Ever so often, a hum comes from his abdomen. He’s deep in contemplation over a book; too comfortable around me.

  My hand slips to the handle of the Colts in the back of my cotton pants--sits there. The familiarity is right for me, yet another ghost of the past settles into my thoughts while I watch Simeon read.

  I was about fourteen when Simeon switched gears from one literary subject to psychology. Simeon was researching the Electra Complex. He was always educating himself and sharing his knowledge with me. Sometimes, Simeon would bait me with what he'd learned. He knew the reason I’d gone mute was because of my connection to someone else. A man more than double my age. Still, at that moment, I flipped out and tried to smack him over the reference.

  We were in front of other Resnovs. They didn’t lift their blessing. His mother’s cold eyes took an interest in my reaction. She filed my response away for later. The Electra Complex sort of reminded me of the relationship I had with the man who often took me from the mansion, Volk—Wolf. (Which is honestly not his name. He comes from a prestigious family, which I refuse to mention.)

  The only thing innocent between Volk and I was my tender age. The Electra theory went that I was supposed to be in love with my father.

  Nevertheless, he was just Volk. Not my father. Only one of the richest men on planet earth. Or rather, a grown-ass man that offered me indecent thoughts, emotions, caresses . . . A man I’d never see after Simeon took me from the mansion.

  Though, I had noticed the similarities between Simeon and Volk when I first met the boy. The attractiveness, the intelligence. The willingness to share some parts of their beautiful mind. I know that one would’ve owned me until every ounce of my body was used up. The other freed me—and look at how I’ve repaid him.

  I cock back the hammer and nudge the Colt 1911 at the back of Simeon’s head. I order, “You cannot force me to return to Russia, Sim.”

  Without removing his gaze from the book, his voice is deep, lush, dreamy in response. “Squeezing the trigger in here is deadly for us all.”

  Simeon turns the page of his book. There are highlighted sections; it must be a favorite of his. He’s crazy about highlighting the best shit. “Come sit on my lap, Asya.”

  “No.”

  “Nyet, you mean?” His huge index finger continues to glide across the lines. He drapes an arm over the back of the chair, and I step back a few paces. “The guns were a peace offering, Asya. You’re capable of murdering any man on this earth. Not me.”

  “Sim,” I hastily unclick the hammer and step around him. “No, Russia, that’s all I’m asking.”

  “Nyet to our beautiful country, our home?” A dark streak shades across his face.

  “No,” I beg.

  “It’s Nyet. Easiest word ever, Asya. Nyet. Nyet. Nyet.” Simeon arises before me.

  “No. No. No,” I huff, standing my ground.

  “I taught you so much, Asya. How to numb the pain,” he growls. His thumb traces across my lips. “How to lose yourself in someone else’s adventure.” He slams the book into my hand.

  “True. You brought me back to life,” I murmur, tossing his book over my shoulder. There was a time I preferred death. I’d just learned that Volk was the reason for my existence. I can’t tell Simeon that, though. Doing so would sound like I’m an unappreciative brat.

  Simeon went to his father the day I no longer had to return to the mansion. In my sick little mind, father’s meant nothing. If life were a puzzle, Anatoly Resnov would’ve fit into that scheme of parents being the scum of the earth. Simeon owed the boss the day I went free because nothing is ever free.

  “You saved me, Sim.” I let the words float out, and hope they sink into my bones. After years apart, I hope they remind me not to regard him as any other Resnov.

  “That’s correct. I brought you back to life, Anastasiya.” His hands skim down my bare shoulder, locking my wrist, Simeon spins me around until my back is flush against his hard chest. His mouth caresses my earlobe a fraction away from kissing it.

  “When you were ready to set aside childish things, moy milaya, I taught you how a man pleasures his woman.” His fingers slide along the shape of me, sending my pulse on a race. My taut nipples ache against the thin camisole I’m wearing. When Simeon grips the inside of my thigh, on instinct, my legs plant wider.

  A lightning bolt of pleasure zaps through the center of me. That should be his next stop. Has to be. His thumb rubs over his nickname at my knuckles. Simeon brings my hand up and presses my fingertips reverently to his lips. “I never thought for you to please me, krasivaya, not until you’re body had firsthand experience with pleasure. You will always be my treasure.”

  “Yes,” I murmur, then shake the hypnotism prepared to cloud my judgment. I slip away from Simeon's touch. Turning around, I look him in the eye. “Correction, you taught me that I didn’t belong to any male. No one.”

  Inside the walls of my head, I shout: I belong to know one. Not them. Not you, Simeon. Not . . . Volk. My chest crashes as I breathe heavy.

  A smile washes over the edges of his lips. “That might have been the biggest lie I ever told, Anastasiya. You have always belonged to me. The only difference between me and that mudak from when you were too fucking young is . . . I belong to you too. He took!”

  “Shut up!”

  “Nyet. With us, we give, and we fucking love taking from each other. Tell me, I’m wrong!”

  My palm burns like fire against his jaw. Simeon never mentions Volk. Not ever. Unlike the pleasant deception at the hand of Volk, Simeon offered me some semblance of control as much as any female can in a man’s world. He forced the Bratva into my freedom, so the mere mention that he has rights to me pisses me off.

  Yeah, I’m crazy in the head. Were we from any other planet, I’d cling to the obsessive love Simeon offers me what Volk offered placed stars in my eyes. When that fairy tale crashed and burned, it ruined me for the boy I shouldn’t have loved — a fucking Resnov.

  “I belong to no one!” A red mark mares the area of his chiseled jaw. I drop my hand at my side, palm stinging from the slap.

  Simeon grabs my wrists and yanks me to him. “Like you said last night, you do nothing for the Bratva. But for me, you will do— you will . . .”

  He stops. The hatred that burned my skin is doused. Fuck, even when we first met, I’d cross the line. Pissed him off enough for him to snap. He should’ve snapped at me then. Over the years, I’d taken it too far, and he’d cling to his demons, not unleashing a single one of them on me.

  “You don’t say that you own me, Sim. You never say that.” I mutter. Long forgotten tears blur my vision. Simeon’s mouth catches a tear as it falls from my jaw. His lips press against my wet cheek, tasting jaded proof that I’m still a little bit human. The thought of being ‘owned’ by any other frightens me to my core.

  “Fuck, Asya, krasivaya, you have to know I didn’t mean it like that. I said we own each other. I’m fucking telling you I’m in love with you. You’re in love with me!
That’s it!”

  A ghost has a talon-like grip on my throat. I’m the bag lady no man should take a second glance at. Fuck looks. Stone line my bags. One day, I’ll resemble a tiny babushka, with worn leather skin, frail bones. None of my stripes will indicate the honor of caring for a vast family. All the wear and tear on my body will be because of my bags.

  Simeon loves me so much I’m drowning in it. It’s a pleasant warmth that envelops me, yet I can’t swim strong enough, can’t reciprocate it.

  Simeon’s fingertips skim over the center of my chest like he’s done a thousand times before. The act always lifts the ghost, always sends an exhale sparking through my body. His massive hand paws of my breast, he dips down. My nipple erupts in a static of pain and pleasure as he nips and licks.

  “Just tell me you belong to me, Anastasiya,” he murmurs.

  This is him settling when I should give in. But I can’t. His essence is perfection--exceeds it. God should’ve molded a girl for him, a good girl who shined a light and washed out the darkness.

  I fed off the small seed of evil, caused it to decay. Probably even more than the Bratva ever could.

  “Wait . . . Sim,” I groan, my fingers rushing over his short hair.

  “Nyet,” his growl sparks across my breast. His teeth sink into the side of my cleavage and my lower back bucks.

  “Okay,” I purr. While Simeon sucks, licks, and plays my nipples through his teeth, I mouth my love of him. Too stubborn to let him hear the words; instead, they evaporate between us. This is me delirious and forgetting the danger that awaits me in Russia.

  And this is us.

  The madness as we crash into each other. I climb into Simeon's lap, my hands weaving across his face. I lock my palms around his chiseled jaw. He isn’t going anywhere. Our lips catch in a kiss that could kill us. Neither of us is sane enough to desire oxygen more than we crave each other. Kissing the way we do could lead to our deaths. I let the burn in my depleted lungs spurt me on, my tongue soft and slick against his.

  His hand slams down on each of my hips, cock spearing the flesh between my thigh. The pain sends my mouth wide in a yelp and offering all the air I desperately needed.

  “Naked,” I mutter in Russian at a loss for anything more intelligible to say. Hell, the hindsight of my brain is only active enough to crave him.

  With a firm grip of my flesh, Simeon is up. He carries us back to the bedroom. I’m clawing at his biceps when he kicks the door shut with his heel.

  Simeon places me at the edge of the bed, descending onto his knees before me. His hands shred the camisole from my heated skin. I hardly let out a yip of glee when the pajama pants I’m wearing rip from my skin in much the same way.

  He settles back on his haunches, wrestling the tie from his Adam’s apple.

  While his gaze sends a fiery of goosebumps across my flesh, I yearn for him. Throat too taut to beg for the slightest touch—my orbs do.

  Beg.

  I never begged for it until I pissed Simeon off.

  “How did I go a day, a minute, half a fucking second,” he murmurs, “without setting eyes on such beauty?”

  “No sweet words, Sim. I’ve hurt you.” I reach for him, but he’s out of my grasp. “You should hurt me now.”

  My legs part ways. Simeon’s hand travels up my calf. His lips are tasting places that only he knows as he works his way to the inside of my thigh. He swings my leg over his shoulder, then the other.

  “Sim,” I murmur, reminiscing on the first time he touched me like this.

  Fingers skating across my damp pussy, he pushes the thick lips wide and breathes in my sex. The beast in him gives an intoxicating groan.

  His tongue sweeps along my slit. Shivers race over my spine, the inferno building like fireworks igniting from my hair follicles to my toes.

  “Sim!” My voice breaks.

  Lifting his head, chuckle low, his intense, masculine gaze shines with satisfaction. I point downward, mouth too tensed to speak. Simeon shakes his head in another laugh. That smile is enough to liquefy my insides and obliterate my heart. My eyes narrow a bit, but the happiness and contentment that I’d lost touch with now flood through me.

  His massive palms slide over my mound, covering my saturated sex. I’m so wet that Simeon’s palm makes a smacking sound each time he softly slaps at my pussy. My lips are begging for a beating and my core yearning for attention too.

  “Dripping wet,” Simeon growls.

  A deep luscious groan comes from the depth of my body. I concentrate with all my might and gasp, “Wha-what, are you doing?”

  His thick shoulders rise, eyebrow cocked. His hands framed my pussy, spreading me wide so that fresh air licked at my clit. I suck in oxygen, dying for action.

  “Ohhh . . .” I wriggle as Simeon’s lips touch my clit with the barest pressure. Then suddenly, his mouth is every, planted around my labia, kissing and sucking.

  My back arches. His tongue darts into me. Fingers dancing around in Simeon’s short hair, I growl and buck. My hands tug at his hair as if I could bring him even closer. A cry of ecstasy builds in my throat.

  His tongue leaves my folds and coaxes the tiny nub with titillating flicks.

  “I’m going crazy,” I pant, licking my lips. The orgasm torpedoing through my body continued its ascend.

  Fuck, the finesse of Simeon between my thighs is killing me!

  Once more, his tongue swirls around my pearl before showing the rest of my sex attention. His lips clamped around my folds, teasing licking, fucking.

  I clutch the sheets, surrendering myself to him. The high from the climax rising, ready to climb over the edge, is enough to shatter my soul.

  The second I detonate, a falsetto tears past my lips. Simeon’s tongue slams straight through me. I pant, sing praises, and pant until my voice breaks.

  My hips shimmy further down the bed, greedy for the thrusts of his powerful tongue. He clasps my ass in his hands, licks and stuffs me with his tongue while my heart hammers out of my chest. The love of my life presses his mouth against my valley, claiming my pussy as his feast.

  The finesse in how he stroked me with his tongue disappears, tempo crashing.

  I had lost control.

  He, no doubt, lost it too. With my legs spread eagle, Simeon slaughters me with his mouth.

  “Sim, Sime, Simeon,” I pant, legs shaking so hard I feared I never would walk again. The walls of my brain are jarring with the words: I love you, I love you, I love you. Biting down on my tongue, I stop myself from the reckless, truthful declaration.

  The high from my orgasm dusts across my skin like the best cocaine I’ve never had.

  Simeon comes up, his glossed lips locking on mine.

  “That’s how fucking good you taste when you’re really fucking wet for me, Asya,” he murmurs against my mouth.

  “So fucking good,” I breath against him before taking us under in another lung crushing kiss. “Sim, break me, baby. I miss your cock breaking me.”

  Crushing my lips with his, Simeon pulls out his cock. So heavy that it sinks against me. Cum laden and ready to burst. I lick my lips, desiring a taste.

  “Nyet,” he mumbles, peppering my mouth with the sweet taste of my cunt. “I got you wet for my dick; you will clean me later.”

  Lust pools into my mouth. I delight in my taste again. Later, his cock will be swimming in the feeling of us, and I’ll taste that too.

  Simeon lines the head of his massive erection at my tiny apex. As my heart thunders in my chest, he pins my wrists loosely above my head. He leans forward as if to kiss me, his mouth a breath away. All the nerves in my entire body unravel as he asks, “Are you ready?”

  Thank you for reading this sample!

  Asya is soooo ready for him. The real question is . . . are you?

  Preorder your copy today and the book will appear on your Kindle on release day.

  And by all means, please don’t forget to leave your review of Fearless III.

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  Amarie Avant, Fearless III