Fearless 2 Read online

  Jessica Watkins Presents

  FEARLESS II

  By AMARIE AVANT

  Copyright © 2017 by Amarie Avant

  Published by Jessica Watkins Presents

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. Without limiting the right under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form by means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

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  Author’s Note:

  Just in case you missed it from the online product description, this book is NOT a standalone novel, but a serial romantic suspense. Although, I have attempted to streamline it for ease of reading, in order to fully enjoy it, you should start with Fearless I. If you did not prefer the ending of Fearless I and were confused about what a ‘cliffhanger’ is, then gather your refund now. Much like the last book, this book ends with a Happily Ever After, For Now (H.E.A.F.N.) not a cliffhanger. This story is also full of Zariah, with her educated, but can get “ghetto” when necessary ass, and Vassili’s bad mouth, full of “cunts and fucks,” and of course, some good hard fucking!

  Vassili Karo Resnov

  Never get angry. Never get…too angry. And keep my fucking chill when outside of the octagon. That’s what I agreed to do, in order to make my marriage work.

  I’m seated wide-legged on a leather chair, so fucking big and plush, it was made just for me. Before me is a massive flat screen. I can be seen slaughtering my opponent with a roundhouse kick that leaves the guy knocked out in midair and falling like a rock. The KO segues into another one of my Killer Karo approved highlights. This time my tactic is a raw submission. I had Hauser in an ankle hold that broke his shit clear in half almost two years ago. I’m waiting for my call to connect, fisting my iPhone in my hand. The images keep flickering of me in beast mode, going for the kill. I’m too good at this. Too good at being bad.

  She finally answers.

  “Hey, baby,” Zariah says, breathing a tad heavy.

  Damn, I realize my lungs were overdue for oxygen during the wait for her to answer. Just last month, my wife was pressing the “away” button repeatedly and disregarding my calls. “Zariah, beautiful, you on your way?”

  “I'm trying. Your child refuses to walk.” Zariah’s voice sounds muffled. “I opened the garage. Forgot something. Now I'm headed back to the garage with Natasha on one hip, her favorite juice spilling on me.”

  I tilt my head to the shiny ass chandeliers above, silently thanking God she’s forgiven me for acting a fool. “That’s Natasha, mayhem with apple juice.”

  From my peripheral, I notice my cousin, Yuri, has dropped his cane and is leaning against the doorframe. This fat, mudak—asshole—is eye fucking the pin-up doll for a maid, who so far has done more bending over in my face because some idiot blabbed about my impending match this weekend than readying the hotel room for my wife.

  “Whatever, Vassili. I don’t have time to be abused by your mini me.”

  “Oh, you don’t?” I break into a grin. Our one-year-old is part of the reason I’m forgiven now.

  Yuri turns around. “See, kazen, told you Zariah is all talk. You two are good.”

  My wife continues with, “I’m all sticky, and we have less than an hour to...”

  My eyebrows knead.

  Yuri winks. He thinks all is good. That I’m out of the dog house.

  But Zariah’s tone is stricken with fear, and her voice lowers, “We —we have….”

  My head tilts somewhat, facial expression darkening as Yuri stops leaning against the doorframe. He turns his attention from the slutty maid to me.

  I ask, “Zariah, girl. What’s wrong—”

  “Mrs. Resnov, you've taken everything from me…” I hear a Latino male voice in the background.

  Zariah scoffs, “Mr. Noriega…wh-what are you doing at my house? How do you know where I live?”

  “Zariah,” I shout into the phone. “Who is that!”

  “Oh, is your husband on the phone?”

  There are muffled noises. Yuri is silently asking me what's going on. He mouths Zariah, and I nod.

  “Mikhail will be at your house in a few minutes, kazen,” Yuri whispers.

  I yell into the receiver, “ZARIAH, WHO IS—”

  “Tell him.”

  She’s trembling, fuck I can feel it light years away, as she speaks into the receiver. “It's Juan Noriega. I’m representing his wife in their divorce,” her voice scales down. And then she's pleading to him. Begging him to allow her to put our child in the house so they can talk. And I’m... useless.

  Juan motherfucking Noriega? It feels like a knife has slid into my bones. Without fail, I always force Zariah to provide me with a rundown about every case she picks up. Regardless that it’s family law, I will not have my wife in a dangerous situation. There was no mention of this mudak, Noriega. I’d have refused her request to take on any case that had anything to do with the infamous Loco Dios gang member. Shit, shit, shit. Whomever she represented against Noriega was more than deserving of justice. Instincts slam into me and churn sour.

  This is revenge…

  “Does he have a gun?” My voice is tapered. Her fucking answer, ‘yes’ is enough to feel two slugs piercing into my heart. But I continue to stay calm as Yuri sends out his own message.

  “Put him on the phone,” I command, lips hardly moving.

  “Okay,” Zariah says, her voice wrapped in a fear I've never known.

  “The infamous Vassili Resnov,” the man’s voice is callus to the core.

  “Who. The. Fuck. Are. You?”

  “Ay dios mio, you sound scary,” he laughs.

  I glare at the television screen. There’s so much fucking blood. I’m massacring my opponent. My gaze fixates on his eyes, clouding as he taps out in my arms, so hard that the visual blurs before me.

  “Sounds like I'm talking to the motherfucking Terminator. I'm Juan Noriega. I take it, you know of me. But no worries, mi amigo, I'm a nobody these days. I know all about you though,” Noriega says. “Ex Welterweight UFC champ. Loved by the masses. And I also know you're a fucking Resnov. Your family isn't to be fucked with.”

  The luxurious hotel is gone from before me. All I see myself doing is tearing this man limb from limb, killing him with my bare hands until his bones fracture, turn into powder, to dust and then become nothing. Painting my hands with his blood until my knuckles break. “Then I don't need to inform you of my capabilities. My family's capabilities?”

  “No, hombre. I’m dead already. My parental rights were terminated for my ninos because of your bitch. My bitch up and took my house, my cars, everything I have, also because of your bitch. At this precise moment, I've got a nine to your bitch’s head. But don't worry, like I just said, the bitch took my wife, and my two kids. I heard your bitch is pregnant. I prayed to God the two of you were having a boy. So, the little nina and the baby in her tummy will meet the same ending.”

  “Noriega.” My blood slows to freezing point. I gulp down the lump in my throat. “Listen to me clearly, if you touch my wife or my daughter you will die a thousand deaths. I will beat you with my bare hands. That’s already in the mothe
rfucking cards. You've already consigned yourself to that. But do you want me to fucking murder you and revive you a thousand times, all just to have me torture and murder you again?”

  “You're capable of that, Mr. Resnov. The only problem is, I no longer have a heart. Adios, mi amigo.”

  Click!

  I storm through the suite. “Where are my keys? Yuri, where the fuck are my keys?”

  My cousin starts arguing with me. Finally, he halts my bulldozing through the room by grabbing my shoulders.

  There’s pain behind his eyes. Yuri’s still favoring his one leg. But he grits through it and says, “Nyet—no! Vassili, brat. Everything will be good.”

  My world has tilted on a spindle. My head is chaotic, crazed. I’m seeing red. And I’m about to serve him the left hook he got when we went to jail a little while back. My bark is hard, “Yuri, move—”

  He flinches, holding his palms out. “I can’t. You can’t. We can’t fucking do anything for them no matter how much we—”

  My forearm slams against his neck.

  He’s reddening by the second. “Va-Vassili, we are in Australia.” He bites out the words.

  My eyebrows crinkle. I. Am. In. Australia. My title match is tomorrow. I'm a world away from my fucking heart! I let him go, and clinch at the top of my head. There’s no more Mohawk to tug. “Fuck the belt, Yuri. I don't want it.”

  Yuri rubs at his neck. “Okay, kazen, but—”

  “I need to get home!” I punch the wall next to him. It's all marble. My knuckles crush against the glossed stone. The skin has pulled back and blood smears along it, leaving a trail.

  “That's impossible, Vassili, we are too far away. We’re in fucking Australia! I have a crew on the way…” My cousin is speaking, though I can't understand the words. All I see is myself becoming a monster.

  “Kazen! You'll have a heart attack. We will handle this. Mikhail promised to keep them safe. He is on the way to your home right now,” he argues through gritted teeth. But Yuri’s words hardly penetrate. I focus on God. Over the years, having faith hasn’t been easy, but it will be the end of my relationship with Him if the worse occurs.

  Vassili

  Four Months Ago, Brazil

  (After the winning Match with Tiago)

  “You sure you want this chocolate?” Zariah’s voice is filled with laughter. All those dark-brown curves of hers are peeking from where they’re tucked into the sheets. The hotel bed is so heavily scented with our sex I almost didn't get out of it this morning.

  I arch an eyebrow. Her gorgeous smile pops in and out of view as I continue with the repetition of push-ups I'm currently completing on the floor at the foot of the bed. “You’ll save me a piece?”

  “I guess I could.” She places another chocolate truffle to her lips and then says, “How hard will you work for it?”

  “Nyet—no, girl, I don’t work hard unless I want to. I’ll just eat you instead,” I tell her.

  “Whatever, Vassili,” is her snarky reply.

  I can hear her muttered chatter, damn, but that sound is good to my ears. Just recently, while preparing for our daughter, Natasha’s first birthday, all I heard from my wife was arguing and snide remarks. Zariah is a lawyer, what can I expect? But I was on the opposite side of the defense team, and we were butting heads every day of the week. Yet, there’s a smile in her comment about me eating her “if she lets me.”

  “Get the fuck outta here, baby, with that if you let me shit.” My voice is playful. I almost crack a smile, I’m so fucking happy. The next strain to my bicep is met with a truffle she's tossed at me. It lands yards away. Instead of picking up the piece of chocolate she sucked at throwing, I continue with isolating my biceps and glance down at it. “Zariah, girl, why do I have the feeling that this is my only piece out of the entire box?”

  The next view I have while mid-push-up is her lovely curves, breast bouncing as she falls back into the goose pillows in a burst of laughter. An undertone of cherry permeates her high mahogany cheekbones before I can not longer see her. She's pulled a pillow over her face to stifle her laughter. Damn, she cannot get away with anything.

  I rise from the floor, sweat glistening down my skin from the repetitions I've just completed. “Zariah, get up, sweetheart. You enjoy all those chocolates.” I pick up the now empty box of six. There’s a single piece left, the one she threw at me. “There’s only one chocolate that I crave. So, eat it all, baby. Get yourself sweet for me.”

  She slides the pillow away, and I’m blown away by what I see. The world’s most gorgeous face, her sparkling eyes sliding up and down my muscles, and my gaze is locked onto her pouty lips. She knows just how to screw with me.

  Zariah licks that pout then says, “Um hmmm, I don't need candy to get me sweet for you.”

  I cock an eyebrow, running my hand along the tattoos at the side of my neck. “Then you'll give your husband some love? You'll love me now…”

  She sits up. The sheets tangle over her frame, covering those heavy breasts, yet with that shape, it can’t hide much. “I'll always love you, Vassili, my heart isn’t set up any other way. But, I will love you after you shower.”

  “That so, counselor?” I reach down, grabbing the meat of her ass and hips. The image of her on our first encounter will forever be embedded in my brain. The most beautiful sight. I never imagined she could be more beautiful. After having Natasha, Zariah had added on in the weight department. She is so damn thick, my palm squeezes on the flesh of her ass, and I swear my cock becomes titanium, hard like never before. I paw and then grab at it before quickly placing another hand under her arm and scoop her up.

  “Yuck! Vassili, let me go!” Zariah argues as I bring the soft masses of her curvy naked body to my hard, sweaty chest.

  “No. You once said I smelled good when I’m all sweaty.”

  “I plead the fifth.”

  “You can’t. I’m your husband. You said you loved my sweat.”

  The mock disgust erupts into a broad smile, white teeth kissing her dark red lips. “That was after sex sweat, not dripping like a dog sweat. Besides, you loved me crazy, boy, so I was probably bragging on you and… and I’m at a loss for words, so stop badgering the witness!” Her bottom lip protrudes.

  “You’re my witness.” I nip at her lip with my teeth. My growl causes her to shiver in delight against me, so soft and even after having my daughter, still so innocent.

  We have had a hard seven months due to my torn patella. Yesterday was my first time returning to the cage, and it was met with celebration, and taking out a worthy opponent, Tiago. Slaughtering him has solidified my place back in the UFC world and placed me closer to the new title holder. My fucking belt.

  I reposition Zariah. Her thick legs wrap around my waist.

  “Oh, so you don’t listen?” She squeezes her legs tighter around me.

  “Girl, what are you talking about? My sweat smells like cologne.”

  “Ughhhh…” she bites her lip, while eyeing my mouth.

  “You want a kiss, sweetheart?”

  “I guess.” She squeezes again. “I’m dirty by association anyway.”

  “Dah, well I was going to take my kiss regardless.” I nibble her bottom lip. The warmth of her pussy stamps her wetness against my waist.

  “Oh, you’ll take it?” Her tongue slithers along mine. “How?”

  My teeth sink into her lips. “Just like this,” I tell her, holding onto Zariah with one arm while pushing my boxers down.

  Then I grab her by the hips and position her soaking kitty at the head of my dick. The instant I slam into her, Zariah gives this haughty little chuckle, and her pussy creams onto my cock. “Oh, yes! Vassili tear it up,” she groans.

  “Oh, now you want this beating?” I position her outwards, my ten inches are glossed with her sweets, and Zariah is angled out toward me.

  “Fuck me, baby!” Zariah pleads, just as I slam into her. The onslaught of my cock bruising every sweet corner of her insides has her bucki
ng and begging. “Yes! Yes! Vassiliiiiiiiiii!”

  Zariah unwinds her legs from around me, leaving them transfixed in a V-shape. This offers me free reign as my biceps bump her up and down. My feet plant into a wide-legged stance, causing me to gather traction on the plush carpet.

  Her titties, with their hard chocolate nipples, bounce up and down as I toss her in the air and slam into her over and over. My cock burrows deep inside Zariah, and I hold her there.

  She grabs my face, kissing me hard and rough. “Fuck me, Vassili.”

  In the past, she worried that I wouldn’t like her pussy after she gave birth. That couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s fatter now, silky soft and rains like the Lena River, the longest river in Russia. Thinking about it drives me to the brink. I slow down, not wanting to nut too fast.

  “Fuck you? You want me to beat the fuck out of this pussy?” I arch an eyebrow, this time my biceps push her up and down slowly. One inch at a time, my cock gets a taste, savoring the perfect mold. Damn, she’s gushier inside than I imagined, as I continue to tease her insides. “Thought I was getting you all wet, and sweaty.”

  “Shi… shit…” she purrs. “Vassili, if you fuck me harder. I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum…”

  My cock glides in and out. I lay her on the edge of the bed, position her legs over my shoulder and place the crown of my piece against those thick lips, gliding around in her sugar.

  “Ohhh…” she tries to reach up. In her position, she’s useless. Her eyes narrow. “Harder, Vassili … I love you…”

  “Oh, you love me.” My cock is swallowed by her pussy for a second and then out, heavy stiffness dragging over her clit and lips.

  “Don’t play!”

  I slip inside again, pull out and fuck with her clit. “Don’t play? You ate all the chocolate. I can play.”

  “I hate you, Va—” Zariah ceases her usual rant as I get to my knees and taste.

  Zariah

  Never thought to beg for sex until I met Vassili. Hell, I never made it enough a priority to give it up for the first time until I met Vassili. This year has been tumultuous at best. We are a stubborn pair, and my headstrong demeanor parallels with Vassili kicking ass in the octagon. Yesterday, when Vassili and Tiago were slaughtering and damn near annihilating each other, I froze. Then I ran.