Lawless 2 (The Finale) Read online

  Chapter 6

  Simeon

  A primitive groan rises, my hips working like a piston. I’m soaring into the depth of Anastasiya’s orgasmic ocean. Thrills shiver across her gorgeous curves, and she grunts out the rest of her wetness.

  “Oh, oh, oh . . .” she groans, unable to form a true word.

  Purple, oxygen-deprived lips beckon me for a taste. I reach down and feast on her mouth, her heart slamming at my chest. With Asya still breathless, I crush her breasts and ample body to the hard floor. My teeth sink into the meaty flesh of her ass. My hand claws at the back of her neck. The perfect arch of her ass causes my lips to plant at her tiny, puckered asshole. My tongue flickers over her exposed lips, licking the succulent sweetness she made.

  I settle on my knees. If I were a fucking vampire, blood would be running down my chin. Instead, the saccharine taste of her sex drips over my lips and jaw. Licking it all up, I assault her pussy with my dick. My hand continues to claim the back of her neck as my member is swimming in her once more. I gather her hair into my fist, forcing her into a greater arch. Momentum surging, her quivering pussy is ready to squeeze my cock for dear life in another orgasm. When I let Anastasiya’s hair go, she’s mewing like our sex will be the death of her.

  “Once more, moya milaya?” I trail a kiss along her shoulder as she bobbles her head. “Breathe.”

  “Please,” Anastasiya purrs.

  Laughter bursts from the depth of my abdominals. “It will have to hurt . . . and I really need you to cum before you pass out. So, breathe.”

  My sweet, little heart places her palms along the ground and pushes her ass back. Her luscious breasts are slapping around with each thrust. Swallowing air, she glances back and licks her lips. “I love you, Simeon. Hurt me.”

  My fingers trail over her wicked cunt as it puckers between her thighs. I press my lips to it, kissing the heated pulse of her fat, achy lips. Fuck, I could eat her pussy for every meal.

  I blow at the pain, created from the force of my cock ramming so deep. With full force, I slam a hand onto the side of her ass cheek, sending it jiggling so hard that her cunt massages at my tongue. A quick succession of smacks at the same spot gives her warm skin a peach tone, and her lower back sags more.

  “Good, you’re catching your breath.” I offer a wicked smile. My hand rubs at her throbbing flesh, and she sucks in more air. The pain of being swatted has her lungs full enough for me now. I reach over, grab my belt from my slacks, and slide it around her throat. When I yank on either side, my cock soars into her wet, swollen heat, pummeling her cervix. Each pound rocks through Anastasiya’s core. Her walls stretch to accommodate, creaming with each slaughter. Before the carnal beating could steal her last ounce of oxygen, I give one last energized thrust. With a vengeance, I cum. My Tsarina’s tight pussy meets me with the same renewed passion.

  “Simeeeeooonnnnnn . . .” Her scream is enough to shatter the windows.

  She’s so wet. I fall into her wilted body as she gasps for air. Moving to my side, I bring her tiny frame on top of me.

  She sniffles into my chest, burrowing herself closer. In a trembling, mess of a voice, she declares, “I love you. I love you. I love you, Sim.”

  Stroking at Anastasiya’s hair, I kiss her forehead. “That’s right, Asya. You love me, and I love you to death, girl. You’re mine, now and forever, my little Tsarina.”

  “Remember our first time,” she murmurs against me, a dreamy look on her face.

  “How could I forget?” I pepper her face with kisses. “You look drunk.”

  “Ha, more like you banged out my brains.” Red heat flushes up her cheeks, and she hides her face into my chest. “Simeon, I love you with all of me. Let’s stay like this forever.”

  Time passes with me holding Anastasiya in my arms. Even when I was a caged animal and mystery surrounded her disappearance, I carried her with me. Now, I’m carrying her exhausted frame to bed.

  More hours pass by. I’m contemplating how to revive my mother when Asya begins to whimper. Consoling her sleeping frame while nightmares pull her under is far from my mind after my mom’s latest suicide attempt. I cup Asya’s cheek, saying, “Wake up, moya milaya.”

  A last whimper seeps through Anastasiya’s thick lips before her lashes flutter. A moment of terror seizes her eyes. Then they’re liquid honey at the sight of me holding her near.

  “What happened?”

  She closes her eyes and presses near. “Bad dream.”

  “Tell me about it, Asya.”

  “I’m trying to sleep.” Her eyes pop open again, shooting a warning before they close. “Remember the time you tried kicking me out of bed. You learned your lesson, Sim.”

  “Nyet, girl. I remember waking you up one time when you were snoring, happy fucking snoring, and you tried to kill me. This isn’t it. Talk,” I grit. Though I made a promise not to order Asya around, we must find a middle ground. She was just crowned my Tsarina, sheltering her is out. “Talk!”

  “Dammit, Simeon!”

  Anastasiya pushes away from me, and I zip my arms around her, bringing her body against mine. Her curves fit like a puzzle, soft and plush against my brittle stoniness.

  Fisting the back of her hair, I bring her groggy gaze to mine. “I need you here, whole.”

  “What are you talking about? Why won’t you let me sleep, mudak.”

  My hands frame her face. “Last night, you slitting that old fuck’s throat, was it to appease me?”

  “Fuck you, Sim. I’m not a robot, fulfilling your orders.”

  “Then what?” Her attempts to wrestle away are fruitless. “Asya, You’ve been playing the moral card. Enlighten me!”

  “He was a Castle benefactor who didn’t deserve to live. You satisfied, Simeon? I’m sleepy.”

  “Good,” I press my lips to hers in a hard, searing kiss. “Keep your wits about you, Asya. When you feel uncomfortable about a situation, you act. I don’t give a fuck if it’s at the sake of a man’s life. Instinct first. Deliberate later.” I clear my head. I’d meant to talk about the dreams, but I have a feeling this all ties in together. “If you have any doubts, share them.”

  “I am,” she sighs.

  “Earlier tonight, you mentioned we need to talk.”

  Anastasiya’s hand flies into the air, and I catch it. I pin her beneath me. “You’re awake now, dah?”

  “Wow. From a demon to a genius. Perfect observation, Simeon. I was dreaming bad dreams, so what! You can bully me later when I have a knife in my hand, you know, tip the scales in my favor a little. Though, I’d prefer a gun.”

  Light sparks in her eyes. The last part was a joke. I stroke her hair. “Your dreams. What of them?”

  “Hey, you put pussy before connection. Right now, I’m placing sleep on the same scale. When the sun rises . . . I’m begging you!” she seethes through gritted teeth.

  Half of me wants to shake the life out of her. Force out more truth. While I mentioned her instincts for the sake of her not second-guessing them, mine are blaring. I’m missing something.

  But all in due time.

  “Your dreams, Anastasiya. I have never throttled them out of you. Don’t make me now.”

  Her eyelids close, swallowing rich, sparkling honey orbs, full to the brim with sadness and . . . Disgust? Confusion?

  “Talk to me, moya milaya.”

  “Grrr! Okay, I had a nightmare.” She starts into a seated position, legs folded over.

  “I gathered. I woke you. Tell me.”

  Anastasiya shrugs. “Sim, can I collect my thoughts?”

  “Spill them.” Or I beat them out of you.

  “Or what? You strangle them out of . . .” It’s as if she realizes she’s deflecting. She shoves a hand through her crimped hair. “I was in a room with this thing.” Her voice reaches out to me, wrought, and laced in fear. I bite my tongue. My fists are so tight they are ashen. Shut the fuck up, Simeon. Listen.

  “What thing?” I clip the rest of my query.
r />   “An abomination.”

  I chuckle. “You’re sleeping with one, Asya.”

  From her glare, I stop the attempt to lighten the mood. “Simeon, you’re a beautiful creation. The devil was the most attractive angel, right?”

  “You’re calling me . . .” I pause, grasping how I’ve played into her desire. “Don’t change the—”

  “Alright,” she grits. “It was a girl or a woman. Simeon, she was like a robot. Bruised all over.”

  “Who caused it? How did you know her?” I ask.

  “It’s only a dream, Simeon.” Anastasiya flops back onto the bed. I climb on top of her.

  “A dream?” My eyebrows knead in thought. “Was it because of that girl you once saw? The one with the collar and the Middle Eastern owner? What was her name, Kosta?” I sigh heavily. “Did our actions that night give you bad dreams, Asya?”

  Her gaze falls.

  “I understand our actions scared you in the moment. You cared for her, and what you asked for, I obliged. Was the torture your dream?”

  “No, Sim.” Her voice floats over from a million miles away. She clears her throat. “You took my virginity that night, so definitely not.”

  The regret threatening at my tightened chest evaporates. “So?”

  “It was a dream.” Anastasiya’s silk palm slides down my chest to my cock. “Bad dream. Will you make me feel better?”

  “Then why are you shaking like a leaf, eh?” My eyebrow arches. The back of my hand skims the side of her cleavage.

  “I—”

  “I hate fear in you, moya milaya.” I mop her breasts with my lips, my tongue gliding over the taut nipple. “Right now, I will fuck the fear out of your body. Because you’ve asked it of me. But when the sun rises, you will tell me the truth like we agreed upon.”

  Chapter 7

  Anastasiya

  “Simeon,” I groan into my cellphone. The silk sheets crumple beneath my clutch. He’d promised me a tropical island soon. I covet the notion of escaping this world with him after I share Sofiya’s deception. Now, his side of the bed is empty. “You offer endless orgasms, then leave me cold in the morning?”

  A beat passes. “I’m headed to Syria—for us.”

  “Why? And no literary prose, Simeon. No using your doctoral degree in literature on me. Besides, you tried to force me to talk at an obscene hour. Come home; I’ll chat now, under my terms.”

  He’s smiling through the receiver, almost. I can feel it, yet undertones of intensity ride along. “Dah, I was a bit forceful last night.”

  “You were old Sim. New Sim crowned me. I’ll talk to that Sim, as long as he’s home in the next half hour.”

  Simeon chuckles softly. “Asya, if I bring you back the bloody head of a mutual enemy—”

  “You don’t . . .” My voice drowns. You don’t know my enemies, not yet, Sim. “Which of my demands did you break?”

  “The unnecessary stipulation.” There’s shuffling around in the background. Car doors are slamming. Simeon has a fleet of byki, and they’re all prepared to do bad things. I grimace. Luka’s old lover, Rudolf, had no part in our baby’s murder. I’m certain the number of men surrounding him isn’t a threat to Volk’s army. So, I can assume he didn’t go after the president. So, which of my rules did he break?

  “Which one?”

  “Anastasiya, I will have all the answers for us. This is for our mutual benefit. Then you and I will visit any destination on the globe.”

  Throat stifled, I manage. “You’re searching for more information about our baby?”

  “Dah.” His retort strikes like usual. It’s as if the last few days and all of his promises are seeping through my fingers. “I lost him or her, too.”

  I sigh. “This is about Rudolf then. Well, he had nothing to do with it, Sim.”

  A door seems to shut so hard glass shatters.

  “What are you doing?” I sigh.

  “Got out the car. Needed space.” Simeon grumbles, adding truth to my imagination. “At your request, the majority of Rudolf’s family returned to their homes. Only a token few were kept. The twins had his big brat overnight and gave word that Rudolf had an Armenian friend.”

  “You mean tortured? I’m sure they didn’t have Rudolf’s older brother over for dinner in one of your guesthouses?”

  “Dah. I met him about an hour ago, and now he’s dead,” Simeon replies in a lethal tone. “The friend is in Syria. Say nyet, and I won’t bring the mudak back for the two of us.”

  “Hard no, torture the bastard yourself.” A tightness stitches my chest into a tight knot. “Because he could be innocent, Sim. I have continued to tell you why Rudolf wasn’t the offender. He was my friend. Luka loved him. I sent him away that morning so he could prepare for their anniversary, genius.”

  “Will you wear the dress I chose for you for dinner tonight? We can have the chat about your dreams, and I’ll oblige you, Asya. I’ll keep the Armenian alive for a while, pending our chat.”

  “What dress?” I groan, the scent of us surrounds me and obscures all of Simeon’s faults.

  “The tailor made a few drawings. I chose one. Should be ready for you soon.”

  “Oh, God,” I groan. “Is this the life of the Tsarina? I have to stand for fittings and wear dresses. Damn you, Sim. That was a strategic move to keep me out of your way today, right?”

  I can hear the smile in his voice as he replies, “Black cherry pistachio ice cream will be your dessert. You’ll be mine.”

  My body turns conspirator. The surface of my skin flushes in desire at the thought of being his craving. “Ha! I might not allow you to brainwash me with your tongue, Simeon. While you’re away, I assume I’m still on lockdown?”

  “For your safety.”

  “Alright, let me give you my orders.”

  I can almost hear him chuckle.

  “Spare the Armenian’s life until I say so. Send the person who’s been in charge of acclimating the girls back to orphanages to me. I have questions about the adoption profiles I read over yesterday.”

  “The liaison, Faina, will visit you for lunch, and the Armenian will be in our cells by nightfall. You may wear the dress or nothing at all tonight but divulge all your worries. I may not grant all your wishes if they deviate from my own; however, I promise to listen, moya milaya.”

  A beam brightens my face. “Hmmm, not sure if your honesty is refreshing, but thank you, Sim, for scheduling the meeting. I’ll be transparent, tell you everything.” Then you’ll leave Rudolf’s Armenian friend alive and focus on your mother.

  In the passenger seat of the same Aston Martin SUV Luka drove yesterday, Simeon’s promise echoes in my ears. Luka and I snuck out of the palace without any additional byki. But not until I begged him to. I needed to see Sofiya again, try to comprehend her story before I tell Simeon the truth. Tonight, I will purge. We’re parked parallel to the townhome. Fresh snow dusts the shoulders of two byki in front of the stone structure. The soldiers eye us warily.

  “My Tsarina.” One bows. His eyes stay on the snowy ground as he adds, “I believe our Pakhan required more escorts for you.”

  “Thank you for your concern.” I grin, moving my leather jacket to the side to flaunt my Colts. “I brought my two babies. This suffice?”

  His eyes flicker toward mine and then down again. Hope, uncertainty, and fear of his life flash in his orbs for a second.

  Luka places a hand on his shoulder. “My brat is the commander. I’m more than competent with the Tsarina. Move.”

  “Thanks,” I mumble.

  Luka rolls his eyes. I’d begged him before we left not to bring another byki because if my conversation with Sofiya didn’t go well, I refused to ride home with a stranger. He’d tried to tempt me by finding a guard I’m familiar with, and I threatened to visit Sofiya on my own. My friend hoped for the best, so he nudged his chin and settled for a complacent mask instead of annoyance.

  My fingers glide through his. “Can you not disappear while I tal
k to her this time?”

  Luka gives my palm a firm squeeze. I start up the stairs with him behind me. A byki at the top of the steps gestures toward the double doors at the end of the hall. We enter a grand bedroom with opulent tapestry. The doors to the balcony are open. Sofiya is on a lounge chair. A throw blanket covers her bandaged wrists. I close my eyes for a second, hoping not to feed into her deception.

  A few feet away, Garbovsky sits. The tip of his nose is red. His thin lips pinch together. Across from them is a panoramic view of an all-white forest. Vibrant, lustrous blood red buds are the only color, sitting stemless in a crystal vase of water.

  “Mother Sofiya,” I call, letting a smile slide onto the edges of my lips. Please be all Anatoly’s fault. Please don’t give Simeon a reason to be disappointed.

  “Moya docherniy, daughter, you came.” Water fills her sapphire orbs, and I pray she’s genuine. “And Luka, you’re as handsome as ever.”

  “Sir, may I?” I gesture toward her therapist.

  He stifles a tremble and stands. “Of course. Please, either one of you send for me or a guard prior to leaving her side.”

  I nod. Noise funnels through my ears as Luka responds to his aunt’s inquiries. She removes her arms from beneath her blankets. Her fingers glide across gauze as if imploring us to view the self-mutilation. “You’re one of my only true family, Luka. You and Anastasiya. The two of you had nothing to do with this.”

  It curdles my stomach to collect Sofiya’s hands in mine and soothe her. “You loved Anatoly so much.”

  “Dah.” She brings our joined hands to her face and sobs.

  Luka chews his lip in trepidation then claims Garbovsky’s seat. Shit, he’ll go all sorts of Prima Donna on me when we leave. I flash him an apology.

  “Simeon did what he thought was right . . . he never understood your connection.” I start to segue into more about Anatoly. Sofiya nods.

  “That is true. Moy syn was confused. He only saw his father strike with an iron fist, rule as a Tsar must. The two of you will continue my Anatoly’s legacy. You and Simeon will—”