Vassili’s
My entire day went to shit. You’d think all the trouble Malich endured to get a message for Danushka might make the situation more settling. But the logic behind what my half-sister is gunning for, while in my court, is still over my head.
Natasha is asleep, and I’m seated on the chair in the master suite, watching a recap of the fight from Vegas. Though there were no title matches last night, each one is enough to keep my eyes focused on the pound for pound bricks being tossed from each competitor. Shit, my very own fight held enough damage to fill an entire fight card. Karsoff and I went for blows, but as suspected, I came out the victor. My hands are clenched into fists at my side. There was a moment in the second round in which my knee started to knot up on me. Karsoff didn’t use that to his advantage, but then again, the fire in my eyes made it seem like a grenade could’ve been tossed at me, and I wouldn’t have given a fuck. Wouldn’t have felt a thing.
My cell phone vibrates on my left leg.
ZARIAH: I’ll be home in 15. No thx for dinner.
Is she texting while driving? I call her instead of replying.
My wife’s voice is cheerful as she speaks, “Hey, baby—”
“Girl, are you driving and playing with your phone?”
“Boy, you love to check in on me every few minutes when I’m out late.” Her voice is filled with laughter, then she switches up her tone to attempt to sound like me. “Vassili, you texted, ‘girl what’s keeping you,’ I respond about a client. You offer to have borscht on the table when I get home. Vassili, you have better luck adding a line of sugar to your cock and having me lick it up for a late dinner. So yes, the last few messages I replied to, may have been while I was driving.”
“Are you hungry?” I ask her, eyeing a roundhouse kick, on the screen, from the main event that sent the loser into a frozen state before he fell back.
She cackles. “I love you, Vassili. You keep me safe, I’d never go cold or hungry, so I think I’ll keep you around. And no, I’m not hungry for the last time.”
“Shit, salad is not a dinner.”
“Humph, coming from the man who tortured me with raw juice and roughhoused me enough to be afraid of entering a Jamba Juice within a hundred-mile radius.”
“That fucking stuff isn’t healthy, smoothie my ass.” I quip, hearing the sound of the garage in the background.
“Whatever, Vassili,” she says. The faint sound of music is cut off. “I swear, I may have enjoyed the green machine with Kale more than you know what.”
“That so?” I chuckle, rise from my chair, go down the hall, and shuffle downstairs. “There’s probably one bite of kale in the juice. That shit is full of lime sherbet.”
“For taste,” Zariah says, her voice echoing as she rounds the corner near the laundry room. “I had a long day at work, why are we arguing?” She asks into the receiver, twenty yards away, glancing me up and down like she’s really ready to lick a line of sugar off my cock.
“Nyet, I’m not arguing with you, beautiful.” I hang up the phone and get an eyeful of my wife. How does this happen? Every instant I lay eyes on her, she’s more beautiful than before. My hands brush over her shoulders as I remove the floppy sweater thing she calls a cardigan, and let it fall to the floor. Yeah, that’s what I think about those stupid little sweater thingies. They cover the roundness of her ass, the fatness of her hips and pussy. Sometimes she’s holding the knitting over her chest and I’m not even a breast man, but I still want to snatch it off of her.
My mouth goes to her forehead, and I brush a soft kiss there. I needed her softness to settle the anxious rage within me. Her essence filters through my nostrils, and I bestow soft kisses to her neck, my nose nudging into her skin, getting an addictive whiff of her. I fall to my knees. My hands clasp her ass, and I prod my nose at the apex of her thighs, breathing in deeply. And she smells so sweet like…
“Brown sugar,” I groan.
“What?” Zariah licks her lips, her chocolate gaze glancing down at me.
“You had this on during our first encounters. You were at Vadim’s Gym, and then again when I came to see you at home.”
“More like breaking and entering. Yes, Vassili. It’s my favorite from Bath and Body Works.”
“Shit, girl, then why haven’t you worn this in a while?”
Zariah shrugs. “I usually wear perfume these days. Just being a little more sophisticated, I guess.”
Instantly I’m standing, and I’ve swept her off her feet. My wife lets out a fearful yelp before laughing and kicking her legs. “Can I get a little pre-warning, Vassili, dang!”
“Okay, I’m going to feed you,” I kiss her mouth, “then I’ll eat you.” My tongue weaves around hers in a breathtaking kiss. “Then you tell me what caused you to return home so late. Da?”
“Nyet.” Zariah sounds too cute telling me no in Russian. She presses a hand against my chest, though her face is beaming from ear to ear. “How about we skip part one. Oh, and part two is confidential as well, Vassili. Let’s just finish the evening with you tasting these sweets.”
I carry her upstairs. “Confidential my ass,” is all I say. There’ll be no arguing about it. I’ll compromise about her dinner since she says she’s not hungry. But family law or not, I prefer my wife in the kitchen and pregnant. It’s the safest place for her. So, I’ll eat her tonight, and ask about the new case assignment come morning. If it was an emergency to her, then it’s a concern to me.
***
Only one of her gorgeous brown eyes is visible. Zariah has masked much of her face with the pillow. Her tone is delectably sultry, and groggy, “Why aren’t you working out?”
“I meet with Vadim at 11 am. You know the drill,” I tell her.
“Humph, I’m referencing your work out before your quote-unquote workout?” She finally pushes the pillow away enough to give me that look of hers which tells me she’s about to toss a bomb my way. “Vassili, I am aware of your entire day. You’re in our home gym at 5 am. Then you cart Natasha around Venice Beach to eye some hot ass, and I do mean hot as in stinky, funky asses swallowing up thong-kini’s, before going to the gym. What a convenient location for all you guys. And if another fighter is behind schedule, you become a big bully.”
“Stinky thong-kini’s you say?” I arch an eyebrow.
“Um hmm!”
I lay back against the pillow and roar with laughter.
My wife straddles me and issues an assault of hooks and jabs against my ribs. “Oh, so you do check out scantily clad chicks? I hate you, Vassili.”
“Fuck,” I growl, my chuckles fading out enough to allow me to grab the bulldozers she has for fists. She isn’t that strong, but my broken rib has a few more weeks to heal. “My rib, girl, my rib.”
“I don’t give a damn about your rib.” She pouts. “You were supposed to deny looking at those hoes. Deny it vehemently!”
I reach up and kiss her poked out bottom lip. Then my tongue soars into her mouth, my hand claims the back of her neck and I send this kiss to soaring heights. Zariah’s breasts rise and fall rapidly against her tight negligee as she catches her breath. My eyes connect with hers, and I decree, “There’s only one woman for me. I put that on my life.”
“Okay…” she pretends to cave, as I wrap my arms around her in a bear hug.
“And I resent your statement, beautiful. There’s only one girl I know in the entire world, whose thong can be perfectly eaten by her ass.” My hand slams down on Zariah’s butt.
“Oh, so you’re calling me a –”
“I’m calling you my little kholodets,” I bounce my hands over her ass cheeks.
“Wait a minute, boy did you just say Kholodets?” Her eyes peel in thought. “That revolting Russian meat jelly?”
“I love it. That was Natasha’s favorite when she first got a few teeth.”
The smack against my face sends me into another hard laugh and I lay back again. Zariah pretends to lean down and choke me out for a second. “Meat Jelly? Can’t you think of anything sexier? I know my ass is fat, you can see these cakes from the front,” she says, her legs squeezing around my waist. Zariah glances back at her fatty and then her ponytail whips over her shoulder as she looks down at me again.
I rest my hands behind my head and lift my hips. My cock pierces the inside of her thigh, a reminder that too much playing in the bedroom leads to other things. I love these happy moments of joking with my wife, but really, with her straddling me, those breasts of hers are about to spill out.
Her eyes darken with desire. Zariah rocks her hips, letting her pussy slither over my cock. There’s only one problem with our current dynamic. I slept in boxers and basketball shorts. She has on panties. I don’t like friction.
“Stop playing, girl. I want to fuck.”
“Humph, you better be glad I let you have something good to eat last night.” She dips her tongue out and licks her lips.
“Dah, I ate this succulent pussy all night, eh? Now that sweet tasty cunt of yours can eat my cock, okay.” I press my hips up again, searing the inside of her thigh with my stiff erection.
She reaches toward me, her hands go to the headboard, and her mouth goes to mine. Zariah licks my jaw as she works her lower body like a snake. My dick is swollen with hunger. I clasp her hair. “Take your panties off, girl.”
“Mmmm, you want them off?” She leans back up, grips the sides of her thong and pulls upward. Those fat folds of her labia are on display now as the material puckers between her lips.
Shit, precum is seeping from my cockhead.
“Take them off,” I grit out. My hands are still comfortably behind my head. The only warning that she is in potential danger of me slamming her down and fucking her silly is the hardness in my eyes.
She again works the thong with her thumbs hooked at the side. “I think I might cum like this, Vassili.” Her voice is trembling with desire. Zariah continues to work the material against her pussy. “It’s rubbing my clit so rough, so rough…”
I go for the takedown.