Vassili
Fuck, I was gone over this woman the moment I laid eyes on her. She was just that beautiful, and she stole my heart while fighting for justice. Now, as my cock is gripped inside of her wet, tight pussy, I stroke and I look into her beautiful eyes. She has transformed from a beautiful face and a glorious body to being my possession. I spent seven long years, waiting to get inside of Zariah Washington’s panties and all I give a shit about is her.
The brown sugar taste of her pussy is coated all over my tongue, my mouth, the stubble along my jaw. I can’t stop licking my lips as I stroke deep inside of her body. Her pussy is such a hot glove, grabbing my cock in ways that no other girl has been able to do.
Hand clasped against the back of the headboard, I gain leverage. Never taking my eyes off hers. Zariah has to enjoy every single second of this. I cannot hurt her. She feel so good. Don’t be a bitch, Vassili, you can’t nut just yet.
My hands run along her body, with every touch of her curves I’m thrilled. I kiss her delicate neck, while stroking her nipples with one hand. “Oh, Vassili, baby… damn…” she starts cussing like earlier and I have to control myself.
Her pussy tightens, eliciting more wetness, as my cock glides in and out of her entrance. I fuck her deeply, going all the way into her tight heat. Forcing myself to control my shit no matter how wet, sweet and ultra-tight she is. As her pussy molds around me, I learn how to make her moan. My hand comes down and swats her dark sensuous hip. Her innocent mahogany orbs widen, and then Zariah is gripping my shoulder’s begging me to go deeper.
“You are so fucking tight,” I growl, grabbing a fist full of her hair.
I lean on my elbows as Zariah claws at my biceps, pulling me deeper into her soft body.
“Mmmm,” she moans. Fuck, her eyes are wet with tears. But I can’t stop myself from impaling her slick, fitted folds. It’s like I’m addicted to this shit. Though it pains her, it fucking bruises my cock, too, yet I continue to stroke, hollowing out her pussy. Molding her to my perfect fit.
I tongue her mouth deeply, before working my way over her jaw and down to her breast. My pounding increases with the sound of her crying out, “Vassili, I… I… Jesus, damn….”
This time, I drive my cock so deep inside of her tight pussy her cum drenching my dick as she cusses, “Lawd, damn, Vassili, baby… oooh … oooh… Vassili.”
In less than a second, the tightness from my nuts is instantly relieved. My cum explodes, gushing against the condom, nearly perfect. Would’ve been better for this shit to soar into her thick, little frame.
A thought hits me like a roundhouse to the chin: shit, I’m never letting this one go. This incredible feeling that will forever be engraved in my memory, wraps around my large frame, further turning me into her bitch. Concerned for my girl, I lean up on my forearms, but Zariah worms her tiny arms along my waist as if her body is screaming for mine. I’m fucking crushing her, yet she holds me there. I move strands of hair from her forehead, and kiss its soft, dark skin.
###
We trade in the bedroom for the top deck; the hearth casting shadows across her luscious mahogany skin. Across from us there are a few stars perfectly lined across the darkness that I hadn’t even noticed until she pointed them out. Zariah is leaning back against me on my old leather couch; I couldn’t give up during the move here. I rub the back of my neck, comprehending just how off the deep end I’ve gone. All for a taste of Ms. Washington.
“So, Venice Beach,” Zariah speaks, as the bubble of her ass is nestled against my sore cock.
“Yeah, this place is a few miles from the gym.” I pull her closer, she could never get too close, while pointing north. “I got tired of fighting for a parking spot. Parked my Harley a few lots up, saw the for sale sign, and thought fuck it, I might as well take it off the market.”
“Ha, so you purchased a two million, maybe even three mill, home on the beach for good parking…” her voice trails off.
“Yeah.” I agree with her, waiting for her to finish her train of thought. Yet, she doesn’t. “Speak, sweetheart, what else were you going to say?”
“Nothing at all.” She starts to arise, thick, kinky strands of hair flying in every which way.
I grasp her wrist, and her voluptuous ass slams back against my cock. I almost wince, she was so tight a while ago. “No need to hold anything back from me,” I respond, before I even fully consider the ramifications of my comment. Zariah has turned me into her bitch. I’m an idiot for that one, because she sure as hell isn’t ready to know that I’m Anatoly’s son.
Zariah scoots around in her seat to face me. There’s something amiss from the look in her eyes, but she just kisses me then says, “Umhmm, Vassili. How about you just feed me, now.”
I huff. A part of me doesn’t want to be a selfish mudak. It wants to be truthful and to see if Zariah will still look at me kindly with those big, innocent eyes of hers. Yet, she’s already sauntering back into the bedroom. She flicks on lights, as most of the candles have been doused in their own wax. I arise, following her ass down the hall.
She pauses, eyes sweeping around the kitchen, as if she’s viewing it for the first time. Earlier, her nerves were shot. My hand glides across the small of her back as I recall how her legs shook when she came in my mouth.
“Vassili, I must not have an imagination because I can’t even think about cooking after you said tonight was all about me.” She brushes away my hand and glides toward one of the barstools.
I chuckle softly. This woman, I could fall for her even more. I was in love with her from day one, but I could love her like I do MMA, one day. The thought punches into my gut, and lingers there. Loving her as much as the cage. Adoring her more than bloodied knuckles, and pulses weakening within my grasp while using the art of submission.
Yeah, I could love her that much, one day.
Zariah stomach growls. She clears her throat, obviously a little bit embarrassed. “That wasn’t a lion in case you’re wondering. I am hung-ray.”
I rub my hands together. “All right, I will feed my girl. What can I feed you?”
“Boy, I was under the assumption our night was all planned out.” She arises from the stool and stalks around the island to the sub zero refrigerator, like a prosecutor stepping toward the stand to interrogate an eyewitness. She argues all the way, “What exactly do you mean, ‘what can you feed me?’”
I watch in amusement as the first girl to ever enter my home becomes more comfortable in it than I ever could. I wasn’t lying about purchasing the home for its location. Besides my Harley, I could give a fuck about material possessions. All my workout gear and the expensive ass weight room I have down the hall doesn’t count. She leans back on her heels in order to open the heavy, stainless steel doors. Glancing into the clean refrigerator and back to me, Zariah huffs. “See, you and I were on an accord last week when I had little drumettes for dinner at The Red Door.” She lifts up a carton of eggs. “I even enjoyed some of the Russian food, but damn it, I will fight you for some meat. No seafood required, but beef is a must. I see fruit, vegetables, eggs for days! Where is my marinated steak? C’mon Vassili.”
Hands coming to rest on my head, I admit the truth. “To be honest, I got caught up purchasing candles. Do you know how many weird looks I got from motherfuckers in Walmart as I wheeled a cart full of candles out of that bitch? I’ll make you eggs anyway you like ‘em.”
“Humph, it’s my night. I was going to pass on the shrimp and lobster combo, but maybe I’ll have you jump into the ocean and catch me a fish, since you’re immune to cold weather,” she says, leaning into me.
“If that’s what you want.” I step a few paces backwards toward the sliding glass door which leads to a deck.
“You’re naked,” she grasps my hand.
“Does it look like I care? You want fresh fish, sweetheart you gave me something that no other man can have, I’ll catch a baby shark between my teeth and put that bitch on a bonfire. You’re hungry, I got you.”
By now, Zariah is tugging my hand and giggling. “Don’t you dare go outside with your johnson swinging everywhere.”
“Why not? I’ve already showed you how beautiful your pussy is, Zariah. We’re two beautiful motherfuckers. My cock is a masterpiece.”
She chokes on her laughter, and I almost laugh with her. Damn, I could freeze this very moment, rewind it and listen to her chuckles forever. “Dang you, Vassili. You arrogant bastard.”
An hour later, Zariah offers a weak, confused smile. “My hunger has passed. Besides, it’s almost one in the morning, and what are these, extra fluffy pancakes?”
“Oh, you're no longer hungry, sweetheart? You at least have to try it.” I order. “Yeah, it’s like a fried pancake, but say syrniki. You’ll eat this tonight, we work out tomorrow morning.”
“Work out in the morning? It’s morning now,” she huffs, picking up the fork, and saying syrniki perfectly.
“Good. Eat. I slaved in the kitchen.”
Her mouth hitches up to the right. “Thank you,” she says before forking up a bite.