Vassili
Zariah gasps. The silk scarf falling from her silky hair. For the life of me, I don’t understand why she wraps her hair around her head into a weird ball when it’s straightened. Her long hair slips out of place and waves along her shoulder as she says, “Vassili, baby, what are you still doing here?”
“In my bed?” I ask, throat heavy from sleep.
“Uh, you know what I mean. You have another day of boot camp left before you leave to go to New York for promotions.” She cuddles close to me. “I expected to snuggle with your pillow like I did last Saturday morning. Are you okay?”
“Good, good,” I caress her cheek. Shit, there’s something I should recall, yet, after the night we’ve had, all I remember is her pussy squirting in my mouth once she mastered the technique.
“Honestly?” she climbs onto my waist, thick curls in disarray. “Because you leave for New York and promotions tomorrow. Don’t you need one more day and night of crazy training, because I can’t watch as The Hauser slaps you around.”
“Slap me around? That’s blasphemy, baby.” In one fluid swoop, she’s beneath me again. “I’m going to grab him by the throat,” I say, placing my hand across her delicate neck and offering the faintest squeeze. “There’s power in feeling a man’s pulse fade.”
“Just as long as he doesn’t hit you. My heart can’t take it,” she murmurs as my lips smack down onto hers. The sweetest little moan comes from her mouth. I deepen the kiss, moving my hand toward the back of her neck, kneading the tendons with my thumb. My foot hooks around hers, and once more, Zariah is flipped. Now, her ass is wedged against my hardened cock, my chest against her back. I kiss softly at her spine.
“Keep flipping me like your own personal toy,” she threatens and in the next breath purrs as my hand swims down into her pajama pants. My thumb works its way along the tightest, little hole ever.
“Vassili,” she groans.
“Okay, okay,” I chuckle, her nape again. “Tilt that fat ass for me.”
She rises to her knees, and I lift up some in support. My thumb glides between her ass cheeks, restraining myself, I continue to glide toward her sweet pussy. I pet those thick petals before plunging inside of her.
“You sure you don’t want my cock in this ass? All that beautiful ass?”
“Vassili,” she growls, gyrating and stroking her pussy along my thumb “I. Will. Kick. Your. Ass.”
“But it’s the prettiest, roundest ass,” I laugh, removing my hand from her pants. I bite the tip of my thumb in thought and smile cocky. There’s an underlying lust behind her eyes, but I won’t push. I then lick her juices from my thumb.
“Grrrr…” Zariah wiggles her bottom.
“I’ve got more for you, girl, I always do.” I feel an amazing desire wash over me, bringing all the heat to my stiff cock. I want to eat her pussy, eat her ass, eat her, totally devour and demolish her juices until she’s more malleable in my hands. More willing to allow my cock into those chocolate cheeks—
Zariah’s phone rings on the bedside table. I reach over, ready to smash it into the wall, anything to stop the sound and return our focus, but she says, “It’s my mom, I have to answer it. After Vegas, no more boot camp.”
She sits up, crossing her legs and grabs the phone. “Hey, Momma!”
Fuck me, I'm left with a serious boner.
“Breakfast?” I mouth.
Zariah quickly shakes her head, lips sneered. She hates breakfast with me while I'm practicing for a match. “No thanks, baby.”
I’ll make her a smoothie, anyway. I head to the kitchen, rubbing the back of my neck. What did I have to do today? The thought slams into my mind. My alarm didn’t go off, and I’m uncertain if Vadim left a voicemail threatening my life for not visiting the gym yet.
I pull out the protein, peanut butter, and the extra ripe bananas Zariah had asked for the last time I made her a smoothie, along with a few other sweet fruits. My eyes narrow, I swear I hear a tiny vibrating sound, but mindlessly I start the blender. I lean my elbows against the quartz countertop, reminiscing on last night. My dick is still a little sore. Zariah’s pussy is now a tight mold in the shape of my cock, but creating such a beautiful shape has been work. I yawn, warning myself about discipline and not to fuck her the night before the event.
“Babe? Babe! Please stop making a ruckus,” Zariah calls from down the hall.
After I press the pause button, chunks of strawberry and blackberries float to the bottom of the slushed drink. I'm pouring two glasses when Zariah leans against the pantry.
“My mom would like to talk to you.”
I arch an eyebrow.
“The phone is on mute. Please, she said I sound like a woman in love. I had to tell her about you.”
“Okay.” I hand her a glass and she offers over her iPhone. Instead of placing the phone to my ear, I see Mrs. Washington’s face on the screen, in real time. I press the mute button to release it and position the FaceTime screen.
“Hello, Mrs. Washington.”
“Ms. Haskins will do just fine. That's my maiden name. So you're Vassili. I've heard lots about you.”
“All good things?”
“You are very handsome, but what's with all those tattoos.” Her neck is craning, wanting to see where the cross tat on the side of my neck ends. Or perhaps it's the top portion of the KILLER KARO on my chest that she'd like to inspect further.
“I can tell you what most of them mean.”
Ms. Haskins arches an eyebrow. “Did you get a few of them while inebriated?”
“Nyet, nothing like that. But, some might not be appropriate to discuss.”
“Oh…” Ms. Haskins says, and Zariah groans.
“Mom, you said you only had one question. Please, play nice.”
“Or what? I like him. The truth tastes much easier than a lie. She's so much like her father at times.”
“All I’d like to know for now is what your intentions with my daughter are?”
“I love Zariah, and my only aim is to place a smile on her face.”
Ms. Haskins lingers. “I believe you. I will of course have a lot more questions, whenever I meet you in person. When do you two plan to visit me? Zariah’s brother, Martin, is expecting his third baby, any day now. It would be nice to have my daughter home, sometime soon,” she dawdles. “I’d love to meet you, as well. Then, like I said, the real questions can start.”
“Momma, dang!”
“Next week is good,” I tell her. “We can head over after my match.”
“That's perfect,” she says.
“No, sorry, it’s not perfect for me,” Zariah cuts in. “There’s too much on my plate now, Mom. I planned to visit this August after the bar exam, and save Martin’s baby from all your holding and kisses.”
Her mom continues to chat
“Goodbye, we have a busy day.” She grabs the phone and hangs up.
“It’s okay.” I shrug, downing my drink. “Baby, I don’t mind meeting your mother if you’d like.” I corner her by the cabinets, and skim my lips over her forehead.
“My mom knows you’re a Resnov.”
“Okay…”
Zariah glances up at me. “I think she likes you despite your blood ties. However, due to her relationship with my dad, she has always been a tad overbearing. Even with Martin, before he married, Momma was a ball of nerves. She worried about him being hit by a woman, about his happiness. My brother chose not to become a cop, but he's far from sissy.” Zariah shakes her head in thought. “She will hound you. All those tattoos will be discussed.”
“You just said she's concerned about Martin’s happiness. Your happiness. Then I answered correctly, right? She asked if I loved you.” I play with her breast.
“And you answered perfectly, Vassili,” Zariah moans. “Can we take this party into the shower?”
“Yeah, I haven’t fucked you in the shower in a whole week.”
“Humph, whose fault is that?”
“When we return from Vegas, you’ll be locked to the headboard for a month. I’ll make it up to you.” I hug her tightly. “Now, drink your smoothie. Join me once you’ve downed it.”
“Aw, Vassili,” she groans as I place the glass in her hand.
“C’mon, girl, get your strength up, while I get the water ready. We get to screw like bulls for…” I glance at the wall oven clock, while reaching down to grab her pussy. “another two hours. That’s good. I don’t want to break you, baby.”
In the bathroom, a few minutes later, steam clouds the mirror. “Zariah,” I shout over the sound of rain, while stepping over the pile of clothes I just took off. “Baby, get your ass in here.”
“Coming,” her reply is muffled.
Damn, this girl is probably gagging the drink down, or better yet, tossing it into the sink. I step toward the vanity, grab my toothbrush out of the holder, and I apply some toothpaste. Zariah’s reflection appears in the mirror behind me.
My eyebrows crinkle together. She leans against the wall, fully dressed in jeans, a coral long sleeve silk blouse and boots, gripping something in her hand.
“So, I just took an interesting call,” Zariah says, holding up my iPhone. I turn around and place the items on the counter.
“Babe, what’s with the look?” I’m speaking of the deep scowl on her face.
“I just spoke with Malich, your uncle.”
Shit, my ears ring as I recall the reason for my impromptu visit with Anatoly two months ago. I had assumed Malich was doctoring numbers for liquor and food, which made no sense, the majority of money flooding in came from his bitches, and my uncle often fronted the bill for some of the provisions. Come to find out he was tracking money moving around. My uncle had left a voicemail, right before the Power Water business dinner, mentioning he would come over this morning to tell me about the cunt that had screwed us both. I had texted Vadim to cancel, and because The Red Door isn't something I'm intrinsically motivated about, I forgot.
“Malich apologized for being late this morning, Eeyore, or Igor, or whatever he said, his son, apparently has diabetes and was eating a little more than he should at the table. His son’s wife freaked out—Malich loves to talk, he told me how his son’s wife just about has a heart attack as well. The baby was crying, oh and he offered to have us over for dinner.” Her eyes are glossed as she speaks, though not a single tear falls. “Apparently, you’re wrong about Urban Kashtan; it doesn’t have the best shchi. Malich makes the best shchi. So, through our conversation, a very open, very friendly conversation, by the way. Anyway, Malich apologizes for being late this morning; he had to save his son! Vassili, you lied to me.”
“I…” The sound of the mirror crashing behind me, stops me from stepping forward to touch her. A few shards and splints prickle into the back of my legs and neck. My phone clatters, coming to a stop next to my bare feet. The screen is cracked. “Okay, Zariah, you assumed about my father, I didn’t correct you.”
“You’re Anatoly Resnov’s son? Not just a damn Resnov, not married in, or a third cousin twice removed, dang, Vassili, really? Your father is on America’s Most Wanted! Stay away from me!”
“I’m sorry, baby.” As I start to walk towards her she turns and heads down the hall. Bits of mirror embed in my feet. “Zariah, let me explain!”
I grit my teeth until an even sharper piece of glass digs into the sole of my foot. “Fuck!” I lift my left leg, gripping the shard of mirror. It’s at least two inches long and blood pours from the woundas I pull it out. I use the padding of my left foot, and run toward the door. The floor is slippery. My left heel slams down, and I almost fall due to the blood. “Zariah!”
SLAM.
A trail of smeared blood follows in my wake as I grab a pillow from the couch, placing it over my cock, and rushing outside. By the time I get there, my girl is already inside the backseat of a Corolla, with the LYFT sticker on the rear window.
“Zariah, baby!” I toss the pillow at the car as it zooms along the one-way street.
“Dude!” A bike messenger argues, wheeling by. “Cover up.”
“Does it look like I give a fuck?” I toss my middle finger and hurry into the house. Back through the warzone with the driblets of blood and the long trail of it, where I almost bit the dust. I head toward the bathroom after grabbing a broom, careful to stay near the door, I begin fishing for my phone.
“Shit, I’m gonna fight with an injury,” I grumble, as the iPhone and bits of mirror are swept toward me. It won’t be the first time, but being in prime shape is best. I reach down and grab the phone up. The entire front of the screen falls off. Now I’m tossing the phone, and it slams against the toilet, breaking into even more pieces.
I head towards the bedroom. I have to get dressed, I’ll call my doc from one of my goddamn neighbor’s houses, then threaten his ass to get here soon. My heart just walked out of the door, and there is no such thing as letting her go.