Zariah
“I apologize. But where I'm from, a man touches your wife, or looks at her funny, he is handled.” Vassili’s words from our first big argument ring in my ears. He loves me and just wants to protect me the only way he can; by redirecting his family from me as he has done up until Malich knocked on his office door. And then I recall the look on his face after Phil showed his ass in the front of my father’s house. He must have felt like Phil was humiliating me. Not goading him, but shaming me.
My heart crumbles within my chest cavity as Malich speaks of Vassili’s mother. Her husband never laid a hand on her. He had his ways of embarrassing and shaming her in front of crowds. Tying her to a post in the middle of the street. The disgraceful sign that hung around her neck was abuse enough.
He had her head shaved until it bled. His crew touched her. That's what Malich says. Anatoly never laid a hand on her, too repulsed by his wife after she'd given him two kids.
Every one of his goons that hurt her, Malich’s people retaliated against. Though it was met by amusement from his older brother. Plus, Anatoly had more thugs to spare when it came to roughing up people, so nothing helped.
I sat in disbelief as Malich spoke. I almost asked why he didn’t just take out Anatoly himself. Then Vassili had come out and said, “That's enough.”
We left the get-together shortly thereafter. Now, hot torrents soothe my bruised heart as I wash my hair in the shower and I reflect on the ride home. Though I rode on the back of Vassili’s motorcycle, it felt like I was hugging a cement wall. Those muscles weren’t the haven I’ve become accustomed to. I twist my lips, glancing over my shoulder. Damn, he won’t even take a shower with me?
My fingers just began to graze the knob when Vassili steps into the bathroom, fully naked. He opens the glass door, and gets in. Though there’s ample room and plenty of rain sprouts, his thick frame presses against my ass and back, allowing me to breathe for the first time in hours.
Vassili’s hand glides across my tiny waist, his chin nestling in my thick, wet, coils of hair. “Ask whatever you’d like to know about them later.”
“Okay.”
His fingers skim up my breasts, squeezing my hardened nipples then trailing higher for my jaw. The slight pressure from his fingertips and my face raises so he can reach around and taste my mouth. “These fucking lips. I love these lips, Zar.”
Vassili turns me around. While kissing me, his thumb sneaks into my mouth. Instead of caressing his tongue with mine, I suck at the ridges in his thumb. The vigorous way my mouth works is like I’m attempting to draw out his seed. The strands of my hair are tugged downward, and I kneel before my husband.
I work him sloppy, sucking him so good that his toes curl and those sturdy legs of his lock. I grip his ass cheeks, letting the crown of his cock bang and bruise my tonsils. Damn, I’ve never sucked a cock with this much ambition before. I’ve never tasted cum nor ever wanted to. Now, I’m sucking for dear life, like Vassili’s seed is my sustenance. A jet of warm semen erupts, coating the roof of my mouth, my tongue, and then soaring down my throat. I drink him down to the very last drop.
Vassili sinks down to the travertine seat, water drumming against his skin. The mist shielding much of his contoured muscles. “You next,” he tells me, dark eyes filled with lust. I stand before him, placing my leg onto the shower seat, next to his hip. His fingers skim up the inside of my thigh. Damn, I’m dripping. The flush of water on my skin masks the lust dripping from my pussy as he reaches out to lick the swollen folds. I angle my hip, he digs in, chopping softly at my clit, and spearing my G-spot with his tongue.
Vassili squeezes my bulbous ass, his nose nudging my clit while he laps up my pussy like a rabid dog. My leg begins to shake. Suddenly, his hand slams down onto it. “Steady, beautiful. Work those nipples, for me.”
I bite my lip and tweak at my erect nipples, which is like asking someone to rub their stomach, and jump, while reciting their ABC’s backwards, while he eats me. Vassili is a pro at screwing me with his mouth. He’s fisting his cock at the same time. The miraculous shaft expands in length by the second, he groans into my nether regions. Then Vassili stands up, helping me place my leg back onto the floor. He presses me against the travertine wall, my chest against the cool tile, it soothes my hard nipples. A hard slap against my ass pops loudly because of the of water, as Vassili grips my ass cheek. My back arches, and he squats somewhat before entering my pussy from behind. I clutch frantically at the wall, “Fuck, Shit, Damn…” I scream, stars in my eyes at how perfectly he fills me up.
“Keep steady,” he growls once more, hammering in and out of my body like a piston.
“Fuck me, Vassili!” I cry out, begging for more. His cock goes deeper, my moaning becomes raw. He screws me until I’m spent, only to send a jet of cum inside of me before my body caves to weakness. Tonight, Vassili holds me in his arms, his ebony jewel. Gone is the feeling between us that he’s unreachable as my hands skim over his tattoos. Sleep beckons me, and I forgot to ask about his mother and Sasha. Something tells me that it will be awhile before he’s willing to speak of them again…
###
October
After grabbing the mail from the box, I kick off my stilettos, lock the front door, and then sift through the envelopes. My heart clutches as I read “The State Bar of California.” Ice frosts my veins. “Babe, it’s—” I stop shouting and shriek
“Damn it, Vassili!” I clutch the mail to my chest. He's upside down in the doorway, completing curl ups. “I'll never get used to this.”
“Stop being so scared, Zariah. Open up the—”
The envelopes go falling as I smack my hands over my lips while sprinting to the restroom.
“Baby, what the fuck?” I can hear his large frame landing onto the floor.
He’s on my heels before I even make it to the toilet. I release every bit of lunch into the porcelain bowl. My hair is gently pulled from my face. As I toss up sushi, Vassili softly rubs my back.
When it's all completely expelled, my body weighs more than it did prior to my attempt to extract my esophagus. I turn and sink down onto my bottom. “Go away. I look like shit.”
“Nyet, I can't do that.” He grabs a face towel from the rack, wets it, and wipes my face. “Zariah, what’s wrong, baby?”
“Bad poki,” I mumble, head in hands
“Make a doctor’s appointment.”
“For what?” I stir into a better seated position.
“Because I told you to.” He scoops me up while I complain about my bad breath
“Okay, okay.” Vassili sits me onto the counter, then grabs a toothpaste and a toothbrush.
“Thanks. My test, go get it,” I murmur before starting to brush.
He returns while my mouth is foamy and clean. I gesture for him to open it up. Vassili does as I ask. His dark eyes scanning the paper. He puts it down, mouth taut.
“Aw, no… I can't fail,” I grumble. “You just won your last match. I was supposed to pass, but I'm a fail—”
“Don't say that shit, Zar. No, baby, you aren't a failure,” he says but I'm half listening, spitting out the paste and quickly pooling enough water to wash my mouth out That damn test is right before my eyes. I see it as if it were yesterday. I grab up the paper, fingers poised to rip it into shreds.
Yet Vassili is offering one of those rare, gorgeous, devilish smiles.
“Damn it, Vassili,” I pout. “We've only been married for half a precious year and you already get on my last nerve!”
He hugs me, “Congrats, Zariah.”