Fearless: a Sports Romance

by Amarie Avant

  “Mmmm, okay, get me home, Vassili.” She picks up the bottle. “Is this ours?”

  “Yeah.”

  With a quick zip of her hungry, dilated orbs, Zariah smiles at me mischievously. She rubs the bottle against the inside of her breast. “You can pour this anywhere you'd like once we get home.”

  My cock goes from hard, already standing to attention. Shit, I can see my balls clinching, as I cum for days all over her.

  “Anywhere?” I lean into her. Hand engulfing over her much smaller one, until I have the bottle. I grab it and point it between her thighs. “So I can lap you up like a fucking dog?”

  “I said anything, Vassili.”

  “What about your ass, I can see the liquid rushing over your dark brown skin, into that puckered little hole.” I kiss her fervently on the neck. “Can I lick it all up,” my tongue drags up her cheek. Shit, I already imagine gliding it over her tiny asshole.

  “Now you're just being a nasty ass, Vassili.” She chuckles although eating all of my words.

  I unscrew the top of the drink and guzzle it all down.

  “Boy, what was the meaning of that?” She smirks.

  “We need a new bottle, baby.” At this point a waitress is walking by. I quickly ask for the check and another bottle in Russian while Zariah giggles about how crazy I am.

  “Yeah, I probably am crazy. I've had a few concussions, sweetheart. We need a full bottle for all the curves you have.”

  I stand, grabbing the wallet from my back jean pocket.

  “Um-hmm, long as I drive us home.”

  “Nah, baby. You just relax and I'll give you instructions on how you can prepare yourself for me.”

  “By masturbating, right? I'm way ahead of you,” she scoffs. “Vassili, I am driving.”

  “Yeah, you can get yourself off.” My voice lowers as the waitress returns. She places the bottle and the closing tab onto the table.

  “Sorry for you. I won't be capable of any such thing while driving.”

  I glare at her scold and pluck up enough change for a good tip. Once outside, Zariah debates. “Cough up the keys, Vassili, or you've paid for another uncorking fee and bottle in vain.”

  “You serious?”

  “These legs lock.”

  “Should've ridden the Harley. You couldn’t drive us back then.”

  “I was never one for sitting in the house as a kid. I know all the bus routes from here to the valley,” she scoffs as I fish for the keys in my jacket.

  “I never get drunk, baby, and wouldn't drive if I really was. You think I’d put your life in danger?”

  “But, you downed the entire bottle, without much help. Should I strap you into the passenger’s seat as well?”

  My teeth grit in response. We get to my Mercedes. Zariah pulls out from the curb.

  “I don't mind driving. Oftentimes, you zip through so many cars as if this is a sports car instead of a big ass SUV that my stomach knots.”

  “Need directions?” I ask.

  “Ha, I'm not a defenseless woman. You're squirming in your seat like I'm the one driving for Grand Prix.”

  Before I have a moment to retort about her being the first to drive my shit, there's a loud blurp sound behind us. The flash of lights on the police cruiser make me roll my eyes. These bitches…

  “Zariah, I'll do the talking.”

  “What? We haven't broken any laws.” She signals just a few yards away from the freeway onramp and parks parallel to an ARCO gas station. Shifting gear into park, she argues all the way. “I am driving perfectly. This asshole is wasting our time.”

  Her argument goes through one ear and out the other. Thank God I'm not the target of her wrath. I lean my head against the side window aware of exactly what the cop wants.

  Nothing.

  No need shitting bricks or losing my cool. “Zariah, will you let me handle it?” I cock an eyebrow.

  “No, if he can't justify pulling us over, which he cannot, I'll get his badge number. Tomorrow morning, I will—”

  I chuckle softly. “Damn, you have a fucking mouth.”

  “Don't, Vassili,” she points a finger at me. “Don't place yourself on my shit list too.”

  I turn my head away, kneading the top of my spine. The officer knocks on the driver’s window. Stiff lipped, Zariah presses the button and it zips down. The man is black, much lighter than Zariah, with flared nostrils and dark eyes that cut their way from her to me.

  “How can I help you, officer… Jackson, 237….” She reads out his badge number.

  I smirk.

  “Ma'am can you step out of the car please?” Jackson asks.

  “Nope. I just asked how can I assist you in completing your civic duties? What compelled you to stop us?” Zariah argues.

  Aware that she won't make this easy, I start to unbuckle my seatbelt. The cop places up a hand, gesturing for me to stop.

  Zariah

  “Sir, stay put,” Officer Jackson holds up his hand while barking to Vassili. “Just Ms. Washington.”

  Damn, Jackson knows who I am. I grumble as it sinks in that my father is somehow the cause. He dropped a few little bombs about mobsters only driving Mercedes G class amongst other stereotypical-ass questions while we toured a few apartments on Monday.

  “I'll be back in a second, baby.” I glance at Vassili and he doesn’t seem amused by the entire situation.

  I unbuckle the seatbelt and get out. There's another cop standing next to the cruiser as Jackson and I walk over. This one’s hand is cradled against his gun, nestled in its holster as he glares at the vehicle. Hatred targeted on Vassili.

  “I'm going to pretend to breathalyze you, Ms. Washington.” Jackson’s tone has lost its abrasive ring. He offers a soothing hand along the middle of my back.

  “No, you won't!” I do a two-step so fast from his touch that the Cha Cha Slide rings in my ear.

  “Are you all right, ma’am?” His brows crease in concern, glancing over me.

  I glare from him to the cop who hasn't blinked in order to keep Vassili in his line of vision.

  “Officer Jackson, I've only had one drink,” I lie. “So either give me a reason why—.”

  “Ma’am is Mr. Resnov holding you against your will?” he cuts me off.

  “No. Hell no!”

  “Are you sure, ma’am, you are safe now?” Jackson eyes warm with sincerity. The other cop glances over too, keen gaze not as hard.

  “Did you just illegally profile us? I'm still waiting for you to lie between the cracks of your teeth,” I accentuate the words. “Why were we stopped? Your name and badge number are ingrained in memory and believe that I'm fully aware of how to execute a complaint.”

  “Your father wouldn't like this,” the other cop snaps.

  “Ms. Washington,” Jackson sighs, “We are merely concerned for your safety.”

  “Thanks for the de facto parent bullshit.” I shrug away from Officer Jackson’s attempt to touch my shoulder again. There'll be no building rapport with me. I saunter toward my man; a dull ache warning me to stop gritting my teeth.

  Vassili holds my ringing cell phone in his hand. “It's your father.”

  “Maxwell was behind this.”

  His eyebrow rises. If he weren't so damn sexy in his awareness, he would be in trouble too.

  “Damn, Vassili, you look like you don't give a damn. I take it you're used to the bullshit?”

  The left side of his mouth tips up.

  “What?”

  “You're cussing.” His defined shoulders shrug slowly. “It's cute.”

  “Vassili, are you used to unlawful stops.”

  “Unlawful? Baby girl, I'm a motherfucking immigrant,” he mumbles.

  “Tell me about when they stop you,” I ask, glancing through the rearview window. “These pricks are probably going to follow us home.”

  “They won't. You've never been pulled over before, have you, Zariah? They have to make sure you ease back into traffic.”

  “Vass
ili, I just asked you a question,” I grit out, placing a foot onto the brake and slapping the shift into drive.

  “Like what, reasons and dates of the occasions?” He leans back in disinterest.

  “Precisely. Dates. Times. Who do you recall stopping you and –”

  “Zariah, I have lawyers when necessary and I won't be adding you to the payroll sweetheart. You'll probably end up being a tax attorney.”

  I scoff. “You're an asshole.”

  “I'm being an asshole?” He cocks his head somewhat. “Tell me that you'll be a prosecutor instead? That was your dream. Those gorgeous chocolate brown eyes were full of determination on our first night. I recall that shit like yesterday. Beautiful. Naive. Determined. So, you still interested in a career as a blood-sniffing prosecutor?”

  Because he's right I silently signal, glare through the side mirror at the police cruiser before gliding toward the west onramp.

  Vassili clears his throat.

  “Billingsley Legal is family law,” I admit. The dream of becoming a top litigator as an adolescent has slowly faded. A great love for justice in the familial cohort has become so important to me over the years. I owe this love to Vassili and how he took justice into his hands for Ronisha. There won't always be good attorneys for every socioeconomic demographic, and I promise to display availability to those in need. Vassili grips my thigh, not full of lust or gloating about being correct, yet as if he understands.

  I contemplate on Sasha, and how her family has more than capital at their disposal. Born into wealth, no matter how ill gotten, and moreover men who don't condone disrespect, there was no way Sasha Resnov should have endured a cruel life. She truly was like Ronisha, on the outside looking in.

  My phone continues to ring and we're almost in Venice.

  “Will you answer it?”

  “Why?”

  “He’s your father, he's concerned.”

  I chortle. “Maxwell is selfish just like Malich. Not to the same extent but he just tried to play us for puppets back there.”

  “Yeah, in his eyes I'm a piece of shit. He does it out of love.”

  “Don't be so sure, Vassili. He had this nasty habit of beating the snot out of my mom, was that love? Before I left for college—”

  “Has he hit you?” Vassili booms.

  My shoulders jar. So far Vassili has been whatever, about the entire event this night and then his taking up for my father.

  Again he asks, his usually low voice much louder. “Did that motherfucker ever hit you?”

  “Oh, you refused to answer my questions when we drove off from the cops. Why are you finally so concerned? More important, do not yell at me, Vassili. Oh, actually, what can you do, you don't even represent your family or do you?” I shoot back, still livid over Officer Jackson and his damn audacity. But something in me isn't ready for a broken heart. Should we end things now? How can I believe he doesn't ride for family?

  “Does it look like I need my family name to get shit done?” His fist clinches and he flexes his forearms and biceps straight before him. “I handled that mudak for your friend. What do you think I'd do for you?”

  The fine hair on my arms prickle. The newscaster’s words in the days following Sergio’s death, I learned more and more about how tortured and mangled his body was. So when Vassili asks how much further he'd go for my sake, it’s enough to weaken my knees with fear. Man, it wasn't easy to set that aside during Vassili and my many texts and calls.

  But Vassili Resnov is my kryptonite. Even feeling his anger radiate, I love and want him. He will never hurt me, the truth is there mingled in with the dark, death glare in his eyes.

  I reach over, skimming my hand across the length of his arm. All steel, all powerful. And hot, hot with fury.

  I climb deftly across the center console, straddling him. Though my core is recuperating from the mega size of his cock, I crave him. Crave decreasing the anger that burns his golden skin. My mouth opens, yet Vassili places his finger over my lips. No kisses. No reassuring words.

  “Has your father placed a hand on you?” Vassili’s accent has lowered once more. Yet, it has amplified in coldness, chilling to my core

  He removed his finger, the glower in that dark, dark gaze warms me to answer.

  “No,” I murmur.

  “Tell me the truth, as observant as you are. You know that I can go from chill to a mill in a second, baby. My father had a way with the ladies, my mother ran from us all to save herself. After I told you about Sasha how could you believe I gave a fuck for that man?”

  Tears sting my eyes. Damn, his story about his sister broke my heart. Add his mother? I cannot tell if there's resentment or sadness in his tone from his mother’s abandonment, because his tone doesn't fluctuate. The words were measured, slow, stiff.

  I shake my head. “No, Maxwell hasn't done anything more than a spanking as a child. Barely even that.”

  “But you've got your stereotypes. All cops hit their wives. All fighters beat women.” He cocks an eyebrow. “I chose not to take your virginity our first night because you had that mentality. We were supposed to change that.”

  “But I moved so soon.” I nod slowly. “Baby, you’ve noticed a change in me. Look, I'm pissed off because of those dumbasses back there. I know this has been an underlying issue for us though. You mentioned it when telling me you knew I no longer strive to be a litigator,” I murmur, coveting his touch yet too afraid to do so. “Vassili, I don't have the same convictions.”

  “Convictions your father and motherfuckers like Ronisha’s boyfriend, and my father have exposed you too. All I can be is me, Zariah, and I promise you on my life that these hands will never hurt you. This being said, anybody else lay a hand on you, they’re dead.”

  I pull in a deep breath and squeeze my thighs against his waist. “Vassili, calm down. Where is this coming from? I had my beliefs about you when we met. You actually used your name to your advantage, dang. Now, we just declared our love earlier tonight. Don’t ruin the moment. I love you.” This time he doesn't stop my mouth from locking onto his.

  “I love you too.”

  “Good.” I pout, voice salacious and delicious, I ask, “Do you still want to drink vodka off of me. You still game?”

  ###We hardly make it to the living room. My stilettos are kicked off, lips fused to each other's. Vassili has wrapped me in his large arms, it's a feat for him to rip my blouse to shreds let alone unzip his pants.

  Before I can fall to my knees, desiring his taste, he swoops me up; my legs clamp around his waist. He leans in, biting the flesh of my breasts as they spill forth from my lace bra. With only my thighs hugging him as support, I reach around and unsnap the back of my bra. In a second, it's disappeared from sight.

  Next thing I know we’re in his bedroom. I have my panties off in a flash, and start to climb into bed.

  “Don’t.” His voice is harsh.

  I step away from the bed as if it’s set on fire.

  “You have these thighs and hips,” Vassili grips my curve, “thick as hell. Let’s see how strong they are.”

  I lick my lips in anticipation of anything he has to offer. He pulls off his jeans and his cock rises to attention. It feels like I’ve waited an excruciatingly long time as Vassili moves the heavy chair with the black-and-silver Chevron signs to the center of the room.

  He points the new bottle of vodka to it. “Sit at the edge.”

  I cock an eyebrow.

  “You are my queen, Zariah, can I kneel for you?”

  My heart rate rises as my ass claims the edge of the seat. Spine erect, I feel power as the fighter drops to his knees before me. The entire sight leaves me breathless. My legs spread wide, and I wonder what ever did he mean by having to use the strength of them. Knowing Vassili, he has it all planned out. The chilled bottle moves along my belly, gliding toward my breasts, leaving my nipples taut. His body heat between my thighs, I wait in heady anticipation for him to taste my brown skin.

  “Please,
Vassili, don’t tease me,” I beg. A sudden surge of cool, wet vodka pours down my left breast. The chill is so cold it pricks at my hard pearl, before the precision of his amazing warm tongue soothes the mild ache. Another pour of vodka on my right breast is proceeded by his tongue, dancing and caressing my stiff nipple. While Vassili repeats the process, my head lingers against the pillow, wriggling right to left, eyes closed as I moan.

  My brain begins to register another sensation. Vassili’s fingers inside of me, he lowers himself, muscular legs stretched behind him as he sucks at my clit. The vodka flows along the coils of my pubic hair, spilling along my slit. And he groans in delight while eating the fuck out of my pussy. He takes me to the stairs of heaven, only to return his attention to my tiny bulb, teeth grazing over it. I almost cum a thousand times as his fingers work inside of me, but then the sensation floods back to my clit. I arch my back, ass slipping further from the edge of the chair. I’m damn near riding Vassili’s face as his tongue hungrily probes into my pussy. Stay there, I want to tell him. Don’t stop eating my pussy, baby. But my eyes are shut tight, and I cry out. Lawd have mercy.

  Heat spreads over my soft skin as I drip down Vassili’s finger while he caresses my clit with his tongue over and over again. Back and forth he alternates from sopping me up, eating me to grazing his tongue and teeth across my crown.

  “Damn, Vassili, oh…” I gasp. “Right there. Right there! Don’t stop, please! Don’t stopppp!”

  Instead of returning his attention to my clit, Vassili stiff tongues just the right spot to unlock an endless flow. Growling like a beast, he drinks his fill, along with my own ebb and flows. My legs tremble, the bubble of my ass almost falling out of the seat as he drinks the cum from my pussy. My climax leaving me so sensitive that I have my hands planted by my hips, elbows locked to keep me up.

  “Fuck, Zariah, we haven’t even worked out those thighs yet,” his voice is but a whisper, teasing the entrance of my pleasure.