Fearless: a Sports Romance

by Amarie Avant

  TAP! TAP!

  His Achilles' tendon is a pussy or either he is. The bitch taps out. I offer a smug smile, getting up and spitting out my mouth guard. The ankle lock submission was just a little tit for tat since the bitch had mocked my bandaged ankle the other day.

  ###

  The Sky Villa at Aria is my sanctuary. Yuri and his girl tried to get Zariah and I to come out tonight. Any little bandage on my arm or leg always was a pussy magnet, but I own the best piece of tail in the entire universe, and promised we wouldn’t sleep tomorrow. My legs are up, arms draped over the back of the couch. “Nu, Podogi,” a Russian cartoon similar to Tom and Jerry is on the television.

  The door opens and Zariah struts in, hips swaying in her dress, bag in tow. “I found it!”

  I clap my hands. “I knew my baby would.”

  “Don’t be sarcastic.” She drops the wad of cash I gave her onto the coffee table. “Did you have the masseuse come while you’re watching that old-ass cartoon?” Her tone tells me she already knows the answer, so I just position myself more comfortable like on the couch. “Vassili, why get the flashiest room, if you aren’t using the accommodations?”

  I nudge my chin at the cartoon. “Baby, this shit right here, isn’t free. It’s accommodating enough. And the old episode is done. This one isn't as old. That ass,” I reach around her, grabbing her ass cheek as she pulls a black container from a bag, “Is all the accommodation I’ll ever need.”

  “Whateva, Vassili. You are crazy. Or am I crazy because I love you?” Zariah places the container in my hand with a spoon.

  “Where’s your soup, girl?”

  Her eyes shift. “I am not hungry.”

  “You telling me that you searched high and low on the Vegas strip—”

  “Off the strip.”

  “Off the fucking strip? Shit, you did all of that to find borcht for me?” I grab her hand, she places the container back on the coffee table and tries to sit down next to me, but I place her on my lap.

  “You’re sore, Vassili,” Zariah, plants her hand against the couch, as leverage to arise, but my bicep flexes around her.

  “No, I’m good. No babying me, beautiful. What you eat?”

  “Nothing,” she says, teeth gleaming in a smile.

  I squeeze her waist harder. A bubble of chuckles causes Zariah to place her face against my neck in embarrassment. “Karo, lemme alone.”

  “Nah, don’t call me Karo.”

  “You’re being a bully, who ironically likes to watch cartoons.” She pulls away from my kisses and I’m hypnotized by the twinkle in those mahogany eyes.

  “This is the funniest cartoon, baby, so no talking shit. What you eat?”

  “Damn it, Vassili, there’s a lobster sandwich place downstairs.”

  “So did you get a sandwich on your way out or…”

  She points a finger at me. “Damn, am I on the stand? Are you judge, jury, and executioner?”

  “Fuck yeah. Yuri and your friend almost tripped running out of here when I said I was hungry and wanted borcht, you knew I was hungry. And I have something for you, depending on if I had to rot away. You enjoyed a sandwich on the way out, or did you scarf it down while in the elevator back to the room?”

  “Hmmm, my answer depends on what exactly do you have for me?” She grins

  “Okay, let me show you.” I grimace leaning forward. My ribs are sore as I reach into my pocket.

  “Vassili, you’re hurt,” Zariah again tries to arise from my lap, my bicep squeezes harder around her waist, just enough for her to groan and stay put.

  “Ouch, Vassili! Oh… Oh my God!” Zariah comes face to face with a shiny diamond ring. “Seven carats, for all those long years you made me wait. Princess cut for the obvious reason.”

  “Oh my God,” Zariah’s face is shocked and full of tears.

  I rub a thumb along her cheek. “No tears, baby. I don’t like to see you cry. We are fearless, you and me. I’m in love with your character, Zariah. How you fought for justice for Ronisha. I failed when it came to my sister, but you will continue to fight for justice in the court room, and I’ll put mudaks to sleep in the cage.”

  “Are you proposing? Because it sounds like coaching,” she murmurs.

  “Yeah.”

  “You haven’t even asked the magic question, Vassili. You are so crazy.”

  Oh. “Will you—”

  “Yes! Yes! Yesssss!” She lunges against me. I grit my teeth to the pain.

  “Tomorrow? Zariah, marry me tomorrow?”

  “Tonight!” she says, “Damn, I don’t know where that came from. You just make me excited.”

  “No, we will marry tonight.” I pull out my phone and call Yuri. “Zariah and I are getting married.”

  “Fuck, kazen, when?”

  “Now.”

  “Where?”

  “That’s where you come in manager.” I pause, noticing Zariah mouth the words when I say ‘manage the situation’ and hang up

  “Oh my God, we’re getting married right now?” Zariah says.

  I softly grip the back of her neck. “And that’s the way we will stay, married forever with God’s blessing.”

  Zariah

  We were married in a tiny chapel at the entrance to the Strip, with Yuri and Taryn as our wedding party. Vadim had grumbled about being awoken in the middle of the night until he saw me dressed in white.

  The lace and frill dress was more porno attire, lacking in much extra material. It was actually cute, skimming along my chocolate thighs. The back has more of a puff to it, extending down with white shimmery feathers, comparable to a peacock. I love my dress, it’s badass.

  Vassili carries me into The Sky Villa, his frame draped in a suit—a suit that power and money got him past midnight. My thumb plays with the enormous rock on my finger as he gets the Aria villa door open. I glance into the room and gasp.

  “Oh Vassili…” There are a sea of white tulips along the glossy floor. Crystal vases of every size of them, posted on the baby piano, at the large windows with Las Vegas in the backdrop. It’s the wee morning, and the sky is heavy with lilac and the lightest shade of blue. The casino along the way, has lost it’s bright lights even though there are scatters of people below.

  “Yuri made sure your favorite flowers were at that chapel, I’m just using my accommodations here.”

  “Yeah, you almost bite his head off about it,” I grin. “About everything. We had a lovely wedding, Vassili.”

  He places me down on my feet.

  “You are beautiful, Mrs. Resnov.” He nips at the smile on my lips. Then his mouth is against my forehead, whispering across my skin, “I fucking own you.”

  His erection presses against my tummy. I moan as his mouth returns to mine. “You are mine forever.” Vassili’s voice is luscious, low with its Russian accent so thick and tasty. His teeth clamp down on my bottom lip. No longer nipping, but sinking in as if he’s going for blood to seal the deal. It hurts, I cling to him, concentrating on how his cock is spearing into me.

  I’m in a heady daze as Vassili steps behind me. One at a time, he unlatches the faux pearl buttons of my lace dress. His breath caressing along my shoulder blade as he moves slowly meticulously down. Then he pulls the dress down, careful to remove it from my stiletto adorned feet one at a time. Next, he unhooks my strapless bra. My tummy flutters, craving sex with my husband.

  Strong hands that have perfected the art of executing pain glide along my tiny waistline. Vassili only moves fast as he hastily undoes the top few buttons of his shirt. I want to beg him to undress. Though it’s rare to see him in a suit, and he is so hot right now, I stop myself from imploring him to remove at least his blazer. The look in his eyes tells me he is consumed by unraveling me, his wife, for the very first time.

  He is on his knees, kissing the contour of my pelvic bone while easing my panties down over my hips.

  “I used to be obsessed with this ass,” Vassili’s voice breaks through the silence, such a powerf
ul damn voice that he could turn heads, if there were people watching. “Still am. But it’s mine. All of you belongs to all of me, Zariah.”

  He cups one cheek of chocolate, bulbous flesh as I stand, legs wide. His fingers skimming along my crack, he grabs a good bit of it and squeezes until my pussy milks, trickles of sticky wetness between my thick thighs. Now his words are inaudible, stark and tickling against the flesh of my anus. He’s declaring his ownership again, while nudging his nose against my ass.

  Immediate pressure is applied along the inside of my thigh. My stilettos resound against the marble as my stance opens wider. I place my hands along an end table. The faint floral scent of perfectly tapered tulips swiftly inhaled as a sudden surge of warmth presses against my tight hole.

  “Vassili,” I speak hesitantly. His ass fetish is my biggest fear.

  “I’d never hurt you.” He slithers his tongue along the smooth, constricted ridges again while pawing a cheek. When he probes, I find my lower back is arching for it. My pussy is sopping wet, lips soaked, sugar trickling even more down my thighs. He strokes the curve of my back, I swivel my hips more. Damn, I’ve never approached a climax so swiftly, no penetration and really the stiff tip of his tongue is no match to my tiny anus.

  “Fuck your pussy for me,” Vassili tells me.

  With one hand still planted on the table, I reach down between my thighs and seek out my treasure. Vassili’s tongue slithers along my ass and twirling around the virginal apex. I press my fingers inside of my body, while nudging my ass against him. A crescendo of moans sweeten my mouth and groans come from Vassili. At this exact instant, there is nothing in this world but me. I am Vassili’s pleasure, his everything. His voice is a million miles away as he encourages my orgasm.

  I don’t know it until Vassili is leaning against the table beside me. Large shoulder’s filling out his suit perfect, Vassili pulls me up into a position where I’m straddling his waist.

  “My brown sugar,” he says, clutching my hip. I swear my pussy juice is drenching into his linen shirt as my curvy legs fold around his waist.

  “Do you know how much fucking restraint I have tonight?” I glance into his eyes, darker than the fallen angel. He wants to do bad things to my ass. I know he does.

  “You can,” I murmur. “I’m yours Vassili, you can do anything you’d like.”

  My feeble declaration is met by laughter, his large abdominals expanding and contracting against me. I feel myself being hugged tightly, his hard chest crushing against my breath. A reminder of his strength, of the pain he could bestow on me if he chose to. He places me onto the bed.

  I can hear the faintest sound of my blood pulsating as he starts to undress. First, his blazer that slides over ropy, long arms. When he gets to his button down, I lick my lips as a plethora of tattoos come into view. My mouth is twisted into a half smile as I lean back against the pillows, watching his glorious golden muscles, as that bulging cock in his pants is finally unwrapped for me. Like a horny primitive animal, he begins to fist his swollen erection. His hungry gaze fucking me senselessly as he climbs onto bed.

  Vassili grabs my ass, pulling me down below him. The head of him slides along my swollen lips before he lines up. His cock spreads me open, impaling me with one long swoop.

  “Shit,” my back arches, and I feel his balls smack against my ass cheeks. His hands dominate my breasts and curves as his hips thrust against me. Plunging all the way in, gliding back out and hitting my clit with his slobbery head. I buck against him, clawing my hands into his shoulder muscles. The stimulation of how he’s working his cock along the lines of my pussy and slamming into me, causes a wet friction of a sound. It’s music to my ears. My kegel muscles clamp his erection as I cum all over us.

  A yelp had hardly exited my mouth when I’m on top.

  “Taste it.” Vassili runs his finger down my cheekbone while nudging his chiseled jaw to his waiting cock.

  On hands and knees, I move down his thick frame and my mouth goes straight to his sugar glazed cock, it’s twitching in anticipation. He lets out a guttural moan as I suck hungrily. Learning the taste of us. I love how sugary my pussy makes his shaft. Kneading his balls, I concentrate on embedding this taste to memory while coaxing his hot cum into my mouth.

  “Zar.” He tilts his head, and I climb back around his waist. Plunging down on him, I lean forward and kiss his lips, allowing our tongues to twirl. My hips glide slowly and sensually around as I work his cock over with my pussy until I’m on the verge of coming. Then to my hands and knees I go again. Back and forth, tasting his cock with my mouth and pussy until the sun reflects off the hotel mirrors across from us.

  Then I’m feeling him stiffening in my mouth. Savoring the milky taste of my honey along his ridges, I suck for dear life. I massage his balls, as cum jets into my mouth. I hold it there, savoring it like a connoisseur of the finest wine. The white cream peeks out among my pink lips as I grin, before my head tilts back and his precious seed glides down my throat.

  ###

  “Every instant you cum, that pussy is all the more sweet…”

  The words Vassili whispered to me last night, perhaps on the third or fourth round of my grinding on his cock so early this morning, coax me from sleep.

  I'd lick the sweet, sweet taste of our sex from his cock and ride him again. Eyes close, mind murky from sleep and desire, I smile. For a second, I'm embarrassed at how vigorously I cleaned my cum from his cock, and then I’m happy for this gift. This beautiful gift of me loving him and me.

  Even in a half sleep, habit has my arm reaching out for Vassili. I grab for him, in a daze of comfort and slumber, addicted to the tang of his dick after sex. Yet, I’m met by soothing, woven covers but not my man. My new husband. Whimpering, I open my eyes. He isn’t on his side of the bed. My wedding ring twinkles even though the curtains are drawn.

  “Vassili,” I grouse, “This bed is too comfortable.”

  I start for the living room when I hear Vassili speaking on his phone. The call is on speaker, but he and the male he’s talking to are using Russian. Vassili’s facing against me, he’s in a low seated chair, hand at the back of his neck. He isn’t much interested in the call, and the man on the line is carrying much of the conversation. I silently walk around him, to check on him until I hear him say Anatoly.

  I almost trip over my bare feet. He’s speaking with his father.

  Vassili finally snaps. His Russian words issued with such brute force, each one punctuated slow, hard deadly. Seconds later, he’s pressing the phone off and tossing it toward the couch across from us.

  “Good morning, baby,” I begin, not sure if I should kiss him or keep my distance. “That your dad?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is everything all right?” I bite my lip.

  “Of course.”

  “Does he know that we’ve married? Vassili, talk to me.”

  The long planes of his shoulder’s rise. “Yeah, Zar, he knows.”

  “So what was all of this about? Do I honestly have to fish for answers from my husband?” I place a hand on my hip, wishing I had the height factor of looking down at him. Something to intimidate him, because there is no emotion on his face, and Vassili has always been virtually difficult to read. Uneducated on the Russian language, I have no leads.

  “Come, come.” Vassili points to his lap. I sink down onto him. “We aren’t even man and wife, for twenty-four hours, Zariah. No pouts, no worrying and none of that bullshit about happy tears. No tears.”

  He clasps my throat and plants his lips onto mine. “You are the only good thing I have in this world, Zariah.”

  “Mmmm…” I moan in response.

  “That mudak is aware we’re married. Half the world does. Taryn posted photos everywhere. Now, the only thing you need to know about that mudak is he does not need to meet you, so he won’t. You have my word.” Vassili massages my neck with his thumb.

  ###

  Vassili and I honeymooned for an extra week in Vegas
before heading to Atlanta. We ventured to Madame Tussaud’s where we were almost kicked out of the museum by pretending to be props. Vassili tried to weasel me into skydiving. I agreed only if he would go with me to see Thunder From Down Under. We settled on the Michael Jackson holographic, followed by sky lining at an old casino off the strip. There were middle school kids in the line, so I couldn’t chicken out.

  ###

  The instant I set eyes on my mom as Vassili pulls the rental into the driveway of Martin’s stone and black-shutter home, I’ve unbuckled and have toe on the concrete before he can brake.

  “My baby!” My mom’s hands flap, and we jump while hugging each other. “Oh Lawd,” she screeches. “You are married. My baby girl is married.”

  “Hi, Momma.” I squeeze her tighter.

  She pulls away, tears streaming down her face. “You said you have a video.”

  “Yes, we have a video of the ceremony. Oh, Momma, we can do it all over again for my favorite woman in the world.”

  She rubs at her cheeks. “No, I’m fine. I’m actually more surprised and so, so very happy. Zariah, you are a very hard thinker, like your father.” I start to ask her not to compare me to my dad, but she happily chuckles. “So either Vassili is the best man in the world, or he has brain washed you.”

  Vassili doesn’t take offense as he comes around the car. “Momma!”

  “Child, I’m kidding.” She hugs my husband saying, “My daughter never was one for the banana in the tailpipe. You’ll make sure she takes the bar exam this July. I remember the moment you called me after filing the application.”

  “Yes,” he promises.

  “Mom, it’s only two months away now. There’s no stopping me now.”