by Amarie Avant
I stare at my cousin. He’s done some stupid things in his life, like wanting to marry Taryn. We’re all over the place. I’m playing Danushka against my father. Malich says he saw the light since Igor died, but I don’t know. My eyes lock onto Yuri. Does he want this or is he managing the situation based on how Malich calls it?
“I have to go.” I stand up. “Danny is meeting with Don Roberto.”
“What a disgrace!” Malich slams the side of his fist onto the table. I start toward the kitchen exit, as he continues to rant. “Italian roach. See, Yuri? This is another reason why we have to take over. With Anatoly, we are not safe anymore. With Danushka, it’s all the same, yet she would let some Italian join the Bratva, it’s blasphemy!”
I never understood it either. Danushka let Don Roberto into the fold, aside from him being the richest man in Italy. The Bratva has gotten into bed with influential people around the world, but to let him sit where Russians sit. To drink from our cup and give his opinion like a Russian. It’s unheard of.
Guess it doesn’t matter much because Danushka’s eyes dance before my vision. They’re already bloodshot from me squeezing out her life-force. And she doesn’t even know it yet.
It’s after midnight when the elevator at The Red Door zips open on the roof level. The fires are glowing, and my heart bleeds for Zariah. Exiting the elevators, I square my shoulders and head over to a table to the far side of the roof. My gaze tracks the number of people inside. Danushka smiles up at me. A goon is seated next to her. Two men with their backs to me. One is in a Fedora; I know he is Don Roberto. His spine isn’t as erect as the other. I start past the spot where I drank from my wife’s pretty pussy. My heart clutches in my throat for an entirely different reason. Is the man beside Don Roberto Horace?
Once Horace returns to the fold, it’s game time.
When the side of his face comes into view, I notice that he’s another roach. Fuck! I come around the table. Hell, I prefer to sit next to the cockroaches then claim the seat on the opposite side of my sister. Her manicured hand glides up the sleeve of my leather jacket.
“Come, come.” She smiles at me, taking a stand. “This is Vassili Resnov, my brother.”
Don Roberto stares at me then dips his chin. “Ferrara.” He nods to the roach, who stands up wearing expensive Italian digs. “An associate of mine.”
I shake the Italian’s hand and plaster on a smile. Look, I never had a problem with Italians, not before my wife’s Sergio. After an Italian murdered Igor. I want to bash in the face of every Italian male I see.
“An essential associate.” Danushka winks.
“Oh, like you’re the second richest man in Italy?” I offer a cocky grin.
“Almost,” Mr. Ferrara says. He’s got deep ridges in his skin but doesn’t look like he’s had such a hard life as Don Roberto. Money probably brought him into their gang. For a second, my mind returns to Yuri. He doesn’t want to be king, I can understand Malich’s point of view. Malich will guide him, much like Danushka’s stupid ass believes she is guiding me now. Malich will set the table of seven back in order.
For a few hours, we drink Resnov Water. They smoke cigars and talk. All I see before me is my sister’s bloodshot eyes.
27
Zariah
My eyes jolt open. Something warm and muscular is beside me. I’ve learned what it feels like to live a cold and lonely life, so I peer through the dawn of an early morning. The sun hasn’t even thought about dipping over the horizon.
“Don’t scream,” Vassili’s voice is low and gravely. “I’m so fucking tired.”
As he speaks, I can feel his entire body drain of any remnants of energy. I ask, “How long?”
“About twenty minutes of sleep. Your door is locked, so don’t ask.”
I chortle a little. “Don’t ask if my door is locked, or don’t ask you never to leave?”
A groan comes from my husband’s massive body.
“Or don’t ask you . . .” the giddiness of him being here has passed and all that remains is desire. “Don’t ask for you to touch my body.”
“Give me an hour. I’ll make it all up to you.” His voice is so deep that a smile burns across my cheeks. I remember one time sounding like Count Dracula because I couldn’t imitate a Russian voice. While he begins to fall into sleep, I nestle closer to him. As close as I can get. I’d been ready to start the day now that Vassili was here, but somehow sleep clings to me too.
A few hours later, I grouse awake, feeling eyes on me. Again, a hard dose of electricity goes off in my nerves. I’m in such a state, so accustomed to lonely, that I stir around anxiously. Vassili is sitting on the bed with his back leaning against the headboard. Somehow, I’m using his thigh as a pillow. His cock pops against my forehead, but I stare up at him and rollover.
“I-I said some awful things . . .” I murmur, remembering how I mentioned his mother. Though he’d asked me to, an apology chokes my throat.
He places a finger to his lips. “Your pop is here, Zariah. We don’t have time for you to cry.”
“I wasn’t going to cry,” I whisper. “I don’t like this, Vassili. I want to come home and for us to be a family again.”
His hand glides behind my neck; he massages there. Then he fists his cock with his other hand. “Nyet. Stop talking. Suck my cock and drink up, Zariah. You’ll feel better.”
I climb to my knees, my ass going to the air and my mouth sinking down on the crown of his thick cock. This isn’t the time for throwing soft kisses against the base of his long, fat shaft. I suck with the enthusiasm of a woman who has a will to survive. My mouth begins to ache instantly. It takes sheer dedication to learn the angles of him and to remember how to move my mouth around his thickness.
With my pussy pulsating between my thighs, I slobber all over Vassili’s dick. Once my mouth is slack, I bring him to the back of my throat. The Russian beast fills my mouth to the brink, slamming against my tonsils. Vassili places his hand at my neck, quickening my pace. Up and down. He pulls me up so I can love the mushroom-shaped crown of him. My tongue slithers over his hardness, gliding the taut ridges of him. A moan comes from his massive chest. It gives me the confidence to pull his massive erection as far down my throat as possible. With each caress of my mouth over his steel shaft, I begin to knock hard at my tonsils.
“Fuck,” he groans as I continue to assault the back of my throat with his dick. His moans are so deep, so erotic.
I flick the head of his cock with my tongue. My tongue blazes all around the base of his shaft, writing my name.
“Zariah,” Vassili says, fisting a handful of my hair. Before I can purr, my tonsils are bruised. He slams my entire mouth down on his dick again. My hot, wet mouth envelopes the monstrosity of a cock.
“That’s right, suck Daddy’s cock.” With the force of his hand at my neck, his dick plunges deeply with each word.
The sounds of my sucking and stroking become wet and messy. I’m sucking Vassili’s cock like a Super Slurpee at the AM-PM convenience store. His white seed is already ingrained in my mind. I want an entire belly of the Russian fighter’s cum swimming in my gut. The walls of my pussy shudder, desire coating my thick folds. With my body on fire for him, I’m pulled into a trance.
I crave my husband’s cum with all my might, and then something beautiful happens. Every thick muscle in my husband’s body tightens beneath me. A flood is unleashed into my mouth.
Vassili’s fingers clamp into the back of my neck, and he holds me there. “That’s right, girl. Drink all Daddy’s cum. It will make you stronger.”
Sometime later, I hear talking coming down the hallway. A woman’s voice. Berenice’s voice. My father’s old secretary is on her way into my mother’s room. She’s telling Maxwell that the lunch they just ate was good. On key, my stomach rumbles.
“How are you still hungry, girl?” He paws at my cheek. “That tummy’s full of cum.”
I kiss his lips. “Sure is. While it’s given me the courage to . .
.”
I almost mention my father, which might sound weird. Mentioning Maxwell Washington while we’re talking about my belly full of my husband’s cum. I almost dare to tell Vassili everything about my plans for my father. Loving dark eyes stare at me. I glance away. He doesn’t need to know yet.
Smiling back, I add, “It’s almost given me the courage not to get out of this bed and go raid the fridge. Vassili, promise not to leave while I’m downstairs.”
I hold up my pinkie finger. Vassili takes my hand and kisses my pinkie finger.
Twenty minutes later, the coast is clear. Vassili’s sex gave me confidence. I almost head toward my father’s office, but instead, I saunter down the steps. In the kitchen, I grab a silver tray and pile it high with a few of the subway sandwiches from yesterday. I add a veggie tray that has yet to be opened and a few bottles of water and head upstairs. Balancing the feast in one hand, I push open the door with the left.
My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach. Were our son larger in my womb, he’d probably be doing somersaults attuned with my despair.
“In the bathroom, girl,” Vassili calls out.
“How did you . . .”
I hear a slow rumble of laughter as I close the door to my bedroom. Vassili comes out of the bathroom and holds up my phone. A tight frown smears across his face. A case of anxiety that I never knew heaves against my chest. Damn, I recall how shitty my Saturday afternoon was supposed to be. It all revolved around another man.
Tyrese Nicks and I scheduled to meet an hour ago. My gaze shifts to the digital clock on the wall and then to the hardness of Vassili’s face. I’m late . . . he could have texted me.
“Look at Natasha. That’s daddy’s girl,” Vassili says, chucking the phone at me. “I don’t think I could even match that pouted face.”
I take a deep breath and catch the phone before it can slip through my fingers.
A call comes in from none other than the agent himself. I press the away button and place the phone on ‘Do Not Disturb.’
Vassili fucked me sideways before leaving. We were screwing so hard when my father and Berniece returned from God knows where. We had to take our party to the rug on the floor. Now I have rug burns as I dress for the evening. Not sure what compels me, but I dress in all black. Ripped jeans, a designer blouse, blazer and stiletto booties. I’d taken a Lyft.
Now, with one foot in front of the other, I meander through the hotel lobby where Tyrese is staying.
I can’t believe I’ve been his target this entire time all because of my last name. Emotions on empty, I slip inside of the marble and gold encased elevator, heading to the top floor.
“This is not a good place to meet someone when you’re married,” I mumble to myself, clutching an alligator tote.
Along the hallway, the door to each hotel room is much further away from the next. I stop at the right one, knuckles poised to knock when Natasha and Vassili flood my mind. Loud rap was in my ears. Vassili was in a wheelchair. Our daughter used his shoulders to hoist herself up and wag around her thick-diapered butt. They were so happy. I can remember how sad I was, wishing that his patella would shift back into perfection.
With my fist a fraction away from the door, I determine that happiness doesn’t need to be just around the corner, I could’ve been happy then.
Happy that a bum knee was the extent of Vassili’s problems.
Happy that my husband loves the two of us with all of him.
Happy that Natasha can shoot me a frown after I turned from the rap.
Happy she is so fat and so healthy.
But I am not happy. I am sad for reasons I can’t remember. That’s the day Danushka crossed paths with me.
My phone rings. Speak of the devil. Hell, I’m wearing all black, feeling myself for a second, so I answer it, “What do you want?”
Danny sneers, “Vassili loves to get his dick sucked, doesn’t he?”
“Wh-why are you talking about your bro-brother’s member, Danny?” I mutter, sorely thrown off by her statement. Does she know we are still together? Did Grigor watch us through the window this morning?
“We were friends once, Zar. While your loyalties have been on the decline, I’ve continued to look out for you. Check your phone, krasivaya.”
The call disconnects just as the front door opens. Tyrese smiles at me as I glance at my phone, “I thought I heard talking. How long have you been standing here?”
I clutch my chest, letting out a stifled sob.
28
Vassili
An Hour Earlier . . .
I’d pulled into the mansion that Horace and Danushka own. My eyes zeroed in on a Rolls Royce that hadn’t been here this morning. Did it belong to Horace? The finish line zoomed through my mind as I let myself in, only to see Danushka in the foyer.
She was sitting at a chair, legs wide, head in her hands. She’d looked up at me and spat the words, “Look at you, getting your cock sucked . . .”
The phone in her hands somersaulted toward my face. I caught it in my fist. “What the fuck, Danny? You are crossing the line!”
“I said I trusted you, but you proved me for a fool,” she growled. “Grigor’s still watching you. He was watching you and Zariah a little while ago!”
My chest heaved as I started toward her. Fuck waiting for proof that Horace was home. I was going to murder this bitch, now.
As I lunged at her, I felt a prick at the side of my neck.
“Welcome back, Vassili,” Horace’s voice came from behind. Then, I was dead weight . . .
Rope strains against my chest, biceps, hips. I’m gritting down on terry cloth when my vision swims into focus. Blond hair is draped over my lap. Very light blond hair. I start to heave when I notice that it’s much longer than my sister’s.
“Look at her,” Danushka’s voice calls out to me.
I glance around. I’m in her room. The fireplace is aglow. She’s wearing one of those lingerie pieces that I never fail to shred off my wife’s body.
“Ssss-ssss--,” I try to tell the blonde to stop, but my cock is wet and slick.
“Isn’t she a beauty?” Danushka pulls the woman’s face up. “I bought those lips for us.”
I start to strain against the rope; then I stare at the woman. No life is behind her blue eyes. Not an ounce of it.
While the woman continues to suck my cock, my sister pulls up a chair. “I can remember being a girl. Your mother had to buy us all the gifts. It was during one of your parents’ peace treaties.” She reaches over, strumming her fingers through the girl’s hair, and helps guide her head up and down my cock.
Bile slams through me, charring my throat but stopping there.
“Your mom brought us gifts for New Year’s. These little matryoshka dolls—those were mine. While the boys got good, good gifts. I got fucking dolls.” She reaches down, flicks at my cock and kisses the side of the girl’s face. “This one looks like the dolls that I never wanted. Looks just like them, all but her lips. Her lips weren’t as pretty, I made them pretty because I had the power to.”
The shock I didn’t know was holding me tight begins to dissipate. I begin to shift in the seat, attempting to break the legs of the chair.
A gun is pulled out. Danushka places it to my head. “All she’s going to do is get you ready to cum, then you’ll cum for me.”
“Ffffff . . .” I growl.
“You aren’t attracted to me yet, Vassili.” Danushka pulls an arm around herself. “I can change myself for you.” Her gun goes to the woman’s dome. The blonde is high on something so strong that she continues to slurp at my cock. “Horace loved her until I became her. My measurements are her measurements. I became her height. I had ribs removed to thin me out! I am this bitch!”
I glare in shock. My sister has always been brown-haired and massively built. We all are. Now, she’s not, and the woman latched to my dick is the reason why.
Danushka lifts the blonde’s hair, but her face lulls. “Sweetheart, does i
t feel like he’s about to cum? Vassili, please nod when you’re about to cum.”
A vein in the side of my neck is about to burst.
“Why? Why do you ask? You and I.” Danushka points the gun back and forth between us. “We are kings and queens. Let me show you.” Danushka sways as she walks toward the door and opens it slightly. She speaks something in Italian; her voice is too muffled for me to hear. The double doors open wide. Men come in dragging a body.
Horace’s body!
“He dropped you. I dropped him. Permanently. Ahem, Horace was still in love with her.” Danushka places her gun into his slack mouth, laughing as she moves the barrel back and forth. His lifeless lips are pliable to each stroke of the barrel. “While I was making moves, Vassili, Horace was with her. She’s already a zombie now, and he still loves her—Excuse me. Loved her.”
“Mmmmmgggg—” I growl into the cloth constricting my mouth as the doors close again.
My cock is still being worked by the drugged-out blond.
I glance back over and Danushka slides a phone into my face. “Look, I sent Zariah a picture of you and this little matryoshka doll. No need to worry about her any longer. I think she gets the picture—metaphorically speaking. We Resnovs are meant to fuck and screw whoever we want to! I was okay with Horace sleeping with this doll, but that was always until I had you.”
She points the tip of her gun at the blonde’s head. The girl looks up at the instance her brains go soaring to the left side of me. The sight killing all the stimulation she’d caused my cock.
“Damn,” Danushka rolls her eyes at the sight of my cock going limp. “Well, I got this.”
