Fearless 2: a Sports Romance

by Amarie Avant

  I lift my middle finger from the steering wheel as response. A few moments later, the cop on my side holds out his phone.

  Keeping my head forward, hands glued down, I argue, “What the fuck? Is it for me? Are you going to hold it to my ear?”

  “Take the damn phone, Resnov.”

  I snatch it from his hand. “Hello,” I growl into the receiver.

  “Are you keeping my daughter and grandchild safe? And why the fuck are you going on vacations to Russia for five days, without them? Got another family that I should be aware of?”

  Damn, did Zariah go to her father about Igor’s death? No, my wife wouldn’t tell him our problems. “What do you want, Mr. Washington.”

  “You to choke on rat poison, but I’m a softy. My pretty princess loves you. When she takes her love away, Resnov,” he chortles, “that’s the end of you, buddy. She’s a cop kid, should’ve married … a cop. Should’ve become DA.”

  “This is fucking perfect, Maxwell,” I laugh with him. “Your mentality is just like my father. Get the entire family into the business. Zariah can prosecute the cases that you deem necessary, and she wouldn’t harp if you sent over investigation files with nothing on them. No reason to try the mudaks who are on your team, right?”

  “I keep saying you were smart. Remember the first time we chatted? I came to that conclusion. You’re a fighter, a strategist. Now, take your ass home. You’ve been gone for almost a week. Keep your family safe.”

  CLICK.

  My chest is tight with anger. This motherfucker tells me to keep my family safe? I can handle my own! The cop reaches inside and grabs the phone. I have it in my mind to call Mr. Washington back, but I head home instead.

  ***

  In the nursery, Natasha’s back slowly rises and falls as she sleeps. I place my hand on her, she’s warm and soft. It takes all my strength not to pick her up, and hold her to my chest. But my baby is a true fighter and a restless sleeper. She will riot if I wake her.

  I feel someone watching and turn around, Zariah is standing at the door, in a nightgown. I head toward her, she pivots on her heels, and starts to our bedroom. Inside the room, she stalks past me and closes the double door. This is a signal that her mother stays. I expected loud cussing, and anger. She leans against the closed door for a moment.

  I take her arm, she slaps me away.

  “Zariah, I’m fucking sorry, baby,” I try.

  “No, I don’t need your apologies, Vassili, I need you to understand something.” She moves from my grasp, and goes to the dresser.

  “Three months ago, we were in opposition of each other. Then we head to Brazil, and you had your comeback fight. We made promises…”

  I’m a dick. I look like a piece of crap as I begin to grovel, “Zar—”

  “No, let me finish,” she has something fisted in her hands. “I stopped taking birth control, so Natasha could have a little sister or a little brother.” She flings something at me. It bounces off my arm. “I’m pregnant, Vassili! And FYI that’s from last night, this morning, I went to see the Obstetrician. Two months, Vassili. I have the photo. Would you like to see that, too?”

  “Dah,” I nod my head slowly. Can’t show I’m fucking elated, I’m still in the dog house.

  “Okay, but only if you promise to step up to the plate. What do I have to do, get you to pinkie swear, sign a fucking contract! What’s gonna get you to put our children first, Vassili! Huh? We have a life here, you tell me you went home. Fuck you and your damn home, Vassili, this needs to be home.”

  “It is home, Zariah!”

  Her look shuts me the fuck up from another attempt at an apology.

  “Vassili, you go away to fight in Australia in three weeks, I swear, if you runoff before then, I will find you, and drag your ass home. Now, do you want to see the ultrasound? That’s your gesture to me that you plan to take care of home.”

  “I’m sorry,” I step closer to her. She slaps my face, again, and again. I take every hit she offers. From my back pocket, I pull out a long jewelry box. “See, beautiful, I have something just for you, baby. I’m sorry.”

  Zariah gingerly takes the box, opens it up. It’s a platinum tennis bracelet with seven-carat diamonds, I always get her seven carats. The damn thing cost 30k, but she’s worth more. The box snaps shut.

  “A tennis bracelet. Wow, I’m a fucking little girl now?” She tosses the thing over my shoulder. “I’m actually so very sorry about what happened to your cousin, Vassili. Yesterday evening, I met with Mikhail, and all the older brothers to help with funeral proceedings. Malich is mute, he isn’t saying shit to anybody right now.” She rubs tears from her face. “They’re your family, damn it, and you know it! You should’ve been there.”

  I try to hug her again, but she slaps me. “I dreamed of Anatoly murdering you, Vassili,” she screeches. “I dreamt that you’d try to retaliate, and your father killed you!”

  I’m stunned, stock still, standing before her. Last week, she had tears falling down her face and I was too angry to give a fuck. Tonight, my heart feels like it’s shredding in my chest, from the shit she just said. She worried about my dying?

  I glance down at her, Zariah just stands there, hugging her hands around her chest. She’s got my seed in her belly, and I’m being a dick! My hand goes to the back of her neck, and my lips go to hers.

  Zariah turns her head. “Not right now, Vassili.”

  My teeth grit, I can’t take her tears anymore. “You want me to sign a fucking contract or something? I’ll do anything for you to forgive me, Zariah.” I reach for my hair, my fucking mohawk is gone. There’s nothing to tug. I rub a hand over my buzz cut, and then punch myself in the chest.

  Zariah finally reaches out a hand to me. “I was just talking, but baby, I’m scared. If you ever leave…”

  “Leave?” I bark. I plant kisses on her lips, more and more, tasting the soft sweetness of her mouth. “Ya nikogda ne otpushchu tebya—I will never let you go,” I tell her. “No matter how much I might act a fool. I will never let you go.”

  “Yeah, well you can tell me more about your mother, Vassili.” Her sweet voice makes my cock go flaccid. I just wanted to fuck her happy.

  “Vassili, tell me why sometimes you can halfway screw me out in public, and then during other instances, your crazy ass plays the gentleman.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you.” I nod, with a frown. My hands grope at her breast, and my tongue twines in her ear. My dick begins to stretch and harden again.

  “Tell me,” she folds her arms.

  I press her hands back down at her sides, and kiss her again. “In a minute…”

  “Now,” she murmurs, eyes glittering with tears.

  Fuck now, I press my mouth over hers again. This time I bite her bottom lip until she opens up for me. My cock is straining against my jeans now, ready to leap out and fuck her. It’s been five days, and I need pussy.

  My wife pushes at my chest with all her might. I take a few steps back.

  “Sex doesn’t fix, everything, Vassili.”

  “I know,” I shrug, but in my mind, I’m thinking yes it does. Sex will wipe away those tears and place a smile on that beautiful chocolate brown face of hers.

  Zariah reaches up, places her hands on my jaw. “Baby, I’m not fucking you tonight. Sex isn’t a means to an end, no matter how many times I’ve caved in the past, you’re not getting any.”

  Fuck, she’s right about sex. I close my eyes, breathe in the sugary goodness of her, and nod my head. I have to talk to her about my past, give her a little something.

  Zariah

  Vassili holds me tightly in his arms. I’ve showered for the second time tonight, this time with him, and without tears in my eyes. He was a gentleman and didn’t try to screw me. Lord knows, I kept my gaze on his and not on all the ripped muscles of his body.

  Now, we’re lying in bed. He has this obsession with cocoa butter and my tummy. Although it’s flat-ish, I told him during my pregnancy with Natasha that
I didn’t want stretch marks. Well, I had a few of those prior to, and he’s kissed every one of them. But he got into the habit of massaging my belly.

  Seems like the perfect slice of déjà vu as Vassili’s big strong hands rub along my stomach. It’s nothing short of therapeutic for him, because we have deeper conversations like this.

  My husband is fearless and invincible. And I’m half the team. Now, I need to connect with him on a deeper level. I need to know more about his actions at the bar, more about his mother. “Tell me you trouble, my love,” I sigh, sinking my head against his chest.

  Vassili caresses my hair, kisses my forehead. But he doesn’t utter a word.

  “You promised. I’ll pay in ass in the near future, not tonight though.” Damn, my joke was his level of crude, and still, my husband is quiet.

  “You overheard my conversation with Malich about how my father tied my mother up to a street post?”

  “Yes, baby. Tell me more.”

  “I’ll tell you,” he asserts himself. “Before she got up there, she was dragged to Anatoly’s compound. I hadn’t seen her in months… Had to be months. I always tried to forget about her. It was safe that way, and then Anatoly would go look for her. Bring her ass back. Shit seemed like years, since I was just a kid.”

  “Hmmm,” my finger twirls a figure eight across his chest.

  “One of his goons spotted her somewhere… I didn’t know. He tossed her out of the trunk of his car, she was in the middle of the courtyard. The sound of her screams I can still fucking hear it now. Hear her begging for them to stop, to let her go.”

  My skin begins to burn as an image comes to fruition in my mind.

  “The bitch, Anatoly had running the house told me not to go down. I said something to Sasha, scared the shit outta her. Made her stay with that cunt. Then I went outside. My father was …” he pauses, his chiseled chest puffing with air before exhaling. “He raped her in front of them all. Sometimes I can’t get that shit from my head, and I don’t want to disrespect you.”

  “Like when we were screwing in Vegas, and having fun, and you called me a bitch.”

  “Dah”

  I lay on my side, and place my hands on his beautiful, stone carved face. Vassili seems so emotionless, but I swear it’s eating him inside. “I’m going to ask you a question, Vassili.”

  “Girl, just ask——”

  “What was in your heart?”

  He blinks. This is a doggone trick question to him.

  “Malicious intent? Were you angry when calling me a bitch?”

  “Nyet. Fuck no!”

  “Your father raped your mother. You saw it.” I repeat to him the truth. His eyebrows knead as if the thought never occurred to him. “Rape is a means to gather power. To strip a person down in order to make the assailant feel.... good? I don’t know. I’m just aware that it’s all in the striping down, gaining control, showing of power, and causing humiliation. Have you ever kissed me crazy at the bar to shame me?”

  He shakes his head.

  “We have fun, we role play. Trust and believe, if we were just dating, I wouldn’t have allowed very much of the stuff we do to happen. Yes, I can be sadidty when I want. And as your wife, I am bound to make all your sexual fantasies a reality. If I don’t like something, I’m highly aware of how to say no.”

  I hold my husband tight. Yeah, he has a few visible scars that increase his sexiness, and on occasion, broken … bones. My heart cries for those scars I never knew about. It’s gonna take time for Vassili to fully open up to me. He just gave me one isolated incident of his childhood.

  There’s more.

  I’ll have to beg, plead, and sometimes even force him to share more with me in the future. And it’ll break my heart to break his over again while he’s divulging the past, but it’s part of getting to know my husband.

  Vassili

  I’m dressed in all black. An expensive ass Westmancott suit, like the rest of my Russian family. Igor’s funeral was held today and Malich still hasn’t uttered a single word. Yuri walked around with a cane in his hand and a bone to pick with anybody who crosses his path. Mikhail handled everything.

  I stand in the living room of my uncle’s home, tossing Resnov Water back. The burn slams down my throat. I’m ready to hit the road. I need to fuck my wife, if she’s willing, that is. It’s been a week since I returned from Russia, and she’s keeping those thick thighs locked. Don’t get me wrong, my beautiful wife is still her nurturing self, but my leaving scared her, and the threats I made about murdering my father only heightened her fear.

  Yuri pats my back. “Everything has been handled.” We’re an in a circle, the six of us, and I feel like one of the brothers.

  “You tell dad?” Mikhail asks.

  “Dah, he’s in his room.”

  The oldest rubs a hand at the back of his neck. “Did he say anything?”

  When Yuri shakes his head, a heaviness continues to weigh further on our shoulders.

  “All the Bertolucci’s are dead, right down to the fucking kids,” Yuri sneers. “A friend of ours owed dad a favor. I didn’t think he’d do the kids,” he mumbles.

  I glance around for Zariah. She’s seated with Albina and Natasha, and has done everything to keep the toddler from crying for her father. Anna’s been popping pills like candy. With Malich’s medical connections, she was a zombie at the funeral.

  “We’re family, we are fucking Resnovs,” I tell them, in the words of my grandfather Anatoly Senior. “‘Touch what's mine, and the funeral home becomes rich.’”

  Yuri nods. Suddenly he isn’t so sad about the Bertolucci kids that died. We all take a drink.

  ***

  “Something bad happened yesterday?” Zariah asks, as she helps me take off my suit jacket. She’d already stripped down to just her panties and bra, and in my anger about putting my cousin in the ground earlier, I think I’ve been standing at the door to the bedroom for a while now.

  I don’t have it in me to lie. “What do you know, Zariah?”

  “More than I need to.” Her eyes warm with sadness. “Anna was bragging and crying about it before she took more meds.” She wants to say more. Earlier, Zariah had mentioned learning how to cope. Well, apparently Anna’s big ass mouth told her exactly how we Resnovs deal.

  “Are you mad?” I ask.

  “No, baby. You didn’t do anything.”

  I scoop her up, her hips go around my waist, and I place her on the bed. My wife is the most beautiful sight I’ve ever laid eyes on. Creamy, dark brown skin. Her hair waves over her shoulder, and caresses against her hard nipple. I push her tresses back over, pull out her breast and begin to suck.

  “No more sad shit, Zariah,” I say, tongue twining around the hard bulb of her breast. “Can I fuck you now, or am I still in trouble?”

  She moans. See, and she said sex couldn’t mend broken hearts.

  “Soon as I taste you, baby,” I reply. Unbuckling my pants and shoving them down. I work my way down to the sweetest scent I’ve ever breathed in. I push up her silky gown, so eager to get a whiff, I place my nose against her lace thong and growl.

  “Vassili, fuck me, daddy,” she groans.

  My cock thumps against my thigh, begging like a panting dog for action. I tear the thong from her, and dig right in. My face is so far into her pussy, nose nudging against her clit, chin riding along her asshole, as my tongue digs deep into her candy core. My wife gets to cussing, and her leg starts to jerk.

  I get to my knees, grab her ass, pick her up, and slam straight into that soaking wet pussy. All that moaning turns into sweet groaning. My tongue then presses into her mouth.

  With us in a seated position, Zariah works her hips, and grinds down on my cock. Damn, her pussy is just as wet as her mouth usually is.

  “Yes! Yesssss!” Her long fingernails slash at my biceps. And I grip her ass as she works her hips.

  “Damn, girl, you’re having my baby.”

  She bites her lip, the perfect little f
uck face of hers has me saying it again. “Girl, you’re having my fucking baby.”

  “Shit, yeah, I’m gonna have your baby,” she growls.

  I flip her onto her back, grip the headpost, and pound into her pussy. “I fucking love you. I knew this pussy was wetter than usual, you got that pregnant pussy.”

  “Shit,” she screams, her titties are bouncing. “Vassili, I’m coming.”

  “That’s right cum all over daddy’s dick.” I’m beating her pussy like a speed bag. Zariah’s hips angle upward and she grabs hold of my ass, taking every punch to her cunt. The slickness of her walls, has me clenching my toes, and I time my release just right.

  Zariah

  Three Weeks Later…

  Chico was right about something. I’m not to be fucked with. Drugs were pinned on Noriega and his gangster friends, thanks to Officer Greene. However, the kilos of cocaine weren’t “found” until their Escalades were processed—meaning, the morning I found out I was pregnant, three weeks ago, I called Greene and he was happy to oblige. It’s karma for his ass, and guess what I’m actually guilty about?

  My Fatburger with Rally’s French Fries.

  Natasha and I are holed up in the game room. She’s at her toddler table chewing on a Baby fat with cheese. Needing elbow room while I eat, I chose to sit on the plush carpet and lean against the wall. And she has some nerve, eyeing my Rally’s French Fries. Really? She didn’t like them the first time, and, I suspected, gave them the stink eye due to the difference in color to her usual French fries. So, needless to say, I didn’t purchase her any fries at all.

  “Mommy, fry, fry?” she begs.

  “Girl,” I chuckle, my tone is as testy as Vassili’s usually is when he calls me that himself. “You can’t eat it all,” I pluck a few of my fries and hand them over.

  Damn, I close my eyes and moan at the taste of my own. When who do I hear? Yuri’s loud mouth. He’s gotten comfortable with his cane. The other night, we went out, he was the oddball, and women flocked around as he gave boisterous stories about the shot he received during deployment with the army.