Fearless: a Sports Romance

by Avant, Amarie

  “Her husband.” I offer the faintest smile while heading toward my wife.

  “You must be the reason she won't open her legs and push,” one of the nurses quips.

  “Zariah, we need you to push hard,” the doctor focuses.

  I stand beside her. Zariah takes my arm and she squeezes the blood from my fingers, with that innocent mahogany gaze.

  “Push, baby,” I coach.

  ###

  There’s yellow ducky wallpaper all around. Zariah is sound asleep, she'd asked about my game after our baby was taken to be cleaned. The moment I assured her that I won, Zariah couldn't get to sleep fast enough. I rub my hands together, ready for our daughter to return. Yuri peeks his head into the room.

  This idiot slinks into the room, navy suit crinkled.

  “Did you see my wife’s…” I gesture.

  He shakes his head.

  “You sure?” My eyes narrow.

  “I’m her kazen now, Vassili!”

  “No cussing. Look.” I hold my hands out as the sleeping baby is brought into the room in clear hospital bassinette.

  “She’s beautiful,” Yuri says. “Can I hold her?”

  “Fuck no, stupid.” I mouth the words.

  The nurse whispers that Natasha will be hungry when she awakens, and refused the bottle. I must've asked her a hundred questions about my baby going hungry because Yuri clears his throats and the nurse hits the road.

  I step over to the beautiful child I've made with my loving wife. Natasha is tiny. Damn, I'm afraid for the first time in my life. How do I pick her up? I’ve played with a thousand babies, and held just as many newborns. But this one belongs to me.

  “You have to support her head, Vassili. Igor has a bunch of kids, I know these things.”

  “Okay,” I growl. Her skin is the color of the sweetest butterscotch. I place my hand along her back.

  “Aw look she has a Mohawk like her pop,” Yuri says.

  Indeed her dark hair has slicked at the sides. In the front, one curly cue sticks up. With fighter hands, I cradle her up.

  “Get the diaper clothe. Use the diaper clothe,” Yuri quietly reprimands.

  “Okay, okay.” He's right.

  Perceptive of my fear of crushing her. Yuri places the white hospital clothe over my shoulder as I hold Natasha out before me. I then nudge my nose against her. She smells weird. But her skin is the softest silk I’ve ever touched. God, I will do right by this gift.

  In this moment, MMA no longer exists. Love consumes me.

  Zariah

  A yellow frilly dress brings out the spark in Natasha’s dark eyes. The three-week-old coos up at me.

  “You want Daddy, I know, baby.” My voice is a saccharine melody and Natasha’s reflex is to suck harder on the inside of her lips.

  “Aw, this baby is truly my heart,” My mother says, “I didn’t fly all the way from ATL for you to hog up my grandbaby.”

  “Just give me a few more minutes with her.” I place mittens on Natasha’s hands and scoop her up to my shoulder, supporting the back of her head.

  Mom follows me from the nursery, making funny faces to Natasha every step of the way. On the center of our Cal King bed are clothes that my mom was in the process of folding. I start to chide her for all the help.

  “Girl, this is not a vacation. You are tired. I didn’t expect to see your husband gone so soon. A match so quickly after you all returned from Kentucky.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I gently hand over Natasha, and glance toward the muted television. When Vassili told me about the match between him and that idiot, Juggernaut, I was surprised. But he said it was normal to get back into the cage so quickly…

  Grabbing the remote, I turn up the Pay-Per-View event to a low level. He is oceans away at the Singapore Indoor Stadium. “Oh look, it’s daddy,” I try my best to be happy, when the thought of Vassili entering the ring always leaves me with anxiety clutching my heart.

  There’s a short documentary, it includes some commentary about Nikolai Ukhtomsky, the Juggernaut as the undercard first. The guy’s stats are comedic, since the price for viewing this fight is much higher than some of the others. It shows him working out in a small town, presumably in Russia. Lord knows he harped about Vassili not representing their country enough. My jaw sets as he makes Vassili seem like he’s been ‘Americanized.’

  Next the screen then shows, Vassili Karo Resnov throwing a bunch of punches and combinations on the Venice walkway right outside of Vadim’s. He is mentioned as the favorite while talking briefly about his regimen used to beat his opponent.

  My mom settles down in a rocking chair Samuel brought by last week with more clothing that he swore Connie picked out. Something tells me he is happy about the new addition to our small family. I’m folding and putting away clothes when I hear LL Cool J’s “Mama Said Knock You Out…”

  Mom chuckles softly, while softly rubbing Natasha’s back. She leans forward in the rocking chair. “Oh my Lord, he didn’t?”

  “Humph, he did. Vassili is cocky.” I place my hands on my curvaceous hips and stare at the large screen. My husband just came out to some old school rap! Donning navy-blue Adidas with the stripes on the side! His shoulders fill out the jogger suit to perfection, as the camera frames him.

  “Tsk, I am scarrrred of him,” she jokes. “And he better knock the boy out in ten seconds.”

  Pausing mid-fold on a ‘My dad can beat your dad’ newborn onesie Samuel bought pretty much for Vassili, I glance sideways at her. “What do you know about ten seconds?”

  “Martin. That brother of yours loves to brag on his brother-in-law. So believe it, I know all about this ten seconds, I’m sure it has something to do with your husband’s haste to fight so soon.”

  I settle down at the edge of the bed, too mesmerized to tear my gaze from the screen. My top teeth work at the fullness of my lip.

  The bell chimes. Juggernaut reaches out to tap gloves. Vassili waves him off, meanest glower I have ever seen. Damn, I feel myself getting hot at all his rugged sexiness. My heart clinches as Juggernaut offers a vicious kick. But he doesn’t shed first blood. Vassili catches him with a left hook. The punch is enough to send Juggernaut’s legs into a noddle-like dance to correct his balance. The idiot reaches in for an errant punch. Does he even touch my man?

  Vassili reacts so fast that I don’t catch the TKO for blinking. All I see is Juggernaut’s powerful legs knotting up this time. He slams to the ground.

  The replay is instant. Juggernaut’s feeble attempt to punch Vassili moves at a snail pace straight up the middle. Catching all air. Vassili strikes with a forearm punch to the nose that left Juggernaut wilted against the floor like a prostitute after disrespecting her pimp one too many times.

  “LIGHTS OUT IN SINGAPORE,” the commentator shouts.

  The ref jumps over Jaugernaut’s frozen body ending the fight. But Vassili is already spitting out his mouth guard. He raises a hand to heaven and looks up. Then his chest is flared as he punches against his own forearm. The tattoo posted across chiseled rock is that of a machine gun. Damn, I gulp down my lust.

  Vassili climbs the fence, and jumps to the other side. Dominating the ledge. Head back, he growls. Then he walks around the perimeter like a damn lion on the prowl.

  “How long was that, huh!” His shouting is inaudible. Words are displayed at the bottom of the screen as he shakes a few more of the commentator’s hands.

  Someone holds up eight fingers.

  “Eight seconds!” his voice is muffled by the microphone attempting to keep up.

  “Eight seconds!” Vassili now heads toward the cage door. The screen switches to Juggernaut. Blood masking his nose and mouth, dripping down his chest. He’s up to his feet, leaning heavily in a dizzy state against the referee. His head is hung low. The referee stands between them, lifting Vassili’s fist as he’s declared the winner by knock out. The camera is close, he’s shout into it.

  Yes! I silently scream.

  “Wow,” my
mom’s tone is low as Natasha is snoozing again.

  Vassili does a few more jumps and then he smooches his steel forearm.

  Now, a sports reporter catches up to him. “You prepared for your card, as always, Karo. But as you look back at all your fights, we know you’re a favorite of submission. How did you prepare for this knock out?”

  “I fake it low, throw it high,” he tells the reporter.

  “This will go down in history as one of the quickest UFC matches. Only one second away from being the quickest. That being said, the fans would like to know how quickly would you like to return back to the octagon?”

  “Depends on who else has something to say! Nah, really.” He offers a genuine, humble smile. “I don’t always fight the contender who has the loudest mouth. My next opponent will have to have some heart.”

  ###

  Around 10am the next morning, I’m clinging to Vassili’s pillow as I dial his number since he has an overnight eighteen-hour flight to LAX. My time configuring skills are off, but he should’ve headed to a hotel after the fight and gotten a couple hours of sleep. As aggressive as he is, he only needs a few. But when my husband answers, he sounds worse for wear.

  “Hey, Zar.”

  “You sound like you’re asleep? Did you miss your flight? Are you at the airport?”

  “Easy with the questions, baby,”

  “Oh God you're still at the hotel, you’ve overslept.”

  His tone holds more urgency now, “Sweetheart, is Natasha okay?”

  “Yeah! She just misses her father. And instead of you being on a flight from Singapore you’re still in the hotel sleep. Damn, you promised a few hours of rest and that you’d be home soon.” I can’t stop myself from nagging. He’s missed five precious days of our baby’s life.

  “I'm not…”

  I feel my eyes watering, their as leaky as my tits these days. “So you're at the airport!”

  “Babe if you stop trying to cross examine me you'd know that I'm in an Uber. Nestor took the hotel. The car is turning on Arlington Way, beautiful, because I spent a few hours sitting at the airport praying some motherfucker would miss the flight and I could get on earlier.”

  “Arlington Way? You’re around the corner.” I begin to smile through the tears. “I love you so much.”

  “Yeah, you better love me. No crying when I see you, Zariah.”

  I climb out of the tall bed, and make a mad dash to my treasure chest. “Vassili, as soon as you get into this house I want you to screw me.”

  “Fuck you? Nah. We wait for two weeks, after your checkup, sweetheart.”

  While massaging a silk negligee through my fingers, I order him, “You will sex me as soon as you get home.”

  Vassili

  CLICK. My wife just hung up in my face. Nervously, I tap the phone against my leg. I've had blue balls since Kentucky. I'd bent Zariah over and fucked her real good the night before the fight.

  The day I fell for Zariah I knew I was doomed. That girl walks all over me and I couldn’t give a fuck, I love it. While in Singapore, I was eye fucked by one bitch after another, sometimes a few at a time. As with the cage, I kept my chin down, craving what’s waiting for me at home and marking the days off on the calendar when I can love her well. My cock twitches, and I lean back in the seat feeling precum leak at the tip of my junk while palm trees zip by. The driver is a few blocks away from home now as I continue to tap the iPhone against my leg, endeavoring not to focus on my knee.

  I didn't even use my left knee on Juggernaut.

  ‘You aren’t ready to return so soon. Cordova worked you harder than…’ Vadim’s argument with me after hopping into the cage fades as I see Ms. Haskins, holding Natasha. My baby has a little fluffy hat on top of her curly hair as Ms. Haskins stands at the top of the flagstone steps, beneath one of the many curved arches of the house. Hefting my duffel bag over my shoulder, I get out.

  “Where's Zariah,” I ask while giving her a half hug and kissing my baby’s forehead.

  “My child told me she was cleaning up something in y’all’s room.” She smirks as I read between the lines. “Natasha needs to be changed.”

  I hold my hands out.

  “No worries, you've cleaned some scary diapers. There will be more. I got this.”

  We all go into the house. I hustle up the stairs favoring my right knee. The dull ache is slaughtered by the sight of my wife propped up in bed. A crimson bra brings out the undertones of red in her rich dark skin. The matching pair of strappy panties cling to her juicy pussy. Without taking my eyes off her, I close the double doors behind me.

  “I had a new teddy but wanted to show off some improvements.”

  My eyebrow cocks. What the fuck is a teddy? My tone is guttural. “You. Look. Gorgeous.”

  “Do I?” she teases, coming to her hands and knees. She climbs over toward the edge of bed, hips flowing from left to right.

  The duffel bag on my shoulder hits the floor. I pull off my shirt and unbuckle my pants while eyeing how her large breasts strain and almost spill out of her new bra. She comes up to her knees, I step over, reach down and press my mouth fiercely against her thick lips. The precum slicked against my boxer briefs seeps even more. Zariah’s tiny hand weaves between her soft body and my hard one as she reaches into my briefs, sliding up and down my erection, thumb dabbling in my cum before gliding it around the head.

  “You’re even more huge than I remembered,” she says, nipping hard on my lip.

  “Fuck.” I sigh as she removes her hand from my briefs. I’m pulling those down now, while her hands caress across my abs and massage my shoulders and traps.

  My cock stands heavy between us. Her fingers glide through mine, and I stop myself from sounding like a bitch and begging her return to my cock. She leads me to the bed. My frame dominating the center of it. Zariah drags her nails over my abs while licking the salty flesh at my inner thighs. She wraps her hand around my erection, stroking up and down while caressing my balls with her tongue.

  Next Zariah frees her breasts from her bra. When those large brown tits spill forth, I reach up to grab one.

  “Tsk, tsk...” She presses a tiny hand at the center of my chest, pushing me back against the sheets. She caresses her nipples with her fingers before reaching down and placing those heavenly tits around my cock. Her breasts are so warm and soft against my boner. She scoots down, once again sucking my cock, her mouth is sloppy and excited. Then she licks around my balls before pressing those tits around my piece again.

  “Fuck…” I mouth.

  “Nut for me,” Zariah murmurs. “Where do you want to cum, Vassili? My breasts, my mouth, my…” She grins, stroking my cock with her tits.

  “Sweetheart,” my voice is deep and low. Damn, I’m not going to make it. She’s eye fucking me as well, and probably reading my mind.

  “You can cum on my tits, I’ll lick it all off.” She reaches down and her tongue flicks against the thick veins in my shaft.

  “Shittttt,” I grit out.

  “If you don’t cum, I will jump on this dick, Vassili,” she warns, before her mouth slides down the length of me.

  Vassili

  Four months later

  It's hard to fathom how something so goddamn beautiful was such a big shitting machine and now is the reason for my smile. I recall one day, before I mastered how to change a diaper. Zariah was nursing her, Natasha grunted and shit torpedoed from the side of her Huggies disposable diaper. Apparently, I had put the thing on backwards. The baby just continued to eat like nothing was the matter while Zariah silently freaked out.

  Now, Natasha is five and a half months old. She no longer has the one curl at the top of her head that Yuri and my cousins joke, is a Mohawk like mine. She’s seated in her crib, a halo of black curls, she leans back to laugh and lands on one of her stuffed elephants. My tensed lips smile delighted in the way she cracks up.

  “God, I sometimes wonder how I could be blessed,” I mumble.

  “Why?
” Zariah leans her head on my shoulder.

  “All the shit Anatoly, my younger brothers… my whole family, even Malich does, some of the bullshit from my past. How does God pardon it? How could God give me her, you.”

  “You're a good man, Vassili, and we serve an even greater God.” she glances up at me. The moonlight from the open balcony of Natasha’s nursery lights against her eyes. “Now, granted, I worry too. But only when you step into the cage.”

  I start to hug my wife for her encouragement, until I get a good look at her. “Zar, you worried?”

  She shrugs, “You know how I am the night before a match.”

  “What happened the last time I was in the cage?” I cock an eyebrow.

  She bubbles in laughter, it rivals the beauty of our daughters cooing and chuckles. “You beat a man in less than ten seconds. Don't be cocky, Vassili.”

  “You just stated a fact. How am I being cocky?”

  “God blessed you with super hands. All I can say is, Kill ‘em, Karo.” She kisses me, lips spread into a smile.

  ###

  Honda Center, Anaheim

  “You good?” Vadim asks

  “Good, good,” I nod, fists slicing through the air so fast it swooshes. Right, hook, uppercut…Skin warm, I mentally review the signature moves of Louie Gotti, The Legion, the next person gunning for my belt.

  “Look, son, you fought Juggernaut too damn soon. You promised you'd lay him out. Good…”

  “Vadim, get to the point.”

  He clasps the back of my neck and stares me in the eye. “You went from hopping into the cage too soon and now, you’ve been out of the cage for four months.”

  “That's standard.”

  His glare is harder. “Don't fuck with me, Vassili. This past 120 days ain’t the same as the past, not to say you’re past your prime. You’ve got a wife and kid who commandeer much of your days lately. Are you good? I fought you to visit the doctors, and shit, you were supposed to go after fighting Cordova, not wait till fucking off with Juggernaut. The scan of your knee came back normal. But I’m not convinced. So are you good?”