Russian Roulette

We’re sitting in his kitchen and I tell him all the new phrases I learned in Russian.

“How you learn lots?” he asks.

“Photographic memory babe. I bought an intro to Russian book and have been memorizing them during my spare time,” I tell him.

“Memory is not fair. I have to learn English the hard way,” he says shaking his head.

“Evgeni, Yevgeni, Geno, G, Russian bear, do you have anymore nicknames?”

“Russians call Zhenya.”

“Zhenya. I like it,” I reply smiling. I open his laptop and start typing.

“What you doing?” he asks.

“Googling you.” I read and unintentionally memorized his Wikipedia page and read article after article of his achievements and of people talking about how great he is. “You’re like a pretty big deal.”
He shakes his head and pulls his cap over his face.

“My boyfriend the hockey superstar, who would have thought.”

“Food’s done,” he says smiling.

“You’re a pretty good cook,” I say impressed.

“Why sound surprised?” he asks.

“I don’t know. I figured a pro athlete probably has people to cook for him.

“No I cook. You too skinny, is good I cook for you.” I look down at my body and shrug.

“So you leave for Chicago when?”

“In morning.” I sigh heavily and he gives me a funny look.

“I just wish I saw you more that’s all,” I say nonchalantly. It was a weird feeling wanting to be around him all the time. I used to make fun of the girls who were attached at the hip with their boyfriends and now I was becoming one of them. Geno was on my mind constantly and I found myself feeling anxious when he was on road trips.

“You miss me?” he asks.

“Yeah. Why? Is that a bad thing?”

“No I like. I never see enough.” He comes closer and leans down and kisses me softly. I deepen the kiss and wrap my arms around his neck. He picks me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. He carries us upstairs where he sets me down on the bed. Our tongues dance and I feel the electricity coursing through my veins. He deepens the kiss and I pull away. He gives me a confused look and I take off my shirt. I was tired of waiting and I needed him here and now.

“You want to?” he asks.

“Da.” I reply. I take off my pants and he pins me back down on the bed. His mouth dominates mine and it seems that I have woken the Russian bear. He unclasps my bra and throws it to the side. He takes my breasts in his large hands and squeezes them. I reach for his shirt and lift it over his head. He grabs my thong and pulls it off and in one swift motion his tongue is on my clit. My eyes roll back and I grip the blanket. His tongue traces my clit and I moan out loud. He laps up the moisture that’s pooled between my legs and I feel the familiar tingling sensation deep in my stomach. I pull him up and he stands up and takes his jeans and boxer briefs off. He lines up with my center and inserts himself slowly. I adjust to his size and he starts thrusting at a slow and steady pace. He crushes his lips against mine once more and my body temperature is skyrocketing. His picks up the pace and I’m moaning loudly. My orgasm starts building and I claw at his back. He starts thrusting deeper and I can feel him hit my g-spot. A couple thrusts later I’m sent over the edge and I’m in pure ecstasy. I tighten around him and I feel him tense up over top of me. I feel empty inside me and he collapses on top of me. We lay there until he gets too heavy and he rolls off. I roll on my side and brush the wet hair that’s stuck to his forehand.

“Quinn best,” he says panting.

“Best ever?” I ask shocked.

“Da.”

“Better than our first time?”

“First time was great but you not remember,” he says frowning.

“Oh I remember. I remember you made me orgasm three times and I remember thinking that it was the best sex that I have ever had.”

“Really I’m best?”

“Da.” I say smiling.

“I bet I can beat 3,” he says smirking.

“Don’t make bets you can’t keep.”

“Watch.” He gets up and shows me the benefits of sleeping with an athlete.

Notes