Chapter Twenty-Three
Ava
The car ride with Roman was quiet other than the melodic metal music playing softly. I left with him before I could tell Sarah. Though, he told me he would text her and I will be holding him to that since he still has my phone. The Volokhov mansion is not number one on my get-aways, by any means, but it beats having to be around if Shawn comes back. I am sore, broken and pieces of me strew around my feet.
I am a mess unraveling, and Roman is pulling the string but somehow he is weaving the chaos. I can’t understand the patterns he is creating or why but I feel like I'm in limbo.
I am trying to decipher the difference between him fucking me, and having to complete what I started. There was something healing about him fucking me in my bathroom after all the years of abuse, including Shawn’s. Roman pinning me down while I pretended to get away made me feral for him to assault me.
Roman parks in the drive, slinking his black hood over his head. Autumn was turning, changing, and I can’t help to wonder if I was as well.
The car engine stops as he turns the key, “I have your things being picked up, and will be here soon.” Roman says.
“What do you mean? All of my things?”
“No, but things you need. Books, clothes, toiletries…what you need.”
I raise my brows, “That about sums it up,” I say with more sass and irritation than I would have liked.
The garage door slams as I close the door. The house is empty and still. The foxgloves are wilted a bit in their vases, and the air smells different, like Roman
Leading me to the back hallways, “Are you hungry?” Roman asks.
“I guess.”
Why is he always trying to feed me?
He is ahead of me walking up the stairs, “Good, I ordered Tapas and should be here soon,” he says with his back to me.
Tapas is my favorite food, so I am not sure what he was doing or how he would know that. Maybe, he thinks he is some knight in shining armor, saving me from self-hate by fucking it away but why would he want to.
I stop midstep. “Why are you doing this,” I ask.
He faces me and steps down, lowering his chin , “Doing what, Cottontail?” he asks. “I should ask you the same question.”
I tap my finger on the banister, narrowing my eyes.
Roman continues to climb the stairs, “The Library is locked, by the way, and so are all the other doors,” he says without looking at me.
I am silent and not sure if I am worried about finding evidence at this very moment. Ever since I entered the void to the club, it has been a spiraling whirlwind of chaos, and right now, I don’t know which way is up or who I am. There is always tomorrow. I’ll find the time.
It begs the question if I ever really knew who I was before that night. I know that I morph into what others expect. But do I morph into fake expectations that I have for myself too?
Do I even have expectations, or am I just a deceptive fraud? Probably.
He leads me into his room, pulling out his chain and watch. I sit on the bed, watching him stare into the ticking.
“Why are they late,” he whispers under his breath, tucking the watch into his pocket.
“What is the deal with you thinking I am up to something, by the way?” I squint my eyes as I try to lie. I am so fucking angry I am here and yet again, he has deadbolted all the doors I really needed.
I’m stuck here.
Roman looks down at me, shaking his head back and forth. He holds my chin between his forefinger and thumb with a lopsided grin, “It could be because I found my dead mother’s photos scattered across her Library.” I fold my arms over my stomach, glancing at my boots and black heart stockings. I didn’t realize that this was the family's house. I've always been around his family at hotels and dance halls. He crouches down, placing his elbows on his knees, aligning his face with mine. “Ava, you can hate me, want to kill me, or whatever it is you want to do, but it doesn’t change the fact that you are mine and if I go, you are coming with me,” he says. The heat from him saying mine warms me. Lifting his arm up, he brushes his backhand on my cheek, “Plus, you don’t scare me, Cottontail.” The hood on his head casts a shadow under his eyes, but his face is calm. I embrace his hand with my cheek, nuzzling my weight into it.
Alexei’s voice echoes, “Eyyy! Food!”
Nikolai’s, Alexei’s and Sergey’s voices jumble together in the foyer, “Do you have to do that?” Nikolai says, pleading with Alexei.
I laugh as Roman drops his hand, “Let’s eat,” he says, smiling.
To-go paper sacks sprawl across the kitchen counter. Sergey sits at the table while Alexei mumbles sporadically about toppings, sauces and finding the silverware.
“Have you gone mad Alexei?” Nikolai asks, jokingly, “I guess we all are a little here aren’t we?” he says to himself, unaware we were standing there.
Roman clears his throat.
Alexei waves, “Oh, Hey, Ava. We have— ”
“ —Thank you, Alexei.” Roman grabs a plate, handing it to me, “Ladies first.” His eyes are on my throat like he was planning to choke the breath from it.
I fill my plate while the boys stare at the food in silence, ready to pounce on the Croquetas. As I grab a fork, they flock to the island criss-crossing their arms over each other for different dishes.
I scoot into the kitchen table’s booth, across the room, while the boys eat around the island. I take a bite as Roman sits next to me, placing his hand on my thigh under the table. I keep my focus on my plate as his hand slides to my inner thigh, gliding up my skirt. I shift my body, looking at him.
“Where is Stepan? Is he back?” I ask knowing damn well what I was doing.
His nostrils flare, avoiding me, as he brushes back and forth.
Alexei sets a glass down next to my plate, “Iced tea?” He says, before hurrying back to the island to join in on making fun of Sergey.
I take a sip, keeping my eyes on Roman, “He should be back by now, right? It would be nice to see him,” I say, pushing whatever boundary I have left. The boys start laughing about the memories of their first kills. “I think you two are a lot alike, you know?” I say, lightheartedly.
Roman spreads the thickness of my thighs with his thumb and pinky. He moves his middle and ring finger across my pussy, stroking back and forth. I close my eyes as Roman’s lips grace my ear, “If you keep talking like that I will use that mouth of yours to gag on my dick.”
My eyes open wide and narrow at him as I ball my fists on the edge of the table. “You know, because since both of you fuck people over and…stuff.” I take another nonchalant sip as I focus on the inside of the glass.
Roman leans to a stand, pulling out his chained watch as he unlatches it from his belt loop in a swift motion. Quickly, he swings it around my wrist, yanking me into a slide across the booth to my feet. “Good night,” he says to the boys, dragging me behind him as we pass by. My eyes meet Nikolai’s as he takes another bite of his food, and Alexei and Sergey ignore us as they keep talking to each other.
I scream at Nikolai as Roman wrenches the chain, pulling me forward and through the kitchen doors, “Are you not going to fucking do anything?!” I struggle to keep up, wriggling at the chain with my other hand, trying to loosen myself. I dig my heels into the carpet and stumble to keep myself from falling because I was afraid he would only keep dragging me. I leap with his broad steps, “Fuck you, Roman,” I say, but he doesn't pay any mind to me as he forces me to scale the stairs behind him.
I am enjoying this too much.
We make it to the second level, as he stops in the hallway, shoving me into the wall, and covers my mouth, “Is this what you want? Because you seem so eager to be a good little slut for me who can’t keep her mouth shut,” he growls, narrowing his eyes. Strands of his hair fall to his eyeline, as I shake my head no. Though, the spark of getting under his skin, makes me smile under his hand.
He releases from me, “Stay,” he commands as he unwraps the chain from my wrist. I start to flee for the stairs as he catches me by my waist, hoisting me back into the wall. I cry from the slam against the bruises between my shoulder blades. “Don’t. Fucking. Move. Or this chain will be around your neck while I walk you.”
My cheeks sprawl with heat down to my lower abdomen. I nod my head, “Ok,” I say in a whisper bowing my head.
“Good.” He walks to his bedroom, a few doors down, and leans his shoulder against its open frame. “On your fucking knees,” he commands.
Hesitant about what he was about to do, I peek my head around the corner to see if anyone was watching. My chest burns, beating with the ambivalence of disgust and excitement. He owns me, just like the Bratva. I know what will be their downfall, will also be Roman’s. No matter the exhilaration I felt right now.
His voice a low thunder, “Now.”
I drop to my knees, waiting. I shift, looking to the side of me and down the hall. The only escape is down the stairs, behind me, or the connecting hall past him.
“Crawl to me.” He holds his pocket watch, wrapping the chain around his knuckles.
“What?”
“Crawl. To. Me,” he enunciates.
I plant my hands in front of me, looking up at him. I drag my heavy boots with every inch I make to him. My head drops, looking at the carpet, like I was a damn dog that was in trouble.
“Keep your eyes on me.” He shifts his weight, positioning his legs in a V, and crossing his arms.
I look at his arms and narrowing eyes. My panties are soaking, and my cheeks are red with my own embarrassment of enjoying this. I stop when I’m at his feet, lifting one leg, planting my foot to stand.
A tsk escapes his lips, “I didn’t say get up.” He unravels the chain from his knuckles and swings the watch around my neck. The heaviness of it wraps over the chain, compressing against my skin.
I tuck my leg behind me, rocking on my forearms side to side slightly, obeying him. Unbuckling his pants, he drops them around his ankles, slipping his boxer-briefs down, unveiling the cross piercing on the head of his hard cock.
He stares down at me and all I can hear is the Tick-Tick-Tick of time, indenting the side of my neck.
Roman:
She knows exactly what she is doing but I wish she wouldn't give Stepan’s name the glory to pass through her lips.
She lifts her torso straight, as I pull on the chain, “Closer,” I demand. If she wants to act like a little fucking brat I’ll treat her like one.
Dragging her boots behind her she is blushing with embarrassment. She studies my face, searching for me to tell her how good she is doing. It’s cute. Not as cute as it will be with my cock filling every inch of her mouth. “Pick a safe word.” I fist my hand on the top of her head, holding her silky auburn hair in my palm. She hesitates to give me a safeword. “Not that you will be able to say it, with my cock gagging the air from you.”
She parts her lips, “I can…” She hesitates. “I—I can tap your stomach…”
“Good fucking girl. Such a good idea for such a little slut.” I tug her head closer as I pull the chain to the tip of my cock. I open her mouth with my other fingers, dragging the corner of her inner cheek down and out, opening her wide to take me. She pokes her tongue out flat, inviting me to her throat. I shove my cock past her lips as I remove my hand from her mouth, filling her with my cock.
Pulsing my dick, I force her head in a bounce with each tug on the chain and my hand on the crown of her head. She keeps her hands on my thighs, bracing herself from each blow to her throat. Her mouth is gaping, gurgling as she contracts her tongue from choking.
Crash-diving, I slam into the back of her throat as I halt my thrusts, cutting off her air. Tears well in her eyes as she moans from her red face. The vibration of her suppressing sounds makes the pre-cum drip down her throat, swallowing me. I keep my pressure firm and release with slow pulses. She gasps for air around me as I keep a constant tempo, knocking my piercing at the back of her mouth.
I keep the chain firm, “That’s it breathe around me, breathe me in.”
As she coughs around my cock, I thrust to fill her throat, taking every inch of me. She reaches for my base as she pulses her lips and gags, muffling her whimpers. I keep my eyes on her wet cheeks, dripping streaks of black mascara to her jaw.
“You are doing so well, Cottontail,” I praise. She nods her head, struggling to pull away from my grip, keeping her around me. I watch her a few more seconds before I release into steady bounces. Gasping around me, her nails dig into my thighs. She moans in between rapid inhales.
“Fuck, you feel so good. Such a sexy slut on your knees,” I grumble.
Her throat relaxes, vibrating whimpers around my dick. I crash past her tongue, ceasing my bounce, filling her with my come. Releasing my cock from her mouth, she folds at her waist, swallowing the last bits of my come that didn’t stream down with her spit. Her hair falls around her shoulders, gulping down air, fighting to breathe as I release the chain from her neck.
Crouching down, I lift her chin. “Yeah, I know, you did such a good job, such a good fucking girl.” She nods her head, easing her laboring breaths. “Don’t ever compare me to that fucking piece-of-shit. Ever again. You are not his. You are mine.”
She nods again, as her breath evens into a steady rise and fall.
Cradling my arms around her, I lift her to my chest. She cocoons her arms around my neck, and her legs around my waist, nuzzling her face in the hollow where my neck meets my shoulder.
Entering my room, I shut the door with my foot. The glow of the bathroom streams through the crack, casting a streak of light on the bed. I lay her down gently on the comforter, kissing her forehead. The silence is the comforting type, not the type where you question if someone is afraid, happy or mad, but the kind you drift along with the ebb and flow of a current. It doesn’t matter at this moment if she is up to something, even if that means destroying me.