Chapter Twenty-Four
Ava
The dim lights, and hush of murmurs wake me from the warm bed. Roman’s heat radiates into my backside, lulling my eyes into a heavy stupor. His hand on the side of my neck is soft and open with his arm tucked between us. The stale sweet scent of submission and lust embeds in the tiny spaces between us, tethering us.
Last night seized any thoughts of my want for anything other than him. The way he juggles the complications of my sorrows may be intentional to make me feel like I need him, to convince me he is the only thing I have to help me survive; to keep living. But his darkness envelops me, stewing and stirring the chaos of my despair, hate, freedom, joy, and pain. It’s comforting, and strangely the fear of wanting him to continue to keep me in his palms tranquilizes me. I’m watching myself fade, being consumed at his fingertips. I'm losing my focus on why I am here in the first place, what I could never have. My own life.
I peel the comforter slowly from me to not wake him. His hand slips from me gently to the bed as I grit my teeth. I watch him position himself on his stomach with the curves of his shoulders taunt, turning his face away from me.
My utter infatuation with how much I loved being dominated last night, and his smug fucking face like he knew I enjoyed it, made me want to find what I came here for quicker. I know that I am getting attached. I can’t let myself do that because I don’t want to be abandoned, or worse, killed just like the rest. If I can leave him in ruin with the others, I may be able to save myself. I’m fighting in a war where it is everyone for themselves, it just so happens he is on the enemy’s team, and I have to keep reminding myself.
The connecting bathroom’s light frames its cracked door. I pass around the bed, placing every step with perfect intention to not wake him up, navigating in the dark room.
The bathroom door creaks slightly when I crack it almost to a close. Morning light streams from the large skylight, intermingling with the low lights above the vanity. My eyes burn, pricking themselves with tears. He is everything that I hate, but everything that I need. A growing pain in my stomach, overwhelming my heart with dread. If I leave him to incinerate with the others, I may never find someone who makes me feel like he has. To not just throw me into the fucking wind like I am some used up piece of trash, blaming the victim for others wrongdoings.
Who am I kidding he will abandon me like everyone else has.
The black double vanity has my make-up and hairbrush lining on the right side of the sink. He must have placed everything out after I fell asleep last night. I wash the tears from my eyes, splashing the water over me before they run down, and I break past a return and give up. Fingers run down my spine to my hips. I open my eyes to see Roman standing there with a white hand towel.
“Tomorrow is the party,” he says.
I wipe my face and he hands me my glasses. “Uh…Stepan’s?… Are you going?”
“Oh, we are going.”
“It’s ok… I don’t have anything to wear and I am just the help.” I walk past him to the room, standing at the box in the corner of the room.
Roman inches to me, “I have something you can wear. I already took care of it.”
“What though?” I wipe my face and place the towel on the counter as he hands me my glasses.
“I think you will like it. I would have taken you to get it yourself, but you are not leaving anywhere.” He promises, as he folds his hands behind his back.
“Well, I am not a fucking incompetent child you know.” I’m complacent about really saying that I am here to work. I huff out an affirming sigh, “That’s fine, but how are we tracking my debt?”
“I can figure that out later,” he says, towing me to him by my waist. “But I have to do something, Cottontail.” He lifts me, wrapping his arms underneath my ass. I feel like before I can blink he walks into his room and flips me to my back onto his bed.
My head thumps between the pillows, forcing me to focus on the deep rush of blood to my brain. His hands plant on either side of my head, lowering his face as he touches his nose to mine. He breathes in deeply like he was sucking my soul from me as I watch his eyes close and open in rage.
My mouth goes dry as his hand encapsulates my neck, squeezing. A deep kiss into my mouth eases me as our tongues swirl like we can’t get any closer to each other. He sucks my tongue into his mouth and bites the tip and then my lower lip. I flinch from the pain causing my lip to bleed slightly. It's a dangerous game, but this just may be the enthralling part for both of us.
Who will ultimately destroy the other first?
He releases his lips from mine as he reaches one arm around my waist, lifting my hips into him. His hand clutches at my flesh under my shirt, pawing, scratching at my shell of built survival as I drift away into the scent of his skin.
His other arm shoves the pillows away from my face, kissing the crease between my jaw and neck. The grasp he places around my wrist pulls my arm upward above me as he drives his palm into the mattress around it. His fingers spread as he grapples with something at the headboard. I lift my head from him to see what he was doing until he crashes his hand over my mouth, gripping his fingers around my cheeks. He shakes his head and all I feel is the cold metal shrink around my wrist, binding it to the edge of the mattress. My body intensifies with tingling pricks from my lower abdomen to my arms.
I try to keep silent, fighting to want him. Shutting off everything about me, other than the carnality of pleasure.
I shake my head with tiny whines escaping my lips, no matter how much I tried to keep my breath hidden. I shove at his chest with my unlatched hand, bending my knees to my abdomen.
“Oh, no you don’t. This is why you are here isn’t it?” He aims his chin down to his chest flashing a menacing smile, “Or is it not?” I nudge my arm and legs under his weight, unable to move much between the little space between us. My nostrils flare slightly as he waits for a response. He inhales, shaking his head. Brushing his eyes over my aching body, he exhales.“I’m giving you what you want like the good slut you are,” he rumbles.
I lick my lower lip inward with a faint grin, “How would you truthfully know anything that I want?”
He forces my legs apart, ignoring me, as he wedges his torso between them. I run my hand through his hair as he grapples my free wrist quickly and restrains it above my head. Cold metal latches around it as I shift my hip bones, rocking them back and forth against his bare chest. I raise my head and see the metal chains running, twisting and criss-crossing around the metal bars of the headboard.
He runs his hands down my thighs, gripping his sweeping movement to a stop on my ankles. I squirm under his grip as his knee pins my ankle. My grin fades when I realize he is about to bind my spread legs, immobilizing any ability to move. He reaches under the mattress pulling out a chain and cuff and clasps it around my ankle. I keep my eyes stationary on his movements as he spreads my other, forcing my legs into V. My heart feels like it stops when I hear the other lock into place.
He rips my stockings from my core, shredding them outward as I cry out in astonishment. My slickness soaks into my panties as I jeer against the chains. He stands at the foot of the bed, hovering as he takes out a small knife from the pocket of his sweats. He spins the blade around as he keeps his dark eyes on me, “Let’s see how quiet you can be, Cottontail,” he says as he dangles the blade to his side in defeat.
My eyes go wide as my breath hitches. Did I just fall into the oldest trick, luring me into the cage that I helped build? “Roman?” I plead unsure what he will do.
He ignores me as he leans over me, dragging the black blade gently from the inside of my thigh to my hip. My skin pricks with chill bumps as warmth travels from my pussy, wrapping around my nipples. He settles his motion, swirling it over my flesh as he watches the blade intently.
The sharp edge reaches the underside of my thong string. Tugging the handle out slightly, he presses the tip moderately into me, dimpling my skin around it. He yanks up, snapping the fabric from me as I trace his shoulders with my gaze. I am as still as I can be while he cuts the other string, dragging the material away from me with it. He tosses the blade onto the floor as he looks upward with devious eyes and dives his face into my core.
He swirled his tongue around my swollen clit and groaned, “Mmmmm, so wet for me and tastes so good for me,” he says as he peers over my mound to watch my fluster.
I blush from excitement, “I haven't shave—”
He bites down slightly on my clit, shutting me down like he knew what I was going to say. “So sexy,” he rumbles. I can’t believe I care what he thinks, but I do.
Laying my head back I focus on the textured high ceiling and close my eyes when his tongue pulses harder. Heat ignites, forcing my back to arch but the chains keep me plastered to the bed with little to no room for a bend. I am on the edge of an explosion as I moan, rolling my eyes to a close.
He stops and I watch in confusion as he lifts himself from me and stands, licking his lips.
I wait for him to push me over the edge, squirming as much as I can for a release. He folds his arm over his torso and the other to his chin, holding the side of his clenched jaw between his forefinger and thumb. He walks to his dresser and picks up a gray shirt on the dresser and pulls out a dildo from the drawer.
He walks to me as he puts on his shirt and kneels with the toy, "Mmmmm, fucking soaking aren't you?" he says, sliding it into my pussy. I groan as he pushes it deep into me. He turns the knob on the end of the dildo, amping up the vibration with each click. I arch my back ever so slightly against the chains as I cry out. He keeps it in me and stands, grinning down at me.
I whisper, “Roman…” I beg quietly for his cock to make me orgasm, but the vibrator keeps me at the edge. I need to release, to let go and to keep my mind distracted. His eyes narrow in rage. I whisper again, “I have to…please?”
He walks to the side of the bed and bends over my face with a look of being satisfied with me. His hand graces down my face and neck. “I love the way you beg for me so nicely, and so quietly,” he says, with a smile, “But you know, and I know , you have not been telling me something. So now I have to go and figure out what to do with you.” His face quickly becomes emotionless as he shoves off of his forearms and leaves me without looking back. Alone, bound and exposed as I squirm for him to make me come. My heart drops, fearing that he had some kind of confirmation of what I have been up to. But I haven’t told a soul, not even my best friend.