She hid her heart behind a wall in which only a real man could climb. - R. H. Sin

Natasha

Anton has not spoken to me since the car started rolling its way towards his house. His hand is wrapped around my back, and he is stroking my thigh. I am not sure whether I should be taking comfort in this or not. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy watching Rusev in pain as he fell to the floor with a shot in each knee, but it didn't leave me any less confused than I was before we got to the party. I liked the kiss we shared. It was impossible not to, and I liked the way he protected me and the way he held me in this car, but I don't know what it means.

I don't know what I want it to mean, if I want it to mean anything.

We pull up into the parking garage which houses the high rise I have been captive in for several days, weeks, how long has it been? I have honestly lost the exact count. All these rooms and money, and there is no calendar.

The minute the car stops, Anton lets go of me. He opens the door and jumps out like he is trying to escape a fire. I have no idea why he tore out on me, but I see one of his goons come up to the open door, offering his hand to me like a gentleman. He is forced to be one, but I am grateful nonetheless. This dress is not easy to walk in and get up and down in. Not only is it see through, but it is so damn tight I am surprised I have made it this long.

I sigh and take the goon’s hand and let him lift me up to my feet effortlessly. He is one of the bigger ones. I should fear a man like this, but I am not. All the goons do one thing; they serve Anton. If he doesn't order it, they won't do it. They would never dare touch me because they fear his wrath.

I walk in these high heels and ridiculously pompous dress to the inside elevator with the goons. I go straight to my bedroom because I want to get out of this, but I realize calling it my bedroom is also just as ridiculous as this dress.

When I first got here, I had insisted I would not sleep with Anton, that I needed time and space. I had actually never planned on there being a time when I didn’t. I don’t know when Anton realized it, if he always knew, but it began just a few days after I got here. He would come to me at night, while I was sleeping and curl up to me. Falling asleep in the very bed that’s supposed to be mine.

I wake up to him in my bed every morning now, which I have gotten used to but said nothing about. He is not forcing anything else on me, so I leave it alone.

I finally get this dress tugged off and go straight into the shower, turning on the water, only to be instantly scalded on my cheek with the hot water. I suck in a deep breath and move out from under it, wondering if the pain is because he peeled off a layer of skin with that slap.

I sigh and let the water run all over my body, doing my best to protect the cheek. It was throbbing when it first happened, and when we left the party. It has stopped now, but it still hurts, and I wonder if the adrenaline from getting my point across to Rusev is what has kept me from noticing just how bad it is until this moment. But I can't regret anything I did to him, anything I said. It was the right thing to do.

I grab the bar of rainforest scented soap and began to lather up my body in it, letting the smell soothe me and lull me into a more relaxed state. I never expected to run into Rusev again any time soon, but I am proud of myself for the way I handled the situation. I would never have had the guts to do something like that before when I was with him and not even half the woman I am now.

It's a little easier now when I think about my uncle. I think I have done him proud by reacting the way I did and showing Rusev he no longer owns me, for deciding no man owns me anymore.

That statement confuses me, though. I am still here in Anton’s house, technically under his control, though I can choose to resist him more, make it harder for him to get me to do what he wants. But the thing is, I feel like I am still here because of how I feel, or how I might feel about Anton. I cried over him, over the possible loss of the idea of him. Maybe I do want to get to know him and let him in again, bit by bit, if he proves to be worthy. The problem is, I can never tell with him what is real and what is an act. I am going to have to get to the bottom of this.

I rinse off the soap and shampoo savoring the last few moments in the warm shower before I have to return to reality. I get out and pull one of the nicest towels I have ever come across to my body and dry myself, the softness gives a bit of mercy to my otherwise in pain face and hand. I get the feeling it is only going to get worse as the night goes on and all the shock wears off.

I walk into the bedroom, surprised that I do not see Anton waiting for me to say something or try to convince me to do something else for him.

I reach for a clip, and I twist my hair on the top of my head and pin it there trying to keep it out of the way. I hate the feel of wet hair against my neck. I pull on a pair of silk shorts and a matching top, a fitting lavender color that compliments my complexion and hair.

I have to go downstairs, I realize this, and I prepare myself for anything, such as running into Anton and having to endure another conversation or fight with him. I find the medicine cabinet in the kitchen and pull out the Ibuprofen, knowing the swelling of my cheek is getting worse by the minute. It means the pain will also get worse, and that the last thing I need. I am sick of pain.

I pop the pills in my mouth and down them with some cold water from the filtered tap before I go to the freezer and open it, searching for something that will help me. There is frozen pizza and other frozen meals in there… how nutritious… and then I see it. A bag of peas! Perfect! I grab the cold bag and press it to my cheek with a satisfied and relieved sigh. It stings at first, but it begins to help with the swelling and numbs some of the pain. It’s just what I need.

I sit down for a moment at the bar, my mind wandering back to what Rusev said about my father; that he didn't care about me or my new status as Anton’s…whatever I am to him.

My father isn't cold, not to family. He may be a monster by nature, but he should care about what happens to me, his daughter. But there is always a possibility that in this one case, Rusev was right about the reason my father has not reached out. Maybe he doesn’t care about what’s happened to me. Maybe he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me at all. It’s not like he ever deserved the father of the year award or anything.

I gasp and jump, almost falling over as an unexpected arm snakes around my waist. He catches me, and I know it is Anton even without looking to see. He has this habit of sneaking up on me like this a little too often for my liking.

“Relax, it’s just me,” he says, a little too late. It would have been nice to have the warning before. His lips land on the back of my neck, and it causes a chill to run down my spine. Why does he have to know my weakness? The neck gets me every time. “Are you alright?” he asks me in a low voice, and I nod my head.

“You need to be verbal. I need to hear you say it out loud.” Anton growls suddenly. I didn't expect this level of worry once we were behind closed door.

“I am fine,” I tell him, hopefully satisfying him before he begins to worry too much.

Anton turns me around and gets me down from the chair, having more strength than he looks like he has. I guess I am so used to his goons and how gargantuan they are even compared to Anton’s height.

He presses me into the marble island, and his hand slides over mine, the one that is holding the bag of peas to my injured cheek. He is now helping to support it. I can feel the tension between us, a tension I know all too well. My eyes are on his, but neither of us is speaking or making a move. Is he assessing my reaction?

We are just breathing here in unison in complete silence as I imagine what it would be like to let go of all of my walls with him and just let him kiss me. I realize that we both lied in a way, both hid who we were for our own selfish reasons, reasons that make it necessary. I don't know if we will ever be the same as we were before or live up to what I thought we were becoming, but I don't know if I want him to hold back anymore, not when it comes to this part of us. After all this loneliness, it would be nice to be touched, to be wanted by someone.

Anton moves the bag of peas away from my face, setting it on the counter behind me. He looks at my swollen cheek and reaches out his hand to touch it, brushing his hand up against it. I wince and grimace as he hits a particularly sore spot. “You have a nasty cut too,” he says, and that’s when I realize that must be why it hurts. Rusev must have caught me with a fingernail when he slapped me.

Pulling away, he picks the bag of peas back up and puts them back in the freezer as I watch him with curious eyes. I wonder what he is really up to here.

He starts digging in the lower cabinets in the kitchen until he finds what he is looking for; a first aid kit. He pulls it out and digs through it, getting what he needs out on the counter to help me. I don't think I have ever had my cuts treated by someone close to me before, not like this, and the idea of it seems so intimate.

He starts with alcohol pads, taking them to the cut on my face and my hand from where the bottle got me. Luckily, that nick is a smaller one and stings a little less. Then, Anton dabs antibiotic ointment on both of my cuts. “This could scar, especially if we don't keep taking care of it,” Anton says softly.

I scoff at that, thinking of the one I already have on my jawline. Rusev will never leave me for that reason, the memory never fully gone. I will see him for the rest of my life every time I look in the mirror. “Add it to the list of ones I already have,” I tell him. I mean it as a joke to lighten the mood, but I realize after I say it that it is in pretty poor taste and doesn’t work at all.

Anton does not look amused, and I watch him as he finally gets it. His mouth opens just a bit in the realization finally at how I got this thing on my jaw he asked me about before. He knows who hurt me. “Is Rusev the man that cut you?” he asks me, even though I know he already knows the answer to that, it is so obvious now. So much of me is laid bare without my permission.

I nod and look him in the eyes. “I don't like to talk about my past, Anton, especially that part of it,” I explain to him. It wasn't something I ever wanted to tell him, but he knows now, so what does it matter? “It was too gruesome, and I could have done better, could have left earlier. It took him marking my flesh in order for me to find a way to leave,” I tell him, disgusted at myself for this. I always will be a little.

“I am sorry for how I treated you in the car, saying nothing of comfort and then jumping out like that. It was wrong of me,” he says. I can’t help it, it makes me laugh. That is the last thing he should be apologizing for.

“The silent treatment is not what you should be apologizing to me for,” I tell him through my dark laughter. “You should be sorry for calling me a whore, for treating me so badly earlier,” I make it known to him. He needs to know what his behavior made me feel if he ever wants to move past it. “Something that actually hurt my feelings,” I whisper quietly. “Don’t you ever call me that again.”

“I won’t. I am sorry, I didn't know it would hurt so bad, didn't understand what you had been through. I was just trying to make a point, and I took it a little too far.” He sounds sincere to me, and then he pulls me against him again, right to his body. His lips land gently against my temple. He dips his head back and kisses me softly. He is being so careful as to not cause me pain.

This is what is so confusing to me, that there are times when Anton is the biggest dick on the planet-quite literally, considering he is hung like a horse. Then, there are other times when he is so caring, and it seems genuine to me. Like the way he is holding me right now, there is kindness and passion he does not seem capable of in other moments. How do I reconcile the two?

“I need to know who you are,” I beg of him. “Which man you are with me. I can’t change the way you treat others or the way you run your Clan, but I need to know what to expect if anything is ever going to continue,” I tell him, annoyed at myself for possibly breaking the moment. But it had to be said.

“I don't know how to tell you,” he admits to me, and I see it in him, some kind of wall I am just picking out pieces of to tear away. I don't know how much it will take for it to fall completely. “I don’t even know myself right now, but I am trying. I can try.”

“Then, why don't you show me?” I challenge him, standing there and feeling the tension growing between us yet again. That's when he pulls me back in for another kiss, one with passion, but still gentle. He is still, even in our lust, completely aware of my injuries and how he could hurt me. That tells me something, a little bit of what I need from him.

I let him lift me up and take me into the bedroom, my bedroom, the one I have been sharing with him for many nights, though, I am not supposed to notice it. At least, I don’t think he meant for me to know.

He lays me down on the bed, and he undresses first as I watch. It is disarming seeing him without clothes on again. I had almost forgotten how sexy he was with his broad shoulders and his perfect chest, right down to his huge cock that is nice and erect for me. He looks down at me in my pajamas and runs his hands along the bare parts of my legs taking his time and enjoying the moment I see something different in his eyes when he looks at me, and it puzzles me. Everything about Anton puzzles me.

It is almost as if he is asking permission when he begins to slide my shorts and panties down, so painfully slow. I don't stop him. I simply do not want to. And maybe this is part of the new me, the one that doesn't give in or get walked on by men,

After my shorts hit the floor, his attention is onto my top, and I lift up a bit, helping him to get it off without hitting my cheek, though the sting is getting better with the fact that my thoughts are elsewhere.

My body is on the bed, the body I have given to the wrong man before, and yet, Anton still looks at me like I am a goddess. I can’t say it doesn't get to me, make me feel something, the way he worships me with his eyes alone. And then his hand follows suit, exploring me. Instead of jumping the gun and simply fucking me, he takes the time to be sensual. He starts with the scar on my jawline, and somehow, I find him tracing it to be sensual, maybe even loving, before he moves down my neck and across my collarbone.

There are no words, and I don't dare speak and ruin whatever it is that’s passing between us, his eyes shine like beacons when he slides his finger along my chest where my heart is, causing a slight tingle to ignite in my nerves. He keeps on moving down, his hands massaging my breasts, and I close my eyes as he rubs my nipples with his thumbs. They are getting hard and sensitive, and I moan softly, getting lost in the feeling. Only, it doesn't last.

Anton just keeps upping the ante as he follows the center of my stomach down to my navel and traces a slow circle around it. A small fire starts to build inside my abdomen, an ache is coming from deep within as I lift my knees up to greet him.

I open my eyes to see Anton smiling at me before continuing his trip around my body, landing on my groin, and I gasp. He is working me up and getting me so wet for him. He slips a finger inside of me, and my eyes go wide, my back arching as he slowly slides his middle finger in and out of my wanting center, my need drips out onto him the more he works at me and opens me up. I pump my hips into him as he continues to finger fuck me, inserting two fingers now instead of one.

This moment is all about me, and I can feel myself losing control as I grab the bed sheets in my fists, my legs beginning to quiver and threatening to shut on him with the intensity of the electricity going through my blood.

I shake to my climax, cum saturating his hand as he pumps into me until the very last drop is spent and I relax against the bed again. I sigh in satisfaction, but I know this is not over. At least, I hope it isn’t.

Anton climbs all the way onto the bed, each hand of his landing on either side of my head. His cock is brushing up against me, and it’s hard to pay attention to anything else as he dips his head low to my ear just the way I like. As he nibbles and licks at the lobe, he whispers something to me I do not expect, and it only makes this experience one I will probably remember for a long time.

He slips inside of me, and I sigh, relaxing against him as he pushes his way in, all the way in, filling me up with his glorious cock. This is one of the only redeeming qualities I have found in this man, and while it is not all about sex when it comes to these things, his gigantic shaft certainly helps.

I pull him in closer by wrapping my legs around his hips, his name escaping my lips as he continues to thrust inside of me, slowly, making this moment together last. I pull him up to my lips and kiss him, not holding back as my tongue slips into his mouth and explores it, every nook and cranny. His taste is sharp, almost like copper or some kind of metal, but I like it, and I run my fingers through his dirty blonde hair. Anton gifts me a moan into my mouth before he sucks my bottom lip in, making it swell pleasurably.

I take my other hand and run my nails down his neck and then to his back, raking them and leaving my mark there as he thrusts a little harder into me. Anton pulls up, so he can look into my eyes, and I feel my heart opening up again, little by little as he watches me locked in ecstasy with him on top of me. I allow myself to remember what I felt before all the shit with my uncle and the Clans went down, and I think maybe, maybe we can get back to that, if only we are willing to share who we are with one another.