Captive in the Dark(32)

“Do you have any idea how sexy that is?” he said. I gritted my teeth and looked away.

“White looks very good on you, I’ll have to make a note of it. I’m glad you suggested clothes.

Seeing you dressed makes me think of undressing you. However, I think this is a very good opportunity to make you comfortable being naked around me, and it will afford me a pleasant view while I eat.”

I pressed my knees tightly together but opened them when he pried. I still remembered my beating quite well and had no desire to upset him. The room was silent with the exception of my heavy breathing. I had never felt so exposed.

“That’s lovely,” he inhaled sharply and when next he spoke his voice was thick, slightly hoarse, “Just the right shade of pink. Now…keep your legs open. Don’t provoke me.” I shut my eyes against the inevitable flow of tears. Dread and embarrassment flared into anger, slowly churning in my chest. I focused on breathing slowly. I stared at the wall, perfectly still as he ate. It felt strange having my legs open to his gaze. The air touched every part of me.

At times my sex seemed to open on its own, like a hungry little mouth. I wondered if he saw it and prayed he didn’t. I tried to imagine what I looked like. Was I beautiful? Was I disgustingly vulgar? Why on earth did I care? I was wondering about all sorts of things when I was jolted into reality by the sudden touch of cold metal between my thighs. He had lowered the chain between my legs, moving it back and forth between my lips.

I looked at him with narrowed eyes, wishing more than anything I could kick his face to wipe that smile off.

“Not to make you arrogant, because you’re that already, but you’re very pretty.” Pride overwhelmed my fear and I couldn’t help taking his bait. “That’s funny,” I said trying to close my legs, “you of all people calling someone arrogant.” He could barely contain his laugh.

“Touché, but I’m not the one on the floor with my legs open.” I started to cry, frustration and anger bubbling out of me as tears - a show of weakness.

“I





hate you.”

“You don’t hate me,” He said it like it was fact, like he knew me. He knelt between my open legs and leaned over me with his hands on the carpet. I turned my head to the side. He kissed me, first behind my ear, then down my neck. “But you wish you did.”

“Stop,” I whispered.

“Why?” he whispered just as softly. “Is my shirt suddenly too warm?” A small gasp escaped my lips as his warm hand palmed my breast through soft fabric. I opened my mouth to tell him not to flatter himself when his other hand darted down to touch me between my thighs. I lay frozen in place, paralyzed by my fear. Through the fabric of his shirt he stroked me with his fingers, all the while keeping his eyes locked onto mine. He didn’t enter me, couldn’t with his shirt in the way, but still his fingers invaded every fiber of me. I felt him everywhere. Then, against any form of logic, I felt myself flush with warmth. Pleasure, desire, not pain. My entire body suddenly focused in on Caleb’s fingers and what they were doing. My heart raced, I held back my urge to moan. Caleb’s mouth turned into a knowing smile, and then he took his hands away slowly, leaving me gasping on the floor.

“Now. Tell me you don’t hate me.”

“





No.”

His naked chest pressed against me; the heat of it sent shivers through my body. He kissed my neck while running his hand down my thigh. His breath drew in deeply, then out in a whisper across my skin. His erection warmed me through his pants. He pushed it against me, as if he could somehow come into me. I struggled with my wrist-straps, trying to free my hands. He slowed, calmingly caressing me in a gentle, loving way. He rocked back and forth on top of me, kissing me, rubbing me, breathing on my skin.

Something in my body changed, but I didn’t want it to. I got hot, very hot. My breathing got faster, and all I could do was smell him, all over me, breathing him in, his scent inside me. He kissed down my chest, holding my knees apart.

“Stop…Stop.” The first objection was real, the second one…I wasn’t sure.

His mouth latched onto my nipple through the fabric of his shirt, somehow more excruciating because he couldn’t quite get to me. He sucked harder, making my nipple hard, wet and hot. I half sighed and groaned, unable to resist tilting my head back against the carpet, eyes closed, falling into sensations I’d never felt before.