Page 40 of Captured Onyx

Chapter 19

Malia

I thought he would bind my ankles and wrists like he did last time and tie me to the bed posts so I couldn't run away.

When he tells me to kneel before him with my knees spread apart, I feel a rush of hot embarrassment traveling down my spine.

He told me to trust him and he promised he wouldn't touch me tonight. Yet here I am, kneeling with my legs spread apart and my center exposed to his will.

"Normally, I'd tie your hands at the back," he says matter-of-factly as he joins me on the bed, moving my knees even further apart with his when he kneels before me. "But I'll be nice tonight. You need to get some rest."

His gaze lingers just below my belly button, assessing my bare core with such intensity that it almost feels as if I'm being touched. My legs twitch, urging to close and shield myself before his eyes. But I know he wouldn't let that happen, probably granting any attempt of defiance with a harsh slap.

And he's right about one thing: I don't like pain. Not at all. I know I'm not that kind of girl. I remember what I saw on my best friend's body. The bruises, hot marks left by someone who claims to love her. I will never understand that kind of connection. I will never understand the game those two had to play in order to give room to their feelings.

But I'm beginning to understand another part of their unique relationship, even though I never thought I would. It was a mystery to me why anyone would ever want to be someone else‘s possession, subjected to their will and control.

But now...

There's a sense of liberation, knowing that there's absolutely nothing I can do about this, knowing that this handsome, mysterious man wants me as much as he does. I can see the desire emitting sparks in his grey eyes and the further proof that is stretching the fabric of his pants at his crotch.

He's hard. Because of me.

And he notices me staring.

"Eyes up," he commands, a mischievous smirk on his face letting me know that nothing slips his attention.

"Like what you're doing to me?" he asks, only worsening my predicament.

I shake my head vehemently, as if that would rid me of the vicious blush that's spreading all the way to my ears.

He chuckles darkly, but spares me another remark. Instead, he reaches for my right wrist, expertly wrapping the rope around it once before he brings both of my hands to the front and binds them together with such quick and skillful knots that my eyes can barely follow his movements.

"You do this a lot," I comment, as I watch him work the rope. It's rugged and cuts into my skin when he fastens the knots, but not in a painful way.

"It's a useful skill for someone in my position."

"You're a rigger, right?"

He arches his eyebrows in surprise. "Didn't know you were familiar with that label."

"Well, yes, I'm not entirely stupid," I mutter.

"It has nothing to do with being stupid," he insists. "I just didn't take you for someone who has done this before."

"I haven't. But I've heard of it. Kind of."

The questions are clearly visible in his gaze, but he doesn't give voice to them.

He tightens the knot around my wrists before bringing the rope up to my neck, motioning for me to bend my arms so that my tied hands rest on my chest. He holds the rope with one hand while using the other to place my hands exactly where he wants them, centered between my boobs, while the rope drapes around my neck, trailing down my back.

I tense when he moves his hands close to my nipples, barely gracing the skin in a deliberate move. He's teasing me, I can tell. His skilled fingers trail across my body, not really meeting my skin but intimating the movement. Goosebumps appear on my arms and my heart beat accelerates as my body prepares for an assault that never happens.

"Stay."

He speaks to me as if I was a dog, his commands uttered in a seething voice that neither expects nor allows backtalk.

I don't move, but my eyes follow his every motion as he gets up on his knees, his visible bulge taunting me as he guides the rope down my back.

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