Page 45 of Captured Onyx

Chapter 21

Malia

I can't move. I couldn't move all night. The longest night of my life.

It's still dark out, but I can tell that the sun is about to make an appearance. A faint line stretches right above the horizon, a blue that's brighter than the shade of night. I can see it from where I'm lying, my body turned to the right as much as possible so I can face the window.

Away from him.

He's sleeping next to me, the calm and steady rhythm of his breathing telling me that he's still fast asleep, enjoying a deep slumber that I was never allowed. He said he wanted me to rest and that‘s why he was easy on me when he draped the rope around my body, but there‘s no way he could have been serious when he said that. Yes, the tied rope may not be as restricting as it could have been, but I'm still held in place in a way that's too uncomfortable to drift off to a restful sleep.

Unlike when I first woke up in the other room, only one of my ankles is tied to the bed this time. He let go of my other leg when I promised I wouldn't kick him or "try any other funny business," as he called it. It was that eye blink of freedom that allowed me to get any sleep at all because it allowed me to shift my body and get accustomed to the rope running between my legs.

That's the worst part actually. The rope cutting into the soft, sensitive skin between my thighs, keeping my swollen clit in a constant state of tension that wouldn't let me forget it was there, wouldn’t let me forget my desire.

Forget about the fact that he elicited such strong feelings without even touching me.

Forget that I begged him to break his promise because I wanted more of him.

Forget that I was so close to finding a release I'd never expected to find here.

Forget that he denied me release.

He mocked me by hovering his hand so close to my arousal that I could feel it, despite the tense air still running between the two of us. He stayed true to his words, he never touched me.

And I hate him for that.

He fooled me. Humiliated me.

He released a sinister laugh after I pleaded for him to touch me—and then he pulled away. He got another piece of rope to secure my leg and told me to get some sleep.

Of course, I protested. I cursed at him, I cried ugly tears that I now feel ashamed about. And all it got me was another threat. A threat to beat me, to bring me back to that terrible room and make me sleep naked and tied up on the floor.

I was almost impressed by the creativity of his cruelty and all the ways he could come up with to make me feel even worse. That way, he can always make it appear like it was a choice. Like I was the one who wanted to be bound in bed like this, bound with my center yearning for something that never came to fruition.

After he finished his handiwork, he got undressed, visibly enjoying the way I took in his marvelous physique. To say that he's ripped with muscles would be an understatement. His entire upper body is sculpted by obvious hard work, a valley of muscles adorn his chiseled chest and abdomen, culminating in a luscious v-shaped trail down to his thick cock. He never took off his black boxer briefs, but it wasn't out of shyness.

I could tell by the way he moved and flexed his muscles before my eyes. There was nothing coy about it. He wanted me to see the hardened length that was stretching the black fabric to its limits, and he noticed the reaction resulting from the sight.

I hate him for that, too. I hate myself for wanting him in that moment. It doesn't make sense. How can there be such a strong disconnect between my body and my mind?

"This isn't easy for me," he said before lying down next to me. "But it's necessary. Trust me."

I didn't respond to that. There was nothing left inside of me that needed to be let out. I was exhausted, mad, and I felt hopeless.

Sleep didn't come easy to me, but I craved it more than anything else by that point. It was the only escape left for me, the only thing I could hope for that would give me a way out of that dreadful humiliation.

I don't know how long I slept, but I know for sure that it's over now. I'm awake, back to the horrible reality that's now my life.

I jerk to the side when he shifts next to me. He moved a lot during the night, leaving me wondering whether he wasn't getting the best sleep either.

But when I throw a cautious look in his direction from the side now, I'm met with his grey gaze, his eyelids still heavy beneath his ruffled hair. He looks annoyingly handsome and not at all like the monster I know him to be.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Morning, sunshine."

I turn away from him, pressing my lips together to stop myself from saying anything that would only worsen my situation. He doesn't react well to backtalk and disrespect, I know that much. It's better not to say anything at all when I'm not capable of saying something nice. And I'm sure as hell not going to wish him a good morning, as if nothing had happened.

The bed springs creak and the mattress bounces when he jumps out of bed. I don't turn to see what he's doing, choosing to ignore his existence for now.

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