Seduced in the Dark (25 page)

***

My attachment to Caleb was evolving, but it
wasn’t just that. I found myself anticipating his needs and
learning the meanings behind his many silences. Some days, he was
brutal and I scrambled to obey his every whim as flawlessly as I
was capable. Other days, he seemed content just having me near
while he attended to mundane things.

Caleb liked to read, but when I asked, he
never let me know what it was he was reading. When I mentioned how
much
I
liked to read, he gifted me a copy of Shakespeare’s,
Hamlet
. I thought it was ironic he gave me a story about one
man’s obsession with revenge and how it literally poisoned everyone
around him. He didn’t seem to find it amusing, but let me keep the
book anyway. I wasn’t sure what to make of the gesture.

I thought a lot about the night he had sex
with Celia in front of me. It was a painful memory for many
reasons, but the worst seemed to be my nagging sense of jealousy.
No matter the circumstance, I found having Caleb near was always
better than not having him around. It wasn’t only his presence I
came to crave, but also the man himself.

Several weeks after the night with Celia, I
was finally free of all tape and bandages. My ribs still hurt from
time to time, but it wasn’t the horrible kind of pain that stole my
breath. I opened my eyes and it was still dark in the room, but
light enough to suggest it was morning. Celia hadn’t been in to
open the curtains yet. I yawned and stretched out. I was careful
not to hit Caleb as he slept beside me.

I didn’t have the nightmares as often
anymore, but whenever Caleb opted not to sleep in my room I found
myself terrified of the dark and unable to sleep. Such had been the
case the night before and I’d ended up yelling his name loudly over
and over until he angrily opened my door in his boxer shorts and
asked me what the hell I was screaming about.

As soon as I had seen him I relaxed. I ran
toward him and put my arms around him. With my face buried against
his chest I immediately breathed in comfort and security. He had
seemed annoyed, but he’d wiped my face and told me to get in bed –
he’d stay.

I knew morning would bring about a change in
him, in the way he behaved toward me and I wasn’t ready to accept
it yet. It was ironic, because at first, I hated the dark. I had
spent so much time those first few weeks of my captivity, craving
the sun and the light on my face. Suddenly, it seemed the opposite.
In the dark, my master let down his guard and he was Caleb again.
He didn’t correct me. He didn’t punish me. He didn’t push me away
emotionally. Caleb was there to hold me until the nightmares
passed. He was there to tell me I was beautiful. He was there to
tell me I was going to be okay. In the dark, he seduced me. I
didn’t want the seduction to end.

I turned toward Caleb slowly, staring at his
back. I’d seen his scars before, kissed them, but Caleb had never
let me study them. With his eyes so firmly shut and him taking
deep, even breaths, I took advantage of the situation to satisfy my
growing curiosity. Even in the dim light, I made out the thick
lines crisscrossing his tanned skin. They almost looked like welts,
but I could tell they’d been healed for a long time.

Unable to resist, I reached out with my
fingertip and traced one from his shoulder to about the middle of
his back. He groaned and shifted a little, and I withdrew my hand.
I waited a few impatient seconds to see if he woke up, and when he
didn’t, I went over the same spot again. The skin was raised by the
slightest of degrees and I marveled over how many there were.
How did you get these?
My curiosity made me bolder and I
pressed my palm to his skin letting it travel the length and
breadth of his back. There were dozens of the tiny welts.
Who
did this to you? Is this why you’re the way you are?

Without thinking, I drew closer and pressed
my lips to the ill-treated flesh. Caleb was soft, softer than I’d
expected him to be given the firmness of him. Tiny, invisible blond
hair met my lips and I smiled against his flesh. I’d never been so
close to a man as I was to Caleb. Everything with him was a new
discovery. Granted, most things I discovered about Caleb were
horrible, but sometimes…sometimes I discovered he was soft.

I lingered over his bare skin, scooting
closer and enjoying him. He never asked me to touch him anymore. I
thought about the time he asked me to touch him. I’d been hesitant
at the time. I’d hated him. I was surprised to realize I didn’t
hate him so much anymore. I felt so many things toward him, and
yes, hate was perhaps among them, but there were others too, far
more complex than simple hate.

Caleb planned to sell me. I hated him for
that. Everything else? I was shocked to realize I could, perhaps,
forgive him. I struggled against the idea every day, at every
opportunity, telling myself it would only leave me in ruins…but my
heart. My heart, independent of my logic, had reserved a place for
my tormentor and my solace.

I was lost in my thoughts, stroking Caleb’s
back when he let out a gruff sigh and swatted at his shoulder
almost hitting me. I flinched and made a startled sound. Abruptly,
he turned and grabbed the hand I had used to touch him. We stared
at each other for a bit, my eyes wide and nervous, and his
presumably confused and a little angry.

“What are you doing?” he asked suspiciously.
He held my hand as if he’d just pulled it from the proverbial
cookie jar, and what could I say – I looked the part.

Brazenly, I pulled my hand free and asked,
“What happened to your back?” He looked at me as if I’d said
something distasteful, and then fell back against his pillow as he
expelled a big yawn.

“You know, Kitten, when I first decided to
call you that, I didn’t realize how aptly I’d chosen.” He read my
perplexed expression and proceeded. “Curiosity killed the cat.” He
smiled, but I didn’t think it was too funny.

Jokes about killing me. Yeah – not
funny.

“Will you stop asking, if I tell you?” he
said. He stretched. I tried not to be distracted by his nearly
naked body and the serious case of morning wood he had going.

“Why would I keep asking you if I had the
answer?” I said and boldly smiled when he glared at me.

“The better question would be: why do I put
up with you?” I knew he meant it to be banter, but all he’d done
was thrust our situation into awkward focus. We both knew why he
put up with me and the answer was shitty.

I was just about to lie and tell him I
wasn’t really curious, but Celia finally came into the room with
breakfast. Celia; things were surprisingly not strained between us.
She hadn’t been happy Caleb had used her and sent her packing, but
the following morning she’d come in, business as usual.

Once, when Caleb hadn’t spent the night and
therefore not been in my room the next morning, I spoke to her
again. She’d actually seemed a little frightened when I grabbed her
arm and asked her just what that smile she’d given me had been
about.

“
Please don’t be upset with me,” she’d
said, and I felt a little snotty and let her go. “He brought me
here for you,” she continued. Her expression suggested I was stupid
for not knowing – which apparently, I was.

“
What do you mean, for me?”

“
He cares for you. He cares for you the
way I wish my master would care for me,” she said in an almost sad
and thoughtful tone. “In a way, I was glad you were jealous – I
could see it on your face. It was a nice change from being jealous
of you.”

She had stunned me; I’d never considered she
was jealous. I’d never considered my position to be an enviable
one.

After Celia concluded her morning business,
Caleb and I still lay in bed, just the two of us. The feeling grew
more and more comfortable as the days and weeks progressed. I still
hadn’t been able to convince him to let me roam the mansion – as
Caleb informed me it was, but I could go out onto the balcony if he
accompanied me. The view was breathtaking. It appeared to be the
quintessential Spanish villa, surrounded by lush fields below and
cactus in bloom in large ceramic pots, set on Spanish tile on an
extravagant balcony. I’d only dreamed of living places like this.
Though, in my dreams, I was never living there as a captive.
Semantics.

“Breakfast on the balcony?” I asked with
more enthusiasm than necessary.

He smiled. “What do you think this is, a
vacation?” I felt a tight pinch in the center of my chest when he
teased me. I think I’d rather come to like it. Not the teasing, but
the way he smiled when he did.

“Hardly,” I said, coyly.

He stretched out again, and put his hands
behind his head, then looked at me disbelievingly. He had a grin
playing across his lips.

“Did you…
kiss me
this morning?”
Instant heat rose to my face turning me what had to be at least
eight different shades of red. I worked hard to resist the urge to
bury my face in my pillow.

Kill me. Kill me, now!

I couldn’t even speak, I just shook my head
emphatically, but the look in his eyes told me he knew I was
lying.

“Yes. You did.” This time his teasing was a
little painful. I was really embarrassed and I knew he just
wouldn’t let it go, tears started to well up in my eyes.

“No, I didn’t!” I said on a rush of breath,
and I felt the heat of my tears cutting across my cheek.

He rolled his eyes as he sat up. He put his
finger under my chin and tilted my head upward. “Really? Tears,
Kitten?
You
kissed
me
. Against my will, I might add.
Shouldn’t I be the one to cry?” he said. He laughed uproariously as
I buried my face in my pillow again.

“Oh come on!” he said in an annoyed tone and
laid his face next to mine. “I’ll drop it okay.”

Bringing my head up slowly and wiping away
my tears I whispered, “You promise?” He put his hand around my
waist, pulled me close, and rolled me onto my back. Stunned, I
simply looked up at him. “Absolutely not,” he said. Carefully, I
tried to move, but his weight pinned me to the mattress. “By now,
you should know I always get what I want.”

As I stared up into his enigmatic blue eyes,
it was hard to ignore the sensual line of his jaw. It showed the
barest trace of his morning stubble. His hair was ruffled from
sleep and while I thought it should make him look ridiculous, he
was only more handsome. Caleb was a person, bed head and all. But
of all the things difficult to ignore about the man on top of me,
there was one that stood out…quite literally. He was incredibly
hard between my thighs.

“And what
do
you want?” I asked,
softly.

We stared at one another for what felt like
an eternity. He looked at me in a way I’d never seen before. I
didn’t want to give it a name or classification. I was more than
content to just have him look at me with that expression on his
face.

Slowly, I brought my hands up to his face. I
couldn’t help myself. Knowing how soft he could be, the urge to
touch him was something I didn’t want to fight off.

He seemed taken aback by my touch and the
playful smile he held fell from his face. Our eyes met for the
briefest of moments, and my fingers sensed the gentle shake of his
head just before I kissed him so hard we both made a hurt sound. My
brain fired synapses to every part of my body, and heat flooded my
skin and pooled between my thighs. His tongue begged to be allowed
into my mouth and I opened up to him. My hands weaved through his
hair. He moaned into my mouth, and my hunger for him exploded from
a place I had begun to suspect was there for quite some time.

I started to get a little frightened when he
reached down and pulled up my nightgown.
I don’t think I’m ready
for this.
He spread my legs with his body, cradling himself
between my thighs. His cock was incredibly hard. I wanted to say
something, protest in some way, but then I felt the heat of him
against the wetness I’d created, and I could’ve sworn I heard us
sizzle. He withdrew his lips from mine and latched his hot, sucking
mouth onto my neck. I threw my head back, surprised by the
sensation of both pleasure and pain, a sensation that only became
more powerful as the son of a bitch bit me.

I gasped loudly and my hands instinctively
flexed into fists in his hair and I pulled him backward. “That
hurt!” I said through gritted teeth.

He pulled my hands free from his hair and
held them above my head with his left hand. “You think I don’t
know?” he said. The unmistakable look of lust had taken over his
features and he appeared almost feral in his intensity.

I was a little frightened but my desire for
him wouldn’t let me care. I pulled his mouth down toward mine. My
heart slammed around in my chest as the liquid fire in my veins
seemed to burn me from the inside out.

Abruptly, his touch turned soft and he
kissed me so gently I wanted to cry again. “You’re so wet; my cock
is covered in you,” he whispered against my mouth. I moaned loudly
at his words, and I knew my mind was made up.

“Make love to me,” I replied. My voice
sounded alien to my own ears. His heart beat hard against me and
his cock twitched against my pussy. He took a deep ragged breath
and placed his forehead against my shoulder. In the silence, my
hunger feuded with my growing shame over the idea he would say
something cruel or make some silly joke. I would be undone.

He finally picked his head back up and
looked at me. I couldn’t decipher the message in his eyes. He
conveyed so many things at once: need, anger, confusion, and
something else. “Fuck,” he said.

His shoulders slumped subtly and I worried
this was the part where he was going to say something to make me
wish I could crawl inside myself and die. I wanted to say
something, perhaps offer some preemptive strike, like ‘I was just
kidding’, but I couldn’t say anything. Then, to my relief, he let
my hands go and slipped the straps of my nightgown down my
shoulders, exposing my breasts.