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DELILAH
It might have taken forever to fall asleep, but even with my wrists and ankles tied tight enough to turn them numb, I somehow slept better than I have in weeks. I still don’t know what day it is. All I know is that sleeping on the floor of Lucas’s bedroom was more comfortable and more restful than that stinking, filthy cot, even without the blanket.
My arms are sore from being in this position for hours, and my legs are stiff, but I’m clean and wearing clothes that aren’t covered with filth.
It’s the little things. I’ll never take clean clothes for granted again as long as I live.
It finally hits me that there’s something about this room that reminds me of the cell I just left: a lack of windows. Because we’re underground, there’s no natural sunlight or anything. It’s disorienting, but I’m used to that. It’s like the torture I went through prepared me for this.
Movement from the bed makes me freeze up. I hold my breath, waiting to see what will happen. From my vantage point, I can just see him under the blankets. A soft snore tells me he’s still asleep. How can he sleep soundly, seeing what he did last night?
Knowing what I went through? He must be a soulless bastard to rest soundly after tying a girl up and forcing her to sleep on his floor, knowing she’s already been through hell.
He shifts again, leaving me to wonder just how soundly he’s actually resting. Now he’s on his back, one arm flung over his head. It would be so easy to kill him. He was smart to tie me up.
The old me would never have thought about doing anything like that. I’m not a violent person; at least, I wasn’t before. But time and torment have a way of doing things to a person’s mind. They teach you how far you’re willing to go to survive, and that’s what this is really about at the end of the day. Survival. If you want to survive, you have to get the people who would rather destroy you out of the way. The law of the jungle or whatever.
He stirs on the bed, then clears his throat, and I know he’s awake without having to see his face. I have to do something to get on his good side. I need him to start looking at me as a person. The more I can get him to like me, the more freedom he’ll give me. The more freedom I get, the better my chances of escape. Now is as good a time to start as any.
Especially when I see what’s sticking straight up under the covers. From the looks of it, my host has a respectable dick, which I guess makes sense seeing as how he’s so tall. It moves back and forth a little as he stretches and sits up.
His gaze immediately falls on me. Even with sleep still heavy in his eyes, I don’t miss the deep-rooted hatred for me. I don’t even know why he hates me so much, but I’m certain he does. I only have to find out his reason. And the best way to get the truth out of him is to be unexpected. Be blunt, shock him, and keep him on his toes.
“Morning wood is a bitch, huh?” Somehow, I manage to sit up, ignoring the stiffness in my legs and hips. “What do you usually do? Do you jerk off, or do you ignore it and wait until it goes down on its own?”
“What kind of question is that?” he sneers.
A snort escapes me. “Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to read the chapter on approved conversation topics in the captor-captive handbook.”
He still can’t tell if I’m serious or not. I wonder if he’s used to being off-balance like this. I can’t imagine he would be. Not a man who practically exudes strength and control like he does. He didn’t even hesitate to bind me up before making me sleep on his bedroom floor. Like his conscience didn’t get in the way at all.
He murmurs something I don’t understand, but his eyes slide over my body the way they did last night when I was getting out of the shower. That gives me hope, too. He’s only human, nothing more than a man, no matter how much power he has over my life right now.
“How about you let me take care of it for you?”
“Excuse me?”
“I think you heard me,” I murmur.
When he swings his legs over the edge of the bed, I have to fight off a triumphant grin. It’s almost too easy. Here I was, thinking I’d have to come up with some big, elaborate scheme. All it takes is the offer of a blowjob, and he’s putty in my hands.
“You know what. That does sound kind of exciting,” he rasps, standing, and now his erection juts out in front of him like a flagpole. “I could keep you tied up the way you are. Fuck your face a little. And there’s nothing you could do about it.”
“I’d be at your complete mercy,” I tease, my heart hammering as he crosses the room to stand in front of me. I clasp my hands together so he doesn’t see how my fingers shake with each tiny step he takes toward me.
I get on my knees, a little awkwardly, considering I can’t use my hands, but something tells me he doesn’t care much about me moving seductively. He’s too busy imagining getting his dick sucked.
My heart sinks. I haven’t done this with anyone since Nash, and I didn’t plan on it either. I know he is gone, but this still feels like a betrayal of sorts.
Lucas stops in front of me, and I have to lift my head to be able to see his face. He glares at me with hate and disdain, which has my stomach in knots. This is going to be rough. He hates me, and he is going to let me feel that hate.
Instead of dropping his shorts, he drops into a crouch, his face inches from mine. He is so close now I can smell his minty breath when he talks. “Like I would ever let you get close to my dick,” he snarls, his lip curling in an ugly sneer. “What, do you think I’m some horny teenager? Like I’m as stupid as those assholes I took you from last night? You’re way out of your league here, Delilah. Keep that in mind.”
Disappointment and relief settle into my bones. I didn’t want this, but it would have helped me, and I was so close, at least I thought I was.
But here’s the thing about me: I’ve known nothing but disappointment my whole life. And when you’ve been knocked down more times than you can count, you learn real fast how to disguise your true feelings. That’s why I can grin while looking him dead in the eye. “We’ll see about that.”
He responds by untying my ankles, then hauling me to my bruised and aching feet. I hate that I have to lean against him for a moment to catch my balance as my stiff muscles come back to life. There isn’t much time to recover before he shoves me toward the bathroom, where he unties my wrists immediately before leaving me alone. “Don’t take long,” he barks from the other side of the door. “I have a schedule to keep.”
