Author's Note: I've done a very naughty thing. It's definitely on the "What Not To Do" list that I'm sure all writers have. I am posting this part of the story without my editor's (a.k.a. my beta) knowledge. I KNOW! I KNOW! I KNOW! It's totally wrong of me.
As I mentioned in the comment section for the first chapter of "Skin to Skin", I have changed the ending to this short story, which inadvertently made the story longer in length. So this chapter is the second chapter... out of three chapters. The third chapter is finished. Now, my lazy ass just have to type it up and have it edited... if I still have an editor.
Sorry, emeraldmbuku!
Okay, "warning-parental advisory" time!
In this chapter of "Skin to Skin" there is some violence (which is why it is posted in the 'Non Consensual/Reluctance' category'). It is nothing to horrible. Just some flogging. So, if you're uncomfortable reading about beatings, then I suggest for you to skip the some sections of the chapter.
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"Wake up," I heard a voice whisper into my left ear. I groaned in response and turned my face away from the bothersome object. Then I felt something grab my chin and turn my face back into that direction. "Wake up, baby."
"No," I groaned. I had gone to push the offending person away from me, but I couldn't move my hand. Hell, I couldn't move my whole arm.
'What the fuck...'
I tried to move the other arm and it couldn't move either.
"What the fuck," my mouth had spoken.
I opened my eyes, only to see me; well actually, it was my reflection. There was a giant mirror mounted on the ceiling, above his bed. 'How freaky,' I concluded.
Then I remembered the events that had taken place before I passed out from his chokehold. My fear re-emerged. I started to struggle for my freedom. I was thrashing against the bed as I tried to free my hands from their bindings. I tried freeing myself by slamming the metal chain, which connected the cuffs, against the headboard's metal dowels. I hoped that one of the metal links from the chain would break apart and then I would be able to free myself.
"FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK..." I screamed in frustration as I jerked my arms. I failed with each attempt.
After experiencing failure for so many attempts, I stopped struggling. My wrists ached and I was sure that I managed to nick the flesh on my wrists. The biceps in each of my arms was sore. My lungs were feeling as if I had just run the ING New York City Marathon. I felt tingly all over as well. I didn't want to stop attempting to remove the handcuffs, but my arms were hurting. Plus, I didn't want to cause a muscle strain or worse. So, I lied back down on the mattress and relaxed my limbs. It was during my moment of resting, when I started to focus on the ceiling's mirror.
It was because of the mirror, I learnt a couple of things about my current state of being. I was naked as the day that I was born. My legs weren't bound. In fact, they were open, in a lewd way, spread-eagle style. I immediately closed them tightly.
"Oh---
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, don't you dare."
I turned my head and looked to my left, only to see Malachi lying beside me, in bed. There was almost a foot of space in between our bodies. He was lying on his side, facing me and staring at me with intensity. His eyes no longer appeared soft and the eye color wasn't a pale shade of grey. Now, his irises' color were silver and there wasn't a single iota of warmth in them. He looked angry, but I didn't feel any angry vibes radiating from him.
"Malachi---
"You don't know how much you're turning me on right now," he declared. Now he has managed to receive my full, undivided attention.
His declaration of having lust for me also gotten something else's attention. I felt my clit swell in excitement. Then there was a dull throbbing occurring in between my lower lips and it increased by every passing millisecond. I crossed my legs at the ankles and squeezed my thighs by contracting the muscles inside of my thighs. I tried to reduce the sensation. I noticed that his eyes had left my face and stared at my thighs. A smirk and then a chuckled escaped his lips as he stared at the legs. I blushed as I felt ashamed for my body's reaction.
"You have a beautiful tattoo," he said to me and then begun to explore the artwork, by touching the tattoo with his fingertips. Goose pimples had grown onto my skin as his fingers traced the outline of my tattoo. "When did you get it done?"
"W-w-when... What did you say?" I asked, heavily distracted by his caress. I heard another one of his infamous chuckles. His fingers stopped admiring the colorful fish and came to rest on my lower belly.
"I asked you, when did you get your tattoo?"
'What the fuck is going on?' my conscience screamed. 'This crazy motherfucker had just kidnapped you and he's about to rape you...'
"A-about three years ago, when I was on Spring Break, in San Francisco," I answered.
'And yet, your dumb ass answered his question as if you two are having a nice conversation while sitting in the a park!'
Malachi grunted in response. Then, I felt the old mattress shake. My eyes moved in their sockets and stared at him. He was in the process of scooting his big ass closer to the area where I was laying. He went back to lying on his side and placed his hand back on my stomach. He also, thanks to his new position on the bed, his face was a few inches away from my left breast. He resumed his conversation.
"Was this the trip that you had taken with Lynn?"