Taken Captive

Chapter 56

I never really paid attention to them before, all I saw was ink, art, beauty. Now I see pain, meaning, grief. They represented his pain, every single one of them.

I slightly jumped when a large hand caressed my thigh, shooting me back to reality. I looked over at his eyes that were now slowly opening as his hand explored my thigh, disappearing under my shirt to caress my hip.

He smiled at me, "Good morning, baby."

I almost came right then and there, the husky raspiness to his voice making heat fill up my core and pulse against my clit.

"Morning," I squeaked, clearing my throat and gulping hard as a blush rose to my cheeks.

"What are you doing up there?" He asked, referring to me sitting on top of him.

"I was just looking at your tattoos," I said, looking over them once again and pointing at the burned butterfly, "What does this one mean?"

He looked down at her and smiled, "That's my mom. A beautiful butterfly who burned herself and got burned by everyone around her. She's in the process of dying, something that went on for years until she was finally put out of her misery."

Dark.

"And this one?" I caressed the scary skeleton haunting the man.

"That's me," He pointed to the man then moved his finger to the skeleton, "And that's William. He haunts me, I express it. It's hard to tell people the truth about what happened, when I got this tattoo I was hoping someone would notice, ask me what it means and find out the truth. It was like a cry for help but no one but Jordan asked about it. It was upfront, blunt. I was terrified at the same time, almost happy that no one asked about it because it makes me feel like an open book. Like people around me can look at and immediately figure out the truth."

Even darker.

"How about him? Is that you too?" I looked at the other arm where the chaotic face sat.

He shook his head, "No. That's my dad. You see the way each quarter of his face doesn't match, it's all so different and confusing?" I nodded and he continued, "That was my father. So many different emotions that could change within a split second. I'd look at him and that's what I saw, including the rope around his neck."

"Did he want to die?" I whispered, my eyes stuck on the image. It made me feel like I was being strangled.

"I don't know about that." He shrugged, "I put it into the design because it always seemed like that rope was there, almost like there was a leash holding him back from being a good father and holding back his true emotions. That's why I included the sadness, I could see it in him but he never let it out."

"And the roses and thorns, do they have something to do with it?" I touched his forearm, rubbing it comfortingly while he moved that hand to the inside of my shirt as well, caressing the stretch marks on my stomach.

"The dead ones have the bad memories inside them that he gave me, the thorns are what I had to dodge so I wouldn't get more hurt. The ones that are alive are what represents my love for him and my mother even though they didn't reciprocate it very often. But I knew even though they didn't love me, they still cared for me. If they didn't, I wouldn't be alive and have the power and ability to protect myself like I do now."

That one was just sad.

But I didn't miss how easy it was for him to open up to me now. He did it without hesitation and I loved it. It was a blessing, getting someone like him to give me all of his trust and let me in.

"Thank you for telling me." I smiled, placing my hands on his chest.

He nodded, "You're welcome. How're you feeling?" I felt his hands go beneath the lace of my underwear, on each side, caressing the skin folded beneath where my thighs and hips met. My breath caught in my throat, my nails slightly digging into his chest at the soothing feeling of his warm hands on me again.