Page 40 of All Your Pain
"That might be the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he sighs.
15
WILLOW
As much as I hate to admit it to myself, I find myself easily adjusting to my circumstances.
It’s actually been nice spending time with Dean. He's the first person I've opened up to about my dad and he believed me straight away. There was a time, back in school, when I tried talking to a teacher about what was going on at home but she said, "how parents choose to discipline their children isn't her problem."I quickly gave up after that, too afraid that Dad would find out what I'd said.
The times when Dean and I haven't been talking or busy trying to learn how to cook, the sex has been amazing.
If I feel the need to take control, he lets me. He's less demanding when it comes to making me tell him how much I like the pain but he hasn't stopped giving me it. I still describe it to him, his kink seems to be rubbing off on me because when the details tumble out of my mouth my orgasms come so much quicker. He knows I want it and I'm well aware of how much I need it.
I’m not sure when exactly it happened but at some point I started wanting it all.Maybe I did from the start?
The times when Dean isn’t here I feel lost and spend my time in the bedroom. I’m not used to having a whole house to explore by myself and it kind of scares me. I was so used to being alone that I found a way to enjoy the solitude. But now I find myself missing Dean’s touch and the wicked things he does to me.
I’ve even started dreaming about him touching me softly and saying how much he loves me. In my dreams I even say the words back. When I wake up with his cock inside me I wonder if they were dreams at all. My brain is such a confusing mess right now.
I’m probably just so starved for any form of affection that I’m lapping up everything Dean gives me right out of his hand.
He’s been away a lot the past few days, he never tells me where he goes but I assume he’s out killing people. Even with that image in my head, I still end up missing him. So when I hear a car pull up outside, I sit up in bed like a little pet eagerly waiting for their masters return home.
When he comes into the bedroom, a few minutes later, he looks tired. With a sigh, he flops down onto the bed next to me, making me bounce on the mattress.
“Didn't think you'd still be awake, baby. You need anything?” His voice is a soft purr against my neck as he trails his rough fingers up my arm making it tingle.
“No, I just couldn’t sleep.”
“It’s cute that you wait up for me but you should get some rest.”
“I wasn’t waiting up for you, like I said I couldn’t sleep.”
“Well in that case I have plenty of suggestions for things to help you sleep.” He grabs my waist and drags my body over his.
“No, I'm not really in the mood,” I say, testing the words out with him. He’s never really let me say no before but things have changed between us recently.
“Fine, what shall we do instead?” he says as he nuzzles into my neck.
“Fine?You’re not going to fuck me?”
“We can just make out for a bit, see where things go,” he smirks. That damn smile is really going to be the end of me. I’m not sure who leans in first, but the next thing I know our lips are together in a hungry kiss.
I really shouldn’t kiss him deeper and I definitely shouldn’t grind against him but I do.
He rolls us over and cages me beneath him, his hair falling forward and showing me the small scar that hides beneath. I reach my fingers out to trace it and he leans into my touch as his eyelids softly close.
“How did you get this one?” I ask quietly, distracting myself from the need between my legs. I want to try and establish some boundaries but it’s not going to happen if I give in so easily all the time.
“My foster father hit me and I smacked it on the coffee table. Got blood all over their carpet so it wasn’t all bad.” he says with a smile. I know it's just for show. I wish he'd stop hiding himself from me.
I reach for his hand and run my fingers over his. The tips are rough from what looks like burns. “What happened here?”
“I burnt my prints off to make it easier to not leave evidence when I'm working.” He says it like it’s nothing, like burning your own fingertips is a completely normal thing to do.
I place my hand over another scar, this time on his jaw, it's a lot fainter than the others. “What about this one?”
“I’m not sure, I don’t remember all of them. Probably, from fighting.”