Page 79 of All Your Pain
Dean nods and takes my hand leading me further into the room. There’s a small innocent smile on his face that I’ve been getting to see more and more of lately. “I thought you could use the space for your art. It was at the top of your list.”
Then it sinks in. Dean did all this for me. The list I made before, of all the things I’d like to try out for what to do with my life. He must have used it to set all this up.
After him being in the hospital and helping him recover at home I’d forgotten all about it.
“You did this for me?” I ask again, still not sure how to feel about the gesture. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.
“If you find you don’t like it we can turn it into a room for anything you want. I heard what you said before. As much as I want to keep you in my bed all day you deserve the chance to find out what makes you happy.” He rests his hands on my hips and I lean back into him.
Warmth floods my body and my stomach flutters as I take in the space again. This time I notice the bookcase full of manga books and anime dvd’s. I laugh when I spot some titles I recognise as hentai I’ve seen circling the internet. He can’t help himself can he?
“I love it. Thank you,” I reach up to cup his cheek and run my fingers along his jaw.
Dean’s apologized in so many ways already, with words, with his tongue, his hands, his cock and now this. I’d tell him he’s forgiven already but I quite like his way of groveling.
I spend the rest of the day settling into my new studio by myself.
I’m grateful Dean’s starting to give me some space, even though he does come check on me what feels like every ten minutes.
Each time he lays his eyes on me it’s like a weight lifts from him, like he really is scared I’ll somehow vanish if I’m not in his sight at all times.
When he comes in late in the day, I’m just finishing up some sketches using one of my favorite shoujo mangas as a reference. “That’s incredible, Willow,” he says leaning over my shoulder. I quickly cover the drawing with my hands.
“No, it’s really not.” Honestly, I have no clue if it’s good or not, I’ve never shown anyone my art before so I’ve never had anyone critique them. I don’t even know if I can call it art in the first place.
Dean pulls my hands away and holds up the paper. “Willow, don’t sell yourself short. This is really good.”
I feel a blush warm my cheeks and I tell myself he’s right. Pretty much all of my life I’ve been putting myself down or others have done it for me. It’s about time I start being kind to myself.
With a new found confidence, I pluck the paper from Dean's fingers and take it to the pin board on the wall. As I stick it on I feel a sense of pride at my very first art piece in my home.
Home.
That's what this is now. Not just the house but with Dean, it feels like the right place to be.
Dean wraps his arms around me from behind and whispers, “good girl,” in my ear. The two words that he knows make my knees weak and my pussy wet.
“How good?” I ask as I press myself back into his hardening cock.
“So fucking good,” he growls as he brushes my hair aside so he can nip at my ear and trail kisses down the side of my neck.
“I don’t know. You might need toshowme how much of a good girl I am.”
I feel his growl vibrate through my chest and my nipples tighten in response.
“Does my little kitten want to play?” he asks and I nod eagerly, the haze of lust already taking over control of my thoughts.
His fingers slide down my stomach and under the waistband of my jeans, it’s impossible to not be wet when he’s around and he glides easily along my pussy.
He teases at my entrance without dipping inside and I move my hips trying to get his deliciously long fingers in me. With one hand he pins me tight to him keeping me in place and the other slaps my pussy. “Be a good girl and I’ll let you come.”
My knees shake but he holds me so tight there’s no risk of him letting me fall.
As I lean my head back against his shoulder, he slides his fingers up to my clit and lightly brushes it but it’s not enough. I buck my hips trying to get more friction and hetsksme as he slaps the little bud bringing all my nerve endings to life. I let out a small cry as the pain turns into beautiful pleasure that I’m desperate for more of.
“Dean,” I moan and I’m practically writhing against him trying to get him to spread me open with his fingers. With a chuckle, he slaps me again pushing me closer to the edge of the knife I’ve learnt to love living on so much.
“Tell me what you need, little kitten.”