Page 14 of All Your Pain

Even though I’m naked I don’t have the energy in me to try and cover myself, I don’t even care about feeling self conscious. He’s seen and touched all of me, why waste my efforts on trying to hide from him what he’s already stolen.

The shower head he’s stood under doesn’t cover where I reach, there’s another one positioned above me but it’s off. I find myself shivering from the cold whilst he’s over there in the heat but I refuse to follow him like a needy stray.

He washes himself with his back to me, his skin turning red from the hot water.

It’s hard to drag my eyes away from his body, his scars aren’t ugly they’re beautiful and haunting on his pale skin. He must have so many stories to tell. Shame he’s a madman, especially with an ass like that.

I laugh out loud and quickly clamp my mouth shut. I must be going mad already.

As he turns, I quickly look away, but I can see him approach from the corner of my eye.

He smells fresh as he stands in front of me. His cock dangles in front of my face and I keep my head turned firmly away from it, even though my eyes feel magnetized towards it.

Taking my hands, he helps me up, the pins and needles in my feet are only just starting to disappear so I still have to hold on tight to him so I don’t slip on the wet tiles.

When he leads me under the water, I cry out. It’s way hotter than what I’m used to and when it hits my freezing cold skin it feels like it’s scalding. I pull away from him and cling to the tiled wall just out of the water’s reach.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I shout, clutching my body tightly as he approaches me with an alarmed look on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you think, asshole?” Dean looks me over but doesn’t seem to get it.

“You’re still sore from before?”

He’s clearly used to scalding hot showers or he’s just plain stupid.“Yes,but it’s the shower, it’s too hot.”

“Oh, shit,” he quickly says as he goes to turn the temperature down, reaching through the water like it's nothing. “Was it really that bad?”

I shrug, not wanting to argue about what a good water temperature is when I’m stood in a very enclosed space with himcompletely naked. “I’m just cold so it probably felt hotter than it actually is.”

Dean takes my hand and positions me in front of him, his wet front pressed to my back. His cock’s not hard now but I can still feel it there against my lower back and other places I don't want to think about. “See how that feels.” His calloused hand slides down my arm and over the back of my hand where he entwines his fingers in mine and raises them to the stream of water.

“That’s, um, fine,” I say, clearing my throat. I quickly pull my hand away from his and step forward.

The water feels amazing as it pours over my head and for a second I feel normal. That is until Dean’s fingers start massaging shampoo into my scalp. I tense up and try to move away but he holds my head in place making me give up again. "Let me clean you up, after getting you so dirty."

As much as I hate it, his fingers feelnice.

“Why were you all by yourself in that part of the city?” he asks as he tips my head back under the water to rinse the shampoo out, it smells like him.Ismell like him now.

I shrug and wrap my arms around myself. “Why were you there?” I ask pointedly. “Why did you kill those men?” I turn to look up at him but all the confidence I thought I had is destroyed when I look into his piercing eyes.

Anywhere I look on him makes me feel different conflicting things. His chest full of scars makes me feel sorry for him, his cock reminds me of both the pleasure and pain he’s made me experience and his face is what hurts the most to look at because it's a face I could fall in love with but I do it anyway, holding his gaze steady.

“It was my job. Now, I answered your question so you can answer mine.” He grabs my shoulders and walks me backwards until my back hits the tiles. “What was a little thing like you doing in a place that could have gotten you killed.”

My jaw drops. Does he even hear what he’s saying?

I want to press him for more information on what sort of job involves gutting one man and severing the throat of another but what’s the point? It’s not like I want to get to know him and I’m sure the answer will scare me more.

So why are my hands moving up his chest? My fingers glide over his rough skin, up to his face and I find myself pushing his wet hair back off his forehead so I can see him properly. My finger traces the scar on his hairline and he leans into my touch.

My heart does a little double jump and both of us seem to have stopped breathing. He doesn’t even move.

“I was lost,” I finally say, taking my hands away. “I was looking for the hostel that I was meant to be staying in.”

I watch him as he lathers up his hands with soap, his brow furrowed. “Why did you need a hostel?”

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