Page 25 of All Your Pain

There’s concern in his eyes and also a weird glint of fascination as he looks at me. “What's wrong?”

Motioning to the array of marks on my chest alone I say, “what do you think? If you're not going to stop doing this to me, you could at least give me some painkillers.”

He stands up and runs his hands through his fringe as he rocks back on his heels. He looks almostnervousas he says, “I don’t have any.”

“Oh.”That’s kind of odd, doesn’t everyone have that sort of thing in their house?

“I can go buy some. What do you need?”

“Just the basic stuff.”

“The basic stuff,” he mumbles, making an odd face. “Anything else?”

Why does he even bother to ask? It’s not like he actually cares.

Unless he does,a little voice in my mind says. No, my feelings for Dean are already too fucked up. If I start thinking he might also be feeling the same way about me then it’ll hurt so much more when he's done with me.

I shake my head and Dean nods. “Okay. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

As he gets dressed I try not to stare at his body but my eyes have a mind of their own and they drag down his cut torso to the defined V that points straight down to his…

“What is that?” I gasp, my eyes locked on to his cock.

“My first tattoo. You like it?”

“You…your…” my mouth won’t cooperate. He steps forward and gives me a closer look at the tattoo wrapping around the base of his cock. “That’s…”

“Your mark.” I can hear the smugness practically dripping off his voice. He grips the end and lifts the length so I can see how the pattern wraps all the way around. I'm suddenly struck with the realization of how comfortable I am examining him like this.

I look up at him and see he looks way too proud of himself. “You’re insane,” I mumble.

“I wondered when you’d finally notice. It’s already healing up.”

When did he even get it done?I try to think back to when I bit him but my time here is a blur. I’m not sure how I didn’t notice, he’s been inside of me in one way or another pretty much every day.

“You’ve been having sex with me with that?” I ask and he quirks a brow. “I mean, did it hurt? Surely you’re not supposed to have sex with a fresh tattoo on your…”

“Cock.You can say the word baby. It won’t bite. Unlike you.” He rubs his thumb over my lower lip and I push him away. He’s such an ass.

He laughs and finishes getting dressed into some dark jeans and a short sleeved black top that hugs his arm and chest muscles too well. Before he heads out he brings me in for a long kiss.

I tell myself I didn’t like it. That the brightness in his eyes as he leaves and the butterflies in my stomach mean absolutely nothing.

Once the door locks, I listen closely for the faint sound of the front door then his car starting before I lie back on the bed and take a deep breath.

He is certifiably insane.

What sort of person gets a tattoo of that on their junk? I’m not sure if I should be horrified or flattered that he got it done in the first place.

If Stockholm Syndrome is a real thing then maybe it’s starting to set in. I’m getting way too used to this whole situation and I need to remember that none of the nice things he's done outweigh the awful things he's put me through.

What awful things?The voice lurking in the back of my head quips.All he does is have sex with you and you enjoy it.

No. I need to remind myself it’s my body that enjoys it, not me.

I can’t believe he’s really gone out to buy me painkillers though. He could have easily said no or even laughed in my face and told me to put up with the pain, especially since he loves it so much.

My stomach twists from all the mixed up emotions in me right now but I have to ignore them.

---