Library

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.”

“What happened to you to need to fight so much?”

“A lot but also nothing.”

“I don’t—,” understand. He cuts me off with a kiss.

“Want to kiss you, not talk about my past.”

He can’t skirt around it forever and he knows that. I’ve opened up to him about my dad. The least he could do is show me some of the same vulnerability. It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone his secrets.

I’ve decided that if I do ever make it out of here I’ll just quietly disappear. If I go to the police then the chances are that my dad will find me and I can’t go back to that life. I also don’t want Dean to be arrested even though his crimes do deserve it.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, searching my face.

“What do you do when you’re not working?” I ask, needing to steer my thoughts away from dark places.

He shrugs, “I’m usually either working or I’m with you.”

“You don’t have any hobbies?”

He's contemplative for a moment, his hands roaming to the more sensitive parts of my body. ”You’re my hobby.”

I grab his wrists. ”I’m serious, Dean.”

“So am I. But, I guess, watching movies. I used to do some cage fighting. Got paid a lot of money for it even when I didn’t win just because I’d last for so long.” He moves from on top of me and settles in next to me instead.

“Why did you stop?”

“I ended up with two broken ribs. Didn’t even realize, but Bones made me get checked over. Turned out I nearly had a punctured lung. The doctor advised me not to fight anymore. Of course, I didn’t listen,” he hits me with one of his big grins before continuing. “I was hired by a guy who’d seen me fight a few times. He wanted me to get rid of someone for him.”

“Was he your first kill?”

“No. My first was a few years before that.”

A few years? He must have been so young.

”How old actually are you?” I ask.

”Twenty-six.”

”That means—”

”Don’t think too much into it.” I know from his tone that’s the end of that conversation. I’ll let it go for now.

“Was that how you got into whatever your job is exactly? An assassin? Hitman?”

He laughs loudly. “Assassin? I quite like that. Maybe I’ll make some business cards with it on.”

“You don’t have to mock me, you jerk.”

“Oh, baby, I wasn’t mocking. It was cute. You’re cute. Come here.” He pats his thigh and I find myself moving closer to sit next to him but he pulls me on to his lap.

“I’d been teaching myself how to track people down using the resources I was able to buy with my fight winnings. Turns out I was pretty good at it. After I found a few people from my past and discovered how easy it was for me to kill them, I got a guy I knew to sort me out with a page on the dark web and that’s where I got most of my work until I made a name for myself.” He really has had to fight for everything in his life by the sounds of it.

“Isn’t the dark web really dangerous?”

“You worried about me, little kitten?”

“Obviously not,”we say at the same time and I blush.

Wow, am I really that predictable?

“It’s only dangerous if you don’t know how to use it. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing, sweet girl.”

Sweet girl.My insides completely melt and I swear my heart just somersaulted in my chest.

No! No no no.

I’m not falling for it.

I’m crazy if I find comfort in that after just hearing about how he became an actual murderer.

I look away as I start to panic and he gently cups my cheek drawing me back to him. I’m sure my feelings are clear on my face so I practically launch myself at him. He groans as our mouths connect and I straddle his lap.

The distraction works too well as I feel myself starting to forget everything that’s not the feel of his mouth on mine.

We’re both fully clothed and it doesn’t feel right. I grab his shirt and start pulling it over his head. His eyes are burning bright blue as he looks at me. Then he undresses me before unzipping his own pants and I feel his cock nudging at my entrance. As my hands glide over his shoulders they touch something warm and sticky.

“What the…,” I say looking at my hand. “You’re bleeding.” I get off his lap and turn another light on so I can look at his back. There’s a nasty looking cut on his shoulder blade.

“Ignore it, come sit on my lap and finish what you started.”

“No. We have to get this cleaned up. You might need a doctor.”

I head to the bathroom to wet a clean washcloth with some warm water and bring it back to wipe the wound. Dean’s still sat on the bed staring at me with wide eyes as I start to clean him.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re hurt. I’m helping,” I say like it’s obvious. “This will probably sting but I guess you’re used to that by now.” I look at his other old wounds and wonder if he’s ever had anyone that’s not a doctor tend to any of them. I quite like the thought of being the first.

He doesn’t say anything or even move as I wipe the blood away. I can’t tell how deep of a cut it is but it looks clean and the bleeding”s slow.

“What do I do next?”

“What?” He clears his throat and blinks like he’s coming back to reality.

I hope it didn’t hurt too much. You’d think after everything he’s done to me I’d want him to hurt just as much. He clearly already has though and the thought of him going through any more pain makes my heart ache.

“I think it’s clean, but it looks like it needs more than a bandage.”

“Oh, right, I’ve got stuff in the bathroom.” He gets up and walks away from me. I follow him and watch as he looks at the cut in the bathroom mirror. He stretches it open with his fingers and says, “it’s not that deep but it’ll still need stitching up.” My own skin stings at the sight of him touching it like that. That’s really gotta hurt.

“How did you not notice a cut like that?”

“The fucker must have got me when he lunged at me.”

Oh right, his job. He talks about it like it isn’t ridiculously dangerous and he could get himself killed if it went wrong. He’d get me killed if he didn’t come back one day.

He reaches up to the top of a tall cabinet and pulls down a first aid kit.

“How are you going to stitch it up?” I ask, watching him pull out a needle, thread and a small bottle of alcohol. I’m already squirming from just the idea of the needle breaking through his skin and then the thread getting pulled through it. I try not to gag.

“You’re going to do it.”

“I am not!”

“If you don’t then I’ll be gone all night visiting the doctor.”

Is not being alone really worth sticking a needle into him?Well, he is asking for it. Even if I end up hurting him that doesn’t make me as bad as him.

I hold my hand out and Dean passes me the equipment. Then he kicks a stool out from the corner of the bathroom and sits down in front of me.

“You need to wash your hands and clean it with alcohol first, then only take the needle out of the packet when you’re ready to use it.”

“Okay,” I say hesitantly, then I go through the motions of everything he just told me. With the needle threaded and ready in my hand I hold it just above his skin. “I can’t do this!” I say, suddenly panicked.

Dean turns to me and gently grabs my wrists. “If you can’t that’s okay, I’ll just go get the doctor to–,”

“No! You can’t just keep leaving whenever you want. I never know if you’re going to come back.” Tears start to prick my eyes and I feel so embarrassed. He's the one with a knife wound and I’m crying. But he’s also my kidnapper so why should it even matter? God this is so confusing!

“Willow, look at me, baby. I promise, you won’t hurt me, okay?”

“You don’t have to act tough all the time you know? I cry all the time, maybe you should try it, might make you less of a jerk,” I scoff and he smiles which makes me let out a little laugh.

“I promise you, it won’t hurt. Not even a little bit.” He sounds like he genuinely means it.

Then again when I think about it he never really reacts to anything, when I’ve fought him he hasn’t even flinched. I always assumed it was because he’s just so much stronger than me but maybe there is something more to him. Something he’s not telling me.

“Willow,” he says, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Okay, I can do it. Turn around.”

He kisses my wrists before letting go and saying, “good girl.”

The first prick of the needle is the worst. It’s like I have to use all my strength to force it in and then the sudden give as it pokes through his skin has me almost gagging.

More blood keeps seeping out as the thread tugs tighter with each poke of the needle and I keep having to wipe it away with alcohol swabs. “Almost done,” I say with just a small section left to sew up.

“Well done, Willow, you’re doing such a good job,” he says so sweetly.

I can’t help but chuckle, “I should really be saying that to you. Your doctor must love you, if you can sit this still.”

“Silver linings, I guess.”

I’m not sure what he means. He's so cryptic sometimes.

Once I’m done, all I need to do is cut the thread. I end up looking over his scars whilst I have the chance.

“I’m sorry you’ve been through so much.” I run my fingers over the large burn that takes up most of his other shoulder blade. He tenses under my touch for a brief second before leaning back into it with a shiver.

Long lines crisscross the rest of his back, some fainter than others. My stomach churns as I imagine how they got there. I want to wrap my arms around him and hold him tight, telling him everything’s okay. But I just stand there staring.

“I love it when you touch me like that.”

He spins around and I quickly drop the needle so the stitches don’t end up getting ripped out. Grabbing my waist he pulls me in between his legs.

“You’re the only one that’s ever touched me and not been cruel.”

There’s no way that can be true. He must have been with loads of women, his face alone would make anyone fall for him. I’m sure there must have been someone in his life that’s shown him even an ounce of kindness.

“You’re lying,” I say. He presses my hands to his chest.

“Why would I lie about that?”

My fingers start to trail over all his bumps and lines of scar tissue. There’s just so much pain etched into his body.

“I’ve fucked women but never like I have you. I never let them touch me. But with you it’s different. I want every touch you give me whether it’s rough or soft. I want it all. I want to feel you on all my scars and I want you to give me more.”

Dean’s confession leaves me speechless. It’s been so hard figuring out if I can actually trust this man but I think he might genuinely be in love with me. Whatever I think I feel for him isn’t real though. It can’t be.

It feels wrong to want to change the subject after he let himself be vulnerable with me but I can’t risk falling too deep.

“I still need to cut the thread,” I say quietly, my mouth suddenly dry.

Passing the small pair of scissors back to me he playfully asks, “promise you won’t stab me in the neck?”

“No promises,” I find myself smiling back. I take them from him, being careful to not touch his fingers, the last thing I need is a sudden spark between us being the catalyst that sends me into his arms.

I’m about to stick a bandage over the area when he gets up and says, “no, wait, I want to see.” He looks over his shoulder at the mirror to study the stitches and a bright smile bursts out on his face. “You did such a good job! Guess I won’t need to pay shit loads of money to the doctor anytime I need patching up from now on.”

“This isn’t going to be a regular thing! I only did it so you didn’t bleed out on me. Now sit down so I can put the bandage on,” I say crossing my arms.

He obediently sits back down in front of me and that makes me feel kind of proud that he actually listened to me.

With the bandage on my hand I slap it down on him only a little bit too hard. I’m not an asshole like some people. My pouty smile fades when he doesn’t react.

When he turns, he looks up at me and my heart lodges itself in my throat. He looks…sweet. For once he's not towering over me and his expression is soft. He looks at me with so much reverence that I have to look away first.

“Thank you, Willow.”

Dean takes hold of both my hands and brings them to his face where he places gentle kisses on my wrists and palms. His warm breath and soft touches are wearing down my last few defenses. If they break entirely I’ll have nothing to protect me from the other half of him though. The part that wants to hurt me and push me to the limits of my pain.

Comments

0 Comments
Best Newest

Contents
Settings
  • T
  • T
  • T
  • T
Font

Welcome to FullEpub

Create or log into your account to access terrific novels and protect your data

Don’t Have an account?
Click above to create an account.

lf you continue, you are agreeing to the
Terms Of Use and Privacy Policy.