Page 144 of Monster

His words always had the power to detonate me. He knew which button to push, how to touch me, and how much pressure to use.

I exploded.

Closing my eyes, I let myself get lost in the powerful orgasm, unable to think straight.

I was only vaguely aware of him pulling out of me.

My eyes opened into tiny slits, and, in a daze, I watched him move around the room.

This was probably his plan all along.

Bastard.

He brought out some alcohol wipes and leaned forward, cleaning the skin on my left rib. I flinched when I felt the coldness. He looked me in the eye. “It’ll be okay.”

I should not feel reassured by his words, but my heart calmed slightly, and I closed my eyes as he continued to swipe.

I opened my eyes when he finished and watched him put on a pair of black rubber gloves.

He had already prepared the stencil, and I watched as he pressed it on my skin. I didn’t look down to see the design. I already knew.

I glared at him as he picked the gun up again and set out a small carton of what seemed to be black ink.

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. I had never had a tattoo before. I didn’t know what to prepare for.

“Will it hurt?” I asked.

“No more than you can handle,” he said, his voice calm.

Yeah, right.

He moved closer to me with the gun after dipping it in some ink. “Ready?”

“No.”

He leaned forward and kissed me. I should pull away. I stayed where I was and let him kiss me, letting that give me the strength to be brave. Fuck. I was still wet from when he had his finger inside me… maybe even from when he spanked me.

I was still in the haze of lust when I felt the first contact with the needles.

I sucked in a sharp breath from the slight pain, and Dominic paused briefly before he continued.

Oh, God. Oh, God. This was really happening. I couldn’t believe this was really happening. I was getting tattooed—by a crazy man, no less.

“Okay?” he asked about ten minutes in. I grunted. It wasn’t too bad at first, but the more times he kept going over the same spot, the more tender it got, and now there was a burning sensation on my skin.

He continued.

“You’re doing great,” he praised. “How about I give you a nice little reward after this?”

I sneered at him. “An orgasm is not a reward.”

He pulled away and laughed. “You sure? ’Cause I’ve heard you call out God’s name a few times.”

“You’re an asshole.” I hissed a breath of pain when he started back again after dipping the gun into the ink carton once again.

“That’s true,” he agreed. Then he turned off the gun. The low buzzing noise stopped, and all that was left was the silence in the room, along with our breathing. He covered the wound with some sort of clear jelly and a thin see-through plastic film.

“It’s done?” I asked.

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