Chapter 5
Sasha
“Are you sure about this?”
I look over at Benny, the man who’s been tattooing me since I turned eighteen, and nod. “I’m sure,” I tell him.
He looks less than thrilled, but I also know the man loves a challenge, and this one is going to add to his skillset for sure.
Benny and his wife, Molly, have also done all of Mia’s piercings.
My family gives them a lot of business, and they’ve always been nothing but discreet and professional with us.
That doesn’t mean Benny’s thrilled about the dick tattoo I just asked him for. It just means he appreciates the business, even if it is on a spot he’s not crazy about getting up close and personal with.
I can’t say I blame the man, but it needs to be done.
Ever since the night I saved Cyn, I can’t get her out of my fucking head.
For the first time in my life I’m having sex dreams, waking up hard, and jerking off in the shower to images of her.
I barely know her, and yet she already owns my cock.
I don’t know how to explain it, but I know it will never respond to anyone else like it does for her, so it only seems right to get her name permanently inked on it.
Benny scratches at his beard, and when I start to undo my pants, he squares his beefy shoulders, committing himself fully to what’s about to happen, and starts to get everything ready.
I’ve never been shy about my body, so I don’t think much of it when I strip out of my jeans and boxer briefs before sitting in the chair.
We’re in one of the private rooms, so there’s no chance of anyone walking in.
I get comfortable while Benny wishes he were anywhere but here.
While he prepares the equipment, I close my eyes and think about my little Cyn.
I’m obsessed with her already, and I spend more time watching her on the hidden camera I slipped into her room than I should, and that’s not even counting the almost nightly visits.
She’s so peaceful when she sleeps, and more often than not, I end up watching her for hours.
My eyes pop open when I hear Benny mutter, “Jesus Christ, man.”
I’d been so focused on images of Cyn’s sweet face and that goddamn red hair that I’ll never be able to get enough of, so it takes me a second to realize I’m now rock-fucking-hard while he stares down at me with an appalled look on his face.
“It’s not for you,” I say, and then laugh because he’s the second man I’ve had to say that to. The situation is nothing alike, but still, it’s an odd thing to have to repeat.
“I can’t tattoo you like that, Sasha. You gotta make it go down.”
As if his wife can sense something is going on, she hollers, “Benny, you need some help, honey?”
Benny quickly shouts, “No, babe, we’re good!” He lowers his voice and waves a hand in the general direction of my dick. “You’re gonna make me look bad. My wife doesn’t need to know they make ‘em this big.”
“Sorry, man,” I say with a laugh. “Give me a sec, and I’ll get control of it.”
“Okay, while you work on that, I can at least get you disinfected, and then I’ll get the stencil on so you can make sure it’s what you want.”
I nod and lean back, letting him get to work.
I’m not into Benny, so when he starts manhandling me with disinfectant, I start to lose my erection.
I hear his whispered, “Thank fuck,” and grin.
This is the same man who pierced Mia’s clitoral hood, and I’m guessing he’s wishing he knew a little bit less about the Melnikov family.
When the stencil is on, he sits back and studies the design placement.
Cyn is written along my shaft. It’s only three letters, but the impact of it is huge.
It’s a claiming mark, a permanent visual reminder that my body belongs to her and only her.
I wonder what she’d think if she knew I was tattooing her name onto my dick at this very moment.
“Happy with it?” Benny asks.
“It’s perfect.”
Benny nods and grabs the tattoo gun. Before he starts it, he warns me, “This is really going to hurt, Sasha. I know you can handle pain, but this is going to test even you.”
I like inflicting pain, but I don’t get off on receiving it.
When I nod, he starts the machine, and the loud buzzing is enough to kill any lingering stiffness in my dick.
This is going to hurt like a son of a bitch.
I take a breath, forcing myself to be as calm as possible, and when I give him another nod, he uses one hand to stretch the skin of my dick while he brings the needle down.
It’s impossible to not tense when I get my first taste of how excruciating this is going to be. Benny is skilled, and he keeps a steady hand while he slowly works his way through the C.
“Let me know when you need a break,” he tells me, never taking his eyes off what he’s doing. “It should only be about twenty minutes.”
Those twenty minutes turn out to be the longest of my life.
It ends up taking longer because he stops to give me small breaks in between the letters, and he has to constantly stop to wipe away the blood that my dick is now coated in.
In any other situation, I’d enjoy the sight, but the pain is too severe for me to appreciate it right now.
Plus, it’s Benny’s large, hairy hand that’s holding me and not Cyn’s small, delicate one.
By the time he’s done, I’m more than ready to get that goddamn needle as far away from my tender skin as possible.
As much as it hurt, though, there’s no denying how much I love it.
When I look down and see her name marking my bloody skin, fucking hell, if I’m not careful I’m going to end up hard again.
Benny slathers ointment on it and covers it with plastic wrap. He seems relieved to scoot his chair back and remove the gloves he’s wearing. He tosses them in the trash and says, “You know the drill about keeping it clean, but with a dick tat, you can’t have sex for about four weeks.”
I don’t bother telling him I’ve never had sex. Instead, I nod and ask, “What else?”
He laughs and says, “It’s going to hurt like a bitch every time you get hard, and you can’t jerk off until it’s healed.”
“Wonderful.” I carefully make my way to standing, and with my dick throbbing from pain, I get dressed, clenching my jaw when I have to tuck myself away and zip my jeans. Before I leave, I hand him several hundreds, giving him one hell of a deserved tip.
Benny grins and takes the money. “You know where to find me when you need me, kid.”
“Don’t worry,” I tell him before I walk out the door. “The next tattoo won’t be on my dick.”
“Thank fuck for that,” he mutters behind me.
The bone-deep throb gets worse with each passing minute, and I finally cave and take some Motrin in the evening.
With the pain reliever in my system and an ice pack in my lap, I watch the camera feed on my phone while Chort noisily chews on his bone beside me on the couch.
Cyn is doing her homework, long red hair falling down her back while she sits at her desk, furiously scribbling notes into the margins of one of her books.
My dad was right. I’ve seriously been knocked on my ass, and there’s no going back.
Just the sight of her is enough to make me forget about whatever residual pain is still lingering in my groin.
Every stab of that needle was worth having her name permanently etched into my skin.
I keep watching her, studying her movements, noticing the way she likes to rest her feet on the bottom of her chair.
I also notice the way she sinks in on herself when her roommate shows up.
God, that girl is annoying, the kind of person who needs all the attention on them all the time.
It’s exhausting to be around people like that, and I see the way Cyn’s shoulders cave in when the other girl keeps talking, one hand propped on her jutted-out hip and the other holding her shower caddy.
I hate when I sneak in and find her asleep in the other bed.
I know her name is Brittney because it’s written in a pink, girly script on her bulletin board—the one that’s an homage to her and how fucking amazing she thinks she is.
I’m glad when she leaves to go take her shower, leaving me alone with my girl again.
I keep watching her, and over the next few days if I’m not working, then I’m following her around campus.
I’d thought the pain of the tattoo was bad enough, but I quickly learn that getting hard is a new kind of hell.
It doesn’t stop me from watching her, though, from running my eyes over the body I can’t stop thinking about, and it definitely doesn’t stop me from thinking about fisting all that beautiful hair while I hold her down and fuck her to within an inch of her life.
It does stop me from being able to jerk off and relieve myself of all this pressure, though.
My dick is in no condition to be touched right now.
Just the thought of gripping my thick shaft and running my hand up and down my length makes me wince.
Cyn takes my mind from the pain. She makes me forget about everything else, and I know I’m in serious danger of losing myself in her. I can’t help it, though. She’s an addiction I don’t ever want to quit.