When I'm inking her skin, I enter another zone where the normal world is dreamlike. My entire focus centers on the flesh beneath my fingers. Tattooing has always been my escape. With her, it's different in so many ways-the softness of her skin, the shiver that occasionally passes along her back and shoulders, and the timbre of her voice. The dark swirls of my past infiltrate her skin just like the ink. But unlike the ink, she absorbs the darkness and turns it light. She's playing havoc with my thoughts and this isn't a good thing. She isn't as malleable as she lets on. It was stupid to allow her upstairs. I didn't give it thought when the words spilled from my mouth. It's something about her that I can't put my finger on. It felt right to have her walking around my home. Not that she was able to explore, but her presence reminded me of the way Cindy filled a room and made me feel welcome.Melina complied so beautifully with my orders and I'll probably do it again. And yes, it will be
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