Page 34 of Make Me Pretty
My mind whirls with pained pleasure and at the impossible practicality.
Fuck.The way he spitdisgustingandprettyout at me, like he loathed the very words coming out of his mouth.
A visceral truth.
He said I was pretty…
My hand wraps around the base of my dick, fingers dipping down to feather over my balls, heavy and full.
‘I’ll bruise that pretty skin.’
‘Fuck you up and make you bleed.’
‘Worthless waste of space…’
My hand flies over my dick as his voice echoes in my head, vile and venomous. The ooze of precum at my slit works wondersagainst the friction. It stings just enough. So much more after he had his hands on me.
It doesn’t take long for my balls to pulse, and at the tell-tale throb, I curl inward, shoving my baggy shirt under my chin and angling my hips up to watch my cum shoot out of my cockhead. A pained whine rips through my throat as white ropes paint my torso.
As my release slows, cock still pulsing and pumping out the last few drops, my eyes roll back. Panting and dazed, my hand keeps moving until I hiss in discomfort and I’m forced to let go with a whimper to follow.
My hand drops to my stomach, and I smear my spunk around, playing with it as I catch my breath. Swirling it through the thick line of hair leading to my groin.
When I finally sink my fingers into my mouth to clean up, I can’t help but wonder if Peris would think I look pretty… or worthless.
CHAPTER 10
PERIS
My hands tremblein front of me as I stare down at them. Calloused and filled with random lines and veins, they’re now also stained with Abel’s skin cells.
I can’t see them, can’t feel them—notreally.But I know they’re fucking there because I touched him.
I touched him.
“Goddamnit!” I scream. My hands dive into my hair to yank viciously, ripping follicles straight from my scalp. I’m choking on the beat of my heart, where it’s now permanently lodged in my esophagus, ensuring I spend every breath choking on the reality of what I’ve just done.
Because there’s no going back. I’ve gone and done it, and now I know what he feels like. How soft his skin really is. How his gray eyes have the smallest, microscopic specs of blue.
How his pale skin really does blemish the moment he’s touched with more than a gentle prod.
And it’stoo much.
Abel Silver is everything I’ve always avoided.
On the outside, he’s small and wiry with a crooked jaw and equally fucked up teeth. Ugly in every sense of the word. On the inside, he’s even nastier. The brain inside his head isinfected with the worst kind of disease known to man—selfish exploitation.
He doesn’t give a fuck who he hurts, what he does to anyone, as long as he gets what he wants. So, why the fuck did I fall for it?
I’ve known for far too long what he’s been trying to do. Deep down, I had a feeling. Recognized his motives, implied his actions to the end goal. And every piece fit like a bespoke fucking suit.
So, why? Why did I let him do this to me?
In all honesty, all I did was watch him mess around with some dude. Abel was right in his little porn comment. I have seen worse, albeit with vomit ending those escapades, but still. I’m not a goddamned nun—far from it.
I snort pathetically, swiping at the snot dripping from my nose with the back of my still-trembling hand.
It’s because he made it real. Made me feel… like I wasn’t all wrong on the inside.
