Page 41 of Make Me Pretty
Abel drops to his haunches, chest rising and falling fast enough to make me dizzy. His fingers bite into the meat of my thighs, urging me closer, eyes glued to my dick like he’s still starved, even after having a throat full.
I drop my head to the side, letting it roll along my shoulder as the heat crests, then finally fulminates. I crack my eyes open blearily, hand trembling as I stroke myself through every pulse. An unmitigated groan falls from my lips as thick globs of iridescent white splash across Abel’s face and bare chest.
His eyes are closed, but his lips are parted, little pink tongue sticking out like he’s hoping for a taste. Some of my cum drips from his lip, and a deep smugness washes through me as I watch that tongue swipe over his mouth to take it in.
“You may be ugly, runt. But fuck, you really do look pretty covered in my cum,” I pant between each winded breath, swiping my fingers through the puddle of spunk sitting in his hollowed clavicle.
A damp warmth seeps outward against the sole of my foot. I flex my toes with a grimace before dragging my foot off Abel’s lap to reveal a dark stain on his crotch. Knowing there’s a sticky, gross, cooling mess inside makes me shudder.
“Fuck,” I rasp, elated that he gets off on this. On being treated like the wanton slut he is.
His ugly matches my own.
Crouching, I put myself in Abel’s line of sight. Upon hearing my movement, he cracks his eyes open, squinting through the harsh fluorescent lighting. I rake a heavy gaze over my cum splattered on his torso and pretty little face. Dripping and sticky and nasty.
There’s even a bit coating the barbell at the bridge of his nose, making it shine like a very specific taunt.
I swipe my index finger over his cheek this time, gathering my spunk instead of spreading it around. Holding my hand up with an arched brow, I wait for Abel to part his lips—which he does only after a split second of hesitation. I shove three fingers in, pushing into the back of his throat until I hear him retch.
“Shh,” I hiss softly as I finger his uvula. “You wanna eat my cum, don’t you, runt?” I spread my digits as wide as I can. “Yeah, you do. You’re fucking gagging for it.” Then, I yank my fingers out, laughing dryly as Abel chases their descent.
I pat his head, forcing him to buckle under the weight, then ruffle his hair. “Don’t worry. It’s all for you. No need to get greedy.” Hands to my knees, I push myself up, and his steely eyes follow, from my feet all the way to my face, slow in their ascent, in their blatant perusal.
I press my foot to his lap again, and Abel hisses at what now is probably a very cold, uncomfortable mess. “No onegets to treat you like shit but me now, you got that? That means no random fucks and certainly none that you get fucking paid for.” I curl my toes around his soft little cock. “Remember, Abel, you wanted this.”And I do, too.
With a content sigh, I grab my towel from the dirty floor and sneak a glance at the scuffed, pink shoes nestled under Abel’s ass before leaving him where he sits, covered in cum, aching and waiting.
For nothing. For everything I won’t give him.
Even knowing he’s watching my every move, I get dressed with a renewed smile on my face, feeling refreshed for the first time in months.
I know later—whenever that might be—I’ll hate myself for giving in to what I can’t want. But for now, I’m gonna fucking relish in taking Abel Silver down a notch.
And, really, he looks so much better on his knees than I imagined. Like that’s exactly what he was made for. To be used—wrecked and ruined. For me.
Because of me.
CHAPTER 13
ABEL
I twitchagainst the concrete wall when the door slams closed, signaling Peris’s leisurely departure. With a shaky inhale, I drop my head back, relishing in the dizzy elation of the last twenty minutes, hand to my chest as I catch my breath.
I can’t fucking believe Peris finally gave me what I’ve always wanted from him—his surrender. It was so much better than I ever imagined it could be—and color me surprised at the revelation he’s a bit of a kinky fucker. I was prepared for his anger and venomous words, but not for him to taunt, to tease, and then shove his dick down my throat likeheneeded it to breathe.
And now, I’m finally in a place that feels like home: throat aching from abuse, skin itchy with drying spit and cum, face still hot from a few quick slaps. All new yet achingly familiar.
With a shaking hand, I press my fingers to my aching neck. They slip through a streak of cum pooled in my collarbone. My tongue flicks out against my chapped bottom lip as I smear it around and spread my digits apart, lost in the milky texture.
What the hell am I supposed to do now that it’s over?
I pushed. I burrowed. I exposed.
Does it just end here?
The concrete is frigid against my palms as I push to my feet, hissing at the pins and needles blooming from my upper thighs down. My steps are light and hesitant as I round the wall of lockers, coming into view of a large, rectangular mirror on the front wall.
My feet bring me closer of their own volition, drawn by my new reflection. But it’s not until my hands press against the glass that I let myself absorb what I’m seeing to be true.
