Page 50 of Make Me Pretty
We both grunt from the impact, chests heaving from stolen breath. Abel continues to fight, thrashing and grunting. He jerks his head back, nearly nailing me in my nose, but instead, his skull connects with the sharp edge of my collarbone.
With a hiss of pain, I constrict my arm, sliding my fingers along his ribs to delve into the sharp, hollowed-out spaces between. His bare ass rubs against my dick, only covered by my thin, athletic shorts, and it takes me far too long to realize he’s doing it on purpose.
I dip my head down and sink my teeth into his bony clavicle, speaking through a mouthful. “Knock it off.”
He jerks. “Let mego.” Now, he’s full-on grinding, arching up and back so my shaft glides between his cheeks, and I’m hard enough my dick has its own fucking heartbeat.
His skin is so soft.
My fingers clamp around his throat, applying pressure and pulling back until ribbed cartilage molds to my palm and his hair soaks into my shirt. My gaze rakes over his pale lashes, elongated nose, and fat, wet lips—the things that stick out most from his body.
I ignore his dick entirely as I lower my head, obscuring my vision in the recesses of his neck. “IsaidI want to see your pussy. So, you’re going to bend over and give me what I want,runt.” I press my digits against his pulse just so I can feel the heavy, rapid thump of his carotid.
Abel stills, though he can’t control the rapid contraction of his lungs. The expansion of his ribs is sharp against my forearm. Itsk.“Don’t pretend to be shy now, pup.”
He shudders, and I feel the vibration in my bones. “I-I’mnot.You’re just…”
“I’m just… what?”
“Crueler than I thought,” he spits with venom.
I cackle lowly. “Really, Abel? You should know better,” I sneer directly into his ear, skimming my lips over the pierced flesh. My tongue flicks out against the sharp metal, tracing each hoop down to the heavy stone in his stretched lobe.
“This is what you wanted from me. Quit fucking acting like it isn’t. Trying to be all cute and innocent, but I see you. Just a patheticrunt.With your pretty face and—and your slutty little waist, flaunting your ass in those shorts, giving me your tears. Yeah, right.” I latch onto the long barbell near the top, snagging it before pushing him away. He stumbles into the wall opposite us, hands splaying wide over the light gray paint.
“So, spread those cheeks and show me what’s mine.”
Abel’s headthunksagainst the wall, white hair falling against his face, heavy with water as it steadily drips to the floor beside his feet. I trace each knobby vertebra down over scarred skin stretched tight over bone, barely enough elasticity for it to be possible.
His ass is small but round and smooth and hairless. I reach out to brush my fingers over his washed-out skin, knuckles just grazing flesh when I catch myself. Gritting my teeth, I jerk back, clutching the counter as tightly as I can.
“Show me.” My eyes follow a bead of water rolling down his shoulder blade.Please,I nearly say.
“Please,Peris,” he whispers on a whine, synchronized with my own pleas as his feet shift back and forth. Breath catches in my throat, being mirrored with him in this moment.
Abel’s lighter bumps against the meaty part of my palm. I pick it up and flick it on, waving the little flame around and ignoring the tremor as I say, “Please make you, or pleasedon’tmake you?” It clicks off.
He shudders, forehead skipping back and forth over the drywall as he shakes his head, refusing to answer. “Because you and I,” I flick my fingers back and forth between us, “we both know you want to. This whole ‘please’beggingroutine is pathetic when I’ve already seen how desperate you are.”
His shoulders hike with a sharp intake of air, every sinewy muscle locking tight. And then, I watch, offensively entranced, as his long, scarred fingers glide over his smooth skin, the tips brushing between his cleft.
My heart thumps in a painfully slow arrhythmia, then stops. I can no longer feel the contraction of muscle, but the weight of it is there, choking me where it sits in my throat. My eyes are pinned wide as Abel flexes, and the shadows in his crease are slowly unveiled to the harsh light.
I can’t fucking breathe. Every nerve and vein is seared and fervid. Every tendon and muscle is rigid and atrophied.
His skin is hairless from the top of his crease down to his balls with a tight line running right down the center. His hole is small and puffy and so fuckingpink,I choke on air. Spit flies into the back of my throat when his hole puckers, cinching tight before relaxing again.
Abel turns his head, the tendon on the left side of his neck protruding as he looks over his shoulder, wet hair plastered against his flushed face. “Do you like it?” He worries his bottom lip, sounding demure.
It makes my lip curl in disdain, knowing it’s just another ploy.
Swallowing the bile stewing just below my uvula, threatening to make an appearance any second, I push myself off the vanity, drawn to him. The movement puts me inches from his bare skin, and his little hole disappears from sight.
The relief is instant. There are memories that are too close, too vivid.
My fingers strum over his tailbone with newfound assurance as tendrils of my nightmares dissipate from my consciousness, shoved back where they belong. I let my eyes close for a moment, just feeling his slick, cool skin. Knobs of bone. Lean muscle wrapped around them. Microscopic hairs tickling the pads of my fingers.
Pressing my chest to his back, I drop my head next to Abel’s, inhaling the scent of my body wash seeping from his pores. He’s panting, body still tense and vibrating. Our eyes connect, millimeters away. His silvery grays penetrate me, always seeing things they shouldn’t.
