Page 83 of Make Me Pretty
“You really want to be expelled for fucking in the school gymnasium? Didn’t peg you for the risqué type.”
“You don’t know anything about me, Abel. And who said I was going to fuck you?” He wriggles his tiny little ass against my crotch, somehow managing to get my dick wedged perfectly between his cheeks.
“Your dick. It’s been hard since I punched your bestie.”
My eyes roll into the back of my head as I snatch one of his tiny braids again and shove him forward. Abel stumbles, fighting against my hold on his head. His Converse squeak on the wood as I propel him forward, his backpack left stranded on the floor.
The little brat fights me every step of the way, arms flailing behind him to claw and scratch, digging in deep wherever he can reach.
By the time I slam him into the cinderblock wall near one of the side doors, we’re both panting. My arms are bleeding, and his neck is cherry red, face pressed flat to the cool surface. With his eyes facing the brown door, he whispers, “This isn’t much better.”
“Are you done?”
Peering over his shoulder, Abel smirks. “I think we both know the answer to that.” The shadow on his eyelid catches in the yellow light above, washing out the color and creating black shadows that dance along his cheekbones.
“Good,” I growl as I shove him beneath the extended bleachers. He narrowly misses catching his head on one of many black, metal bars, ducking just in time. When he pops back up, he whirls around, arms crossed over his narrow chest.
I ignore the familiar queasiness, the uncertainty and envy.The pride.And latch onto my oldest, most familiar foe as I lunge forward, knocking Abel’s hands away to cup his nonexistent breasts.
He balks, lips parted as he stare down at my large hands covering the entire expanse of his chest. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“What’s it look like?” I dip down to slip beneath his top. It’s tight, constricting my movement, but I just drag him closer. His skin is warm and soft, but his little nipples are pebbled against my palms. I tug on the singular barbell, relishing in Abel’s hiss.
“Looks like you’re playing with my tits,” Abel whispers after a few minutes of my ministrations. A low growl vibrates in the back of my throat.
“Yeah, pup.” I step forward, slowly backing Abel against the wall. His arms shoot upward, fingers curling around a bar overhead.
“Stop.”
I rear back, hands slipping out from beneath his top. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I’m not fucking around in the gym?”
The scoff that bellows from me is loud enough to echo. “That’s fucking rich coming from you. Need I remind you of the night we met? When I fucked your throat in the locker room? And those are the only places I know about.” That realization burns hot in my chest where itfesters.“So,” I clear my throat, “if either of us has a penchant for unorthodox locations,it’s you, runt.”
Abel’s arms cross over his chest again, but this time, it’s different. He’s curled over on himself, a few wayward strands hanging in front of his face as he speaks to the floor. “I’m allowed to say no.”
My tongue rolls in my mouth as I taste his words. Bitter and cold. I don’t like them.
“Not with me.”
“And if I don’twantyou?” My brows furrow at his insinuation. I can’t read his face well between the shadows and the fact that hewon’t fucking look at me.
His head snaps back as I slam my mouth to his. He tastes bitter and sweet andmine.His lips part on a hitch of breath, and I shove my tongue right in, scouring over his crooked teeth before sucking on his tongue.
“You do,” I mutter.
Abel mewls and crushes himself against me, rubbing his hard little cock between us. I reach down to run the backs of my knuckles over his covered length. His skirt is scratchy against my skin, the pleats a nuisance.
“Do you like it?” Abel asks breathlessly as his lips travel over my jaw, his tongue replacing them on the slope of my throat. We fall back into the wall with mutual grunts. Abel fumbles for a moment.
I lick across his bridge piercing. “You look pretty for me, pup.”
“Mmm.” Heat pulses between us. Teeth score across my collarbone. I return the gesture, and Abel’s head slams into the brick at his back. My hands slip down his waist to palm his pert ass.
It’s not enough.
Wrenching my mouth away, I grab his shoulders to spin him. He falls forward, painted nails scoring the brick.When did he paint his nails?I frown at them before Abel wriggles his ass, stealing the minor revelation.
