Page 20 of Make Me Scream
CHAPTER 9
PERIS
It burns,the cinching heat surrounding me from every angle.
I hate it as much as I crave it, the fiery ache—it reminds me of Abel and his touch alone. But it also reminds me of Luke… his touch and what he’s done and what it means for who I am now.
The worst part is not knowing if he’s the reason or if I was always meant to be this way.
But either way, I find myself gravitating toward it—the circle of destruction, the pit of tar I know I’ll drown in. It feels too good to stay away.
I wake to the sound of my hoarse screaming, just like many other times. My throat is raw and burning, and I cough, hacking wildly, but I’m unable to sit up. I’m frozen on my back, forced to stare up at the white, textured ceiling, still feeling every fucking touch, from every memory—fresh and old.
My heart is thrashing, attempting to slice its way through my sternum to no avail. Every nerve ending is a live wire, set to reignite with every brush of the air against my over-sensitized skin.
I’m burning from the inside out. Paralyzed by Luke’s haunted touch on my body, aching with Abel’s new, evocative graze scorching a new pathway across my flesh.
It takes endless minutes for my heart rate to eventually slow into a normal beat, and I can hear the sound of the wind outside over the chug of my heart in my chest and the pathetic panting of my breath as I retch.
“Sleep paralysis is a whole other demon, isn’t it?” Abel says from the corner of my room, and for some odd reason, I sort of expected it, like a part of me already knew he was there.
I can’t respond, so I just lie there, listening to our mingled breaths that surround us in the dark, pink light. Eventually, Abel’s steps draw closer, and my skin prickles with awareness, singeing as his fingertips draw patterns across my sweaty flesh.
His touch pains me, torments me.
A whisper escapes from between my parted lips, sweat trickling down my temples. Abel’s fingers follow its path, swiping it up readily and bringing it to his mouth. I watch his tongue dart out to lap up my perspiration before swallowing it down like the greedy boy he is.
“For some reason, a part of me always forgets how good your fear tastes.”
“Jesus Christ,” I croak, not having expected him to say something that fucked up. My groin coils at the prospect, dick twitching as blood starts to fill it.
It’s all part of the twisted little game we play. Abel finds just the right strings he created between us and tugs them just the right way.
Because I’m his perfect little marionette, and he’s my veiled puppet master.
Fuck…
“Just makes it taste that much better each time, I guess,” he rasps against my lips as he bends down to swipe his tongue overmy mouth. I gasp at the heat of his tongue and part my lips to accept it into my mouth.
Abel delves in readily, tongue greedy and invasive as he licks every inch of my insides he can reach. My jaw aches from holding it open so wide, and I can barely breathe, but then, his hands are pressing against my chest, and his weight is pressing on top of me, and my breaths come a little easier.
“Breathe, Peri.”
“Fuck you,” I gasp the moment he pulls away,finallyable to speak. I’m so fucking dizzy, I can’t think.
“Yeah.” He smirks, and I nearly roll my eyes at my Freudian slip. “Fuck me, baby.” He bends down and swipes his broad tongue across the side of my face.
My body comes back to me easily, each tingling limb moving where I want it to as I flip Abel onto his back. He gasps as he hits the mattress, limbs flailing. I pin his arms above his head by his wrists with one hand, using my other to tangle it into his unruly yet terribly soft hair.
“You want to be fucked?”
“By you?” he snarks, his pale face glowing the perfect shade of pink. “Always.”
My eye twitches at the smallest allusion to anyone else being anywhere near his fucking body. I tighten my hold on his wrists until I feel the bones creaking and grinding together.
“Awe, is someone feeling possessive?” he taunts, and my blood is on fire.
“I fucking hate you.”
