Page 48 of Make Me Scream
The first cracksof dawn’s light through the curtains have my eyelids fluttering open—that and Abel’s hot breaths fanning over my skin, causing perspiration to pool down my neck and onto the sheets below.
I shift, adjusting my grip on his ass. Abel moans in his sleep and grinds his little hips against me. It takes everything in me not to grind back up into him—especially with how hard my dick is—but I don’t because that’s not what this is about.
It’s not about sex.
It’s just about… well.
I don’t fucking know what it’s about. I just know what I needed—and I took, which is usually how it goes where Abel is concerned.
The sun peeking through the curtains illuminates his face just enough to soften his sharp, crooked features. The piercings in his skin glint, angled and perfectly suited to him. His cheeks are still so gaunt, but they’re flushed from sleep, and I can barely resist the urge to trace the bones beneath his flesh.
My eyes travel downward to where the blanket skims the base of his spine. Abel’s skin is stretched taut around the notchesof his vertebra, scars littering his flesh, bruises scattered from God knows what.
My fingers twitch to trace the edges of the contusions, aching to know where they came from, but I resist—if only to ensure I don’t wake him. He looks so peaceful sleeping, so much less… bratty and spiteful.
Perhaps I like him better when he’s unconscious.
The thought nearly makes me laugh out loud. I barely manage to restrain it, holding my breath until it burns from the strain.
Unfortunately, I have to admit, it feels way too good to wake up with Abel in my arms. His small frame fitted perfectly against mine, so slight and delicate, face marred with the demons that plague us both.
“I can hear your mind warring with itself,” he mutters against my throat, tongue flicking out to lick a long strip that makes me shiver.
“You would know what that’s like, wouldn’t you?”
He sighs softly, and his breath makes my entire body break out in goosebumps. “Better than most.”
“We’re getting philosophical this morning.”
“Wow. Big words for such a tiny brain.”
I smack his ass, making him yelp.
“Watch it!” he shouts, and I do it again.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“You ever think maybe you’re a dick?” he mutters, suctioning his lips to my throat. My breath hitches, and my dick throbs—which, of course, he feels against his own smaller shaft. “Oh, how lovely.”
“Abel,” I warn him.
He leans up on my chest, blinking owlishly at me. “What?”
“Back off.”
“Back… off?” he questions, pressing his hips harder against me.
I groan involuntarily. “Fuck.”
“Yeah, baby.”
My heart stutters when he says that word… so softly and so easily like he actually means it…
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Don’t,” I hiss, reaching down and stilling his hips.
“What?” he questions. “Don’t like that?” he rolls his hips again, and I groan loudly, thankful Ma’s at work for the time being.
“You’re pushing it,” I warn him.
