Page 82 of Make Me Scream
Abel’s mouth is hungry. His tongue darts against my lips, hesitant at first before gaining in its insistence. I part my lips for him and allow him entry. He moans as his tongue slides into my mouth, and I follow suit. He tastes of tequila and orange juice and cherries, and my head spins like I drank more than one beer.
As Abel devours my mouth, his little hips start rocking against me, driving me mad. I use my grip on his waist to guide his movements when they start getting off track. He gets distracted, mouth straying from mine, sliding across my cheek and across my jawline, sucking my skin loudly.
The sound is obscene, and it makes my dick so hard, it throbs against his little ass as it grinds into me. “You drive me crazy,” I groan into him as I drop my head back against the head rest, letting my runt have his way with me.
“I fucking hate you,” he mutters as he licks a stripe up my neck and starts sucking a deep bruise, and I laugh, the sound so loud and so fitting, it rumbles my chest and echoes through the entire car.
“I hate you, too, puppy,” I breathe on a hiss. My flesh throbs in time with my heart as Abel grinds into me. I reach into the waistband of his too-large jeans and grab his hard dick in my fist. He hisses and arches into me, breath stuttering.
“F-fuck.” He moans loudly, tossing his head back. I reach up and yank on his braid, bringing his head back to mine.
“That’s the idea, runt. Take your clothes off.” His eyes widen, and I relish in it. Abel scrambles to obey me, and it’s lovely, knowing that even still, he wants me so fucking bad—as badly as I want him.
I’m rapt as he rips his shirt over his head, pink letters disappearing in a dark flash, leaving his pale skin exposed to the shadows surrounding us. I reach up and trace his small, peakednipple before tugging on the crooked barbel through it. My fingers find their way down his abdomen, between his pectorals, and to his belly button. I dip my finger into the shallow well, taking immense pleasure in Abel’s sharp intake of breath and the deep concave to his stomach before I move on and down the dark line of hair that disappears into the waistband of his jeans.
“Take these off for me, pup.”
“Gotta—” He clears his throat. “Gotta move your hand.”
“I do, do I?” I ask, fisting the front of his jeans tighter, just to be spiteful. He gasps as the material constricts his dick, and I laugh, feeling dizzy with elation. At having Abel all to myself for what feels like the first time in weeks.
“Fuck, I missed you,” I mutter as I undo his belt and yank it through the loops, tossing it into the empty seat beside us.
“Missed you,” he mumbles, licking his lips as I flick open the button. “Fuckin’ hurry up,” he whines.
“I’m trying,” I mutter, frustrated myself. “This wasn’t the smartest fucking idea, okay.”
“Here, hold on.” Abel wiggles onto his knees, and his pants slip right down his thighs to his knees, pooling. He raises his left knee and wiggles it until he can pull his leg out, then he shifts onto it and does the same to the right side, letting his jeans fall to the floorboard, leaving him clad in his pale pink boxers.
The imprint of his dick is clear through the thin material, with a small wet patch near his head. I swipe my thumb over it and press harshly. Abel sucks in a breath. “Are you leaking, puppy?”
“Fuck,” he swears, back arching. I smirk as I reach inside and smear his precum around his glans with my thumb, digging my nail into the ridge. His breath hitches on a hiss, and I relish in the burn of his own nails digging into my biceps as he falls into me.
His hips undilute against me as I work my fist up and down slowly, driving him—and myself—absolutely mad if his curses and gritted teeth are anything to go by.
“Peris, I swear to fuck—if you—just take themoff!” he whines.
I yank my hand out, albeit with some regret when the cool air of the cabin washes over my precum-damp palm. “Yeah, fuck,” I mutter as Abel scrambles to yank his boxers down while on his knees. He knocks his head into the window, groaning at the impact.
“Jesus.” I reach my hand out and grab his head as he continues to struggle, frustration blooming on his face in the shadows. “Slow down, puppy.”
“Can’t,” he pants.
“We’ve got time.”
“We don’t,” he says in a rush, and my brows pull together. “C’mon.” He finally gets his boxers off one leg, leaving them on the other and reaches down for my jeans and undoes the button. I hiss as his nails skim my stomach, biting harshly into my skin.
“Abel—” He effectively shuts me up with a kiss to my mouth, teeth bared, tongue thrusting in. He sucks on mine, and I groan loudly as we swap spit and breath—all the while his hands work to undo my zipper. He quickly works my jeans down my hips and yanks them down my thighs until they stop near my knees, where they’re stretched too far to go any further. I grab my shirt and rip it off my head in my next breath, the warm air circling the car singeing my skin.
“C’mon,” he breathes against me, tapping my knee gently.
“Hmm?” I ask dazedly, pulling Abel’s lip into my mouth. He chuckles, and the sound makes my head feel fuzzy.
“Move your legs for me, baby.” He taps the outside of my knee, and I move them however he wants—which must be perfect because he starts kissing me again—but he drops himselfback into my lap with his bare cock against mine, and my eyes shoot open.
When my gaze catches his—it’s to his smirk. Abel’s eyes are half-lidded, and he looks sexier than I’ve ever seen him. His makeup is slightly smudged, with black streaked down his right cheek. I reach up to swipe it away, only serving to make it worse—or better…
My dick twitches at the sight, and Abel’s smirk grows. His shaft is hot against mine, and when he slowly rocks his hips forward, my head falls back, bypassing the headrest entirely to hang beside the seat and exposing my throat. Abel takes advantage and delves down to swipe his tongue over my Adam’s apple, sucking all over my skin and marking every inch he can reach, and no part of me fucking cares because it feels like every bit of him is all over me, andI’m burningto pieces.
