Page 66 of Make Me Bleed
My hand achesfrom punching Peris, so I clutch it to my chest as he stares at me. Balking, really. Like he can’t believe I had the gall. But it’s really me who can’t believe it.
I just punched Peris Baxter in the fucking face…
“Who the fuck are you?” he asks, and I startle at the question.
“Someone you used to know.” Because how else am I to answer that?
And then, I’m gasping because Peris’s lips are bruising, and his coppery-flavored tongue is sliding along mine, and I’m groaning into him. One of his hands finds my throat, while the other slides down my waist and hooks around my thigh, bringing it up around his hip. I take the invitation and jump up into his waiting arms.
He catches me easily, even as our teeth smack together. It’s jarring, and we both groan, but I don’t care. It’s fucking fantastic because Peris’s hands areallover me, touching every inch of me like he can’t get enough. Like he can’tbreathewithout me.
He doesn’t even bother taking us to the bed. Instead, he drops down right onto the floor and rips his mouth away to tear his sweatshirt away from my torso. I shiver as the air hits my exposed skin, and I flush as Peris stares down at me, taking mein greedily. I try to cross my arms over my chest, but Peris growls and reaches out to smack my arms down. He pins them under his knees to keep his hands free and uses them to touch my body.
He traces his fingers across my chest, over my nipples and the jewelry through them, down my abdomen to the piercing in my belly button, which he yanks on, making me gasp. He plays with the trail of hair leading to my groin, and I groan and toss my head back as he tugs on a few of the hairs, but just as I think he’s going to delve inside my panties, he skims his fingertips back up.
“Bastard,” I hiss, and I’m able to get my hands free to yank on his hair, and that really gets him going. He growls and dips down tonipalong my flesh, leaving imprints of his teeth to follow the path of his fingers, and I’mwrithinguncontrollably until he reaches my scarred thighs, and I tense.
Peris senses this and slows down his ministrations. He laves his tongue out over the thickest of my scars, soaking them in his saliva and sucking them gently between his lips before moving on to the next. He does that with each individual scar, whether they overlap or not, and by the time he’s made it back up to my groin, I’m a quivering, writhing, pantingmess.
“Oh, fuck. Peris, please.Please.”
“What do you want, puppy?”
“Oh, God,” I cry out at hearing him call me that again. It brings tears to my eyes, and I can’t hold back that sob that springs forth. “Fuck.” I wrinkle my nose, and I know it’s not attractive, but I don’t care. I buy my fingers in his hair and try to pull him up. When our eyes meet, I feel everything else fall away, and my heart thuds painfully. “Fuck me, baby boy. Please,” I beg desperately.
Peris looks right into me, and his golden-green eyes are so painfully clear, I can see everything. His want, his need. His…devotion.And then, I see the switch. His eyes narrow into slitsas he pulls back, just slightly, and says, “It’s good to want things, Abel. Truly.” And then, he adds, “Don’t you have to get to work?”
“What the fuck?” I say softly, but Peris is already pulling away from me, leaving me cold and bereft as he climbs off me and walks out the door. “What the fuck,” I repeat again, this time to myself as I stare at the space he left behind, feeling confused and hurt and surprisingly lonely.
It’s awkward as I clamber off the floor, pretty much naked, to put on my dirty clothes from the night before, but I do so with my jaw locked tight because how fucking dare he treat me like that. The gall that man has…
But that doesn’t stop my eyes from stinging. Or my heart from aching because try as I might, Peris always finds his way back inside me. Into the deepest parts.
Once I’m dressed, I stride out of the room with my head held high, not even bothering to enter the kitchen to say bye. If he wants to treat me like some shitty fuck he picked up, then that’s what he can get in return.
Fuck him.
“Leaving so soon?”
“Jesus!” I shout, whirling around to face Gabe on the couch. He’s watching some movie on the T.V. “You are always coming out of nowhere.”
“I’ve been here the whole time.”
“Sure, whatever.” As I turn toward the door, Gabe’s voice stops me again.
“What happened?”
I tense. “None of your fucking business.”
“It is my business when I have to deal with him getting—” he cuts himself off, and I stare at him, narrowing my eyes to deduce what he was about to say.
“Getting what?” I ask, and Gabriel shakes his head.
“Fine. Don’t tell me. But it’s not my problem. I’m leaving. Oh. And he called him.” And before Gabe can say anything else to remotely convince me to stay, I yank open the door and stomp my way out into the frigid afternoon air. It’s freezing for late November, even with Peris’s sweatshirt wrapped around me. Because yes, I did fucking take it. Fuck him.
I sit outside and wait for my car to show up, which thankfully only takes a few minutes, and I’m unbothered by anyone as I wait. When I jump in and close the door, I welcome the heat with relish as the driver starts the journey to Mo’s facility.
I should probably go home and get dressed first, but I just need to spend the day not thinking aboutanything,and there’s no better way to do that than with Morana.
