Chapter 2
ABEL
I used to love this version of me who stared back in the mirror… but not anymore. And I haven’t for quite some time, but there’s nothing I can do about it.
Kohl-rimmed eyes look back through the glass…
gray irises glassy and cold, unseeing. I blink once and watch as my dark lashes brush against my cheekbones, long and delicate.
The motion pulls me back into the moment, and I shake my head a few times, causing my spikey bangs to flop across my forehead a few times.
Blowing out a breath, I push my pink hair back, which causes it to stick up on all ends. The sight would be comical if it wasn’t the purpose of the look—freshly fucked out, even if that’s exactly what I am.
My phone buzzes loudly on the countertop, pulling me from my reverie. With a resigned sigh, I circle my neck with a few pops and pick it up, plastering on a fake smile, even as I roll my eyes at myself.
“What are you calling me for?” I answer the call softly but rudely because Lars likes a bit of a brat sometimes.
“Awe, baby, you’re going to be mean to me?” he asks quietly, his low timber vibrating through me. I fight the shiver of what it does to me.
“Like you don’t love it,” I hum, flicking my tongue along my crooked teeth, even though he can’t see it.
It’s all part of the game.
And I’m the fucking best at playing.
“Mmm, that is true.” I can just picture the way he’s dragging his thumb over his salt and pepper mustache right now, and it makes me squeeze my thighs together.
“So, why are you calling and interrupting my me-time?” I tap my tongue against the back of my teeth.
“I missed you,” he says like that explains everything.
I tsk him as I shake my head. I catch my own eyes in the mirror before turning my back on myself. My fingers curl around the lip of the counter as I fall back against it, my ass digging into the edge, and I tap my fingers listlessly.
“Missing me costs money, baby.”
He chuckles lowly. “Oh, I didn’t forget.”
I sigh loudly, making my annoyance known.
“And yet…” I pull my phone away from my ear and put it on speaker phone as I check my notifications just to be sure.
“My bank account is still a couple zeros short… interesting.” I feel my smirk pulling at my lips as I say it, and I know Lars can sense it too if his answering huff is any indication.
“I mustn’t forget to spoil my baby.”
I arch a pierced brow. “It’s not spoiling when you miss me.”
“That’s true. Give me a minute, honey.” After a minute, my phone buzzes, and my bottom lip curls inward. I don’t even need to look to know he just sent a good chunk of change—but I do anyway.
Both brows hike halfway up my forehead. “Well, well…” I drawl. “What’re you expecting for a grand, baby?”
Lars huffs softly, and the vibration travels down my spine, making me feel warm down to my core. I relish in the feeling. He’s one of my only clients that makes me feel this way, and I take every good feeling I can get.
“Video call me, honey. I want to see you for this.”
My breath hitches, and my eyes automatically flick over my shoulder to catch my own gaze in the mirror.
I rove them over my appearance, making sure I look acceptable.
From my bright pink mullet, the same piercings I’ve had since I was a teenager with a few new ones added, to the barbed wire choker that hasn’t left my throat since the day he put it on me—his claim over me.
I clench my jaw at the thought and shake my head, shoving the thoughts away, down deep where I try to forget they even exist.
I can’t think of him. Of us and what we were. How it changed me down to the marrow of my bones.
Lars clearing his throat shocks me out of my reverie, and I blink rapidly a few times, clearing my vision as my eyes finish their descent down my tattooed body to my hips, barely covered by a pair of black briefs.
“I’m not dressed for company, baby…”
“Oliver… I want you now.” Lars’s voice leaves no room for argument.
“Yes, sir,” I say softly, knowing what I need to do.
I drop my phone to the counter and hit mute for a moment.
“Fuck!” I scream. I wasn’t ready for this.
I’m not in the right mindset. I just got back from being with Jason—which is easier than being with most—but it still takes everything out of me because of our past. And now with him on my mind…
“Oli, baby, I know you’re still there…” His voice echoes off the walls, and for a moment, I hate it.
I hate it all.
“I want to see you.”
I shiver for an entirely different reason and pick up my phone, unmuting it. “Yes. I’m here,” I sigh.
“Yes, what?”
I swallow bile. “Sir.”
“Good. Now call me.” And he hangs up without preamble. I throw my head back with a groan. So much for my night of relaxing in the bath. But hey, an extra grand is an extra grand, I guess.
Pulling in a breath and holding it, I shake my head a few times to mess my hair up even more, and then, I type his name into the app I use to video call clients because no way in hell are they ever getting my number—and wait for him to answer.
I can do this—it’s who I am, after all.
It takes all of four seconds for Lars to pick up. His tanned face fills the screen, his thumb dragging along his salt and pepper mustache just like I pictured. “God, you look gorgeous.”
I can’t fight the blush that works its way over my cheeks and down my neck, burning hot in its path, and I’m dizzy from the juxtaposition of my mind and body.
“Thank you,” I murmur, playing soft and demure. Lars likes a good boy. A little bratty with some bite—because fuck, it’s me—but mostly good.
And I can play anyone they want.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Now, why don’t you prop that phone up and show me what you’re wearing… or rather, the lack thereof?”
I smirk into the camera, feeling a confident heat settle through my limbs.
This is what I’m good at—seducing men for their money and making sure they come crawling back for more.
It’s easy to settle into my role as I prop my phone against the large bathroom mirror, ignoring my own reflection as I take a few steps back, ensuring I sashay my hips as I do.
My tattoos and piercings catch in the light, and I bring attention to them as I drag my hands down my body, ensuring I steer clear of my necklace as I make Lars hiss quietly.
My fingertips skim over the waistband of my briefs, and I slowly draw it back before letting it snap against my body with a loud crack. Lars’s eyes darken, and I know I’ve got him—just like always.
“You know…” I tell him as I drag my hands up my stomach slowly before settling them over my nipples and rubbing the tips of my fingers against them. It feels good, so I let my head fall back with a quiet breath.
“What?” Lars says, and I almost forget what I was talking about.
“I was going to take a nice, long bath tonight. Get really clean before dirtying myself all over again.” As I say that, I drop my chin to my chest and glance up through my darkened lashes just to watch Lars’s eyes darken considerably.
“Now, who says you can’t?”
And that’s my cue.
I reach down and curl my fingers into my waistband, making a show of it as I slowly drag my briefs down, revealing my pubic bone before my underwear has nothing left to hold onto and pools to the floor around my ankles.
My dick is still soft, but with the way Lars is looking at me, it doesn’t take long to start filling out.
I skim my fingers through my trimmed patch of hair and curl them around my base, keeping my ring and pinky finger pressed against my balls.
I slowly start to stoke myself, letting out a hiss when my nails dig into my skin and a large, red line blooms down my shaft.
Lars lets out a low whistle, and I watch his dark blue eyes widen slightly as I press just a bit deeper, relishing in the pain. Just a little more, a little deeper. Moremoremore.
I lose myself to the burn, so similar yet too fucking different to my lighters, and before I know it, my dick is red for an entirely different reason and throbbing, and Lars is panting heavily on the line, his arm shaking as he jerks himself rhythmically.
“Didn’t think you were into pain like that, baby,” I pant, unable to control my breath while I stoke myself a bit faster as I slump against the wall. Thank fuck my phone is propped up on the counter.
“I didn’t either, but… damn, honey… just watching you in your element like this…
” He grunts, and then, the chorded muscles of his throat are exposed as he drops his head back in silent rapture.
I watch as he comes for me, and then, as soon as he finishes, a dopey smile on his face, I rush to hit the red button, a hurried goodbye on my lips.
My hand is already back around my cock, the other around my throat with the ridges of barbed wire pressed into my skin, making me harder than I’ve felt in years.
I usually don’t succumb to it… to his pull on me… but right now with the burn on my cock and the thoughts of him swarming in my head like wasps in a hive, I can’t control it.
I need to feel him in any way I can.
My fingers clamp tighter around my throat, restricting my air flow.
My eyes roll into the back of my head as my vision whites out.
I can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t focus on anything other than the heat burning its way through my body as my cock spasms and I come all over myself and the bathroom floor.
My hand moves of its own volition, continuing to slide over my length, even after every last drop of cum has oozed from my hole.
I shudder from overstimulation, my body twitching uncontrollably as I slide to the floor. My hand drops from my throat to catch myself as I fall in a tangle of limbs, chest heaving as I work to catch my breath.
My eyes wander around the bathroom, to the plain white misshapen walls, to the waterlogged sink basin, to the four holes in the wall next to the towel rack because it took me that many times to find the stud… but I got it. All on my fucking own.
And as shitty as this place may be, it’s all mine. I pay for it with the money I fucking earn, and I don’t have to worry about anyone taking it away from me.
Finally.
With a deep breath, I reach forward and yank a towel down and roughly wipe myself down before standing on shaky legs. I yank my briefs back on and stumble my way out and to the coffee table, where a half-smoked blunt rests in the ashtray that I left earlier before I went to Jason’s.
Grabbing the blunt and the pink lighter beside it, I make my way onto the balcony, shivering as the cool autumn air washes over my bare skin.
I pull out the metal chair, wincing when it scrapes across the stone, and drop down into it with a hiss, but as soon as the blunt hits my lips and I light it, everything else ceases to matter.
The smoke fills my lungs, making me dizzy, but I don’t stop taking hits until my entire body is fuzzy and numb—which fortunately doesn’t take long. I drop my head back against the chair to stare up at the stars, taking in their striking depth.
How close they seem, close enough to touch as they illuminate the night sky above so brightly, yet so painfully far away I can never dream of coming close to one—in a metaphorical sense of course, but still.
Stars are for those who deserve to wish upon them.
They’re not meant for people like me. The dark and depraved and unorthodox.
The ones who fuck people for money.
The ones who leave the people they love behind to survive because it’s all they know how to do.
And the worst part is… I could’ve gone back. I still can. I’ve got more than enough money now. I can go back to Elise. I know where Peris is… he’s right where he should be. At college playing ball as he was always meant to… but that’s why I didn’t. Why I can’t.
Why would I ruin them all over again when they’ve finally gotten their shit together? When they’ve finally healed from the mess I left them in… the stain I put on their lives…
I can’t do that. Not after the way I left and what I did.
I’m not ashamed. I did what I had to do to survive. I can’t regret that, but I do regret doing it the way I did. Hurting them the way I did… or at least the way I think I did… I don’t really know.
I haven’t spoken to them since then, and I never will again, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t kept my tabs on Peris. He’s been kind of hard not to, to be honest, with the way he’s been making the sports news practically every fucking week since he started at college.
Seeing his face plastered on the screen makes me sick, and yet… I never look away.
He’s grown up. And fuck, did he get even hotter.
His hair is a bit more wavy now, but he keeps it pushed back from his face with product.
He has his fucking nose pierced, and he’s covered in tattoos, for fuck’s sake.
He’s my wet dream, and it’s my secret indulgence to watch him on the screen whenever he’s on it.
To see him succeeding, living his dream. As he fucking should be.
Without me.
Because I would’ve just dragged him down.
My eyes prick unexpectedly as I stare up at the night sky, and I blink rapidly a few times to dispel the tears that threaten to spill.
“Jesus, you emotional bastard,” I mutter to myself once I finally clear myself of the unexpected burst of emotion. I take one last drag off the blunt and flick the roach over the rail, watching the cherry as it soars over the edge before disappearing into the darkness.
I drag my hand down my face, tugging roughly on the skin as I roll my head around, cracking my neck as I continue to stare up at the twinkling stars.
You were never meant for this life, the nasty voice in my head bites at me, and I wince, knowing it’s right.
“Fucking tell me about it,” I mutter to myself, knowing better than anyone how fucking right it is.