Chapter 8 #2
I arch against the pain. Then, my eyes roll back into my skull when Peris moans in my ear.
“Still a fucking freak,” he says, but the words aren’t derogatory.
They’re said with admiration, and I feel my face heating at his unexpected praise.
“Good.” And with that, he shoves his hand down the back of my skirt, feels that I don’t have any underwear covering me as he grabs my ass, and groans loud enough to make me flush hotly from head to toe.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Abel,” he grunts, using his hold on me to force me to grind against him as he shoves one of his legs between mine.
The contact against my cock is heavenly, and I can’t really complain, so I comply with the silent request and ride Peris’s leg while he guides my movements with his hands on my ass.
His hold is tight and unyielding, and it feels so goddamn good.
No one touches me like this.
No one can.
Not like him.
I won’t let them.
“F-fuck,” I stutter, eyes burning unexpectedly as my groin coils with heat. Everything is so hot.
Fingers reach down and pinch my chin in a harsh hold, yanking my head up. “You gonna come for me, Abel?” His fingers tighten on my ass cheeks, the tips delving closer toward my crack, to my hole, and I clench automatically, wishing I could feel him there.
“Yes,” I whimper pathetically. I know it’s coming, and fuck, I need it. My thrusts come a little quicker against his leg. The friction is just right, and I reach down to move my skirt out of the way. Just a little less fabric is all I need and—
“No.” He stops me with two steely hands on my hips, thumbs delving into the hollows of my pelvic bone.
“No?” I ask, blinking widely up at him, eyes burning at the rejection.
“Not yet.”
“Fuck. Peris,” I mewl, hating the way my face is heated in embarrassment.
“Sucks, doesn’t it?”
His words sluice over me like ice water, and I stumble away from him as he releases me. We didn’t even make it out of the entryway of his room. How pathetic.
“You’re a cocksucker,” I snap, crossing my arms over my chest as I step back into the room. I don’t know why I’m not leaving. I should leave.
I need to.
“Actually,” he drawls as he follows me deeper into the room, each step deliberate, one for one. “From what I recall, that’s all you, baby.” He licks those lips, and I nearly tremble.
I scoff and roll my eyes. “Oh, fuck off. Making fun of the whore. How original, Peris. Get some better jokes.”
“Not joking,” is all he says, those golden-green irises peering into me. The whites of his eyes are bloodshot, and I can smell the liquor on his breath from feet away, but I don’t care. It’s driving me mad with want, and there is no way this is real.
I’m confused because he’s got this twisted back and forth going on. Seemingly mad one second, and then soft and sincere the next, and what is even going on?
How am I meant to take this?
“Okay…” is all I say because what else is there?
The tension in the room is as sharp as a piece of glass and as clear as one, too. I can see it cut between us, ready to slice and maim and destroy.
The question is, am I ready to bleed out?
“Why are you here, Abel?”
My eyes roll to the ceiling, following the textured pattern there for a minute as I roll his question around on my tongue, trying to figure out how I should answer it, before I settle on my usual.
No vulnerability tonight—or ever. No, thank you.
“I already told you. I’m working, and you’ve pulled me away from an already high-paying client who’s going to be very, very mad at me,” I tell him honestly. And the way his face twists is just priceless, honestly.
“What?” I drawl as I drop down onto the bed and lean back on my hands. I cross my legs and turn my head to the side, elongating my marked up neck for him. “Can’t handle the truth, baby boy?”
As quick as a flash, Peris is over to me, hand wrapped around my throat.
I’m thrust down onto the mattress with his body pressing into mine.
I can’t breathe as he steals the air from my lungs, squeezing tighter with every second that passes.
His nose bumps against mine, eyelashes nearly grazing one another’s from our close proximity.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he spits—literally—in my face.
“Can’t—” I rasp, barely able to even choke that word out, but he only squeezes tighter, and my eyelids flutter closed, eyes rolling back into my head.
“Shut the fuck up, Abel.” It’s said so softly, I fear an angel is in the room, so close to me, rasping the words in my ear, but then, I can breathe, and light floods my eyes as Peris moves back, and all I see, smell, feel, is him.
It’s always been him.
“Okay,” I rasp. My throat is on fire, and the words hurt, but I forgot my place. He isn’t the same boy, and I sure as shit am not either.
“Okay?” he says, dark brows furrowed. “What do you mean, ‘okay’?”
I swallow thickly and struggle to sit up against the pillows, trying to make myself look as inviting as possible. “I’ll do whatever you want. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“Whatever… what? What are you talking about?” He yanks his fingers through his hair, tugging harshly on the strands.
“What you’re paying for, of course,” I remind him.
“Paying…” he drawls and then scoffs so loudly, I wince, flinching away from the sound. “Right. How could I fucking forget.” He whirls around and searches for something until he finds his bag and pulls out a pack of smokes and lights one up right there in the middle of the hotel room.
“Uh… what are you… doing?” I ask, confused.
“You know you’re not supposed to smoke in here, right?
” It’s not like I care that much. I’m more so shocked at seeing a cigarette dangling from Peris’s thick lips.
They’re pursed around the filter, and Jesus, I swear my cock just twitched a little at the sight.
“Since when do you care about the fucking rules? Abel Silver, of all people…” He mutters as he rolls his eyes with a scoff. He stomps over to the window and yanks open the blinds. It’s a fancy ass hotel, so the door slides open into a balcony, which he opens. “Happy?”
I lift a brow, amused. “You’re feisty.”
“I’m tired. And too sober for this.”
“Too sober…” I muse. “So you do need to be drunk to fuck me, then…” The thought stings a little… okay, a lot. And I cross my arms over my chest to abate a bit of the hurt, but it doesn’t do shit.
“Oh, no, baby. I don’t need alcohol to fuck you. I’ll need alcohol for after I fuck you,” he says bluntly, and I almost laugh because same.
“Why?” I ask anyway, knowing I don’t want the answer but needing to hear it, regardless.
“Because I’m gonna wish I was dead.”