Page 13 of Worthy

Chapter Four

Peris

The sound of my phone cracking between my fingers forces me to release my grip. It falls to my desk with a loud thump, those fucking pictures still on display, a blatant taunt.

“I’m gonna wring his goddamn neck,” I mutter to myself, raking my fingers through my drying hair. I close my eyes and rest my head against the back of the chair as the silence creeps in. The only sound permeating the room is the ridiculous tapping of my fingers against the wood of my desk, the movement becoming more sporadic by the second.

The sound of his footsteps padding across the carpet makes my head pound and my cock hard.Again.

Fuck this.Pulling the music app up on my phone, I connect to my sound system, cranking the volume to “CAN’T LOSE YOU” by Night Lovell until I feel the heavy thud of the base in my bones.

Just knowing Abel’s in the room right next to me, feet away, makes my body thrum with a deep, rapacious hunger to break him down until he’s nothing but a dirty mess again.

God, I fucking hate him.

He has burrowed so deep beneath my flesh, his tiny fingers are picking at my frayed insides, digging, searching for something he can grasp onto. And he found it, just by showing me his tears.

I’m sure Corbin’s little comment about Abel being a whore didn’t bother Abel. He is one—and he fucking loves it. So, whether they were real or not doesn’t matter.

Nothing has ever felt as good as hurting Abel. Watching his skin bloom scarlet, lips stretched painfully wide, throat so full he can’t breathe… That’s exactly what he was made for.

Abel’s like a science experiment gone wrong—like they took a bunch of mutated genes and shoved them inside one entity, and that’s how he was created. Warped, mismatched, and yet, in spite of it all, so fuckin pretty.

Kryptonite for a guy like me, it seems.

The music blasting around me fades as a song ends, and the tell-tale sound of water rushing from the bathroom makes my ears prick. I shove my way out of my chair, barely registering the sound of it slamming into my desk as my feet take me to the bathroom.

I try the doorknob. It rattles, not budging against the lock. With a huff, I grab a butter knife from the kitchen, easily wedging the thin metal between the latch and the door frame. It pops free, and the door creaks open. I step inside, quietly shutting it behind me.

Steam fogs the mirror, billowing up from the curtain pulled tightly across the length of the tub. Pocketing the knife, I rest my hip against the counter of the vanity, hands gripping the edge. Something bumps my palm, and I tilt my head down to see what it is.

A pink lighter rests against the white countertop. My brow arches as I glide a finger over it, finding it warm to the touch.

Him and the color pink, I swear.

Abel isn’t flamboyant—he’s too ugly, too rough for that. Truly a run-down foster kid in those regards, but it’s like he chooses certain things to reflect a glimpse back to the world that he isn’t what everyone says he is.

Ignoring the lighter and whatever the fuck he’s doing with it, I cross my arms over my chest as I listen to the sounds Abel makes as he cleans himself of my cum. Ofhiscum.

Jesus.Feeling his release pooling at his crotch beneath my foot just about did me in. I knew it waspossibleto come untouched, but to see it in person, to be thereasonsomeone was pushed over the edge so intensely…willingly.

My blood coagulates in my veins. Everything I’ve shoved down—whathedid, what I saw Abel do, and all that’s propelled its way to the surface—feels impossible to ignore. Like it’s skimming along my flesh, fire licking gasoline, burning brighter, hotter.

My skin grows damp from the steam, beads of moisture trickling down my temples and my spine, making me itch.

Before long, I hear the creak of the knobs, and the sound of the water cuts off, leaving the room in an amplified silence. My heart skips in anticipation, my fingers digging into the flesh of my biceps as I wait it out.

Water drops hit the floor of the shower with a long, drawn-outplink, plink, plink.Feet slide over the porcelain, wet skin rubbing together.

I raise my brows when the curtain finally slinks open, giving me a full-frontal view of Abel’s body. Our eyes connect for a split second before I drop my gaze to examine him.

He doesn’t seem to have an ounce of body fat on him. Just heat-reddened skin stretched over bone, almost in a sickly way, but the curves he has makes me itch to dig my fingers in and hold him tight. To blemish his flesh with bruises the shape of my fingers.

I already know how pretty he looks all black and blue.

My eyes drop down, seeing him bare below the waist for the first time. His dick is thin and average in length, but it suits his small build. Anything bigger would look ridiculous on him—but then again, he looks odd all around, so maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing.

The base of his soft cock is enveloped in a small patch of coarse blonde hair, and as my eyes zero in on it, I want nothing more than to delve my tongue into it.

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