Page 47 of A Debt So Ruthless

“Lick it off or I will.”

I stare at him mutinously, just daring him to do it. He may be insane enough to use my underwear as a goddamn fashion accessory, but he and I are the only ones who actually know what it is. That panties pocket square was a private message just for me. But standing in the middle of a public event and licking my hand in front of everyone? No way, that’s-

He sucks my pinky into his mouth.

My breath catches as hot wet suction works over my smallest finger. Elio’s tongue swipes along the line of my knuckles, the strokes demanding and so sensitizing I almost forget where we are. But, oh, God, there are people everywhere, and it feels like the whole world is watching me vibrate under this man’s mouth. The thorny shame of it pulses in my clit.

I try to tug my hand away.

Elio lets my finger out of his mouth, sucking up the length of it as he does so until it’s released with a wet popping sound. But he doesn’t let go of my wrist.

I yank harder. He grasps me more firmly.

“I told you what would happen,” he said, his voice quiet but hardened with a dangerous edge. “I told you that if you didn’t lick this sweet mess off of your fingers then I would. You need to learn that when you disobey me, there are consequences.”

Why do I feel those words deep in my core? Why do my nipples harden in response?

Why do I feel anything, anything towards this man besides pure fucking hate?

And how do I make it all stop?

Elio moves to start sucking my next finger when I cry out, “Fine!”

The word is out before I’ve even realized I’ve said it, but there’s no backing down now. Because Elio is guiding my hand towards my mouth, a look of challenge in those obsidian eyes. I lick my lips, and his gaze falls to my mouth, muscles in his jaw flexing.

I start to lick my hand.

I try to do it fast. Get this over with. My tongue laps at my sticky skin, and I swallow the sweet cake and frosting down. This is hands-down the most delicious cake I’ve ever eaten, and that annoys me. It annoys me that the best birthday cake I’ve ever received came from him, and that it has to be licked off my own skin with his fingers on my wrist and his eyes on my face.

I try to ignore the fact that I could have just taken the plate when he’d first offered it and eaten it with a fork. Try to ignore the fact that he actually did give me a chance to eat this stupidly amazing cake like a normal person. But nothing about this situation is normal. Not the cake. Not him. And definitely not me. Not anymore.

I’m mostly looking at my own hand, trying to get every crumb and smear of frosting as quickly as I can. But when I do flick a glance up at Elio, his face has completely changed. The look of challenge there is gone, replaced by something so intense it alarms me. His jaw is set hard, his nostrils flaring, and he almost looks angry. Angry with me for doing exactly what he told me to do.

“What?” I ask, shaken by his expression. “You’re the one who told me to-”

He doesn’t let me finish. Face thunderous, he pulls me by the hand and says, “Let’s go.”

Chapter 21

Elio

I thought her submission would be better. That it would soothe something inside me, make me feel like I was getting back on track with her somehow. That it would be what I wanted.

I should have known that it would be worse. So much fucking worse. Deirdre glaring at me and hating me and telling me no is one thing. Deirdre obedient, sucking frosting off her own skin because I told her to, her wet pink tongue gliding all over because I’ve cornered her, is practically catastrophic. It turns my insides dark and hungry and twisted. It makes me want to push her harder, until she buckles. Until she breaks. Until all she can do is exactly what I tell her to because there isn’t a single fucking thought in her head that I didn’t put there.

Deirdre obeying me is addictive.

I’m already addicted to her music and her scent. If I get in this any deeper, I’m fucking done for.

The cold air outside helps clear my head a little, but it doesn’t last long, because then we’re in my car, the space so small and confined. So fucking close, so easy to tell her to take out my cock and suck it the way she just sucked her slender fingers.

I focus on the road as I drive, gripping the steering wheel hard with one hand, knowing that Deirdre’s watching me.

“Am I ever going to get my panties back?”

“No,” I reply curtly. I think about the intimate white fabric tucked into my pocket and want to pull it out. Stroke it. Want to press it to my face and inhale hard, but I’m pretty sure at this point if I try that I’ll veer right off the goddamn road.

“Alright, then,” Deirdre says. Her tone turns cool, almost business-like. “How much are they worth? Are you buying them? Does that wipe out some of my debt?”

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