Page 6 of Careless

Logically speaking, I know that makes me a raging douchebag. Especially considering I'm fucking random bitches every night. Sorcha isn't my girlfriend or my fuck buddy, I know it’s not fair that I'm getting laid while she isn’t. However, if I didn’t take my sexual frustrations out on arbitrary women, I wouldn’t trust myself around Sorcha. If I skipped fucking for a week, I can guarantee that I’d take Sorcha and have her on her back real quick, with my tongue deep in her pussy. Her hands pulling my hair, me sucking her dry, licking her cunt and every other inch of her body. I tried alleviating stress by tapping into my psychotic murdering side, but after killing more guys than I have fingers and toes, it barely takes the edge off anymore.

I’d find an asshole who has made Sorcha cry, made fun of her, or even looked at her sideways then I’d treat them to a night of fun. Take them for a ride in my black 1978 Charger. Sure, they’d be in the trunk, tied up with an angry rattler roaming free but I’m not a complete twat waffle…I’ll give them a pillow.

This is one of the only things I hide from my friends. If the guys knew I have a side deal with Donatello, our clean up guy, I'd be the next mutilated body he cleans up. If Finn and his dad knew why I was doing it, they might be a little forgiving of my extra curricular dalliances. The level of protectiveness I have toward Sorcha makes me uncomfortable, but I have no choice. It’s as natural as breathing.

I'm not supposed to want her.

I'm not supposed to need to know she's safe at all times.

I'm not supposed to lose control and just take what I want from her.

Yet, she’s the only oasis in this minefield of my reality, which is the most amazing feeling in the world.

* * *

She doesn't notice me,just like every other time I watch her practice from the safety of the shadows under the bleachers. I'm here supporting her and she’ll never know about it.

She's a great dancer, and yet, I see how she struggles. She tries to hide it, but she gets winded more easily than the other girls.

An annoying shrill breaks through the crowd. “Come on, Sorcha. Pick up the slack. Just because you had three months off doesn't mean I'm going to cut you a break. Drink some water and get back in there.” Fuck, that coach is a bitch.

It takes everything in me not to charge over there and stomp her ass to the ground. I've never laid my hands on a woman out of anger, but if she keeps talking to Sorcha like that, I will.

“Got it, Coach,” Sorcha acknowledges before moving back to a blonde teammate that’s giving her a sympathetic smile.

“Don't listen to her. If you look at her when the wind blows, you can see the horns hidden in her hair,” her friend jokes when the coach's back is turned.

Sorcha chuckles to herself. “Oh, definitely. She's such a hardass sometimes.”

“Let it roll off your back. You're easily the best dancer on this team and she knows it,” the girl encourages, which seems to lift Sorcha's spirits.

“Thanks, Francine.” She sends the girl one of her brilliant smiles.

Inwardly, I thank her. I hate seeing a frown on Sorcha's face and it makes my trigger finger itch when someone puts it there.

Sure, Sorcha and the team had the summer off, but you wouldn’t realize it by watching my girl. She's a hard worker and that bitch coach needs to shut the fuck up. I patiently wait out the practice, mesmerized by Sorcha as she dances. I yank at the crotch of my jeans when the team does a round of jumping jacks, making her tits jump and strain beneath her tight shirt. I curse the coach again for ending my show when she blows her whistle, signaling the end of practice. The girls run to the gym to shower and change. I take my time and stroll to my car, waiting for Sorcha to appear while eyeing my trunk and envisioning the dance coach in it.

Half an hour later, she emerges with the rest of her team, hair wet and cheeks flushed from her shower. She smiles and waves at them as she folds herself into her car then slowly drives out of the school parking lot. When she’s about to exit onto the main street, I turn on my car then follow her out.

I expect her to go home, but she drives in the opposite direction. I follow several car lengths behind, but she seems to be oblivious. I’m going to have to change that somehow. Her right blinker activates right before she pulls into her doctor's office parking lot.

Right. I forgot she had an appointment to get her blood drawn.

It's the perfect time to show my face at my house, throw people off the scent if they suspect me of being the biggest stalker in Grove Hill.

Sorcha will be safe in the doctor’s office, anyway.

I walk into the house and am confronted with a half naked girl from the gymnastics team laid out on the coffee table with lines of coke down her stomach.

My best friend has always been a bit of an exhibitionist when it came to his conquests, and this slut is no different.

“Seriously, man?” I groan, really wishing I could just sleep. Every day is exhausting. The restraint I use to not touch Sorcha is enough to have me drinking Red Bull non-stop. Fighting sleep is a daily battle.

Every aspect of my life is dictated by my obsession, from the hours I sleep to who I fuck. I’d love nothing more than to pin Sorhca down to my bed and shove my cock inside her virgin pussy. The women I take to my bed look nothing like her. It’s a bit irrational but fucking a girl with dark hair, fair-skinned, and/or is thick between the hips would almost seem like I’m cheating on her. Everyone that comes to my bed is the complete opposite of her. I can’t allow myself to come close to that line as it would lead to me destroying it. The line between fantasy and reality is very thin and getting thinner everyday. That fucker is almost translucent.

The only difference is thehave not’s. I havenotfucked Sorcha O’Reilly. I havenottasted her teasing lips. If you take away thenot, it’s reality. One single step is all it takes to change it from a fantasy into an event.

I can’t take that step. I will destroy her if I do that. The depths of depravity she would have to dive into wouldn’t leave her with a clean soul.

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