Page 77 of Careless

Her eyes glisten with tears as she wraps her fingers around my wrist. “I’m sorry,” she cries, then the tears fall. I want to lean in and lick up her sadness, consume it. But, I refrain.

“That’s why you don’t get to go to parties by yourself. That’s why you have a tracker on your car. That’s why you are never alone, even when you think you are. I follow you wherever the hell you go and sit outside your house until the ass crack of dawn. You’reeveryone’sweakness, but more importantly, you’remine. You’re defenseless, Sorcha. Anyone could easily hurt you, maim you, rape you,killyou.” The words come out as an accusation as I’m unable to say them with a level head. The thought of anyone touching her fills me with a murderous rage.

“I said I’m sorry,” she sobs as she leans into my aggressive touch. She knows I would never hurt her, and this isn’t a method of manipulation. She needed to understand how fucking careless she has been and fucking finally, she does.

“Sorry isn’t good enough, babe. Your words mean nothing at this point.”

With my fingers on her pulse, I can feel the panic vibrate through her. There’s no fear. Just anxiety.

“Prove to me that you’re done being this fucking stupid, babe.” I loosen my grip on her throat and trail my fingers along her jaw, feeling the moisture from her tears on my fingertips. I trace the trail up her cheek and place my finger in my mouth. Her fear is delicious.

“What?” She releases a raspy breath. “How would I do that?”

In a flash, I have her hair in my hand, pulling her to the tips of her toes. “Open your fucking mouth,” I demand, my tone leaving no room for discussion.

She gazes up at me with flickers of light and confusion in her eyes, but she does as I instruct. She doesn’t expect for me to spit straight into her mouth, so her lips slam shut and I pinch them closed. “Don’t you dare swallow or spit it out,” I warn. She knows if she disobeys me, she will regret it for a long time. My woman is smart so she doesn’t do either. “On your knees.”

I release her face and her hair as she drops hard onto her knee caps, the sound vibrating through the room. She can say she hates this all she wants, but we both know the truth. She loves every second that I degrade and humiliate her. She gets off on feeling like my dirty whore and that turns me on like crazy.

She gives me that look as if to saynow whatand that earns her a hard slap across her cheek.

First off, I know I’m an asshole. Second thing, she likes impact play, whether it’s her face, her tits, or her ass. I’d never raise a hand to hurt her, unless she begged.

A few days ago, when she was drunk, she confessed that she’s been curious about being slapped. Not spanked, but slapped. It’s a sexual curiosity, and I just fulfilled it for her.

Her cheek pinks under the red lights right before she presses her hand to the heated flesh.

She looks up at me like I’ve offended her.

I’m going to offend her even worse than that.

“Kiss my boot,” I command, and her eyes widen in disbelief.

“Wh—what?” She tries to say without disturbing the contents on her tongue.

“Do it or I’ll make your ass bleed,” I warn her against tempting me and continue to watch her throat, making sure she doesn't swallow the spit I gave her.

She glares at me, her blush leading into her bra and down her stomach, as she leans down, pressing her lips to the tip of my boot.

“Now, you can swallow.”

Her eyes snap shut with embarrassment as her throat works to swallow my spit and she pulls her mouth back, looking absolutely disgusted with herself.

“What now?” she whimpers in defeat, her dark curls shielding her face from view as she bows her head in submission.

That’s my girl.

“Now, you get up off your ass and do what you came here to do. You dance while I watch.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT

HER

Iswear, I’m going to strangle Rian. That was so mortifying and disgusting. He spit in my mouth and made me kiss his freaking boot. His boot!

And, of course, it turned me on. Fuck him for knowing that it would.

It’s hard to keep the glare off my face as he ambles to my phone resting by the speakers. He grabs it, and, of course, he knows my passcode, searches and selects a song from some music app, puts the phone down then sits in a nearby chair. Nation Haven’sDirtier Thoughtspurrs from the speakers. Nation Haven is one of my newly found artists I love listening to, but I never thought I’d be listening to his music while doing this.

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