Page 191 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 1

She’s a loser nobody, and she’ll hold my precious Summer back.

Summer, like little Savannah, is a delight to talk to. Eager to know about the world, interested, going places.

If life lets her.

I make a promise then and there to take Summer Jones with me, out of this dump. I’ll steal her away, if needed. She doesn’t see the situation as clearly. She will be suffocated if she stays with the mother. I can’t allow that to happen.

Summer will blossom under my care. I’ll give her everything I lacked. Safety. Education. Money. A nice home. Adventures to last us a lifetime.

I turn and make my way off the roof. After kicking up the stand, I turn on the engine. My bike roars to life between my legs. Riding it is almost as good as sex. Almost.

I think of my little flower. My virginal girl. Former. Sex with her is like nothing I’ve felt before.

It’s just… more. More, and fucking amazing. She’s so easy to please, and so eager to learn, like with everything she faces.

I’ll cherish her, I’ll take her, I’ll save her.

If I ever believed in Heaven, she is it.

Summer

We dozed off after an hour outside. I’ve been awake a while. He just woke. Our inner clocks are… different.

I’m hot and happy, snuggling in the space between his strong arm and his chest. He smells woodsy, a little bit of smoke from a fire, cedarwood, and bergamot. He smells like him.

“You gotta leave your mom out of the equation, bunny.”

I stretch lazily, sated, free, happy. “What do you mean?”

He shifts to his side and perches his head in his hand. “She’s holding you back. You can’t stay here. Not for her. I’m offering you the world. I’ll give you everything I have, and more. You have so much potential, and I’m not gonna let you throw it away.”

I sit up, my heart pounding a little harder. He sits, too.

“Stephan… what do you mean? I’ll make do. I’ve never had much, and I’m not asking for anything?” I look at the man before me, taking in his naked glory, the tats that cover chest and arms. The comforter covers his legs, and I can’t see his back, but I know by heart the huge tattoos in elaborate patterns of old Norse myths, of wolves—very fitting to his persona—of roses with thorns, skulls, and crosses. He’s got homages to every religion I know about. Eastern Asian, Native American, Roman, and Greek, Christian, Muslim, African and South American tribes.

“We’ll talk about it later.” His voice leaves no room for objection.

For the first time since we met, worry pinches me that his excitingly dominant persona reaches way past the bedroom. That he’ll try to control me in every aspect of my life. I’m not sure how that would ever work out. I’m an unfettered spirit. Free of any attempts at discipline from my only parent, I’ve always made up my own rules. Would he take it away? Would he take my choice? On the other hand, I know with my whole heart and soul that we belong, that he would enrich my life beyond anything I’d ever be able to experience on my own.

The conflict makes my brain hurt. I’m sure we can work something out. Pushing it out of my mind, I decide to think about something else. I stroke his arm, across a beautifully adorned cross that penetrates a cranium.

“Tell me about this.”

He doesn’t even look. “Religion is murder.”

“Christianity?”

“All of them.”

I shuffle to the side so I can see him from another angle, then touch the elephant with six arms on the back of his shoulder. His muscles ripple beneath his skin. The electricity between us sends a thrill trickling through my chest and belly to settle between my legs.

“Look closer,” he says, his voice huskier.

I do. The creature’s face is twisted and the eyes glow like a devil’s. “Evil, too?”

“Like me.”

He moves fast like lightning. In the next moment, I squeal as I’m thrown on my belly on the bed, pinned beneath him.

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