Page 195 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 1

“She led me to you,” I say. “It all took me to the moment I saw you. I’m taking you with me. I’ve never wanted to hang with anyone more than a few hours until you. Isn’t that answer enough?”

Pursing her lips, she then shuffles free from the comforter. “I need to pee.”

I study her heart-shaped naked ass until she disappears. The unease won’t let me go, and I’m not even sure why it’s there to begin with.

I dart out of bed and go to pour myself a glass of whisky, then pace back and forth until Summer reappears. I want to fix it, but I don’t know what’s fucking broken, and I don’t know why I allow her to make me feel shit like this.

She all but twists her hands as she sits back on the bed. I sit, too, tilt my head back and drain the glass. She looks worried, afraid even, and I have a feeling it’s got something to do with yours truly. I get that a lot from people. A tiny part of me had hoped I’d never see it in her eyes.

Now I do.

I wait. She needs to get whatever it is off her chest, and I’m in no hurry because whatever waits for me on the other side of this conversation might not be something I care to discover.

“A-about my mom.”

“What did I tell you about stuttering?”

Her mouth falls open, and she widens her eyes, then she purses her lips, anger instead of concern flitting through her beautiful blues. “About Mom.”

“Yes?”

“I’m not leaving her.”

Yeah… fuck that. She is.

“You’re not gonna live at home for the rest of your life.”

“Of course not. I… I just need to make sure she’s in a good place before I’m off. Physically and mentally.”

“That’s fucking bullshit, and it’s not your responsibility. Gracie’s a forty-year-old who refuses to grow up. She’s made a victim out of you, forced you to live a life you were never made for. She made you the adult. That’s abuse.”

“You don’t know anything!”

I stand, red-hot rage flooding me. “I know fucking everything. I know she’s holding you back. Keeps you away from life. She’s smothering you, Summer.”

“What’ve you got against Mom?”

“It’s not your mom in particular. It’s parents.” I shrug.

She darts to her feet. “You don’t know her! You’ve never cared enough to get to know her! You’ve never even met her!”

I scoff. I’ve studied that woman more than Summer will ever know, and I’ve drawn my conclusions. “I don’t do domestics. Not my thing.”

“Not even for me?”

“For you, yeah, but not for her. She’s poisoned you. How can’t you see it?”

“You’re a piece of shit! You know that? I hate you!”

I put my hand on her arm. She slaps it away. “Don’t touch me!”

Snaking my hand around her waist I pull her to me and crush my mouth against hers as I let my other hand wander, caressing down to cup her breast, tweak her nipple until she gasps and buckles, then down to bunch up her skirt and put my hand between her legs.

My cock strains against my jeans. She pants, and her neck flushes as it always does when she’s turned on.

“Stephan,” she says weakly between sexy moans, “we need to talk.”

Absolutely not, I think as I drag her up from bed, hoist her up against the wall, undo the buttons of my jeans and push inside her in one hard thrust. I don’t want to talk. Talking will lead us straight back to the rabbit hole.

---