Page 20 of Submit

He swept his hand over her hair for a moment before he made his escape—for that’s exactly what it was—as quickly as he could down the old staircase and onto the street. He got in his car, started the engine and drove home a little too fast.

Back at his place he paced his living room, trying to figure out what was going on in his damn head. Why he could barely stand to leave her at her apartment despite the driving need to flee.

He never became attached to a woman. Never had, never would. He understood why he was like this, the lone wolf. He had damn good reason to be. He’d had one huge loss early in life—hell, two—and he wasn’t about to set himself up to go through that again. Ever. He’d successfully avoided attachment since that God-awful night, so long ago. Why the hell was it so damn hard to let Skye go, even for what little was left of the night?

He strode to the sideboard in his dining room, poured himself a scotch and threw it back. It burned going down, a good cleansing burn. He poured himself another, then shook his head and set it down on the sideboard so hard the golden liquid splashed.

“Fuck it.”

He stalked into the bathroom, where he turned the hot water on to blasting in the shower. He peeled off his shirt, then yanked down the zipper on his slacks, but he couldn’t fucking wait to get into the shower. Instead, he pulled his cock out and began to stroke. He caught sight of his face in the mirror over the sink before he closed his eyes and saw her face. Her lush body. Imagined the dark pink of her hard nipples, the plump curve and the heat of her breasts in his hands.

Oh, yes.

He thought of leaning down to suck on her nipples, tugging them with his teeth until they were long and swollen on his tongue, his fingers pushing into her soaking wet pussy, then his cock doing the same.

He arched his hips into his tightly fisted hand, over and over, imagining what it would feel like to fuck her.

“Skye… have to fuck you, beautiful girl,” he muttered between clenched teeth.

He fucked his own hand instead, pleasure spiraling, a coiled spring in his gut, in his balls, his swollen cock.

In his mind he turned her over, his cock driving deep into her while he smacked her perfect ass, harder and harder until she was squirming, panting, her gorgeous skin beginning to welt.

Fucking her… spanking her… using his hard, pinching fingers on her clit to make her come. To make her scream.

“Ah, Skye!”

He came into his fist in long, shattering jolts of pleasure, his hips pumping.

“Fuck.”

He braced himself on the edge of the granite counter, his breath coming in rasping pants. When he’d finally caught his breath, he glanced up, saw his own pleasure-torn face in the mirror. Saw the doubt in his eyes.

Skye.

Why couldn’t he get this girl out of his mind?

He was supposed to see her in a week and he’d better have his shit together by then. He would. Control was key, the antithesis of weakness. He’d had years of practice. He knew how to do it, how to keep his emotions at bay.

He damn well refused to be weak.

The problem was, he’d never been challenged in this way before. While he told himself he could handle the situation, he wasn’t completely certain he believed it.

“Yeah, and you’re fucking lying to yourself,” he told his reflection in the mirror, grimacing as he said it.

Skye was a problem, that was for sure. One he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to fix.

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