Page 53 of His to Possess
I am not at my best right now.
Something about Lilah has every one of my possessive instincts howling in my chest. I don’t want this wanker looking at her. I don’t want him making her laugh. What I want is to have her splayed out in my bed with her hands bound to the headboard. I want to spank her ass until she learns who she belongs to.
I want to put my collar on her neck so there will be no doubt in anyone’s mind who controls her.
That thought sends my stomach into free fall. What in the hell am I thinking? I’ve never collared a woman, never even had the desire. I don’t date the women I fuck. I don’t even keep a regular submissive. I’m plenty busy with the unattached subs at Club Wyld. There’s a damn waiting list for subs who want to do a scene with me.
So why am I sitting here wondering if I’d ever be able to walk away from her after a fuck or two? That’s not who I am. I don’t have the time for a relationship and I certainly don’t have the emotional capacity. Everything I told her is true—I’m a selfish demanding asshole.
She should run far away from me.
But even as I think that, I know it would be pointless. If Lilah runs, I’d simply catch her.
Philip
“Is there a reason you’re being so grumpy?”
My fingers tighten on the small of her back as I usher her into the waiting car ahead of me. I want to spank her ass for that bit of sass. Then again, I want to spank her ass every damn time I look at her.
“Are you going to answer me?” she snaps once I’ve joined her in the car. I ignore her and lean up to the driver.
“Penthouse.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’re not going to your Manhattan office?” she asks, surprised, since I told her I would need to work all afternoon.
“I can’t fucking concentrate,” I grumble, keeping my eyes on the window so I won’t be tempted to stare at her legs. This decision will likely come back to bite me in the ass. I have limited time in New York every week, meaning I need to make the hours I am here count. But I know I’m not getting shit done if I bring her back to that office.
“Why are you distracted?” she sounds exasperated. “You’re being so…so...”
I turn away from the window and raise an eyebrow. “So what, love?”
She bites her lip, a look of concentration coming to her face. I get the sense she’s debating something with herself. Is she wondering if she should be obedient? Or should she tell me to go fuck myself?
“Aggravating,” she answers, apparently veering towards option two. “You’re being a giant asshole, actually.”
“If you were my submissive, I’d spank the shit out of you for that.”
Her eyes dart up to the driver, like she’s embarrassed to have him hear us. Then she looks back at me and her eyes narrow. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not your submissive, isn’t it?”
Those words should bring relief. I’ve been telling her that me and my lifestyle aren’t right for her since the first night. So why the hell do I feel so disappointed?
Frustration rises up in me. How did this girl get so completely under my skin in such a short amount of time? It doesn’t make any sense.
It’s also stupid to doubt it for another second. I want Lilah Cartwright. And it’s not only about sex. I don’t just want to fuck her, not anymore. I want to possess her entirely. I want her body and her submission and every last one of her secrets.
And I’ve waited long enough.
I manage to keep my shit together until we get back to my building. Lilah is silent the rest of the drive, her attention focused on the city streaming past her window as if it’s the most interesting thing she’s ever seen. Fine. Let her pretend I’m not even here. I don’t plan on giving her the choice to ignore me in a few minutes.
The second we’re off the elevator and inside my penthouse, I have her pushed up against the wall, the entire length of my body pressing into her soft curves, my fingers clenching her upper arms. I tower over her, glaring down, our faces inches apart.
“Do you have any idea how insane you make me?”
Her eyes are wide, breath coming out in quick pants. Just like she was the other night at Club Wyld. And fuck if my dick doesn’t react exactly the same way to the obvious evidence of her arousal.
“No,” she whispers.
