Page 3 of The Intimacy of Control

My eyes trailed down his neck, following his Adam’s apple. God, I wanted to bite it. I glanced back up, holding the moment with our eyes. “Rough. I need it rough. Can you do that?”

“Tell me how long I have to wait for you to find out.”

The table Mav had been talking to had left, leaving us empty aside from Forrest. “I’d only need five minutes to tell my employees and three more to get my keys and put your address into my GPS.”

He stood from the barstool, giving me one last smile. “313 West Hollow Drive. Floor six, apartment twelve. I’ll be waiting for you, Mr. Owner.”

I watched him walk out without even ordering a drink. Maybe Forrest would be my answer to a restful, dreamless night.

It was the only time I didn’t panic for control—when I was beneath them, feeling too good to care. After all, control couldn’t be lost if I willingly gave it to someone.

At least, that was what I told myself.

chapter two

The apartments were a lot nicer than I was expecting. I thought I knew what they looked like, but I’d been thinking of the ones about a block away, which weren’t bad-looking, but they weren’t this nice, either.

I walked into the building, glancing around at the small, welcoming lobby. There were elevators on either side and a receptionist at the front. I took the elevator, pressing the button for floor six. Compared to the usual New York special apartments I was used to seeing, the elevator alone was like a mansion.

Callum told me he used to live in a shitty, run-down place downtown. I’d done the same when I first moved here—so talk about a culture shock.

I checked each door as I walked, keeping an eye out for apartment twelve. It was the next-to-last one on the right, the door closed and simply waiting. Waiting for me, with Forrest behind it. I almost chickened out for a second, letting my mind spiral about what I was about to do.

I never slept with the same person twice. Not because of some grand idea that emotions would get involved if I did, or because I was crass enough to not care. The idea of giving up control was already difficult to stomach. Facing the person I gave it to more than once? Yeah, that was torture on a whole different level.

My partners saw a part of me I didn’t even like admitting to myself. Why would I face it head-on?

After hyping myself up a bit more, I finally reached for the doorbell and pushed it. I could hear it ding from beyond the door, alerting my arrival. I was nervous. I was always nervous at the idea of doing this type of thing. No matter how many times I did it—and I’d done it plenty—I still got anxious.

The door slowly opened, Forrest standing on the other side with a smile.

I returned it, trying to seem far more confident than I really was. He wouldn’t be able to notice, right? He’d taken his coat off, revealing a simple black tank top. He’d definitely been hiding something beneath it. Forrest was fucking ripped. And he had a shit ton of tattoos. Black ink swirled up his arms, curling around his biceps and across his collarbones. They didn’t even stop there. I could see part of the designs that led down his chest, leaving my imagination to run wild.

He stepped to the side, letting me in and closing the door behind me. I got to take one glance around the entryway before my back was against the wall. I gasped as Forrest closed me in, holding my hands above my head, one of his legs coming between mine as he looked down at me.

The way he whispered made butterflies start fluttering in my stomach. He was so close, I could almost taste him. I wanted to taste him. I wanted him closer, if that was even possible. “You want it rough, don’t you, Jack?”

I bit my bottom lip, staring up at him as a blush started to drift up my neck. His hair had fallen forward a bit, the wavy strands damn near touching my skin. “Yes,” I breathed.

His hand cradled the back of my neck right before reaching up and grabbing my hair, pulling it tight enough to sting. “Like this?”

My eyes fluttered closed. “Yes. More. More of that.”

“Oh, don’t worry, baby. There’ll be plenty of it.”

There was barely a second in between before he was kissing me. Hard. No teeth, but hints of tongue and all lips and groans and moans, and I couldn’t help but slowly grind against his leg. I needed it—whatever he wanted to give me, I needed.

Craved it.

Was desperate for it.

He pulled away just long enough to start guiding me down the hallway. I wasn’t even sure where we were going, letting him kiss me in bursts as I followed him. I let him take me. I let him control our path and our pace. I let him do everything I usually wouldn’t even dream of.

We crossed the threshold into what I assumed was his bedroom. It could’ve been a random guest room for all I knew, but I wouldn’t know. I hadn’t even had time to look around. I just knew I was being pushed onto my back on a mattress, and I was reaching up for him, begging him silently to follow me.

I scrambled back, leaning up on my elbows as I watched him shed his tank top. I was right. Forrest was not only absolutely covered in tattoos, but he also definitely had more piercings.

Each nipple had a silver barbell in it. My mouth watered at the idea of licking them and feeling the metal against my tongue.