22. Control #2
"I… I didn't know it wasn't locked," I whisper.
"That was my fault. I’m sorry, baby." He quickly takes hold of himself, tucking it back in under the waistband of his underwear. That done, he reaches for me.
I jump back.
He curses under his breath before turning to the tap, washing his hands as quickly as he tucked himself out of sight.
I’m sorry, baby…
“Don’t be sorry.”
The words are ripped out of me.
Connor freezes. "You okay?"
I nod, though the way my freaked-out eyes go to the come messing up the toilet says otherwise.
“Fuck. Shit. Haven.” Connor grabs one of the handtowels, getting it damp, wiping up the mess.
He starts to add it to the bathroom hamper, pauses, then balls it up in his fist. “Forget it. Okay? Don’t think this means I expect anything from you.
When you’re ready, I’ll…” He stops short.
Swallows. Grins. “Haven, sweetheart… that look on your face. Like you liked what you saw… oh, love.” He slowly begins to prowl toward me. “You are ready, aren’t you?”
Yes.
No.
I don’t answer him. I can’t. Instead, heart racing, I wait for him to get near enough to me that I can shove Connor out of the bathroom. He doesn’t fight it, but I don’t like the suddenly thoughtful look on his face as I close the door behind him before turning the lock with a snick.
That’s it, I decide, reaching for another hand towel so that I can do a more thorough job scrubbing the toilet seat before I can finally pee. I live in the bathroom now.
When the alternative is returning to the living area of the basement and letting Connor figure out just how ready I am… yeah. I totally live here now.
I make it twenty-five minutes locked in the bathroom before a strange mixture of curiosity and dread has me reluctantly climbing up from the toilet. I wash my hands, swipe them on a third towel, then take a deep breath before I open the door.
I expect to find Connor waiting for me on the couch while wearing that smirk of his. I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed when I step out of the bathroom only to realize that he… he’s not down here any longer.
Good. That’s a good thing. I didn’t mean to be such a voyeur, and I need to figure out a way to apologize to Connor for ogling him when I caught him touching himself.
It’s not like he did it in front of me on purpose.
He told me he was going to the bathroom.
I’m the moron who banged on the door, causing it to fly open like that.
So he was right when he guessed that seeing him pleasure himself… it made me interested. Hell, it made me want him. But I can’t… right?
Right.
I think.
Giving my head a clearing shake, I decide that the best thing I can do is return to my sanctuary. I’ll lock myself in there, hopefully get some sleep, and forget that I walked in on Connor masturbating—
At first, I can’t make sense of what I’m seeing.
It’s a fantasy. A mirage. There’s no fucking way that Connor Heyward is butt-fucking-naked, sprawled out on his back on the dark sheets in the panic room, his hands stretched out his head thanks to the handcuffs tethering him to the wrought-iron headboard.
There’s no way.
There’s no way…
I blink. His smirk—that damn smirk—deepens. He waggles his eyebrows.
Shit. His cock, already erect again, bobs as he wiggles his hips.
“Hey, baby. Like what you see now that you can see all of it?”
You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.
Picking my jaw up from the goddamn floor, I spin on my heel and dash out of the panic room.
“Haven?” Connor’s slightly panicked voice chases after me. “Where are you going, Haven?”
You know what? I could leave him there. I could shut the door and pretend like I didn’t just see a naked Connor Heyward sprawled out on the bed, handcuffed to the headboard, completely at my mercy. I could… but, damn it, I have a naked Connor Heyward at my mercy.
I’m not at his. That’s the difference. It’s a small one, but it counts, and with the power imbalance suddenly shifted in my favor, I’d regret it forever if I shut that door and ran away.
Less than a minute later—and before I lose my nerve—I return to my sanctuary, clutching a notepad and a pen. I can’t help but notice the flash of relief that dances across Connor’s handsome face… even if I’m still way more distracted by everything else he has on display.
He exhales, then, in a sing-song sort of voice, says, “I knew you’d be back.”
Yeah? That makes one of us.
I poise the pen to the pad. For a second, I don’t even know what to write. I sure as hell can’t find the words to ask, either, until finally I jot down the most pressing question I have in mind:
Why do you have handcuffs?
His eyes seem to laugh at me though he’s careful not to frighten me off with another of his wicked grins after he reads that.
“A memento from the chief of police, I’m thinking.
Or maybe it was just something else my parents used for their nighttime activities.
I’m not really sure, and I don’t like to think about it too hard.
Let’s just say, I found them, and I think I figured out the best use for them. ”
I can only imagine what that is to a man like Connor.
I’m surprised you didn’t cuff me to the bed to keep me from escaping you
This time, he does laugh a little out loud.
“I know, right? Gotta say, the thought did cross my mind more than once. But I never wanted to frighten you, Haven. Don’t you get that.
If I did… it was never my intention. I always wanted you to be able to trust me.
” He shakes his hand, jiggling the cuff. “And that’s why I’m like this.”
With a skeptical look at him—his face, not his body, no, Haven, don’t look lower—I write one more word:
Naked?
“Yup.”
I wait for a further explanation.
His deep blue eyes turn almost black, that’s how heavy-lidded his gaze becomes as he stares over at me.
“You saw me, Haven. You watched me. And you liked it. I never meant… shit. I know you liked it. And it hit me. I always thought you were attracted to me. In spite of yourself, I’m sure,” he adds after I start to sputter, “but if there were even a hint of something there… fuck me if I’m not above fanning it into flames.
“But I promised I would never force you to do anything you didn’t want to. I stand by that, sweetheart. So this… I know what you want.”
Hiding how close he’s come to the truth, I point at his erection, then snort.
He chuckles. “Okay. Maybe I was a little hopeful… but that’s not what I meant. What you want more than anything? It’s control.”
I blink.
“Yeah. I know. But that’s it. You’ve had so much taken from you that you need to be the one to take next. I can do that for you. You crave control, sweetheart? Well, I fucking crave you, so go ahead and do your best.”
It’s a dare. I hear it in his tone, see it written on his face. He’s daring me to… what?
I cock my head, curious even though I shouldn’t be.
Even though he’s cuffed to the headboard, he can still crook his finger at me.
“Come here, darling Haven. Touch me. Use me. I’m yours.
I’ve always been yours. Get comfortable with me.
Do whatever you want and me… I’ll just sit here and let you.
You have my complete permission to make me yours however you want to.
You want to kiss me? Please. You want to touch my dick?
I’m fucking begging baby. And if you just want to have me at your mercy…
God, I love that, too. Whatever you want? Do it.”
Do it.
It’s a command and a plea at the same time. And yet, with Connor giving me complete control… how can I refuse?
I can’t.
Before I can think better of what I’m doing, I slowly climb next to him onto the bed. He stops breathing for a second, as though afraid to frighten me off. He sucks in a breath, and I lay my hand on his side in time for him to exhale roughly.
The warmth of skin is almost scalding, but that’s not the worst part.
Oh, no.
The worst part? Is how I instantly know that one touch… it won’t be enough.
It’ll never be enough until I have complete control over this man—and as my fingers trail a path up to his chest, fingers scratching lightly at his nipple all while his body goes tight just to have me touching him… I can’t imagine it’s going to take much until I do.