“I didn’t imply that, Jasper. I merely meant you allowed yourself to let someone else take control, to find the pleasure in that.” His fingers trail down the side of my face as if he owns my body, his voice a leash pulling tighter around my neck.
I fight the urge to pull away from his touch, wanting to show him it meant nothing more than a simple fuck. Except I lean into it, craving more.
“Everything that happened was natural. Expected. Nothing to be ashamed of.” His words are gentle, soothing, but they wrap around my brain like a noose, tightening every time I question my own desires.
“I . . . ” The words catch in my throat. I don’t know what the fuck I want to say. “Did you—did you push me into this?”
Adrian’s eyebrows arch slightly as he gives me that infuriatingly calm smile. “Push you? Jasper, I checked in before I entered you. Made sure you consented.”
My eyes close, head drooping. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that you did something against my will. I just meant—”
“This was always your choice. You could have said no, could have asked me to stop. But you didn’t. The desire was always yours, buried deep. You just needed the right . . . encouragement to embrace it.”
I can’t deny the rush, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. I came untouched. Without a single hand on me.
And I felt alive. More alive than I’ve ever felt before.
Fuck, my dick’s even getting hard again.
But why does it seem like I’ve lost something, like a piece of me has been ripped away?
“Get some rest. Sometimes the mind needs time to catch up to what the body desires. And bottoming for the first time when you’re used to being in control can be taxing emotionally.”
Except it’s about more than bottoming.
He leans down and places a kiss on my forehead, then makes his way to the door, his movements slow, deliberate. But before he exits, he turns to me, eyes sweeping over my body with an air of calculated satisfaction. “This is only the beginning, Jasper.”
I say nothing as he slips from the room, leaving me alone with my own fucked-up reflection and the endless, distorted copies of myself.
And I know he’s right.
Because more than anything—I want to understand why submitting felt so good.
So freeing.
Chapter 7
I can’t fucking sleep.
The bed feels like it’s shifting, like the soft fabric is trying to swallow me whole just to get me back inside my head. My skin is itchy, slick with sweat, and feverish against the sheets.
I sit up, raking a hand through my hair, trying to get a grip. But staying here, lying still, isn’t going to help me untangle the mess in my head. I need to move.
Need to fucking breathe.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet touching the cold hardwood. The wallpaper catches the moonlight that slips between the cracks in the heavy curtains, the dark floral design almost . . . breathing. Shadows whirl at the edges of my vision, teasing and whispering every time I blink too long.
I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands, ignoring the throb in my cock. Jesus. I’m hard again.
A miracle, considering I’ve already jerked off twice since Adrian fucked me. But every time I started drifting off, theimages of us kept invading my thoughts. Even my asshole clenches at the thought of him, as if needing to be stretched.
I stare down at my erection, throbbing and red. Like I have no fucking control over it. Because I don’t.
With a sigh, I grab my jeans off the floor, then tug them on. The silence in the room is enough to drive me insane. Okay, I have this problem at home too. It’s one of the reasons I love the city.
Nothing ever closes.
So, when those old childhood memories start to resurface, I head out. Fuck some rando in front of a group of people. Control my situation.
