“Promise you won’t control me again,” he grunts, pounding relentlessly.
“I—I promise.” I pant, the words tumbling out without hesitation.
“I can’t hear you.” He reaches around to find my clit, circling it with a finger.
“Oh, god! Oh, fuck! I promise!” I cry out as pleasure builds, coiling tighter in my belly and tingling at the base of my spine.
“That’s right,” he growls. “And don’t you fucking forget it.”
The dual sensation of his cock stretching me and his fingers working my clit pushes me over the edge. My orgasm explodes, making my inner walls clench around him as I scream his name.
Following right behind with a hoarse shout, his hips falter as he empties himself inside me before he collapses, breath hot against my neck as we both gasp for air.
FORTY-NINE
ryder
Heart hammering against my ribs,I roll over. Noia lets out a contented sigh as I pull her against my chest, her body warm and limp with exhaustion. I press a gentle kiss to her forehead, watching as her eyes flutter closed.
“You okay?” I brush a strand of hair from her face.
“Mmm,” she hums, already starting to drift. “Yes.”
Within minutes, her breathing deepens and evens out. She’s asleep, completely spent in my arms.
But the Sandman doesn’t come for me.
My mind races as it replays the past twenty minutes. The way my emotions shifted and how the sudden predatory instinct took over, driving me to hunt her down. How the rush of possessiveness and the need to claim her felt much like my own desire, but also like something that had been forced upon me.
I stare up at the ceiling, a cold knot forming in my gut. She can still control me. With just a few keystrokes, she can change how I feel, what I want, maybe even who I am.
What if I never had free will at all? What if every decision I’ve made since I showed up here, every feeling I’ve had for her, was caused by what Noia was writing every day?
How much control does she actually have over me?
My stomach twists into knots when I think about all the memories that have been slowly starting to surface—my time in Afghanistan, meeting Claire, and opening the tattoo shop with Jax.
Were those real memories I somehow forgot, or just a convenient backstory she created to make me more three-dimensional?
The thought makes my skin crawl. I spent years clawing my way back from addiction, fighting to regain control of my life, my body, my choices. And now I discover that at any moment, she could potentially override all of that with a just a few keystrokes?
Christ, nowI’mstarting to question if I am real.
I glance down at Noia, peacefully asleep on my chest. Her lips are slightly parted, face completely relaxed. She looks so innocent, so unaware of the doubt and confusion she’s triggered inside me.
She didn’t mean any harm—I know that. Just playing, testing boundaries, trying to make the game more exciting. But still...
What happens when we disagree about something important? What happens if we fight? Would she use her power to make me bend to her will? Could she make me love her if I didn’t already?
Do I even love her? Or was that the premise of my story from the beginning?
Carefully, I slide out from under her and pad quietly into the bathroom. Splashing cold water on my face, I look in the mirror. The man staring back at me seems solid enough—the stubble on my jaw, the tiny scar above my eyebrow, the tattoos covering my arms and chest.
I grip the edges of the sink. The thought of not being incontrol of my own destiny makes my blood run cold. I’ve spent years fighting to regain control and just the thought I might never have had it to begin with is unbearable.
Moving silently back into the bedroom, I watch Noia sleep for a few moments longer. The moonlight streaming through the window makes her look almost ethereal.
I love her. That much I know with absolute certainty. But can I trust her with the very essence of who I am?
