Control by Charlotte Stein Read Free Book Online Page B

odds do not look good.
    ‘I’m keeping them here. For a friend.’
    ‘Did you read the books in my store for a friend, too?’
    Even in the one-lamp-lit dimness of his bedroom, I can see that blush creeping up his throat. He fidgets, glancing from the book in my hand, to the open drawer, to me and then back to the book again.
    ‘No …’
    ‘Then what?’
    ‘I haven’t read any of them.’
    ‘Really? Not even this one: “Layla enjoys anonymous sex with hot young studs”? Or how about this one?’
    I reach down and pick up another – a seedy looking thing called Breathless .
    ‘This looks fantastic. “Before Cathy split up with her husband, she didn’t understand the joy of a hard, healthy cock.” As opposed to a soft, sickly one I suppose.’
    I toss it back into the drawer, and have to bite back a laugh when he winces. He’s wincing for his injured, insulted books! As though I really mean it – as though I’m really mocking his taste when I love and sell books like this for a living.
    ‘And what about this one?’ I start, but he stops me, this time. He lunges forward and snatches it out of my hand, clutching it to him like it’s his dying lovechild.
    ‘Don’t,’ he says. ‘Don’t say any more about them. There’s nothing wrong with it, all right? I just like them.’
    He doesn’t sound so sure, however. About the nothing wrong part, I mean.
    ‘Tell me what you like about them, then,’ I say, and his expression confirms my assessment of what he really thinks is right and wrong.
    ‘The psychological depth,’ he tries, but he doesn’t seem convinced. I think he needs some convincing. I think he needs some help, from me.
    ‘All right. Then why don’t you read out some psychological depth to me.’
    His eyes freeze in place, wide and staring.
    ‘I’m sure that Gemma Golightly you’ve got in your hand has plenty of choice moments.’
    Words are definitely trying to push against his pouty lips, but they’re not making it out. Instead he shakes his head in this slow, almost resigned sort of way.
    ‘Go ahead,’ I say. ‘Open it up and read something out to me.’
    At first I’m sure he’s going to outright refuse. But he surprises me – he bends his head to read with barely another word or look.
    I notice that he opens the book carefully, which makes the cracks on all of the spines something of a mystery. Until I consider what he must look like, clutching a book in one hand with the other on his cock. You don’t typically think about spine cracks, when busy masturbating to some psychological depth.
    ‘“Kelly Matheson liked nothing better than a … she … when she went to work the next day …”’
    He frantically rifles through pages, searching for the cracks in between what I know is steamy, steamy sex.
    ‘“She told him without hesitation: it was him who had done this to her. He made her want to stop being prim and proper, and claw at him like a wild animal. Her puss – her … she …”’
    More rifling. His face looks so hot, I’m sure it would burn me if I reached out and touched it.
    ‘Why don’t you just skip to the part where she has a threesome with those two hot gay guys?’
    His gaze flicks up to me, bright and feverish already.
    ‘I can’t read that part aloud.’
    ‘So you know what I’m talking about, right? The bit where she gets fucked while the other guy fucks the guy on top of her. Right?’
    His voice comes out wavery and oddly robotic.
    ‘I’m not sure what you’re referring to.’
    ‘Or how about the part where she makes him lick her pussy on that dirty staircase, that leads up to her apartment? Oh, I like that bit. She’s so good at describing all the juicy details – the way his tongue thrums back and forth over her clit, the way he begs her to let him come, the way she gets so hot all over – are you hot all over, right now?’
    ‘I feel lukewarm, actually. Almost cold, in truth.’
    ‘Such a liar . You know what I said about lying to