Out of Control by Teresa Noelle Roberts Read Free Book Online Page B

her elbows and studied him seriously—the gray eyes, the neat mustache and beard, the curiously sexy silver in his sandy hair. “Yes, in secret. You must have read The Hobbit —you’re a geek.”
    He nodded. “I see where you’re going with this. I want to deny it, but you may be on to something.”
    “You’re Bilbo Baggins, only taller and much sexier, and thank God, without the furry feet. You’ve almost convinced yourself you’re a quiet homebody, but part of you is a rogue.”
    “I draw the line at dragons. And definitely no Gollum.”
    “Good thing you needed a tenant, Drake. You also ended up with a guide to adventure.”
    Drake grabbed her wrist. “Only if you can guide me by following my lead.”
    “I knew it was going to be that kind of a trip.” She managed to keep her voice level, though it was an effort. “Stop me if I’m wrong, but this is going to be an adventure involving rope and leather.”
    “Maybe. That depends on you.”
    She grinned. “Definitely. And for that kind of trip, I’ll let you lead. But I’ll hold your hand so neither of us gets lost.”
    “Better yet. I’ll tie us together.”
     
    Drake stroked Jen’s hair, holding her still-vibrating body, and wondered how the hell he’d gotten here. How he’d ended up on a bare mattress, still set askew on the box springs, cuddling a naked woman he’d just dropped into as profound a sub-space as he’d seen in ages with a little fairly light play. How he found himself nodding at the notion of further possibilities with a near-stranger.
    Okay, it had been more than “a little bit of play”, even though no rope or toys were involved and he was still fully clothed, his cock painfully hard against his zipper and against the sweet curve of Jen’s body. He’d managed to restrain himself from shouting, Mine before he left that angry, delicious mark on the heavy curve of her left breast—but he’d definitely thought it.
    He’d never thought anything like that before with any of his play-partners.
    He’d tied plenty of women up in elaborate shibari bondage, beat them, teased them until they begged for mercy, ordered their every move during their time together—and he’d enjoyed every minute of it. But he’d never felt that sense of possession, that sense of being in control of the situation and yet out of control of his own heart, the way he did marking Jen’s breast.
    Not even the time he’d done an elaborate play piercing culminating with a carefully carved S for SLUT onto a woman’s breast, at her request. It had been bone-chillingly terrifying and mind-meltingly hot at the same time. She’d come under the knife, and he’d come with her lips on his cock and her blood still on his gloved hands. And then they’d gone for breakfast at an all-night diner, had a few laughs, and gone their separate ways, except for the occasional call or e-mail, until the next time he was in New York and their schedules aligned.
    That was how it had always been for him. He’d play with someone, and it would be great, but it wouldn’t be a relationship. At most, there’d be texting and e-mailing of teasing suggestions now and then, when he and the lady in question weren’t too busy with what he called Real Life. He’d never met someone he wanted as a full-time sub or slave, someone he could claim and own within the boundaries of a BDSM relationship, though he’d certainly considered the possibility in an abstract way. Okay, fantasized about the possibility, but without a face for the nameless woman, just that it would be fun to have someone in that role someday. He’d rarely had the urge to have a full-time girlfriend. It would be great to have someone to share his life, in theory, but sharing your life was messy. Hard to control. Led to emotional explosions and revelations of the sort he didn’t like.
    When he did play with someone, he negotiated carefully first, making sure they were on the same page. He didn’t want surprises,