Page 35 of The Contract

I decide that I like it too, so I let him enjoy a moment of victory before I say, “For fun, I fuck beautiful men on bathroom floors until they come so hard that I have to hold them down while they buck and thrash on my cock.”

Tristan’s lips are now parted, his face flushed. His hazel eyes have darkened, then they close as he shudders, remembering.

I lay out the food, and we eat. Based on the contents of Tristan’s fridge, he’s not used to good food. He likes it though. He’s willing to try things. He fascinates me with his blend of boldness and submission.

After, I let him help me with most of the cleanup, then I tell him, “Go take your bag upstairs. Put it in the closet.”

I finish quickly while he heads up to the loft. Then I stand at the island and sip my wine while I wait. I’m buzzing with anticipation, and when I hear, “What thefuck?” there’s a sizzle in my body. I feel it everywhere, but especially in my balls.

Tristan storms out onto the landing. His hands slap onto the railing. He’s barefooted, his tie loose. He must have been changing when he noticed all his clothes in there. Well, all except for the ones I got rid of.

“What the fuck?” he shouts down at me.

“I told you you’re staying here.”

“You can’t do shit like that!”

“It’s already done. I talked to your landlord. Your lease has been terminated.”

“It’smylease. How can you—never fucking mind. Where’s the rest of my shit?”

“Down the hall.” I tilt my head to the left.

Tristan comes barreling down the stairs. He storms past me. He’s about fifteen feet away, but his anger is so intense that I can feel it all the way over here.

He heads down the hallway, throwing open doors. He does a double-take at the play room but storms onward until he reaches the spare room.

I follow him to the room. He’s standing in the middle of it, his furious gaze raking over his computer, which is set up at a sleek table with an ergonomic chair. I left the junk behind for his slumlord to deal with, but I brought anything that lookedpersonal. His books take up two shelves of a bookcase. He reads mostly fantasy, but there were a few sci-fis and historicals.

Tristan’s hands are fisted at his sides. His furious eyes lock on me. “You hadno rightto do that.”

“You’re angrier about this than you were about me drugging you. Why?”

“Because this shit ismine!”

If there were something in his hand right now, he would throw it.

I remind him, “You had the opportunity to bring everything yourself. I told you: your choice was to stay here or say the word.”

He glares at me. His chest is heaving. His nostrils are flared. He’s not hard right now, but I am. I have all the power. There’s nothing he can do but submit or quit. He won’t quit, I’m sure of it. He’s hungry for intensity. He wants his boundaries shoved back. It excites him.

I wait for him to attack me. He wants to. Instead, he walks past me. Curious, I follow him. Maybe he’ll run so I can chase him. When we reach the living room, I realize he has his phone at his ear.

Anger roars through me. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

I grab him by the collar and yank him back. I snatch the phone away as he pinwheels.

“Who is this?” comes mutedly through the phone. “Dante, is that you?”

I jolt at the familiar voice. I stare at the phone and see Noah’s name on the screen. I let go of Tristan. He backs away from me.

“Dante?”

Fuck.

I want to end the call, but if I do, Noah will just call my phone. If I don’t answer, he’ll come over here.

I put the phone to my ear. “I’m here.”

---