Page 11 of Ctrl Me
Tom. Not Thomas. Equals. The thrum of my pulse settled a bit. “Check out my bedroom. I’ll start cooking. We’ll talk.” I put my hair back up and stepped toward the fridge. Chicken breasts. Tomatoes. Mushrooms. Onions. All things I’d seen Gabe eat. I had angel-hair pasta in the pantry.
“Nice bed,” Gabe called. “Like the handcuffs.”
I dropped the ingredients on the counter and took a breath. Shit. I’d forgotten those were still hanging on the brass rails. “Thanks.”
I shouldn’t have been embarrassed. This was Gabe, who’d seen me face-plant while snowboarding on the bunny slopes, whom I’d invited in to tie me up and fuck me. He stood leaning against the doorframe to my bedroom, grinning the same way he had when I’d come up sputtering snow. He sobered. “So. Your former Dom . . .”
Here we go.I focused on chopping the vegetables. “Master Dominik. Complete asshole.” Gabe didn’t say a word, just moved into the kitchen and sat at the breakfast counter, so I continued. “Obviously, I like bondage. Submission. I’m not big on degradation. I’m not a very good masochist.” I pushed the chicken into the skillet and added some olive oil. Turned on the heat.
“Not into pain?” No disappointment in Gabe’s voice. That was unexpected.
Most of the Doms I’d met were sadists. I set the spatula down and turned. Gabe sat with his elbows on the counter, hands under his chin. Curiosity in his face, his eyes . . . and only then did I realize how tense I’d become. I uncurled my toes and relaxed my shoulders.
“Some pain.” I cleared my throat. “I like a good, hard fuck. Don’t even need much prep.”
The left corner of his mouth drew up. “I can give you that.” Soft, soft words.
There went my pulse again. The chicken sizzled, so I stirred, turned down the heat, then added the veggies. Added salt and pepper, then poured in a bit of sherry too. Put a cover on.
My lungs were so tight. I wanted to believe Gabe, to trust him. Dominik had shattered that all to hell. Still, I pressed on. “I also like cock and ball torture.”
I gripped the counter because Gabe’s expression alone nearly took my legs out from beneath me. A full-on grin at that, as if he’d just won the freaking jackpot. He practically purred the words, “Oh good.”
“I don’t like whips,” I blurted. “Canes. Beatings. That sort of thing.”
Fuck if he didn’t nod. “Different kind of pain.” He cocked his head to one side. “What happened?”
With Dominik. I scrubbed a hand over my face. “We set the ground rules, the dos and don’ts. And we agreed he’d only whip me as punishment. Which was fine. For a while.”
Gabe frowned and folded his hands. I checked the chicken, and forced myself to breathe. I hadn’t really thought about those last days with Dominik that much. Mostly because I was so fucking glad to be three thousand miles away. “Except he kept finding reasons to beat me. Setting goals I couldn’t possibly meet. Finding fault with everything.”
I pressed my palms against the granite surface. Closed my eyes. “I safeworded the last time he caned me. Three times. And he didn’t fucking stop.”
I heard the stool fall over, and I knew Gabe was behind me. The heat from his body warmed my back, his breath sent shivers over my neck, but he didn’t touch me. “Tom.”
“When he took me off the cross, I punched him in the face and told him if he ever touched me again, I’d kill him. Then I left.”
“Tom.”
“I’m fine. I’m—” I took a deep breath and turned around. Looking into Gabe’s blue eyes and seeing the worry, the anger there? I couldn’t say that word again. Because it wasn’t entirely true. He opened his arms, and I stepped forward into his embrace. I tried not to break. I was tired of these emotions. I’d come here toescapethem, to move on. Not to relive it again, and certainly not with Gabe.
I broke anyway.
Gabe held me. After a moment, he spoke. “I’ve pretty much wanted you from the moment we met. Figured you were straight. And I am so fucking grateful we became friends because it meant I could be around you anyway, you know? You’re just—a great guy.” He gave a choked laugh. “The perfect guy.”
I wiped my eyes, and he pulled away enough that I could see his face and damned if his eyes weren’t wet too.
“I don’t want to hurt you. Ineverwant to hurt you. And if this is going to—”
“It’s not.”
He gave me the Gabewhat the fuck, man?look. “It already has.”
I shook my head. “This isn’t you hurting me. This is me getting over shit I should have gotten over months ago.”
Gabe rubbed his thumbs against my arms, and I could see the wheels in his brain clicking toward the words I didnotwant to hear:Maybe we shouldn’t do this. Maybe I should go.
“Gabriel,” I whispered. “Trust me.”
