Read Online In Control by Michelle Robbins - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michelle Robbins
Tags: Erótica
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aside the blanket and his shirt in preparation for another trip to the kitchen.
A trip she never made. Instead, she tossed aside the remote again, tugged the blanket back over her knees, curled her arms around the shirt and flopped over onto her side before nestling back into her bed of blankets and pillows.
Maybe later she'd get tea.
It didn't matter what was on the TV.
Life sucked.
A knock on the door gave her a start. She jerked her head up from the tear-stained pillow. She knew her eyes had widened with wariness and shock. Somehow the person on the other side managed to fill the simple action of knuckles against wood with a sense of an imperial summons, as if the person knocking knew she was there and demanded a response.
She pushed aside the blankets and crossed the living room. Hopefully it wasn't a neighbor, or worse, the apartment management. JoBeth didn't have anyone else on her lease, so no one should be living with her.
Especially not me, Annabel thought.
Past mistakes had resulted in a criminal record, which ensured she'd never pass a housing background check. It would be two more years before she was welcomed on a lease of any type, which, of course, had forced her to make many of the choices she'd made over the past eight years.
A myriad of excuses ran though her mind as she approached the door. A broken pipe at my apartment and JoBeth offered her couch temporarily. I'm from Virginia and am checking out the local university 'cuz I'm thinking of transferring. A short vacation before back on a plane this coming Wednesday.
She looked through the peephole and gasped. Zach! Are you kidding me?
"Go away," she shouted.
Her voice carried a humiliating shrillness. He, on the other hand, looked as cool and composed as usual. In fact, he stared back at her, eerily seeming able to see her through the peephole. Which was impossible, right?
"Annabel, we need to talk."
His voice carried that same commanding tone his knock had. It pushed against her defiance in an uncomfortable manner, but she managed an answer, and it wasn't compliance.
"Go away!" she repeated.
"Annabel"--he knocked again--"let me in."
She didn't move. Maybe if she ignored him he would go away.
Instead, he pounded harder. His voice rose in a shout. "Open the damned door. I know you're standing right there. I can see your fucking shadow."
She couldn't move. In the back of her mind, she heard a voice telling her to yank open the door and scorch him with a list of his character flaws, but she couldn't move. His voice. It moved across her skin like velvet. The words, freighted with command, froze her in place. She couldn't ignore him. She couldn't open the door. She couldn't move away.
She caught the frayed threads of her courage. "There's nothing for us to talk about. Now go away, Zach. Don't make me call--" Who? The cops? Security? She wasn't supposed to be in the apartment.
"Damn it," he said on a growl. "We're going to talk. Either we do it inside or I shout it through this door...your choice, but we will talk about what happened yesterday."
Had he no shame? "Don't you dare mention yesterday, Zachary Roberson."
"Okay, we'll do it through the fucking door--" But his voice cut off.
She watched, the fish eye view of the peephole lending her a surreal vision of a discorporate hand clapping onto his shoulder. In response, Zach stepped backward, away from the door. A bizarre sense of loss swamped her heart. Then Seth's figure stepped into sight and it wasn't loss that hollowed her stomach, but an unexpected sense of alarm.
What the slave felt when the Master was displeased. Damn him . Seth was not to be disrespected. She'd learned that the hard way. But she owed him no obedience. Not one iota more, in fact.
"Not a slave...not a slave...not a slave." She chanted the mantra in hopes it would defuse his training, even as Seth's voice came through the door as though on a wave of darkness.
"Have it your way, girl, but consider closely your
A trip she never made. Instead, she tossed aside the remote again, tugged the blanket back over her knees, curled her arms around the shirt and flopped over onto her side before nestling back into her bed of blankets and pillows.
Maybe later she'd get tea.
It didn't matter what was on the TV.
Life sucked.
A knock on the door gave her a start. She jerked her head up from the tear-stained pillow. She knew her eyes had widened with wariness and shock. Somehow the person on the other side managed to fill the simple action of knuckles against wood with a sense of an imperial summons, as if the person knocking knew she was there and demanded a response.
She pushed aside the blankets and crossed the living room. Hopefully it wasn't a neighbor, or worse, the apartment management. JoBeth didn't have anyone else on her lease, so no one should be living with her.
Especially not me, Annabel thought.
Past mistakes had resulted in a criminal record, which ensured she'd never pass a housing background check. It would be two more years before she was welcomed on a lease of any type, which, of course, had forced her to make many of the choices she'd made over the past eight years.
A myriad of excuses ran though her mind as she approached the door. A broken pipe at my apartment and JoBeth offered her couch temporarily. I'm from Virginia and am checking out the local university 'cuz I'm thinking of transferring. A short vacation before back on a plane this coming Wednesday.
She looked through the peephole and gasped. Zach! Are you kidding me?
"Go away," she shouted.
Her voice carried a humiliating shrillness. He, on the other hand, looked as cool and composed as usual. In fact, he stared back at her, eerily seeming able to see her through the peephole. Which was impossible, right?
"Annabel, we need to talk."
His voice carried that same commanding tone his knock had. It pushed against her defiance in an uncomfortable manner, but she managed an answer, and it wasn't compliance.
"Go away!" she repeated.
"Annabel"--he knocked again--"let me in."
She didn't move. Maybe if she ignored him he would go away.
Instead, he pounded harder. His voice rose in a shout. "Open the damned door. I know you're standing right there. I can see your fucking shadow."
She couldn't move. In the back of her mind, she heard a voice telling her to yank open the door and scorch him with a list of his character flaws, but she couldn't move. His voice. It moved across her skin like velvet. The words, freighted with command, froze her in place. She couldn't ignore him. She couldn't open the door. She couldn't move away.
She caught the frayed threads of her courage. "There's nothing for us to talk about. Now go away, Zach. Don't make me call--" Who? The cops? Security? She wasn't supposed to be in the apartment.
"Damn it," he said on a growl. "We're going to talk. Either we do it inside or I shout it through this door...your choice, but we will talk about what happened yesterday."
Had he no shame? "Don't you dare mention yesterday, Zachary Roberson."
"Okay, we'll do it through the fucking door--" But his voice cut off.
She watched, the fish eye view of the peephole lending her a surreal vision of a discorporate hand clapping onto his shoulder. In response, Zach stepped backward, away from the door. A bizarre sense of loss swamped her heart. Then Seth's figure stepped into sight and it wasn't loss that hollowed her stomach, but an unexpected sense of alarm.
What the slave felt when the Master was displeased. Damn him . Seth was not to be disrespected. She'd learned that the hard way. But she owed him no obedience. Not one iota more, in fact.
"Not a slave...not a slave...not a slave." She chanted the mantra in hopes it would defuse his training, even as Seth's voice came through the door as though on a wave of darkness.
"Have it your way, girl, but consider closely your
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