Page 17 of Control Freak
To be this man’s indulgence was a special place of honor. Holden was rigid. He kept himself in check. He hadn’t even let me see him when he jerked off and came with me.
But was I only a fantasy that would disappoint him once he spent real time with me? And if so, would he grow tired of me in his home, in a city and state where I had nowhere to turn?
You won’t be any worse off. You have nowhere to turn here either.
Holden unlocked the trunk and helped me pile my duffel bags inside. I overbalanced under the weight of one. I probably shouldn’t have packed my weights, but a camboy needed to maintain his figure.
I stumbled to the side, nearly bumping into Holden. He sidestepped—dodging my body—while grabbing the duffel from my hands.
“Sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean to get too close.”
“You’re fine,” he said. “Get in the car. I’ll handle the rest.”
I didn’t argue because I was a wuss when it came to the cold. I slipped into the passenger seat, soaking up the hint of warmth that remained inside.
Holden put my equipment in the back, then slid into the driver’s seat.
“I’ll make a quick stop to gas up and grab some snacks. Just relax. Sleep, if you want.”
“I won’t be able to do that, but thanks.”
Holden started the engine, and his panda keychain dangled from the steering column, reassuring in its sweetness.
“Nice panda,” I said.
He rolled his eyes as he cranked the heat. “My brothers gave it to me. They think they’re funny.”
I held out my hands, sighing with pleasure as the chill left me. “Funny? Why?”
“Long story. I just watch panda reels sometimes to de-stress.” He mumbled something else under his breath.
“What was that?” I asked.
“I…also have a few panda head stress balls,” he said reluctantly. “My therapist gave them to me.”
The mention of his therapist made Holden more human. Less frightening.
I relaxed a fraction as he pulled into traffic. When we got to the convenience store, he let me stay in the car. He was pretty good boyfriend material already.
Not that he would be my boyfriend. That wasn’t what this was. I just admired a competent man who knew how to take care of people.
I leaned my head against the window, watching the dark, inky highway unfurling as Holden drove us out of town.
Ten miles passed. Twenty. Fifty.
My eyes grew heavy. Heavier. Then closed.
I was wrong about being unable to sleep. I crashed out hard, waking only a few times on the trip—mostly jolting to consciousness, startled I was in a car, and then sinking back into an uneasy sleep.
When the car took a turn onto a bumpy drive, I came fully awake.
“We’re here,” Holden murmured. “Welcome to Riverton, Nebraska.”
I sat up, wincing as my neck protested the awkward position I’d slept in for six hours. I rubbed it as I gazed out the window.
Wide-open horizon, flat land, and barren fields replaced the cityscape of St. Louis. A few trees stretched their bony branches toward the sky, bare of leaves. It was still dark, though more gray than black now.
I checked the time on the car stereo. 7:30 a.m.
