Page 57 of Control Freak
Part of me was thrilled with the notion of finally touching this man. The other part of me was terrified that I’d send him into a panic and set his progress back even further.
Still, for the chance to hold his hand, it’d be worth it. Even if that was all I got, I wanted it too badly to refuse.
I sighed. I was way too gone over this guy.
Ishouldbe logging in to the cam site and setting up as many shows as possible. I needed to save money and figure out how to rebuild my life.
Instead, I was avoiding my clients.
I didn’t mind doing the public shows. They were just a performance, really. But the private sessions were more intimate, and the more I shared with Holden, the less I wanted to provide a one-on-one sexual experience with anyone else.
Before I met him, I wouldn’t have considered those private sessions to berealsex. But after this morning, I couldn’t deny the intimacy that Holden and I shared without a single touch. So, virtual or not, it was sex, and it was sex with someone other than Holden.
That didn’t sit right, even if we hadn’t made a commitment to be exclusive. I was just wired to be a one-man kinda guy. A lot of the cam boys I’d gotten to know through the business maintained regular relationships and their online hustle, but I’d only taken it up to pay Brick and Curtis to back off.
Emory came down the stairs behind me, the creak of old wood giving away his presence. The rest of the guys had gone over to the auto shop hours ago.
He paused when he saw me. “Hey, I was gonna make a Zaco run. You want to come along?”
“Sure.” I hopped up, eager for an excuse to get out of the house. “Let me grab my shoes.”
Emory waited while I pulled on a pair of high-top Converse with my skinny jeans and a navy blue fleece over my long-sleeved tee. He was already bundled up in a dark wool coat and boots.
“So, what are Zacos?” I asked as we got into his sedan.
He chuckled. “That’s the million-dollar question. You donotwant to get the brothers started on that debate.”
“What’s that mean?”
He smiled. “You’ll see.”
Zacos were obviously food. We pulled up outside a little square building with grimy white walls. It was a hole-in-the-wall, but the drive-through was six cars deep.
Emory parked in one of three spots in its tiny lot. “It’ll be faster if we order inside.”
I followed him to the door and slipped inside, the scent of grease and marinara hitting me instantly. I breathed in, mouth watering. “Pizza?”
Emory pointed to the menu posted above the counter. There was a picture of what looked like a taco on it.
“Tacos?” I said, befuddled.
“Zacos,” he corrected with a grin. “So a little of both.”
“Ahhh, I get it now.”
“The guys love arguing over whether Zacos are tacos, pizza, or sandwiches.”
“Sandwiches?” I chuckled, thinking of the definition of a sandwich. Bread. Food between the bread. I could sort of see it. “Why am I not surprised by this?”
“Because you’re getting to know us.” Emory bumped my shoulder. “Becoming one of the family.”
“I feel like an imposter when you say stuff like that,” I admitted. “I really should find my own place if I’m gonna stay here. I’m crowding everyone.”
“There’s no rush,” Emory said. “If Holden didn’t want you there, you’d be somewhere else. We all know that man calls the shots.”
I smiled, perhaps a little too knowingly after our morning together, and Emory smirked.
“You two were sure late to breakfast today.”
