A LITTLE CONTROL

Being a lawyer meant I was always in control. I had to be in control. It was the job, a deep-seated instinct for handling myself, for reading a situation, for staying ahead. But a constant state of command wore me down, slowly, relentlessly. I still thrived in it; the money was good, the perks even better, and I never minded putting a criminal in their place. But after five years of giving the orders, a crucial part of me was missing. I did not need someone weak; I needed a man who could command me, someone who knew how to seize control when I was ready to surrender it. Someone who could make me feel everything I denied myself, both in and out of the courtroom.

Now, at a bar whose name I had already forgotten, staring into my empty glass of tequila, that familiar emptiness crept back. I was about to head home to nothing but the cold buzz of my vibrator.

The thought made me wince, a tight pull in my gut. Thirty-five, single, and unmarried. The titles meant little, but the hunger was real. I craved sex, the kind that made you forget who you were and lose yourself completely. Intimacy had become a distant memory, and no amount of professional control could fill the void. I wanted it all: intensity, dominance, a push and pull that would make me feel alive again. I glanced at my empty glass, debating another, even with an early morning ahead. Just as I was about to call the bartender, a deep, smooth voice cut through the haze.

"Hey."

I turned. There he was. His dark skin caught the low light, and his eyes, just as dark, seemed to size me up in an instant, as if he already knew the effect he had. His face was chiseled and strong, framed by a perfectly trimmed beard, a study in control. His buzz-cut hair was sharp, not a strand out of place, and his lips held a smoothness that pulled my gaze. He smiled, and a single dimple appeared on his cheek.

He was breathtaking.

Suddenly, I felt self-conscious. Was my hair a mess? It always had a mind of its own, those wild curls that never behaved. I pushed my glasses up my nose, ignoring the slight heat crawling up my neck. He did not seem fazed by any of it, his gaze still locked on me, studying, waiting.

He wore an immaculate dark blue Armani suit, tailored to perfection, with a clean Rolex on his wrist. Everything about him screamed dominance, controlled and stoic, like he was used to having things exactly the way he wanted. And right now, his attention was on me.

He raised a hand, waving the bartender over with a simple motion that needed no words. "Two tequilas; one for the lady and me."

I raised an eyebrow at his confidence. "You don't even know if I want another." His lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "You do." I tilted my head, not giving in easily. "Do I?" He didn't hesitate. "You're here alone, drinking."

I blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his accuracy. His eyes were steady and sharp, not just looking at me, but seeing through me. He didn't guess; he knew. I shifted slightly, feeling seen in a way I wasn't used to. "And if I am not?" I countered, leaning in just enough to let the air between us crackle.

"You are," he finalized, sighed, "then the question is, what are you planning to do about it?" His words hung in the air. His presence made me want to answer his questions, to prove something. And by the look in his eyes, he was enjoying the game as much as I was.

The bartender returned, placing the tequila shots in front of us. He lifted his glass, offering it to me without breaking eye contact. "To strangers," he said smoothly, his lips curling around the word with intention, "and knowing when to let it go." I hesitated, then lifted my glass, tapping it against his. "To strangers," I echoed, feeling the burn of the tequila already mixing with the heat of my body. This man wasn't here for casual conversation. He was here to push buttons, test limits, and take over.

We finished the second round, the conversation flowing as naturally as the drinks. He was precise with his words, every question carefully designed to draw me in further. I answered, each response feeling like a move in a chess game I wasn't sure I could win. Every time I thought I had the upper hand, he found a way to flip the conversation, making me second-guess just how much I had. The tequila was settling in, making my limbs warm and my thoughts a little too loose. I needed a break. The bathroom seemed like the perfect escape, if only for a moment.

"I'm just going to freshen up," I said, standing. He said nothing.

I stood at the mirror, bracing myself against the sink. The lighting was harsh, but I needed to see what he was seeing. My makeup was holding up, but I still grabbed my lip gloss, smoothing it over my lips. I adjusted my bra, pushing my breasts higher, checking my reflection with a critical eye. I fluffed my hair, knowing it would never be perfectly in place, but that was part of the charm, wasn't it? A bit of controlled chaos.

As I finished, a knock came at the door. "Coming!" I called out, doing the last touch-ups. I took a breath, ready to head back out. I unlocked and opened the door.

He was there. Standing right in front of me, filling the doorway with his tall, commanding presence. His eyes were darker, more intent, and before I could speak, he stepped forward, pushing his way inside. The door clicked shut behind him, and the small space felt even smaller.

"Hey," he whispered, his voice low and smooth, brushing past me.

He didn't wait for a response. His hand reached up, pulling my glossed lips into a slow, but breathless kiss.

For a split second, I froze. It wasn't hesitation, but the sudden rush of heat, the sheer force of his presence catching me off guard. His lips moved against mine, firm and controlled, as if he was testing and tasting, but still holding back just enough to make me crave more.

I exhaled sharply as his hands slid to my waist, pulling me against him. His body was solid, and I felt every inch of his control, the way he was guiding me, even here in this tight space. I reached up, my fingers brushing the back of his neck, feeling the short, buzzed hair under my touch.

He broke the kiss for a moment, his breath hot against my cheek. "I thought you might need a hand," he murmured. His tone was teasing, but an underlying current of dominance made my stomach clench.

I swallowed, my heart pounding against my ribs. This was reckless: two strangers in a bathroom, tequila blurring all the lines. But as I looked into his dark, unwavering eyes, I realized. I didn't care. His lips were on mine again, insistent and strong, pulling me deeper into a kiss that commanded rather than asked. His hand found the back of my neck, gripping tightly as his other hand slid to my waist, pulling me against him with a force that promised no gentleness. Before I could catch my breath, he spun me around, pushing me up against the cold tiled wall. My hands braced against the surface as he pressed his body into mine from behind, his lips grazing my ear.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't remember anything else," he growled, his voice a wave that sent shivers down my spine.

I heard his belt unbuckle, his hands moving with purpose as he tugged my skirt up over my hips. His fingers hooked under my panties, pulling them down in one swift motion. Before I could even process it, his hand was on my ass, squeezing hard. I gasped, the sensation jolting through me, but I could only press harder against the wall, the rough tiles digging into my skin.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a condom with practiced ease, tearing it open, and sheathing himself in one smooth movement. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing, just the sound of his breath quickening as he positioned himself behind me.

His hand gripped my hair, tugging it back hard enough to tilt my head up, exposing my neck. "You're going to take every inch," he whispered harshly into my ear.

I barely had time to breathe before he thrust into me, hard and deep. The sudden, overwhelming fullness made me cry out, my hands sliding against the wall as I struggled to hold myself up. He didn't give me time to adjust, pulling out almost completely before slamming into me again, each stroke harder than the last. The force of his thrusts rocked my body, the sound of our skin slapping together echoing off the walls of the small bathroom.

"Fuck," I gasped, my voice ragged as I tried to brace myself, but his grip on my hair tightened, holding me in place. He was relentless, his pace punishing, and I couldn't do anything but take it, my body bending to his will.

"You like it like this, don't you?" His voice was dark and low as his free hand slid around to the front of my body, finding my clit with expert precision. He circled it roughly, sending jolts of pleasure through me that made my knees buckle. But he held me up, his grip firm and unwavering as he fucked me harder, deeper. I nodded frantically, unable to form words, the pleasure building so intensely I thought I might break.

His fingers on my clit worked in sync with his cock, each stroke pushing me closer to the edge until I could barely see straight.

Just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, he pulled out abruptly, spinning me around to face him. "Up," he ordered, grabbing my leg and lifting it, hooking it over his hip as he pressed me back against the wall. He thrust into me again, hard and fast, the angle hitting deeper and making me scream out in raw, unfiltered pleasure. My nails dug into his shoulders as I clung to him, my leg trembling as he pounded into me with a ferocity that left no room for thought, only pure need.

His mouth found mine again, rough and demanding, as he fucked me harder, his cock slamming into me with a force that made my whole body shake. The wet sound of him moving inside me filled the room, mixing with my gasps and moans. Every time I thought he would ease up, he pushed harder, his pace unrelenting.

"You're going to cum for me," he growled against my lips, his hand sliding down between us again, finding my clit and rubbing it in quick, tight circles. The combined pleasure of his cock driving into me and his fingers working my clit sent me spiraling, my body tightening. The orgasm crashed into me so hard it left me gasping for air. I cried out, my whole body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me, my walls tightening around him as he continued to thrust, riding me through the orgasm without slowing down.

Before I could catch my breath, he pulled out again, spinning me around and bending me over the sink. My legs shook as he pushed my body down, my hands bracing against the cold porcelain as he slid into me again from behind. I could see both of us in the mirror: his strong body behind mine, his face focused and controlled, every muscle tense as he took what he wanted.

He pounded into me, and I felt myself climbing again, the pleasure building impossibly higher as he fucked me hard and fast, his hand gripping my hair tightly, pulling my head back so I could see us in the mirror.

"Look at yourself," he demanded, his groan. "Look at how you're taking me." I met his gaze in the mirror, my eyes wild with pleasure, and the sight of him behind me, fucking me so hard and rough, sent me over the edge again. I came harder this time, my whole body shaking uncontrollably as I cried out, my hands gripping the edge of the sink for dear life.

His thrusts grew rougher, faster, until he let out a low, guttural growl, his grip on my hair tightening as he buried himself deep inside me, his orgasm hitting hard. I felt his body shudder behind me, his cock pulsing as he filled the condom, his breathing ragged and uneven.

For a long moment, neither of us moved. The only sound was our heavy breathing as we both came down from the intensity. His hand loosened in my hair, gently letting it fall back into place as he slowly pulled out of me. His body still radiated heat. I winced a little, but fuck, that was so good.

We locked eyes in the mirror. I should have felt shame, maybe guilt, but I didn't. Instead, I felt powerful. My lips were swollen and red from his kiss, my face flushed, hair wild. I looked desirable, strong. I smirked at my reflection, then at him. His eyes were still on me, dark and unreadable, but there was a hint of satisfaction in the way he stood there, chest heaving from the intensity of what had just happened. I adjusted my skirt, my fingers trembling just slightly from the adrenaline. I felt alive in a way I hadn't in years.

As I opened the door, a final glance passed between us. His expression was calm, almost too calm, but I could see the hunger still burning just beneath the surface. Without another word, I stepped out of the bathroom, my heels clicking against the tiled floor. The bar was loud, the chatter of people oblivious to what had just happened, but I felt like my whole world had just shifted.

I didn't see him again as I made my way through the crowd, grabbed my coat, and slipped out into the cool night, my mind still reeling from the encounter.

The next morning, the office hummed with its usual structured chaos. I arrived early, as always, the crispness of my suit a stark contrast to the lingering warmth in my core from the night before. Sleep had been scarce, my mind replaying every touch, every growl, every moment of surrender. I had no name for him, just a searing memory and a hunger I hadn't known I possessed. A dangerous, exhilarating secret.

My assistant, Maria, buzzed me into my office. "Morning, Omo. Big day. The new Partner's formal introduction is at ten."

"Right," I muttered, already sifting through emails. I'd heard whispers, of course. A new, powerful addition to the firm's board. Someone who was supposed to shake things up. I hadn't paid much attention beyond the professional implications.

The conference room was already packed when I walked in just before ten. Executives, senior lawyers, department heads – a sea of power suits and anticipation. I took my usual seat near the back, my gaze sweeping the room. Our managing partner, Mr. Henderson, stepped to the podium, a wide smile on his face.

"Good morning, everyone," he boomed, his voice filling the room. "As you all know, our firm is always striving for innovation and growth. Today marks a significant step in that direction. It is my distinct pleasure to introduce our newest Partner, joining us from New York, a formidable legal mind and a strategic visionary. Please welcome... Mr. Alexander Thorne."

My blood ran cold. The polite applause faded into a deafening roar in my ears. Every muscle in my body locked.

He walked in. Confident, perfectly composed, dressed in an immaculate dark blue Armani suit. His buzz-cut hair was sharp, his beard perfectly trimmed. His eyes, dark and intense, swept over the room, acknowledging the applause.

And then, they landed on me.

I couldn't move. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum against my rigid composure. The man who had torn down every wall I had so carefully built, who had fucked me against a bathroom wall just hours ago, was standing at the front of this room. My new boss.

His gaze held mine, a silent conversation passing between us that no one else in the room could comprehend. His smirk deepened, just a fraction, a private message.

Shit