Books Like Control Game Novels & Stories

he said easily. To be in control, huh... I leaned back a little and studied him. “You always like this?” I asked. “Like what?” “Intense.” He was quiet for a second. Then he said, “Only when it matters.” My mind drifted away instantly. So many thoughts in my head. “Say it.” I blinked. “What?” “You keep looking at me like you’re about to say something,” Jace said. “So say it.” Shit. Shit. “No, I’m not...”

I was the one controlling everything from the shadows. Soon every secret would be exposed.I let out a laugh, swallowed by the darkness of the van. The clock was. The screens were showing every move, every feeling. I felt in control. That control was addictive. The game had. I planned to win it completely.I leaned back taking a breath as satisfaction settled in. My message was. Now everything would play out on its own. Timing, precision watching closely. Those were my tools. I was using them carefully. Soon Isabella would have nowhere left to hide.. Adrian... He would finally know everything.

For my turn. Tonight, outside the same suite, I brought that fire to him. “You want control?” he growled, his breath hot on my ear, his body crowding me against the cold wall. “You think you can handle it?” “I know I can,” I breathed. “Last time was yours. This time… it’s mine.” He just smiled, that slow, predatory smile. “We’ll see.” My Game.

Emma was curled up on the living room couch in a loose white tank top and tiny pink cotton shorts that barely covered the curve of her ass, scrolling through her phone while a rom-com played softly in the background. Ryan lounged in the armchair across from her, pretending to play on his own phone. In reality, he had spent the last three weeks perfecting **“HypnoControl”** — a secret app he’d coded in his computer science classes. It used subliminal audio triggers, visual pulsing patterns, and deep-embedded suggestions that could be delivered through any screen or speaker. Once installed and activated, it could rewrite obedience, arousal, and memory in the target’s mind with terrifying preci

Somewhere far away, music played at a party I wasn’t attending. “You think telling me this makes you clean?” I asked. “No,” he said. “I think it makes me useful.” That earned him a point. I stood and walked toward him slowly. He stiffened, like he expected me to slap him or scream. I did neither. “Control,” I said, stopping a step away, “means knowing everything. Even the ugly things. Especially the ugly things.” I took the flash drive from his hand. “This doesn’t change what you did,” I continued. “It doesn’t fix anything. And it sure as hell doesn’t make us even.”

Everlyn’s eyes didn’t leave the screen. “We’ll get it.” Jesse glanced at her. “You already have a next move.” Everlyn smiled faintly. “Of course I do.” She closed the laptop slowly. “Because now we know something they didn’t expect.” Jesse raised an eyebrow. “What’s that? Everlyn met his gaze. “We’re not just reacting anymore.We’re tracking them.” The game had changed again. And this time— They weren’t just part of it. They were starting to control it.

But what she didn’t realize yet… Was that every dangerous game eventually reaches a point where control begins to slip.

The question felt too simple. Too easy. And deep down I already knew the answer wouldn’t be. Her gaze held mine. Unwavering. “No.” Of course not. My chest tightened. “Then what does it do?” “It makes you strong enough to control it.” That word again. Control. Not destroy. Not remove. Control. Because whatever that thing was— It couldn’t be erased. Only contained. Only ruled. My fingers curled slightly. “…and if I lose control?” The silence that followed It was heavy.

She never initiated but she never pulled away quickly either. “You analyze intimacy like it’s a battlefield,” she said one evening. “Isn’t it?” “No.” She stood, moving around her desk slowly. “It’s about control.” “Exactly.” Her heels clicked softly against the floor as she stopped beside me. “You think control is power,” she said. “It is.” Her hand rested on the back of my chair. “Control,” she murmured, “is restraint.” Her proximity made it hard to focus. “And what happens,” I asked quietly, “when restraint fails?”