Control Freaks Book Novels & Stories

Danny This was never supposed to have happened. When Mariah sent me that text, it was like something had taken over me. I knew I couldn’t avoid Dawson forever; I’d have to see her, talk to her eventually. Without even fully realizing it, my body acted on its own, not even giving my brain time to catch up before calling out to this woman from the club. It wasn’t until I saw Dawson trying to leave that I managed to gain back control. Fuck! I heard about this before, there are a lot of things that could factor into it, but there are only 2 I could think of momentarily that could make this happen. The first thing could be anxiety and or stress, if a person is extremely stressed out and worried i

“I got a job in a factory near here, spent my weekends getting trashed with fellow workers and dated a lot. I went to work, came home, slept and tried to forget the family I belonged to.” Control became his obsession with making sure he stayed on a better path. His control is all about policing himself by controlling his environment and those who come near him. He needs to be in charge to feel sane. No surprises out of his planned outcomes. No wonder I could make him crazy when all I did was re stand up to him and do the opposite of what he wanted me to do. A control freak to feel sane. It’s necessary for him. I pushed him as much as he pushed me. We drove each other to the brink.

“Explain it to me, is this what you meant when you said you did not love like other people and I was to sign a non disclosure agreement? Are you going to inflict pain on me, is that how you get your kicks?” “Serena, I am a control freak and it is not just at work. I want to be in control of everything, anything out of place or doesn’t fit into my control scheme is both fascinating to me and freakish.” He told her. “Which am I?” She asked “What do you mean?” And even though he knew exactly what she meant, he still asked anyway “Am I fascinating or freakish? Which am I?” “You are fascinating Serena and I want to explore you, every inch of you till there is nothing left.” He murmured.

Controlled. Just like me.

The forbidden heat that had simmered for years was finally exploding. I leaned in again, brushing my lips against his jaw, feeling the scrape of his facial hair. “Then stop me, daddy,” I whispered, my voice trembling with need. “Push me away if you really don’t want this. Tell me to leave, yell at me to get out, and I promise you, Mr Blackwood, that I would leave and never look back.” The word slipped out, heavy and filthy. His entire body shuddered. He made a low, tortured sound deep in his throat, a mix of frustration and raw hunger. For a heartbeat, I thought he might actually do it. His jaw clenched, and his hands flexed, then the last fragile thread of his control snapped.

Just let his fingers linger a second too long along the edge. “Good,” he said. “Because I’m about to show you.” My breath caught. There was no mistaking the intent in his voice. It wasn’t just disciplinary. It wasn’t just power. It was control. And God help me, I wasn’t sure I wanted to fight it. I could call security,” he murmured. “Or I could keep you exactly where I want you. Under me. Under control.” And just like that, my pulse betrayed me. I wasn’t sure if I was afraid of him... or addicted to the danger.

We look at him waiting. "Then the fucking TV turned on, I swear to God I thought I sat on the remote, so I turned it off, and put the remote on the side." We nod listening. "Then the kettle switched on again I debunked it, decided the fuse was going. Then literally my fucking cup moved across the table and smashed on the floor as the TV turned back on. So here I am, giving up, they are not crazy. Whatever it is wants until you're fucking alone." Marcus nods. Clearly, even he realises for Demitri to be shaken up it was bad.

" Her pulse leaped, a frantic drumbeat against her ribs. She instinctively covered her mouth with her hand, trying to contain the emotions threatening to spill over, the longing and fear warring within her. Alli: "Johnny... stop." A futile plea, whispered into the void, a desperate attempt to regain control of a situation spiraling beyond her grasp. Johnny: "I can't." The word was stark, absolute, a declaration of war against his own self-imposed restraint. "I'm done pretending I can." He was breaking free of the chains he'd forged himself, the illusion of control shattered into a million pieces. "I tried keeping my distance. Didn't work. Tried drowning it in whiskey. Didn't work.

I pressed my palm to my forehead, trying to steady myself. Everything felt like it was collapsing. The plan. The fake relationship. My entire sense of control and now this weird message from this unknown man. I forced myself to straighten up, wiped my eyes, and sucked in a shaky breath. I didn’t want to go back inside, but I knew I couldn’t just stand out here all night. The second I walked in again, eyes would be on me. Judging, mocking, waiting for me to crack. But if there was one thing I refused to give them tonight, it was that satisfaction. When I stepped back inside, the music slammed into me again, but I felt different. Numb, almost.

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.”