wood frame building, relatively low-income and almost every balcony that I could see was sporting a grill. And he was on the third floor, harder to get out of, with only one way down. If that way became blocked by flames, the residents had no other choice but to jump.
I hated the idea of him living there. I went up to the door and banged on it impatiently.
“Jordy? Are you in there? Open up.”
I heard footsteps and then he opened the door a crack, peering around the edge. “Mr. Young? W-what on earth are you doing here?”
He blinked at me so sleepily, I knew he must have still been in bed, even though it was just past nine. He was warm and rumpled looking, and I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to shove him back inside, put him against the door and put my arm against the back of his neck to hold him in place while I rubbed my cock against his naked ass.
Instead, I put on my best Dom voice and said, “Let me in. Jordy.”
“But-but why?”
“I’ll give you to the count of three. One.”
He blinked harder and then the light bulb must have gone off in his brain, because when I got to “Two,” the door swung wide, and he almost fell all over himself backing up. I intimidated him. Good.
He motioned for me to come in and sit down, but I was edgy and prowled around his apartment, looking at everything. “I was wondering why you didn’t follow the instructions I gave you to stay at the ambulance last night until I got back. Were they not clear?”
“Uh, yes. Yes, Sir, but the paramedic said I could go, so…”
“So, you decided to just ignore what I told you. The same way you ignored my instructions to work with Austin.”
“Instructions? You mean your orders for me to train with somebody that I barely even knew? Why would I do that?”
I whirled to face him. “To protect yourself. To learn more? Because you have a little common sense? You expressed an interest in learning more about BDSM. Have you changed your mind?”
“No, but apparently you did. About me.” He raised his chin and glared at me. “You led me to believe you wanted to train me.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Yes, you did! You asked me if I had a problem with you being in charge of me.”
I took a long deep breath and glared at him until he dropped his gaze. “Well? Do you?”
He looked up at me, looking adorably confused. “I—no. You know I don’t. I told you. Except I still think I might be a Dom.”
“You’re not. But we’ll talk about that later. In the meantime, I’ll take charge. Did you eat breakfast?”
“Breakfast? No, I just got up.”
“Go take a shower while I cook something for you.”
“You’re going to cook for me?”
“Why are you repeating everything I say? I don’t believe I stuttered.”
“No, but I…”
“I think the words you’re looking for are, ‘Yes, Sir.’ Or maybe ‘thank you.’”
“But I don’t understand.”
“Luckily, that’s not required. Now go.”
He stood there gaping at me and I lost patience with him. “Jordy, I’ve told you twice to take a shower. Do I need to repeat myself again? I warn you that if I do, I’ll put you in a tub and scrub you down myself.”
He flinched, looking horrified and turned to hurry off toward what I assumed was his bathroom. I heard the shower running a few seconds later.
By the time he came into the kitchen, wrapped up in a big white bath towel, I had found everything I needed and was sliding scrambled eggs on his plate, next to several strips of bacon. I could cook a mean omelet, if I do say so myself. I couldn’t cook much of anything else, except spaghetti, but I had perfected both of those dishes and was pretty proud of them. Along with his coffee, I’d made him some wheat toast, and had a big glass of juice sitting by his plate. He sat down in his chair warily and grabbed the juice first, knocking it back like he’d just stumbled out of the Sahara instead of his bedroom.
When he’d drunk about half the glass, he finally lowered it and gazed across the table at me. “I don’t understand. I thought you had brushed me off. Why are you here in my apartment?”
“I told you I decided I needed to take charge of you.”
“But you told me to let Austin train