Page 6 of The Dominator

I was sandwiched in between backseat burly guy two and the scary-looking Black dude. I glanced over my shoulder out the window to see Dad take a sip of his coffee and dial a number on his phone. Backseat burly guy passed the guy on the other side of me my seatbelt and he fastened it for me.

I frowned. Dad had looked so flippant, so nonchalant as he dialed that number and sipped his coffee. What on earth? I was so flabbergasted I couldn’t even think straight.

Half an hour ago, I was graduating from high school.

Now I was some kind of marker for my father’s gambling debt. Now I was in an SUV with a bunch of scary looking men heading, where?

No one was saying anything. Nobody even looked at me. The blond guy was radiating a pissed-off vibe as he drove, and there was a sports event of some kind on the radio. I gulped hard and stared straight ahead, saying a silent prayer.

It’d been a couple of weeks since Pop had told me about Tia O’Connor. A long couple of weeks.

I’d given the matter thought, like I’d promised him. In fact, I thought about it more than I’d care to admit because the more thought I gave it, the more it made sense. Getting married meant getting handed the keys to all of it. It meant I wouldn’t be second guessed, it meant I’d be in total control.

The idea of owning a woman did things to me. I couldn’t deny that I’d been thinking about the fact that in addition to being in control of the business, I’d be in control of her. Owning this girl, having her available for my every whim, it was stirring something in me. And did I have whims.

Something about the idea of a girl who was mine, a girl who probably hadn’t already had dozens of sexual partners – it appealed to me on a deep level, a level so deep I was having trouble shaking what felt like cravings; the things I was imagining doing to her. Naw, I wasn’t deprived but I certainly was depraved.

I’d dreamt about her almost every night since seeing her picture. Filthy dreams. I woke up every night a few times as a rule, anyway, but since seeing her picture I’d woken up sweaty, with a hard-on, after delicious dreams of her across my knee getting spanked and fingered, dreams of her wrists tied to my headboard, dreams of her on her knees in front of me, taking my cock into that gorgeous mouth with her hands tied behind her back with one of my belts.

It got even worse after I managed to gather intel about her because in addition to the way she looked, she had other qualities I liked. I decided to check out the goods myself, in person, because I’d put one of my men on detail to watch her and report her activities. After a week, he came to me with the report and some photos.

I’d probably never defined what my ‘type’ was before this, but I now knew. She had a smokin’ hot body and though she was younger than I’d normally go for, she didn’t look her age. I knew where she lived, where she worked, where she spent her time, who her friends were, and I knew what sort of person she was.

My man had taken candid photos of her at school, at play in the pool in her foster parents’ back yard (in a barely-there string bikini). My cock twitched at the thought of her in that tiny bikini. Her silky, chestnut, shampoo commercial hair fell three quarters of the way down her back with bangs that swept gently across her forehead, and I’d been imagining wrapping the long length of her hair around my fist and pulling her head toward my cock. I imagined taking handfuls of it while I did her from behind.

She had the sort of lips women paid to upgrade to. While looking at her file, my jaw tightened at the fact that my man had taken this photo of her, looked at her in those scraps of material. I felt like a possessive prick, wanting to knock him out for even looking at her. She was semi-sexually active but not slutty. She was on birth control, but had no boyfriend for the past month or so.

Earl told me there was a punk ex-boyfriend sniffing around, trying to get her attention. She was giving him the brush-off. I had video of him trying to talk to her over a fence while she was in that bikini. She seemed like she could be a cock tease. She had a bit of sass, but not enough to come across like a bitch. No, it was just enough to make me want to bring her to heel.

The girl hadn’t had it easy; her old man was a piece of shit, by the sounds of it. She worked part-time at an ice cream shop near the foster home and did some volunteer work at the animal shelter as well as at a nearby old folks’ home. She wasn’t a typical nineteen-year-old girl out to party and spend, and that appealed to me, too.

After way too much attention spent looking at videos of her and flipping through a file of photos and general intel, I decided to stroll in and size up the potential chemistry in person. Regardless of what she looked like, I needed to know if there would be any sort of spark before moving forward.

Yeah, most would say I should just let her go, let her go live her life. If I was a nice guy that’s what I’d do. There were girls out there that I’d already been with who’d be more than happy to wear my ring and sleep in my bed. But I guess I’m not a nice guy. The thing was that Pop had a claim on her so either I took the gift, or he’d give her to someone else. Either way, she was now Ferrano family property. That was my justification, as twisted as that was. If I had to get married, she might as well become mine.

Yeah, I know; I guess I’m not even a little bit of a good guy.

* * *

Bells jingled over the door to the small store as I walked in. Music played and it had a fifties diner theme going with a long white counter flanked by a dozen or so red and chrome stools and half a dozen little red tables, some for two, some for four, in front of a big window that looked out to the busy street. She was working alone; the shop was empty except for a prepubescent kid playing on his handheld game system at the counter while nursing a drink and making an annoying slurping sound as it was obviously just a few ice cubes rattling around in the bottom of the cup. I gave him the ‘scram’ stare and jerked my chin toward the door. The kid gulped, grabbed his skateboard, and took off.

I stood at the counter and watched her. She was up on a footstool stocking a shelf above her head with small boxes of ice cream cones. She was humming along to the song on the radio, her arms over her head making her tank top ride up, showing her bare lower back and two sexy dimples at the base of her spine. My pants suddenly felt tight as I looked at the juicy heart-shaped ass popping from those tight low-rider jeans. And the knowledge that it was mine? In that moment, with that knowledge, I had to take a deep breath to stop myself from taking her right then and there.

She turned around and smiled at me expectantly. Then she instantly blushed. Yeah, I had that effect on women. Nope, she didn’t look like a teenager in person, either. She looked closer to mid-twenties. Her pictures didn’t even do justice; she was fucking beautiful.

“Can I help you?” she beamed and quickly moistened her full pink lips with the tip of her tongue, eying me in a way that I liked. It wasn’t the look of a woman hunting man prey, which was a complete turn-off for me. No, this was shyness and anticipation. This was a girl tingling at the idea that the guy in front of her could be remotely interested in her. Clearly, she had no clue how beautiful she was. And obviously, she liked what she saw when she looked at me.

“I hope so.” I smirked at her.

She climbed down and straightened her black tank top, pulling it down slightly to cover her midriff but resulting in revealing just the scalloped tops of the cups of a lace black bra and (probably unintentionally) giving me an even better view of her cleavage. Great rack. Full C-cup, maybe even a D.

“What do you recommend?”

She flushed even pinker and it was clear she’d seen where my eyes had landed. “Umm, we have ice cream, cold drinks. If you want something hot I can do coffee, hot chocolate, cappuccino…” She trailed off.

Hot. Yeah, I’d like something hot.

“Surprise me,” I told her.

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