clinging, her neediness, and her ultimate surrender as she cries out to me.
I taunt her after she comes, making her clean off my finger once again and waving it under her nose. “I’m primal and every time I smell your need, I’m going to think about all the ways I’m going to defile you later.
“How does it feel knowing that you’re property? It must really bother a self-reliant woman like you to be robbed of her independence. You should have thought about that when you robbed me.
“You should count yourself lucky because if you were a man, you’d already be on ice at the morgue. The only thing saving you is that tight little opening of yours. Well, there’s that, and the fact that you enjoy a good fuck fight just as much as I do. Don’t be late, Katrina, or you will be disciplined. You might’ve been able to lead your little office boyfriends around by their dicks, but you took it to a whole new level when you fucked me over. Once again, I’m giving you warning; if you fuck around on me, I’ll kill you both. You’re property, you’re owned, and you would do well not to forget it.”
Katrina
I can’t fucking believe it! The bastard has done it again. He has wormed his way right back into my panties.
“Look at me, Katrina.”
I raise my eyes and listen to a voice that now sounds distant to my addled brain, as if it’s coming through a tunnel.
“You have your ass downstairs and in front of this building promptly at five. I have dinner plans with the Mayor and you are attending.”
With that, he is gone. Once again, as quickly as he has entered and invaded my space, poof, he is gone…
It seems like no matter how many speeches I prepare in my head when I’m away from him, he comes in and makes them null and void. I can’t ever remember being around a man with this commanding of a personality.
He is in control of everything. It’s like when he walks into a room, he owns it. I don’t even think that it’s a conscious thing for him; it’s just something that he naturally does. I have never been subjected to anyone with that much confidence. He is the cockiest son of a bitch I’ve ever met. It’s like once he gets something in his head, it’s as good as accomplished. The problem is… he’s set his sights on conquering me and I’m not sure I’m strong enough to resist him.
Chapter Seven
Katrina
I rush down the hallway. I have had all day to think about it and, as unbelievable as it may sound, I am actually more apprehensive about having to dine with the Mayor than I am about the danger that I’m in with my new admirer, the thug.
I want to get ready the way I deem necessary and my goal is to get to my house and avoid Novak altogether.
No sooner do my heels hit the pavement than a man’s voice is bursting through the silence and interrupting my thoughts.
“Ma’am, I’m here to deliver you to Mr. Sims.”
“Well as enticing as the offer of being delivered is, I believe I will just carry on in my wayward state,” I inform the man who sits behind the wheel of a luxury sedan.
He chuckles, “Mr. Sims said that you were a spitfire. I have him on the phone and he would like to speak with you.”
My heart immediately begins to race. It is becoming a habit lately. My body keeps reacting, in ways I can’t control, to a man that I just want to be free of.
I take the phone in my hand and, trying to project innocence, I say, “I’m going to get dressed and you can pick me up at my house.”
“Katrina, get in the car! Your clothing has been delivered here already.”
“Why don’t you buy a fucking Barbie doll to dress or, better yet, a dumbass, bimbo blonde might fit the bill?”
“Get in the car, Katrina. I am not a man who likes to repeat myself.”
Without a word, I hand the phone back to the man, who looks more like a gun for hire than a driver, and get into the car.
I eye him in the mirror from the back seat, sizing him up. It is something I always do with anyone and
I taunt her after she comes, making her clean off my finger once again and waving it under her nose. “I’m primal and every time I smell your need, I’m going to think about all the ways I’m going to defile you later.
“How does it feel knowing that you’re property? It must really bother a self-reliant woman like you to be robbed of her independence. You should have thought about that when you robbed me.
“You should count yourself lucky because if you were a man, you’d already be on ice at the morgue. The only thing saving you is that tight little opening of yours. Well, there’s that, and the fact that you enjoy a good fuck fight just as much as I do. Don’t be late, Katrina, or you will be disciplined. You might’ve been able to lead your little office boyfriends around by their dicks, but you took it to a whole new level when you fucked me over. Once again, I’m giving you warning; if you fuck around on me, I’ll kill you both. You’re property, you’re owned, and you would do well not to forget it.”
Katrina
I can’t fucking believe it! The bastard has done it again. He has wormed his way right back into my panties.
“Look at me, Katrina.”
I raise my eyes and listen to a voice that now sounds distant to my addled brain, as if it’s coming through a tunnel.
“You have your ass downstairs and in front of this building promptly at five. I have dinner plans with the Mayor and you are attending.”
With that, he is gone. Once again, as quickly as he has entered and invaded my space, poof, he is gone…
It seems like no matter how many speeches I prepare in my head when I’m away from him, he comes in and makes them null and void. I can’t ever remember being around a man with this commanding of a personality.
He is in control of everything. It’s like when he walks into a room, he owns it. I don’t even think that it’s a conscious thing for him; it’s just something that he naturally does. I have never been subjected to anyone with that much confidence. He is the cockiest son of a bitch I’ve ever met. It’s like once he gets something in his head, it’s as good as accomplished. The problem is… he’s set his sights on conquering me and I’m not sure I’m strong enough to resist him.
Chapter Seven
Katrina
I rush down the hallway. I have had all day to think about it and, as unbelievable as it may sound, I am actually more apprehensive about having to dine with the Mayor than I am about the danger that I’m in with my new admirer, the thug.
I want to get ready the way I deem necessary and my goal is to get to my house and avoid Novak altogether.
No sooner do my heels hit the pavement than a man’s voice is bursting through the silence and interrupting my thoughts.
“Ma’am, I’m here to deliver you to Mr. Sims.”
“Well as enticing as the offer of being delivered is, I believe I will just carry on in my wayward state,” I inform the man who sits behind the wheel of a luxury sedan.
He chuckles, “Mr. Sims said that you were a spitfire. I have him on the phone and he would like to speak with you.”
My heart immediately begins to race. It is becoming a habit lately. My body keeps reacting, in ways I can’t control, to a man that I just want to be free of.
I take the phone in my hand and, trying to project innocence, I say, “I’m going to get dressed and you can pick me up at my house.”
“Katrina, get in the car! Your clothing has been delivered here already.”
“Why don’t you buy a fucking Barbie doll to dress or, better yet, a dumbass, bimbo blonde might fit the bill?”
“Get in the car, Katrina. I am not a man who likes to repeat myself.”
Without a word, I hand the phone back to the man, who looks more like a gun for hire than a driver, and get into the car.
I eye him in the mirror from the back seat, sizing him up. It is something I always do with anyone and
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