The Dominator Read Online Free PDF Page A

vibe and there was some kind of sports event on the radio. I gulped hard and just stared straight ahead, saying a silent prayer.
     
    Tommy
    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 the fact 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 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 put one of my men on detail to watch her and report her activities and after a week he came to me with a report and some photos and I was ready to get this going.
    I’d probably never before defined what my ‘type’ was 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 19. 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 string bikini. He’d been watching her, how she interacted with others. She wasn’t hard to read at all. She was quite the open book.
    My cock twitched at the thought of her in that tiny bikini. Her silky chestnut shampoo commercial hair fell ¾ of the way down her back with bangs that swept gently across her forehead and I could imagine 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. For a second, 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, on birth control, but no boyfriend for the past month or two. Earl told me that there was a little punk ex-boyfriend sniffing around, trying to get her attention again. 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 bit of a cock tease by the looks of it. 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 but she also did volunteer work at the animal shelter as well as at a nearby old age home. She wasn’t a typical 19