The Dominator (The Dominator #1) Read Online D.D. Prince

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Billionaire, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Mafia Tags Authors: Series: The Dominator Series by D.D. Prince
Advertisement1

Total pages in book: 206
Estimated words: 192184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 641(@300wpm)
<<<<891011122030>206
Advertisement2


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.


Advertisement3

<<<<891011122030>206

Advertisement4