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
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Total pages in book: 206
Estimated words: 192184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 641(@300wpm)
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Taken me? Who’d take me? The police? Was he worried Rose and Cal were trying to rescue me? And how would I get away, anyway? This place was locked down like a prison.

“I didn’t,” I reminded him.

“I know.” He cuddled me closer. “I’m glad.”

I started to cry, like ugly cry right into his chest. I couldn’t hold the tears back. He tilted my chin up toward his face.

“Talk to me.” His expression was soft.

I grimaced. “One minute you’re being sweet and the next minute you’re threatening me. One minute you’re rough, the next minute you’re not. Is messing with my head a sport for you?” I couldn’t even believe I was having this conversation with him. I couldn’t believe how weak I was, letting him fuck me and then crying like a baby again. Yet again.

He sighed, was silent for a minute, then whispered, “I need control.”

He was searching my face for something with roving eyes. “I need you to keep being exactly who you have been so far, okay? You’ve been perfect.”

I didn’t know what that meant. Most times he was one guy and sometimes he was another. Gangster Tommy and what? Ice cream Parlor Tommy? How could he say I was being perfect? I was a mess. Last night I’d hit him with a lamp and messed up his face. How was that perfect? And today I had to have dinner with his family and pretend that I was happy to be engaged to him. How would I pull that off?

He twisted in the direction of his nightstand and reached for the heart-shaped box. He looked at me with a stone-cold serious face. “I want you to wear this. My family doesn’t need to feel any awkwardness between us. I don’t want them worrying the way you’ve got Sarah worrying.”

I frowned.

He continued, “So you’ll wear this and it’ll be reality to them. Okay? Like our dinner date the other night. Alone with me, always be real, always be you. But when it’s not just us, no one can think things aren’t perfect, that you’re not ecstatically happy to be mine.”

I was speechless. He was teetering between the two personalities, it seemed. Hadn’t I just been responsive while we were alone? That hadn’t been enough to keep him sweet, though. I didn’t understand. And now my reaction would probably tip him one way or the other. I sat up, pulling up the blankets to cover my nakedness and chewed the inside of my cheek. Me being real was fucked up. I didn’t know what to be right now.

He opened the box. Inside was a gorgeous diamond ring. It was cushion-cut with a big stone and then surrounding round diamonds. More round diamonds took up two thirds of the band. I’d never seen something so sparkly, so beautiful. I wanted nothing to do with it. I wanted nothing to do with a proposal that I’d had no choice but to accept from a man who threatened me every time he looked at me, either with this mouth or with his eyes.

But, what could I do? If I showed him an emotion other than what he wanted to see, would he hurt me again? I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“Shh, don’t say anything. Just wear it. When my sisters ask questions about setting a date or anything like that, say we haven’t discussed it yet.”

She nodded, but I could see she was trying but failing to guard how she was feeling – freaked. I put the ring on her finger and then I leaned over and touched my lips to hers. She stayed still. I leaned up and kissed her forehead.

“I’ve got stuff to do but I’ll be back here to pick you up at 4:30 and then we’ll head over to Pop’s. Best behavior there, yeah?”

She nodded, but her eyes were filled with confusion. I couldn’t exactly blame her. I was confused, too. I knew I was acting like a psychopath. I left to get a shower and get dressed.

In the shower, I tried to get my head straight. This girl, she was doing something to me. I didn’t feel like me. Yeah, I felt the desire to dominate her, but I also had the strange desire to be the ice cream shop guy she’d told me she’d fantasized about. Could I be that guy? Did I want to be? I hated the sadness on her face, hated the way she seemed to be beating herself up for enjoying it when I fucked her. So far, she was everything I wanted. But I was me.

One minute I found myself being sweet to her but inevitably I’d become me again. The way she’d responded to me downstairs? That was fucking amazing. I loved that she reached for me, that she kissed me back, and it felt real. I wanted her to keep feeling bold enough to reach into my pants for my cock because she was showing me she wanted me. But I wanted her afraid, too, and eventually I wanted her to want to please me, to do whatever I wanted, even if was out of her comfort zone, because she wanted to please me that badly. I wanted her to want me so badly that she ached for me, ached to submit for me.



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