The Drazen World: Dominate (Kindle Worlds Novella) (3 page)

I couldn’t believe I was at an actual television studio. I was easily distracted by people wearing costumes and carrying props. One guy carried a body with a severed head! I had to remind myself I was on the set of a crime drama, so weird was normal and normal was weird. 

“She’s over there.” The woman pulled an e-cig out of her collagen-enhanced lips. Did every forty-plus woman in this town go to the butcher block? “She’ll assign you a role and send you to wardrobe.” She tapped her e-cig as if she was discarding ash and then popped it back in her mouth.

“My role?” Hang on. My role was already assigned. 

She scowled, her face so tight, I swore I heard the crackling of her leathery skin. “Don’t you speak fucking English?”

Ohhh, bruja!
My head snapped back as if I’d been slapped. “Yeah, I speak fucking English. I’m supposed to be a female detective.”

“Female detective?” She tossed her bleached blonde pony-tail over her shoulder and laughed. “Who in hell do you think you are?”  She ripped her cigarette out of her mouth, jutting it toward the last door at the end of the hall. “That way!”

I swore all the way to the end of the hall and then I swore some more when the casting director handed me a card, the words scribbled across it glaring at me like a strobe light: Mexican prostitute.

Fuck me. 

My dad had given his life, and my mom risked hers crossing the Brazos in the dead of night, so I could have a better future. What would they say if they saw me now? 

What had I been thinking when I’d come to this sordid fucking town? That I’d be the special brown snowflake? That casting directors would be banging down my door with offers for lead roles?

Nope. Instead I got to be a Mexican prostitute, demanding, “
Ciento dollares por toda noche
.”

The casting director waved me over to the ladies dressing room, a gigantic closet packed full of clothes racks with a row of mirrors at the far end. I handed my card to another woman, a short pale Goth with tattoos down her neck and arms.

She threw scraps of clothes at me. “Put these on.” She waved at me as if she was shooing a fly. “Hurry up. You need to be on set in ten.”

I held up a black band of material. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Cover your ass with it.” She spun me toward a redhead wielding a cosmetic brush. “Put more makeup on this one and frizz out her hair.”

While the redhead was turning me into a
puta
, the Goth was shoving my tits into a spaghetti strap tank top.

“Here.” Goth chick yanked my shirt down, then turned to a woman behind her. “Get me a new bra. These need a lift.”  

I looked at my tits. What the hell? My girls didn’t need perking. They were perfectly natural and had just the right amount of drop for D cups.

By the time they were finished with me, I wanted to cry. My cheeks looked like they’d been slapped, my lashes were clumped with black goo, and my tits were spilling out of my shirt like two fluffy coconuts.

They teased my hair, making me look like an ’80s rock star. They squeezed my ass into a tight miniskirt, strapped my feet into four-inch heels, and shoved me out the door.

I had only one line to memorize, a line I had to repeat in a thick Mexican accent while propositioning a cop for sex. Why I didn’t walk off the set, I had no idea. Maybe I was too stunned to leave, or maybe I was afraid the director would have me blackballed from Hollywood.

All I knew was this was one of the most horrifying and humiliating experiences in my life, second only to the night Bud Boudreau had violently raped me in the back of his barn the night of my high school graduation.

I couldn’t wait to get back to my temporary home. I wanted nothing more than to change out of these clothes, wash off this makeup, and crawl into bed, pretending this day had never happened. 

A
fter I slipped into a silky nighty, I sat beneath the covers, drowning my sorrows in a tub of double-chocolate brownie-swirl ice cream. I was startled by a knock on the front door, but decided to ignore it. Whoever it was could come back tomorrow or never. I didn’t care either way.

The stupid fucking knocking persisted, the methodic repetition like a loud metronome, driving me
loca
. 

Finally I pushed out of bed and stomped to the door. After glaring into a pair of bright blue eyes through the peephole, I threw it open, ready to chew out my neighbor. Imagine my surprise when I saw the bottle of champagne in one hand and a single rose tied to a balloon with the big, bold word
Congratulations
printed across it.

Whatever bitchy comment I was about to make died before it could slip past my lips.

Brad handed me the rose wrapped in paper with a sprig of baby’s breath. The balloon bobbed against the doorframe, a slight breeze from outside blowing my wet hair off my shoulders.

I hugged the rose to my chest, leaned up on my tiptoes, and kissed Brad on the cheek. “Thank you.”

When I pulled back, I was pleased to see the flush in his cheeks and the sparkle in his eyes as he looked at my skimpy nighty. So he liked what he saw? Good. If only I was in the mood to play around.

“I came to see how your first day went.” He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Was my depression that obvious? Then I realized my eyes were probably still red from crying. My lower lip trembled. “I’m a Mexican prostitute.”

His jaw dropped. “What?”

I clenched my hands, doing my best to hold back my tears. “They gave the detective role to someone else.”

His eyes softened, then saddened. “I’m sorry.”

The guy was being too nice, making my heart go
thumpity thump thump.
If he hadn’t been such a clean-cut, all-American, apple pie kind of man, and if I’d been in a better mood, I’d so want to fuck him.

I dabbed my eye before a tear could slip free. “What am I supposed to tell Mamá?”

He clutched my shoulders, searching my eyes with an intensity I hadn’t seen before. “Ariana, we’ve all got to start somewhere. At least you have a foot in the door.” He grinned, shadows from the setting sun through tree branches dancing across his features. “Be the best damn prostitute they’ve ever seen.”

Darnit, Brad. Why do you have to be so cute?

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Today I had to proposition an undercover cop. Tomorrow I get fingerprinted.”

He frowned, raking thick fingers through his hair. “Damn.”

I waved him inside and set the flower and balloon on the kitchen table. I turned to him, cocking a hand on my hip and channeling my new persona. “Hola.” I tilted my chin, flashing a seductive smile. “You looking for a little Spanish spice?”

He threw back his head and laughed, a deep throaty chuckle that banged on my libido like a bass drum. “Please tell me that isn’t your line.”

I crossed my arms, scowling. “It is.”

He set the champagne bottle on the table. “Is this one of those low-budget adult movies?”

“No!” I threw my hands in the air, frustrated. “It’s got big network backing.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Who writes this shit?”

“I don’t know. The director’s teenage son?”

He frowned at the empty wine glass sitting by the sink. “Have you been drinking?”

I held up a finger. “Just one glass of wine and a whole pint of ice cream.”

I’d downed a tall glass of Riesling the moment I’d gotten home. Sadly, it had done nothing for a stress-induced migraine.

What you need is to get laid, Ariana, and for Dr. Brad to dispense the medicine.

I tried to silence my libido. My world was literally unravelling. Why would I be horny at a time like this? 

But those ice cream calories would go straight to my hips. Sex burned calories. Maybe I
did
need to hop on top of Dr. Brad, burning off the sugar with an all-night fuck fest. The thought was becoming more appealing, but would my neighbor agree to my terms? I couldn’t have sex any other way. I had to be in control. 

I licked my lips and approached him with deliberate slowness, like a lioness stalking her prey. “Hola.” I placed a hand on his chest, batting my eyes at him. “You looking for a little Spanish spice?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “That was pretty damn convincing.”

I purred like a naughty kitty, raking my fingernails down his chest. “Seduction is my specialty.”

He flushed all the way to his wavy sun-kissed roots. “Yeah, I know.”

I loved how his ears turned red. He was either really embarrassed or really turned on. Either way, he’d given me plenty to work with, and I was going to use it to my advantage. 

“Do you, Brad?” I bit my lip, searching his eyes as my fingers walked down his chest toward his abdomen. “Do you know what I like to do in bed?”

He stiffened beneath my touch. “I have an idea.”

I slipped my hand under his shirt, settling on that delicious trail of hair under his navel. “I’m a dominant. I like to be in control, and by in control, I mean have you at my mercy.” I flattened my hand against his abdomen, angling my fingers toward his sex. “Tell me something, Brad. Could you handle giving up all your control to a woman?”

He shifted from one foot to the other. “Are you still acting?”

I looked down at the bulge beneath his pants, my mouth watering in anticipation. “I’m always acting.”

“Um, I’ve never given up control.” His dark, deep voice shook with a slight tremor. “I don’t know what it’s like.”

I swirled my fingers around his navel, then down his hip. I reached behind him with both hands, gently cupping his ass. It was round, yet firm. Dr. Brad probably did squats at the gym. Good. He’d need the muscles to hold me up me while I was slipping up and down his cock.

“Then let me tell you what it’s like. I don’t just suck dick. I master it. Totally and completely. My mouth, my tongue, my hands, are in control, and I will be relentless, sucking and teasing, bringing you close to climax over and over, forcing you to obey my commands while having you at the mercy of my mouth.” I paused, smoothing a hand beneath the seam of his pants and squeezing his ass hard, loving the feel of his skin warming beneath my hands. “Then I will climb up your body, straddle your hard cock, and ride it slowly, deliberately.” I thrust my chest against him, my nipples pebbling on contact. “You will want to grab my tits, but you can’t, because you’ll be tied to the bedpost. If you’re good, I’ll lean over your mouth and let you suck my nipples. You will try to buck against me, straining for that orgasm, and I will pull off you, spanking you hard every time you disobey my orders.” I squeezed his cheeks with bruising force, eliciting a delightful, deep groan. “Then I will climb back on top of you, teasing and fucking until you beg me to let you come. If you’re a good boy, I might just ride your cock harder.” I leaned up against him, my breath a hot whisper in his ear. “So I’m going to ask you again. Can you give up control, or would you rather go back to your place and jerk off to a magazine?” 

“Ariana,” he rasped, “are you still acting?”

I pinched his ass, then released him, finding my way to the delightfully large hard-on straining against his zipper. I caressed his cock through the fabric. “You tell me, Brad.” I laughed as his cockhead jerked against me. “Am I?”

He tossed back his head, groaning. “Fuck.”

“That’s not the magic word.” I slowly unzipped his pants.

Thunderclouds swirled in his eyes. “What’s the magic word?”

I reached into his underwear, gently gripping his member. Damn. I couldn’t wrap my fingers around the whole thing. I was going to be so sore tomorrow.

“You know what it is, Brad,” I teased, leaning up and nibbling his bottom lip while stroking his cock.

“Please?” he whimpered, sounding like a child begging for candy. So subservient. Exactly how I liked it.

I squeezed his dick until he gasped. “Say ‘please control me, Ariana’,” I commanded.

“Please control me, Ariana.” The words came out rough, like they had rubbed across sandpaper.

Ahhh. Perfect. I had Brad where I wanted him, and now I was going to fuck his brains out. Exactly what I needed after a stressful day. I sent up a silent prayer that the good doctor behaved himself, because I really needed this.

* * *

M
uch to my surprise and delight, Brad laid still while I tied his wrists to the bedframe with a soft, silky rope I kept in the top drawer of the nightstand.

After he was secured, I slipped the blindfold over his eyes and then took off my panties.

“Is all this necessary?” he asked.

“Quiet,” I commanded, unbuttoning his shirt and raking my nails down his chest.

“Ouch!”

I delicately kissed the red marks, then swirled my tongue around each nipple. I smiled when he shuddered beneath me.

I made quick work of his pants and underwear, pulling them down thick, muscular legs. Dear God, the man was built like a stud horse, and hung like one, too. Good thing he was tied up, because I knew he would’ve been too much man for me to handle if he’d tried to climb on top. I let out a shaky breath as I stared at his protruding member, which reached up to his belly button.

Ay Dios Mio!

How was I going to fit my mouth around that thing?

I ran my hands up his thighs and cupped his heavy ball sack, loving how it tightened in my hand. He moaned when I gently squeezed, his cock jerking in anticipation. I stroked from the base of his glorious shaft to the top, rubbing the liquid that dripped out of his slit between the tips of my fingers. I rubbed the moisture into that sensitive spot beneath the head, and he groaned louder.

I bent over him and kissed the smooth skin of his cock top to bottom. My kisses were soft at first, just enough to make him shift around and rattle the headboard. Then my kisses got wetter, stronger, and I incorporated my tongue, sucking and kissing his electrified flesh, stopping to pay homage to his most sensitive area.

His hips rolled, and he gasped and grunted, so I decided to anchor him to the bed by taking him in my mouth. I opened wide, forcing myself to relax my jaw muscles as I bent over him. I took just the tip of him at first, saliva dripping down his engorged head.