The Drazen World: Dominate (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Tara West

  Yes, he is your type, Ariana. Someone you can control in the bedroom.

  I stared at my palm as memories of a hard thigh beneath my hand made my fingertips tingle.

  Wait. Hang on.

  Fuck!

  I’d made a pass at him, a serious pass.

  Awww, crud. How was I supposed to face my neighbor now?

  * * *

  I must have banged on Brad’s door for a good ten minutes before he finally answered. His normally, clean-shaven face was peppered with stubble, his light brown hair was sticking up in all directions, and his cheeks and forehead were flushed a hot pink. He was wearing sweatpants and an old t-shirt. Had he been exercising?

  “Are you awake?” I knew it was a dumb question the moment it slipped out. It wasn’t my fault this guy brought out my stupid. Why was I acting like a silly schoolgirl around him anyway?

  “I am now,” he grumbled.

  I wrung my hands together, thinking of the right words to say. “I’m so sorry about yesterday.”

  He leaned against the door, shadows from the dark hall obscuring his masculine features. “Just try not to get stabbed anymore.”

  My heart pumped double time at that mischievous gleam in his eyes. Did Mr. Vanilla have a dark side? “Not that.” Heat crept into my cheeks and flamed my face. “I mean, the way I acted after.”

  He waved me off. “It’s fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  Weird how the flush in his face deepened. “Well, thanks for taking me to the hospital.” I scrutinized his features, which seemed to be encased in marble. Was he even breathing? “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he mumbled, shifting from one foot to the other. Something fluttered at his feet, and he quickly scooped it up, hiding it behind the door as his face flushed brighter.

  I plastered on a smile, doing my best to pretend I hadn’t seen the open page of the nudie magazine. All I’d glimpsed was a large breast, a flash of brown skin, and black hair.

  Holy fuck! Brad had been masturbating to a naked Latina.

  I batted my lashes, channeling my innocent schoolgirl persona while my dominatrix threatened to rear her horny head. “What are you up to this morning?”

  He cleared his throat. “Nothing.”

  Liar, liar, sweatpants on fire.

  “Okay. I have a call-back this morning. Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck,” he said and shut the door.

  I felt less guilty about my behavior yesterday. It was clear I’d turned him on and he’d taken matters into his own hands, but that was last night, and here it was early morning. Had he been jerking off this whole time? No wonder the guy looked like he’d been running a marathon.

  Damn, Brad. Has a demon taken possession of your libido?

  I tried not to think about all the things I could do with a man who had that much sexual energy, but it was hard, really hard. Images of me straddling his thick thighs kept invading my thoughts as I tried to get ready for my audition. I so needed to get laid.

  three

  The butterflies in my stomach turned into a swarm of rabid wasps as I nervously rubbed the thin scar that ran across my knuckles. I stood before the director and two casting agents, waiting for them to decide my fate. I thought the audition had gone fairly well. They’d asked me the usual questions, like where I was from and my acting experience. After the director asked about my arm, he’d seemed amused by my bag attack story. Finally, I’d recited my monologue with confidence and just a touch of sass.

  I was vying for the part of a sexy Latina detective, and let’s be honest, I was perfect for the part. My large, dark eyes had a slight tilt that drove men wild, and my plump lips were made for sucking. Thanks to all that practice dominating men in the bedroom, I possessed a commanding air that screamed badass girl cop.

  You got this, Ariana, I silently repeated to myself.

  The director, Sebastian Hendrix, leered at me from under his lashes while rubbing the point of his black goatee.

  Sebastian gave me the creeps, and not just because he’d probably stolen his name from a dead rock star’s tombstone. The guy had a sleazy demeanor. One more glob of hair gel, and the guy would have passed as a used car salesman.

  He’d flirted with me the entire interview, shifting in his seat and adjusting himself more than once. Ordinarily, a guy with a ponytail, muscular arms, and tats would have totally turned me on. If it hadn’t been for the predatory gleam in his eyes, I would’ve flirted back. I sensed Sebastian was trying to project a powerful, crime-drama director aura. Instead, he reminded me of a snake, his cold, beady eyes watching his prey as it prepared to strike.

  I feared he was expecting me to suck his dick for the part, but there was no way I was putting that snake’s snake in my mouth or letting it anywhere near my body.

  After they bowed their heads, whispering, Sebastian flashed a shark-like smile. “I’m very impressed, Ariana,” he said as he fondled a pencil between two narrow fingers. “I’d love to see more of your skills.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Hendrix.” I forced a smile while repressing a shudder. Just the act of looking into his eyes felt as if a thousand spiders were burrowing into my skin, because I knew exactly which skills he was referring to.

  “Come back tomorrow and see Jeanette in casting,” he said.

  I ignored the fact that he was stroking that pencil with more fervor. He could jerk off his pencil all he wanted. All that mattered was that I’d gotten the part.

  I squeezed my hands into fists, resisting the urge to shout for joy as my heart did backflips. “Yes, sir.”

  Turning up my chin, I exited the room with a confident swagger, smiling sweetly at the other girls in the waiting room. Most of them glared back.

  * * *

  As soon as I got to my car, I called my agent and let him know the good news. He sounded a mixture of surprised and relieved, no doubt because I was one of his few working clients. The guy’s office wasn’t much bigger than a broom closet, but he was the only agent in town who’d agreed to represent me.

  After I hung up with him, I called Savannah and screamed the good news into the receiver. She answered back with several screams of her own. I didn’t keep her too long, though, because I could hear her new boyfriend laughing in the background. She told me they were out at the lake, no doubt swimming and then fucking like rabbits. Those two were practically joined at the crotch.

  Mamá wasn’t as excited as Savannah. She congratulated me, but her tone was subdued, as if she was more worried than pleased. Although, how could I have predicted any different? She’d expected the high school Salutatorian to go onto law or medical school, not party her way through college and then pursue an acting career. After all Mamá had sacrificed to bring me to this country, I knew I’d let her down more than once.

  Maybe, though, after she saw her daughter as an ass-kicking Latina cop, she’d finally be proud. At least, I hoped so.

  As soon as I got home, I rushed over to Brad’s house and banged on his door.

  It didn’t take him long to open. He stepped onto the porch, freshly showered and shaved, and smelling like cool mint. He dangled his keys while staring down at me, his expression completely unreadable.

  My heart plummeted. I recognized that disinterested look. Brad was in work-mode. He couldn’t care less about me. Besides, his hand was probably chapped and his dick rubbed raw after his date with the nudie magazine.

  “I got the part!” I forced a note of enthusiasm into my voice.

  He smiled. “Congratulations.”

  I thumbed toward his car. “Let’s go celebrate.” I didn’t know why I bothered. I knew he was going to reject me.

  “I can’t.” He frowned. “I have to go in to work.”

  Well, this sucked. My one friend in this town was too busy to celebrate my achievement.

  “Can’t you take a day off?” I asked, hating the pleading note that slipped into my voice. I sounded like I was losing control.
That wasn’t good.

  Brad heaved a sigh, causing me to cringe. I sensed a lecture, and I hated lectures almost as much as I hated relinquishing control.

  “Ariana,” he said as he smoothed a hand down his face, “I have patients depending on me.”

  “But I need you, too, Brad,” I pleaded, closing the short distance between us. I placed a hand on his chest, pleased at the feel of his heartbeat quickening beneath my touch.

  Brad was warm and solid, not what I expected for someone who spent a good portion of his free time playing video games. I knew this because his living room was set up with three large flat-screens and a gaming chair so he could play an online reality game. Weird, I know, but at least that meant he was versed in role-play. Hopefully, his character was subservient.

  “Ariana, I’m sorry.” He swiped my hand off him as if he was brushing crumbs off his shirt.

  Was that all I was to him? Discarded crumbs?

  Well, shit.

  Without saying another word, I turned from him, back as straight as Mamá’s old ironing board. I walked into my rented house and into the kitchen. Covering my face with my hands, I let out a string of curses. Then, I slid to the floor in an emotional heap, crying like a love-struck child. What was wrong with me that I’d get so upset by Brad’s rejection? He was just some vanilla preppy doctor. He wasn’t my type at all. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

  four

  “I’m here to see Jeanette in casting.” I fought to keep my voice steady as I stared at the skinny, spray-tanned woman holding the clipboard.

  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.

  five

  After 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.”