Taken by the Dom

by Cassandra Dee

  Because that’s who the blonde girl was. She must have interviewed with the six men. They were all here, after all. The six of them were in New York for some reason or other, taking overnight flights. And when they discovered I was missing, it was the perfect time to do some screening for the next stewardess.

  Forget Joanie.

  Forget the brunette.

  Forget the promises we made.

  Oh wait. There had been no promises, nothing but a contract.

  And now I was too much trouble.

  Because billionaires don’t “work things out.”

  Instead, everything goes their way, all the time.

  And heart pounding, tears poured down my cheeks. How could this have happened? I didn’t deserve this. Just yesterday, the twins and Nick had been fighting over me. But one small disturbance in the universe, and I was toast? Because I needed some time to myself, that was it? How could they be so harsh and unrelenting? Why was this happening?

  But there are no why’s in the world.

  Things are unfair.

  Nothing is just.

  And I had to accept my fate. The billionaires were done with me. More than done, they’d already found someone else to take my place. At the very least, they were interviewing dozens of applicants, thus the dirty look the blonde shot my way.

  She thought I was competition.

  Oh god.

  The realization hurt so bad that I keeled over, face in my hands.

  Because I wasn’t competition.

  I was leftover trash, one and done, thrown out with the garbage.

  The knowledge seared my heart, tearing me apart from the inside out.

  But no. They’d hear if I cried outside the door. So stumbling to the elevator bank, I jammed the button with a desperate finger, willing the lift to carry me away.

  Get me out of here, the voice in my head whispered. Please now, before they discover my humiliation.

  Because I was yesterday’s news … and the dream was over.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Tom

  I knew we shouldn’t have done the interview with the new girl. There was no need. Joanie had been gone only a couple hours. Hell, maybe she’d stepped out to grab a bagel, who knew?

  But Helena had already booked the interview, and it was too late to cancel.

  “Naw,” I grunted into the phone. “No need to send a new girl over.”

  But the woman had been insistent.

  “I think you’ll like Crystal,” she pushed. “She’s just your type.”

  And what could we do? The texts we sent to Crystal’s number telling her not to come went unanswered. Likely, her cell was dead or lost. A lot of these girls are so flighty they have no idea where their phone is most times.

  So when the knock came on the door, I shot a warning glare at my brothers.

  “Keep it real,” I said sotto voce. “We’ll get her out of here in fifteen.”

  And the woman who showed up was okay. Helena was right in some respects. We liked her body for sure. Massive Double D tits swung and beckoned. Wide hips curved sassily, begging to be touched.

  But the blonde was nothing compared to Joanie. There wasn’t an ounce of sweetness in those blue eyes. Instead, they were canny like a fox, sizing me up in a flash.

  “Oh hi,” she cooed. “I’m here for the job with Elite Air.”

  And without waiting to be invited, Crystal waltzed inside wearing pink velour sweats that were about two sizes too small, with the word “Hot” emblazoned in rhinestones on the back. Ugly, if you asked me. I much preferred Joanie’s modest yet simple way of dressing. This girl was brassy and flashy by comparison, her hair a too-bleached blonde, ironed straight to look like Paris Hilton.

  But fine. Let’s just get this over with. And perching herself sassily on the couch, the blonde introduced herself to my brothers.

  “I’m Crystal,” she purred. “But you can call me Crys if you want. Whatever you like boys,” she cooed flirtatiously, tossing a fall of that straw-like hair over her shoulder. “Any time you want,” the girl added lasciviously.

  Gross. We like our females to know their place, and clearly Crys didn’t know hers at all. She was so cocksure and confident, used to having men kneel in her presence.

  But we weren’t like that. Number one, we’re the kings. We don’t kneel to anyone. And second, there was no job to fill. This was an informational interview at most. Not even that. It was just fifteen minutes of air time to fill, and then she’d be gone.

  So we made chitchat about nothing, revealing the barest facts about Elite Air.

  “So how many jets do you have?” she smiled acquisitively, almost licking her lips. “Two? Three? Or maybe six? There are six of you,” she grinned.

  In fact, we did have six jets. But no need to tell the truth.

  “Just one,” rumbled Damien, eyes shuttered. “It’s enough for all of us.”

  “Oh,” pouted Crystal, lip sticking out. “I thought there might be one for each billionaire.”

  We exchanged looks. Who told her we were billionaires?

  “Naw, Helena’s got you thinking we’re Donald Trump,” Charlie said smoothly. “We’re nowhere near that level. Rich enough to share some flight time, sure, but our plane’s mortgaged to the hilt. In fact, Andrew, did you make that last payment?”

  His twin slapped his head like a silly schoolboy.

  “Oh my god, forgot,” Andrew huffed, rolling his eyes. Shit, my man’s acting was so over the top that I almost laughed. But my lips stayed in a frown, body motionless. No need to give the farce away.

  “Is it too late?” Aaron chimed in, fumbling for his cell. “Maybe I can call the bank and get our deadline extended. But we were already late last month,” he said with a mock frown. “I don’t think they’ll be so nice again.”

  That did it. The overall impression was that we were guys living above our means. We were rich, sure, but just medium rich. Not the kind of billionaire that you hope to meet as a stewardess for a charter airline. More in the category of the well-to-do dentist from Iowa.

  So Crystal’s lips turned into a sneer.

  “There’s a mortgage on your plane?” she asked disbelievingly.

  “Oh sure,” stepped in Tom. “Absolutely. We bought that thing with a big loan from the bank, no other way we could afford it.”

  That sealed the deal with Crystal.

  “Thank you,” she said abruptly, standing with those rhinestones winking. “I have another job lined up actually. I forgot to tell you.”

  We feigned mock confusion.

  “A competing offer?” I said quickly. “We’ll match it. You’re perfect for a position with Elite.”

  “How much is your other offer for?” asked Andrew worriedly. “Because maybe we can’t afford it,” he said, shooting a meaningful look my way.

  Shit, these twins were hilarious. Fucking incredible. They should be actors with the way they were carrying on.

  But it didn’t matter. The blonde was already stalking towards the door, purpose in her movements.

  “Thanks so much,” she called over one shoulder. “I’ll just let myself out.”

  And with a swish of that imperious ponytail, she was gone.

  We waited until the elevator door dinged before bursting into raucous laughter.

  “What the fuck?” was Nick’s crude comment.

  “Shit,” repeated Charlie. “Shit got screwed.”

  But it was more than that.

  “She was the right shape,” I growled. “Helena knows what we like physically. But that girl was nothing like Joanie. Nothing at all.”

  “Speaking of which, where is Miss Chickadee?” drawled Andrew, looking around like he could find her somewhere. “What’d she get up to?”

  I shrugged.

  “Should be back soon,” was my confident reply. “Probably just stepped out for coffee.”

  Aaron glanced at his watch.

  “Been a while,” he growled, eyes getting intense.
“What the fuck, how long could coffee take? Isn’t there a bodega on every corner in this city?”

  I shrugged again.

  “Starbucks has lines that go for miles these days,” was my casual reply. “Something about fall flavors and red cups instead of white.”

  “Are you shitting me?” interrupted Nick. “Seriously, is this what we’re talking about? Pumpkin spice and all that bullshit?”

  I shrugged.

  “Marketing is my thing. If you knew how much Starbucks spends researching their holiday offerings, you’d be astounded.”

  Because it was true. Whatever people say about their coffee, Starbucks is a marketing genius. They’ve taken over the coffee industry and prevented newer, cooler upstarts from making headway. So geniuses all around.

  But Nick had a point. It was ten thirty now, and there are bodegas all over the neighborhood. Joanie should have been back by now.

  “Shit, what if she doesn’t come back?” rumbled Damien, eyes concerned. “Did you guys fuck up big time yesterday?”

  The twins and Nick exchanged a glance that was frankly, a little guilty.

  “Naw,” Aaron denied. “Nothing that serious.”

  “What happened again?” asked Charlie, squinting his eyes. “Seriously, what the fuck went down?”

  And they launched into an explanation once more. How Joanie was supposed to be on her way to Atlanta to meet the twins, but Nick kept her here. The twins, enraged, flew up to NYC, confronting the balpha. And there was a blow-out. A massive blow-out that had the girl in tears and apologizing, even though it wasn’t her fault.

  “We’ll fix it when Joanie’s back,” I assured them smoothly. “It’s fine. People fight. There’s six of us, and it’s expected.”

  “But the girl didn’t appreciate being in the middle of it,” rumbled Andrew reflectively, eyes on the horizon. “Not at all.”

  I snorted.

  “Did you fuckers think about that before you scared the shit out of our female?” was my growl. “Seriously assholes. Did you have to do that in front of her face?”

  The twins and Nick shared another guilty glance.

  “Yeah, we fucked up,” admitted Aaron. “Goddamit.”

  But Andrew’s hackles went up then.

  “We’ll discuss it when Joanie gets back,” he said huffily, making eye contact with us all. “We’ll have a real conversation then and get it sorted out,” he shrugged. “No worries.”

  Because that’s why we were here. The dust-up had been serious enough that me, Damien and Charlie took red eyes into the city. Among the six of us, we had to figure out how to share the female because the old methods hadn’t worked so well. Joanie was our one and only … and we had to let her know.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Charlie

  Three months later …

  Oh shit, oh shit. We fucked up. Or more accurately, Nick and the twins fucked up. Because Joanie never came back that day. Or the day after. Or the week after.

  And now it’s been three months without laying eyes on the luscious female form. It’s been three months since we spoke to her.

  We know where she is. It was easy to find out. One call to our private investigator and her location was evident immediately.

  She was at the Hudson dorms with a friend from middle school named Karen.

  Why the fuck would she live in dorms, when she could live in Nick’s penthouse?

  What the fuck was she doing at the Hudson University dorms anyways? Taking classes? Meeting boys her age? What the hell?

  The six of us have been like caged animals since, tense and angry. Sure, we’ve left New York intermittently. I’ve gone back to Chicago a couple times to tend to business, Damien’s dropped in on Dallas, and Tom on Tucson. But we always come back. Because we’re waiting for Joanie to make an appearance.

  Those sweet brown curls, surrounding her flushed face.

  Those big boobies bouncing, hips swaying back and forth.

  And oh shit that cunt. That steamy, sweet slit with a brownie in back that makes us drip with need.

  Because Joanie’s truly our one and only. She’s gorgeous, smart, and innocent as an angel. And yet she’s not an angel either. Because the female went wild when it came to taking us all. Her pussy was hungry, swallowing cock after cock, juicing with need.

  So what the fuck were we doing? Instead of being men of action, instead we sat around, staring at each other like dumb motherfuckers. In fact, right now we were crowded in Nick’s living room again, trying to figure things out for the millionth time.

  “You shouldn’t have made her apologize,” barked Tom at Andrew. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

  The alpha got an offended look on his face.

  “I didn’t make her apologize, she did it on her own!” he snarled right back.

  But Tom was relentless, turning on Nick next.

  “What were you thinking, trashing her butt at a place like Heartland Brewery? In public? Were you out of your fucking mind? No wonder she’s not coming back,” he spat to our host.

  And Nick actually leaped out of his chair, fists raised, face red and angry.

  “Shut up asshole,” he threw right back. “Shut up, she wanted it. That little ho is a butt slut, we’ve done anal with her multiple times before. Don’t put this on me.”

  They were about to rumble when I held up both hands.

  “We need to stop this,” I growled authoritatively. “This has gone fucking insane. We’re CEOs, men who have everything at our fingertips, and we’re getting riled up about a sweet female? What the hell?”

  And the truth was in the air.

  “She’s the best thing that ever happened to us,” grunted Damien morosely. “And you fuckers fucked it up.”

  World War Three almost started again, a couple guys leaping up, fists clenched. But fortunately, I interceded just in time.

  “She wants to be a chemist. I can make that happen. I run a cosmetics company, we have tons of laboratory scientists on our team.”

  Tom rolled his eyes.

  “Of course you can, Charlie. So why didn’t you do it before?”

  That was a good question, my words slow and contemplative.

  “I wanted her to come back without me offering a bribe. Because it is a bribe of sorts. I didn’t want to offer more money, a job, the promise of connections, or any of that type of shit. Other girls, no problem, I’m on it. But when it came to Joanie, I wanted her to come back on her own.”

  And that was the crux of our issue. The brunette was noble. She was virtuous with a real sense of right and wrong. And something like the promise of a job wasn’t a guarantee her return at all. In fact, it might back-fire.

  But what did we have to lose? We were six dumbasses sitting around mooning for our lost girl. Even worse, we’d been doing this for three months now, neglecting our other duties, hearts lost.

  Fuck.

  We’d lost sight of what makes us alphas.

  Instead of taking, we were waiting.

  Instead of owning, we were asking.

  Was this our new way of life?

  Instead of possession, were we the possessed?

  Fuck.

  Had we lost everything to the girl?

  Our minds?

  Our souls?

  Even our hearts?

  And swallowing my pride, the decision was made. Joanie was worth it. I didn’t care about my ego anymore. I didn’t care about giving her room, or more time to think. I didn’t care if bribing her with a job was what we had to do.

  We had to get her back.

  It was the only way to be whole again.

  And with that, the six of us rose, grabbing our jackets.

  Because our girl has been missing for three months … and we weren’t waiting any longer.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Joanie

  It’s been a quiet three months. I’ve been holed up in Karen’s dorm when she’s at class, and when she comes home, I head to the library. Huds
on is a great university, but her room’s so small that it’s impossible for us both to be in it at once.

  But that’s okay. Because I don’t want to talk about my situation, not really. Of course, it’s been unavoidable with my best friend, but at the same time, I’m talked out. At this point, there isn’t that much more to say.

  Because I’m pregnant.

  I’m not sure who the father is, and it really doesn’t matter. All I know was that this baby was conceived in a mix of love and pleasure, and I’m not giving the child up.

  No way, no how.

  This baby is mine, and I’m going to raise her with memories of her fathers. All six of them, swirling in my mind again and again, a sweet yet sorrowful remembrance of days past.

  Because I never went back to Nick’s penthouse after the shocking fight, nor did the billionaires come looking for me. Of course not. They were already interviewing replacements the next morning, me just a faded shadow.

  But even if I’m a memory, I still have my thoughts, crystal clear and sharp. The smells of the men. The feel of their hands. Those hard bodies and deep voices.

  And yes, their cocks.

  Those massive ten inch monsters, taking me again and again, sixty inches total.

  Sometimes while I doze, I’ll cry out.

  “Tom! Charlie! Damien!” is my anguished voice. “Andrew! Aaron! Nick!”

  Karen will shake me awake.

  “Joanie, you’ve had another nightmare,” she’ll say firmly, lips pressed in a line. “Another bad dream.”

  Because my eyes are filled with tears most times. But how can I tell her that these aren’t nightmares, they’re memories of good times that are now gone? The best experiences of my life in the hands of these charismatic, dominating men?

  Because they’re ruthless for sure. I was tossed out like the dirty laundry just a couple hours after I left. They gave no quarter. No mercy. There’s no forgiveness.

  But it’s all done now, and I don’t want to fixate on the bad. I have a child to think of, and it does no good to speak ill of her fathers. It’s better to remember the good times, and how much I loved them. How much I adored being with them, becoming my one true self in their presence.