Page 5 of Dangerous Games

“Dinner started—” I glance at my watch again “—nineteen minutes ago. What are you doing?”

Nanette looks up at me with a dry look on her face and says nothing. Her eyes fall back to the magazine as if I’ve bored her or interrupted something important. One thing I hate more than being disobeyed is being ignored. I barge over to her and yank the magazine out of her hand and slam it on the vanity. The entire piece of furniture shakes, the mirror wobbling, and Nanette sits straighter in her seat.

“I was reading that.”

“I was speaking to you.” I don’t bother trying to control my temper or my tone. I bend and look her straight in the eye. She doesn’t blink or cower; she doesn’t even lean away. “Get dressed, now.”

“I’m not hungry. I told you that earlier.” Her arms fold over her chest and she glares at me, looking me directly in the eye. I am a bull seeing red, ready to charge, and she sits there completely unintimidated by me. She clearly does not know who she is dealing with.

I will not be disrespected like this, and she is about to learn a very valuable lesson. As long as she is under my roof she will do as she is told, like it or not. I stand and fold my suit coat back, revealing my gun. Her eyes flick downward, looking at it, then back up to my face. She swallows; it’s an almost imperceptible action, but I see the fear creeping into her body—shoulders tensing, pupils growing smaller, eyebrows rising.

“Jimmy has a date with the undertaker already planned out in his future. I can tell because you seem to not understand that his safety hinges on how well behaved you are.”

Nanette’s chin drops. Her lips purse and she grips the arms of the chair so hard her knuckles go white. I can see she is ready to negotiate with me, so I walk to the closet and find a dress that is suitable. When I walk back into the room, she is standing, arms folded over her chest again.

“I’m not wearing that,” she protests, nose scrunched in disgust. She’s cute when she is trying to act tough, but she will do what I say anyway.

“Put it on,” I order, tossing it on the bed. It’s a little blue number, open back, slit up the thigh. It is my custom to dress for dinner every night, to remember that even the devil must be a gentleman at times, and she will look good in this dress.

“I don’t want to wear a dress.” She shakes her head and I sit in the armchair she just vacated and watch her.

“Put it on, Nanette. I’m not asking.”

She sighs and looks at the dress, then back at me. I see the anger flashing in her eyes, but she knows she has been bested. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, then looks at the door. “Well, aren’t you going to leave? At least give me some privacy to change.” With hands on her hips, she waits, but I have no intention of leaving. I’m enjoying this too much, and besides she will probably not do what I tell her unless I am here to forcibly remind her, she belongs to me now.

“Get dressed, or your closet will be emptied, and your clothes will be stripped off you and everywhere you want to go, you will be naked.” I lean back in the chair, ready to enjoy the show and her cheeks flush bright red. She’s angry, but if I’m not mistaken, I see a hint of arousal in her eyes too. Good, I like a woman who appreciates an assertive man.

“You fucking pervert,” she snaps, turning her back on me. She undresses slowly, as if she’s never been naked in front of a man before, but a woman like her has definitely had some hookups. She bares her top, facing away from me, then undoes her pants.

“Face me,” I tell her, my dick already tingling a little in anticipation.

“No.” Her refusal only makes her all the more enticing to me.

“Turn around now, Nanette. I can’t stress enough that you are mine, and you will do what I say. You can do it obediently, or you will be punished.”

“You don’t fucking own me, Dominic.” She stands still, hands holding the fly of her jeans, and I am about to go physically turn her around myself, but she slowly pushes the denim over her hips until she is shimmying it down her thighs. The black lacy panties she wears ride up her crack a little, revealing more of her ass cheeks. They’re perfect, round and perky; my hands ache to feel it, to squeeze them. She must ride dick like a pro to have an ass like that.

“Turn around, or I will make you turn around, and you don’t want me to have to punish you already. It’s your first day here.” The silky texture of her panties is making me want to touch her more, to feel the satin smoothness of her skin.

When she turns, her cheeks are still red, and her nipples are hard. The bedroom light casts her shadow like a silhouette onto the sheets of the bed. She steps out of the jeans and reaches for the dress, and I click my tongue. “Wait,” I tell her, examining her every curve with my eyes. She is perfect, tits that balance well with the curve of her hips, and I can tell she shaves her pussy too—even better. Less work for me to make her acceptable.

“Now put it on.” I nod at the dress, and she does, very quickly, as if she is feeling too vulnerable or exposed in front of me. In a flash her creamy skin is covered and her green eyes glare at me with hatred. She doesn’t have to hate me, but she does have to respect me.

Nanette squirms uncomfortably, adjusting the line of her panties. I stand and move toward her, selecting a pair of heels from the shoe rack just inside the closet on the way. I dangle them from one finger and tell her to put them on. As she sits, I catch a hint of her arousal wafting up to my nose. She is turned on too, another good sign. I take things when I have to, but it’s easier when they’re given willingly without much protest. I’ll be able to pick ripe fruit from this garden anytime I want. She’ll hand it over freely.

“I hate you.” She straps one shoe on her foot then the other.

“I think you’ll change your mind.” I offer my arm and she stands.

“You are a beast, cruel and evil. I’ll never change my mind.” She hooks her arm around mine and I lead her to the door.

I lean down and whisper in her ear, “I smell how much you want me, Nanette. Don’t lie to yourself.”

We walk all the way to the dining room in silence. I own her now, and she knows it. She can’t hide what her body wants any more than she can fight me. I’ll bide my time though, wait her out. Fruit must be ripe before it’s plucked, or it isn’t sweet.

“Dinner is ready, sir,” Mika says as I pull out Nanette’s chair for her. She sits in it as Mika sets a plate in front of her. The wonderful scent of rosemary chicken fills the room as the lid is lifted from the plate. Nanette’s stomach growls and I think I agree. The food looks as appetizing as it smells and I’m starving.

“Thank you, Mika. That will be all.” I sit as she serves my plate, and she nods and pushes her cart out the door toward the kitchen.

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