Dominate Crossword Clue Novels & Stories

he said finally. Ava didn’t move. “I’m listening.” Dominic stepped further into the room, loosening his cuff slightly. A small gesture, but it told her something. He was preparing. Not for a fight. For truth. “That network I mentioned,” he began, “is called the Consortium.” The name settled heavily between them. Ava repeated it softly. “The Consortium…” “It operates globally,” Dominic continued. “Finance, politics, private contracts. They don’t just control money. They control outcomes.”

He pulled his hand back, sliding back into his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. “Let’s see if you were actually comprehending the politics, or if you were simply pretending to care,” Dominic initiated, his tone stepping into an intimidating, calculating register. “Tell me, Rose—what did you think of the southern grain distribution plan? Or were you merely playing the quiet, submissive mate in hopes that I would soften my promise of making your year a living hell?” I swallowed the last of my food, refusing to let his physical dominance rattle the architecture of my mind. I kept my voice perfectly level, answering his query with an immaculate, flawless analysis of the figures the minister h

, over her shoulder as she ran straight to her room after her small act of mischief. Damon wanted to rub his shoulder which now throbbed with pain where their shoulder collided but restrained self, knowing there was still the girl standing in front of him. Everyone knew of the immense strength that ran in the Bennett family at least in the pack. Except the well-kept secret that somehow she, the daughter of the family was the kind of strong they hadn’t seen in their family ancestry. It wasn’t something too big a deal but she herself didn’t want others to now just yet.

But still, he was as healthy as ever. He had beaten Emily down; she was now twice as weak as she was before. Nathan picked her up and made her stand up, right? He opened one of his already destroyed cardboards and brought out an object that was like a remote control bottom. You see these; I am sure you remember them right. It is the remote control bottom of a set of devices that has been attached to your backbones. This means that I can trace you all anywhere and at any time. And with one push off these bottoms, I could kill you all. So let's go see the girl, shall we?

Gallagher to see if he’d be interested in being interviewed by Ashley and he’d sent her an e-mail agreeing to the interview and setting the time. “Domination?” The word, even coming casually from his lips, sent her insides quivering. He was a Dominant. Dom, for short. He commanded women to do as he bid. They became his sex slaves, doing whatever he wanted them to do. Her breath caught and she felt her insides melting. What would it be like to be controlled by him? For him to tell her to strip off her clothes, then get down on her knees in front of him and ...

I had never felt so nervous talking to a dominate before and I couldn’t help but feel like he was about to devour me as he watched me, his lip twitched up in a half smile. “I like to do a lot more than that, how much about BDSM do you know about?” He asked and I took a long drink from my wine trying to get some courage.

He folded his arms across his broad chest, projecting the absolute posture of a dominant ruler. "You are draped in my shirt, Moza. Do you honestly presume I would let you walk out of here that easily?"

“Master Dominic selected everything personally.” I snorted before I could stop myself. “He what?” I stared down at the box again like it had betrayed me. “That man doesn’t know the first thing about women’s fashion.” Then a thought slowly crept into my brain and I grimaced. Dominic Cantrell. Billionaire. Owner of some giant media empire that practically printed celebrities for breakfast.

The sweet vanilla notes of Liam's scent were fading fast, replaced by a deep, rich surge of heavy pine that mirrored Dominic's own aura. I looked up at Dominic. He stood beside the sofa, staring down at our sleeping son. His jaw was set, his hazel eyes dark with intense thought. "If his scent doubles before puck drop," I whispered, "every reporter in the broadcast plaza will know he is a dominant Alpha the second we walk past the glass." Dominic turned his head, looking straight into my eyes with a fierce, unwavering glare. "Then let them smell him," Dominic said softly. "It's time the world knows who owns the ice."

The subscriber list pinged open. There he was. Robert W. Hartwell. Age: 47. Occupation: Investment banker. Known usernames: ObeyMeAlpha, HumbledDaddy86, and, most damningly, DevotedToDomica. Priscilla’s father. Dominique stared at the screen, lips parting slowly into a smile so subtle it barely moved her face. “Bingo.” The next morning, school buzzed with rumors about Dominique’s dethroning. Whispers floated through lockers and bleachers like glitter laced with blood.