Dominating Anna: A Fantasy Fulfilled Novella (4 page)

Zee stilled his face.
He wouldn’t let her do this to him.

“And she...left you.
You thought you’d be together forever, but she found another man, and you’ve
never gotten over it. You’re in this line of work so you can punish her over
and over again.”

Relief flooded him.
She had no idea. “Nope. Wrong. Good try, but not even close.”

Anna’s eyes showed her
disappointment, and she buttoned the dress faster. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll go.
But I’m going to call Jake about this.”

Not if he called Jake
first. He had no idea how he’d possibly explain this—he’d never failed in
an assignment, not ever. That’s why Jake paid him so much, damn it. Jake
trusted him.

Shit.

“Also,” she said, as
she stepped into her unbuckled shoes and wrapped her tights around her wrist.
“I’m disappointed I didn’t get to feel that cock of yours.” That taunting laugh
was still in her voice, and Zee’s blood heated. She went on, “I suppose that’s
your main draw, after all. It’s a good one. I guess I’m left to wonder if you
actually know how to use it.”

She was challenging
him. Baiting him as he had her. She
wanted
him to lose his temper and
change his mind. Damn, she was good. For a split second, he admired her
chutzpah. He wanted nothing more than to bend her over, pull up that dress,
push down her panties, and paddle the hell out of her ass. A simple spanking
would take that look out of her eyes. He would need nothing more than his hand.

Or Jesus, would that
make her look even more determined?

Zee drew his
professionalism—what was left of it—around himself. “Talk to
Corinne on your way out. I think she’s outside. She’ll set you up with someone else,
and I’m sure Jake will give you a session on the house. Sorry it didn’t work
out.”

Anna had lost that
amused look. Finally. Now she looked like she was ready to punch him. Good.
Better mad than laughing at him.

“It was hard for me to
come here today,” she said.

Zee nodded. “I’m sure
it was. I can understand the difficulty.”

“Can you?”

Her face...Jesus.
Those green eyes, brighter now with that anger. He was going to
kill
Jake for setting him up with her. “I understand what it’s like to do something
difficult.” Did he really? If he did, wouldn’t he have just gone through with
the assignment? She’d signed the contract, after all. She’d been going to take
whatever he dished out. That was the whole game. It was his
job.

She didn’t say another
word, just swept by him, that red hair following her like flames of anger. The
back door slammed, a hollow, metallic sound that filled him with something
darker than disappointment.

Chapter Two

Her father.
 

How dare he guess like
that? And to nail it in one, that asshole. Of course, Zee had talent. He had
experience. The one thing he knew must be women, right? If that was all he
knew, then of course he could get lucky with the guessing.

It was hours later,
and Anna was still fuming. In her apartment, three stories up, Anna watched the
storm lash the building across the street. Lightning lit the puddles as it
flashed, and thunder rolled across the black sky. She was protected from the
rain by the thick walls and double-paned glass, but even so, she felt the storm
like it was raging inside with her.

It wasn’t even like
her father had done anything so very wrong. He
hadn’t
sexually abused
her or her mother, and he’d never raised a hand to either of them. He’d kept a
steady job and remained even-keeled even when Anna’s mother had been flipping
out about something or another, as she usually was.

It’s just that he
hadn’t stayed. When Anna was ten, he’d announced to her and her mother that
he’d fallen in love with someone else, and that they were having a baby
together. Anna’s mother had freaked, naturally, and kicked him out.

Anna just hadn’t
expected him to stay gone. He’d chosen that unborn brother over her, again and
again, and she’d never gotten over it.

Oldest story in the
book, right? One kid was the chosen one, the other one wasn’t. It was a cliché,
and that fact made her furious, even now. How could one person have so much
influence over another? It was
stupid
. She should be stronger. Better
with pain. And she couldn’t help her feelings, even though God knew she’d
tried.

It was a night for a
drink. She’d called a couple of friends but no one had wanted to go out in the
storm, and she didn’t blame them. Anna didn’t usually drink alone, but her
nerves said a martini would ease the pain of the day.

Zee, a man paid to
fulfill her fantasy, had kicked her out. He’d rejected her.

Well, that had been
her fantasy all right. Not a good one, but it was the one she was always
worried about, after all. So he’d gotten that correct, too.

She poured the gin and
the tiniest splash of vermouth into a tumbler. She added an ice
cube—lazy, she knew, but she couldn’t be bothered to dig out her shaker
that only saw use at her annual Christmas cocktail party—and stood near
the window again.

The best part of her
apartment was the floor to ceiling windows. On the edge of the Village, she had
a partial view of the West Side Highway and (if she stood on tiptoes) even a
glimpse of the water. Even though it was full dark now, she didn’t draw the
huge curtains. She rarely did. She loved walking through the streets at this
time of year, when the light left the sky so early, looking into everyone
else’s homes. At dinner time, she could peek at dining tables as kids slung
coats on the backs of their chairs and stored game devices in their laps to
eat. In the darkened mornings, she watched women drinking coffee as they
flipped through the paper. Anna admired the art (or lack thereof) on their
walls. In one apartment a few blocks away, she loved the orange walls so much
she’d thought of stopping to knock, to ask the name of the paint.

So leaving her own
window shade open was a kind of payback for the enjoyment she got from peeking
into other people’s lives.

A gust heaved a wall
of water at the glass, and she had to get close to the window to see out into
the night, past her own reflection. Cabs patrolled below, gleaming yellow,
cutting through the reflective streets. A man stood on the opposite side, under
her favorite elm tree. He was large, taller than the men that hurried down the
sidewalks behind him. He was almost as big as Zee, actually.

Shit.

It
was
Zee.

What the hell was he
doing out there in the rain? Looking up at her apartment wasn’t an accident.
He’d tracked her here.
Easy, he didn’t track you—you gave the company
your address.

His arms were folded,
and he didn’t hold an umbrella. He wasn’t even wearing a rain coat. The rain
sluiced over his leather motorcycle jacket, his jeans gone black with wet. His
dark hair dripped into his eyes. The eyes that didn’t break from hers, that
didn’t make any apology whatsoever for being caught.

Anna knew she should
step backward toward the darkened kitchen. She should at least hit the living
room light and take herself out of his view. Whatever the hell he thought he was
playing at wasn’t funny. Her hand trembled as she took a long sip of her gin.
Instead of stepping away or turning out the light, though, she didn’t move.

She set the glass on
the table next to her.

There were only a few
ways to play this.

She could pretend
she’d never seen him and turn out the lights and go to bed. But really, Anna
wasn’t tired. Not yet. Not even close.

She could go outside
and speak to him, find out what the hell he was doing. But it was raining
harder now. It looked cold. It was nice and dry inside.

There was, of course,
a third way to go.

She could give him a
show. Prove to him that she was up for this.

Ridiculous. Anna
couldn’t.

She wouldn’t.

Why, then, did she
reach for the hem of her dress? Instead of taking the time to unbutton it for
the second time today, she simply lifted it up and off.

She stood shaking in
her window, wearing just the bra and panties he’d already seen once.

Her street was narrow,
barely enough room for one car to pass between the parked cars. Even though Zee
stood on the other side of the street, she was close enough to him to see his
eyes narrow. Something that ran between them, through the glass, through the
heavy raindrops, something that ran from her fingertips to his mouth which
twitched as if she’d touched him.

Jesus Christ, what
Anna wanted most in the whole world was to press her lips against that scar at
the corner of his mouth. She didn’t care about the story that went with it. She
just wanted to touch him. It was a stupid desire, one she didn’t understand.
This was ridiculous, all of it.

She should know
better. She should turn off the lights and go to bed.

Instead, Anna touched
herself.

She slipped her right
hand into the top of her panties. Slowly, so slowly, she dipped one finger into
the wetness she’d had between her legs since she’d left Brooklyn. With her
other hand, she pulled down the lace of her bra, exposing her nipple to the
air. She tested it with her fingers, teasing herself until her nipple was hard,
pointing straight at him.

Zee’s mouth
straightened, as if he were trying hard to prevent himself from speaking. That
was fine. He could speak. He could say whatever the hell he wanted, and it
wouldn’t matter. Anna couldn’t hear him. He couldn’t tell her to stop.

She slipped her panties
down now, all the way off. Stepping out of them, she pulled the lace on the
other cup of her bra down so that now she was naked except for the bra, which
displayed, rather than hid, her breasts.

Anyone could see her.
Her neighbors across the street, the cab driver who paused and honked for his
fare to come out, the pedestrians that hurried down the darkened sidewalks.
Anyone could look up and see what Zee was staring at.

But so far, he was the
only one who noticed. He was the only one who looked as if what she was doing
to him physically hurt. And maybe, with that magnificent cock of his stuffed
into cold rain-soaked jeans, maybe he
did
hurt.

Good.

Anna lifted the first
two fingers of her right hand to her mouth. Slowly, she licked them, taking her
time as she slid them in and out, moving her tongue over her fingertips. Then
she trailed them down her body to where they wanted to be—at her cunt.
She slipped her first finger inside herself and gasped, astonished at how wet
and swollen she already was. Then the other finger slowly made its way inside.
Using her left hand, she touched her clit, gently at first, and then gaining
speed and rhythm.

Damn
. This was something she did late at night, in
the dark, in her own bed. It was something she did when whatever boyfriend she
was with failed to get her off, something she did so quietly that they never
woke up, never knew that they’d left anything lacking.

It wasn’t something
she did while standing in her picture window.

Anna’s fingers moved
faster now, her eyes never leaving his. She barely blinked, although he did.
The rain was sluicing down again, and it acted like a conduit between them, as
if the electricity from the lightning in the skies were traveling between them.
Rain rolled from his hair and he should have been shivering, but she could tell
by the look on his face he was burning up just like she was.

A few more seconds,
that was it, that was all it was going to take...she was so close—so
close...

Slowly, deliberately,
Zee shook his head.

Anna gasped. He
couldn’t really make her stop, could he? Her fingers flicked her clit harder,
her other hand pumping in and out of her pussy.

Once more, he shook
his head.

She could ignore him.
Anna knew she was only five or ten seconds away from coming. She could pretend
she didn’t know what he meant and keep going, which, God, she
needed
to
do.

Or she could prove
herself to him.

She took her fingers
away from her clit, out of her pussy, and stood straighter. She placed her
hands on the glass in front of her, and bent slightly at the waist, an echo of
how he’d placed her earlier in the day. Her legs were shaking with the exertion
of not coming. All it would take was a single touch. Hell, a breath would get
her off right now.

What now? Would he
leave, stalking away into the dark, rainy night?

Instead, he waited for
a passing cab, and then came forward, through the street. His eyes questioned
her.

“Three,” she mouthed,
holding up three fingers. “One, five.”

The buzz, when it
came, almost jolted her out of her skin, even though she was expecting it. She
hit the Open button for the downstairs door. Most people waited for the
elevator, which would take at least two minutes to get him up the three short
flights. But if he—