Under His Control (An Alpha Billionaire Romance)

  UNDER HIS CONTROL

  The Under His Series Book #1

  By Alexa Davis

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 Alexa Davis

  Chapter One: Natalie

  I felt terribly self-conscious as I walked into the bar. Trendy night clubs had never been my style and neither had provocative clothes; but as my best friend Alyssa reminded me, I was going to have to be willing to get out of my comfort zone if I ever wanted to get anywhere as a reporter. Tonight, I was as far as my comfort zone as possible!

  I usually wore my auburn hair pulled back in a conservative ponytail, but tonight I had left it loose and it hung down my back in soft wavy curls. Alyssa had done my make-up, painting my pouty lips bright red, covering my peaches and cream complexion with blush, and lining my green eyes with heavy mascara and smoky eye shadow.

  “I’m going to look like a tramp in all that goop!” I had tried to resist, but she ignored my complaints and covered me with the make-up anyway.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Natalie! The makeup won’t make look slutty, this dress will!” Alyssa teased and handed me the designer dress she was letting me borrow from her closet. “Everything you have makes you look like a high-school principal or librarian. You want to attract this guy; not repel him.”

  Sighing heavily, I slipped on the dress by Dior and gasped at the image I saw reflected back at me in her full-length mirror. The little black dress was extremely low cut, with a plunging V cut neckline that showed more of my ample tits than it covered. The expensive and supple fabric clung to me like a second skin, revealing every curve of my body in more detail than I wanted, amplifying my cleavage and clearly showing my nipples protruding provocatively. The hemline of the dress was dangerously short, barely covering my ass; although, I did like the way it made my tan legs look long and lean, especially with the addition of her five-inch Jimmy Choo shoes. I looked like sex on stilts, and the mere thought made me blush.

  “How do I look?” I asked Alyssa, needing the opinion of another girl and the support of my best friend.

  Her hazel eyes narrowed as she appraised me, and her blonde curls bobbed as she shook her head. Crossing her arms across her chest, she frowned with disapproval and said, “You’re going to have to take them off.”

  “What?” I asked, feeling totally confused and more than a little hurt.

  She pointed at my panty line, which was clearly visible through the clingy fabric of the dress, and said unabashedly, “The granny panties. They ruin the look of the outfit. You’re going to have to take them off.”

  I blushed bright pink and shook my head vehemently. “I can’t go out in public with no underwear on! Especially in a dress this short! The moment I sit down, everyone will see my whooey.”

  “It’s called a vagina; how are you going to use it to seduce this guy if you can’t even say it?” Alyssa rolled her eyes at me in disgust. She looked sexy as hell with her body squeezed into a bright blue halter dress. I knew the club was going to be packed with women just as hot and experienced as she was, and if I wanted a chance at getting near my target, I was going to have to go prepared to play.

  “Okay, they’re coming off,” I said and reluctantly stripped off my favorite pair of cotton panties. When I looked in the mirror at the smooth curves of my firm buttocks, I had to admit that she was right, it did look a lot sexier now. Still, I knew I would be more nervous than ever walking into the bar commando style. Looking at Alyssa with my green eyes begging, I said, “Don’t you have anything I can wear that will be more appropriate?”

  “Here, they still have the tag on them; never been worn.” Alyssa tossed me what looked like a headband, but turned out to be a black lace thong. Grateful for even the most minimal coverage, I snipped off the tag and pulled on the tiny garment. It wasn’t much, but it did give me the comfort of knowing that if I tried to sit on a barstool, no one would be able to give me a gynecological exam.

  “Thanks,” I sighed with relief. Then I looked at her clock on the wall and saw it was time to go. “It’s eleven o’clock. He should just be arriving at Club Raw. Let’s go.”

  “Do you have everything?” Alyssa asked me, knowing how forgetful I got when I was nervous. I peeked in my little black beaded handbag and saw I had my cell phone, rubber gloves, and the usb port I needed to get the evidence that would make my career.

  I’d been hired as a reporter for a prominent New York newspaper, but for the past two years all anybody would ever let me do was serve as a fact-checker and errand girl. Every now and then my supervisor would let me write some stupid puff piece about the latest baby elephant born at the zoo or something equally frivolous, but I wanted to write hard news stories about the things that mattered! I wanted to write about politics, the economy, and things that affected the world and our daily lives. Unfortunately, nobody would take me seriously until I got my first real story printed, but all the good stories were given to proven reporters and I was stuck with the leftovers that nobody wanted. It was infuriating, and I complained to Alyssa that one day I would strike out on my own and get the news story no one else could get; then they’d have to take me seriously as a journalist and I’d finally get to report on the stories that mattered.

  Well, after months of searching, I finally found it. His name was Dante Devereaux. He ran a securities and surveillance company that was basically hired by executives to protect their computers from hackers, but I’d discovered that he used his business to secretly steal private information from foreign leaders and sell the data to other governments, including our own. It was a privacy violation of the worst kind, not to mention treachery of our allies, and possibly even treason against our own government. I was shocked and horrified, and I knew the American public would feel the same way. This would be the story that could make my career, but I couldn’t print it without hard evidence against Dante’s company and to get it, I decided to go right to head of the snake, Dante himself.

  With a little research, I found that he ran the whole company right out his home, a penthouse apartment in Manhattan. Unfortunately, it was a guarded fortress and there was absolutely no way I was ever getting in unless he invited me himself. Well, I could think of only one way of getting him to do that, and that meant going to the trendy night club where he hung out every weekend, Club Raw. Weeks of surveillance had confirmed that he went there every Friday night at eleven o’clock and left by midnight with a different girl. He took her home to his apartment and she didn’t leave until the next morning. I just had to make sure that this time I was that girl.

  My best friend Alyssa offered to do all the surveillance inside the club for me for a couple of weeks, making friends with the employees and learning everything she could about Dante, including what kind of women he liked. I was really hoping she would say he tended towards quiet, conservative, hard-working women like myself, but unfortunately, his preference seemed to be the sluttier the better.

  “I don’t think I can go through with this.” I said to Alyssa as we arrived at Club Raw, where she had bribed one of the cocktail waitresses to let us in the back door.

  “Yes you can. You just have to make him think you want him like you want this story. Guys can’t resist a woman who makes them feel desired; now go get him! Your career depends on it!”

  Alyssa gave me a shove through the door and next thing I knew, I was in a crowded nightclub surrounded
by handsome men and sexy women, all drinking, talking, and dancing to the pulsing beat of the music. I felt awkward and out of place, but Alyssa’s outfit must have done the trick of transforming me because no one looked at me like I didn’t fit in. In fact, all the glances I got were clearly looks of lust and appreciation from the men and jealousy from the women. It helped boost my confidence and gave me the courage I needed to follow through with my plan.

  I spotted Dante easily. His dark wavy hair was combed back in a sexy style, and the gray suit he was wearing by Dolce and Gabbana was tailored to show off his tall, muscular physique. A small cluster of women were fawning all over him by the bar, and I knew I’d have to do something to stand out if I wanted him to notice me. The question was what?

  As I was standing at the edge of the bar trying to work up the courage to get his attention, a guy with short cropped hair and bulging muscles came up to me. “Hey baby, I’m Craig. What’s a fine thing like you doing all alone? What do you say I buy you a drink and we go back to my place?”

  “No thanks,” I smiled politely, but he ignored me and ordered a couple of drinks from the bartender. He handed one to me, clinked my glass with his in a toast and said, “To you and me and one night stands.”

  “No thanks,” I said again, this time without the smile and set the glass pointedly onto the bar without taking a sip.

  “That drink wasn’t cheap, and I don’t want it to go to waste. I suggest you drink it down and then you and I can have a little fun on the dance floor before heading back to my place. What do you say?”

  The beefy brute grabbed my arm with a painfully strong grip, and I felt my heart start to pound. Picking up my glass, I said, “I’m not cheap, either, and I don’t think I should go to waste with an asshole like you.”

  I threw the drink towards his face, but Craig was surprising agile for a man of his size, and he dodged to the side, causing the drink to splash all over the back of the customer behind him.

  “You stupid bitch! You’re not worth the hassle.” Craig glared and stalked away to harass some other poor girl.

  Blushing furiously, I turned to the innocent man whose suit jacket I had just ruined with my drink, crying out, “I’m so sorry! I was aiming for that guy next to you!”

  When he turned around, I realized with horror that it was none other than Dante himself. He took off his wet jacket, then grinned at me and said, “That’s alright. Usually a woman has to get to know me first before she throws a drink in my face, but in your case, I guess I can make an exception and do it the other way around. I’m Dante Devereaux.”

  “I’m Natalie Jacobs.” I held out my hand to him. I could still feel my cheeks flushing bright red. This night was already a disaster. How could I seduce a guy by pretending to be sexy and confident, when I’d already proven to him that I was a spastic klutz? I decided I’d be better off just being myself. Smiling at him apologetically, I said, “I can pay to have that jacket dry-cleaned. Well, actually the entire suit or the slacks will fade at a different rate than the jacket.”

  “Why, Miss Jacobs, are you trying to get me out of pants? We just met!” Dante said in mock offense, clearly teasing me. The joke made me giggle and he grinned congenially and said, “I knew I could make you laugh. Have a seat and I’ll buy you a drink to replace the one you didn’t seem to like. Then you tell me what happened that caused you to give me a shower.”

  “Oh, God. I really am sorry about that,” I said, still flushing over what I had done. Dante ordered us both a shot of Bacardi 151, and I slammed mine down, hoping it would calm my nerves. I wasn’t used to drinking straight liquor and the rum made me cough a little and my eyes watered. By now I was sure it was obvious I didn’t party in bars very often; hell, I could barely slide up onto the stool gracefully.

  The alcohol worked quickly, and I could already feel a faint buzz in my brain. I decided to tell Dante my story and crossed my legs flirtatiously as I talked. “It was all because of that asshole over there dancing with that blonde. He just grabbed my arm and tried to force me to do what he wanted, so I tried to let him have it. Unfortunately, my aim was off and I hit you instead. Why do guys do that? Why do they think they can control women that way?”

  “Some women want to be controlled, but it isn’t something a man can just go and take against her will. Control has to be given freely by a woman, and the man she gives it to must earn it with trust and respect. A woman who gives control of her body and mind to another person needs to know that he will use that power to protect her and cherish her. When it happens, it can be immensely gratifying for both of them.”

  “You sound like you know a lot about it.” I was intrigued by his words and the penetrating way his blue eyes gazed into mine. He had stared at my body up and down just like every other man had, clearly appreciating my curves in the seductive dress, but then his eyes had focused on mine as if trying to read my soul and I felt caught in his gaze.

  “I know a lot about a lot of things,” he said, and the corner of his lips drew up into a secretive smile. “What I don’t know a lot about is you.”

  He ordered a second round of shots, and this time the rum went down a lot smoother. Smiling flirtatiously, I said, “Well, there’s not much to tell. I’m twenty-four. I’ve got a shitty job as an errand girl, but I’m working to change that soon. I recently broke up with my boyfriend, and right now all I want to do is forget about all that and just go dancing.”

  “Well then, let’s go dancing. Afterwards, I still want to get to know you better. You intrigue me, Natalie, and not too women can say that.” Dante’s eyes were intense, but his smile lit up the room. I let him take me by the hand and lead me out onto the crowded dance floor.

  So far so good! I’d got him talking to me, but I still needed to trick him into inviting me back to his house. I knew that sitting at the bar letting him buy me drinks would put me at risk for becoming drunk and losing my sharp edge. Getting him out on the dance floor was my best chance at seducing him into giving the invite. Besides, despite my conservative upbringing, dancing was the one thing I was good at.

  I’d spent hours in my bedroom with the door locked and the radio playing, dancing in front of my mirror and wishing my parents would let me date. When I got to college I quickly discovered that dating wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, but not until after I gave away my virginity to my asshole ex-boyfriend. After we broke up, I decided to pour my passion into my career, but after two years of indentured servitude as an office lackey, I was still spending my nights home alone and feeling miserable. Tonight, everything in my life was going to turn around for the better and it would all begin with showing my moves on the dance floor.

  The density of the crowd forced us to stand close to each other, which suited us both just fine. I picked up on the pulse of the music and began moving my body sensuously. I could see from the way his eyes were dilated that he liked it, and I moved in closer, so our bodies were touching as we grinded and pumped against each other, undulating as one. It felt good to let myself cut loose and express my sexuality in such a fun and free way; plus, the shots had definitely taken affect and lowered my inhibitions. I was having so much fun, I nearly forgot the purpose of my being there.

  Dante wanted me; I could see it in his eyes and feel it in the bulge of his groin pressing against my hip as we danced with our sweating bodies pressed tightly against each other. I could feel the heat emanating from our flesh and feel the pounding of his heart in his muscular chest. The rhythm of his pulse matched my own and blended with the beat of the music, making us feel like we were connected and this night was meant to be. It felt good to be desired by a man like Dante, and I was surprised by just how much I wanted him, too. My nipples had grown erect and I could feel them rubbing against the tight fabric of my dress and moisture was growing between my thighs, soaking the delicate lace thong.

  Suddenly, Dante’s pants began to vibrate. No, it was the cell phone he kept in a holster on his belt.

  “Excuse m
e,” he apologized and answered the buzzing device as he exited the dance floor, searching for a quiet area of the club where he could actually hear. “Hello? What’s the emergency? No. Listen, I can hardly hear you. I’ll have to call you back from home. Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll call you right back with the information.”

  Dante looked at me with eyes full of regret, and I knew he was about to tell me goodbye. My one chance at infiltrating his home and getting the evidence I needed was about to be ruined. Dante was notorious for never going out with the same girl twice. If I tried to get him to pick me up again next week the magic would be over and it would never work. I would forever be labeled in his mind as someone he had already tried to get with at the club and no longer be viewed as new or interesting. I couldn’t let this opportunity slip away. Desperate, I grabbed him around the neck and before he could speak a word, I kissed him.

  My arms wrapped around his neck and my manicured nails raked through his thick hair, pulling his head closer to mine as I took his lips passionately with mine. I kissed him long and hard and deep, pouring all the fire into it that I could and he responded. His hands encircled my body, caressing me up and down and his mouth opened to mine so our tongues danced. Quiet moans of pleasure escaped my lips and I heard him groaning with desire. When we finally broke apart, gasping for air, I whispered in a husky voice “If you have to go, take me with you. I’d love to hear more about what you were saying about women and control and all the secrets you know.”

  “You would?” He looked me up and down with an appraising frown, trying to decide if he should take me home with him. I felt awkward under his gaze, but held my ground, meeting his stare with an air of confidence I didn’t quite feel. The seconds felt like hours and his stare was so intense I finally broke and had to look down at my feet. I knew I had lost our unspoken contest of bravery, but then he surprised me by saying, “I have to take care of some business, but I’d like to finish our conversation, too. Give me your number and as soon as I’m finished, I’ll call you and you can meet me at my place. There’s a lot I want to show you.”