Page 2 of The Tycoon (The Douglas Brothers #1)

Dolly

Oh my God. I can’t believe this is actually happening. Did he really just say that to me?

Reaching for my thigh, I quickly pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. The pain jolts me, letting me know that this is indeed real. I am on a date with Sutton Douglas, heir to Douglas Oil and Solar. He’s smart, charming, and he just commanded me to keep my eyes on him.

In that moment, all the feminism in my body melts away, replaced by a foreign and twisted need to obey.

My mind goes completely blank. The restaurant fades around me, the ambient sounds of clinking glasses and robust conversations become muffled.

Only one thing is in focus, and it’s the handsome devil sitting before me.

“Eyes on me, Princess,” he repeats, his voice warm but firm.

Nodding my head, I meet his dark blue eyes, which I swear were black only a few seconds ago. My heart begins to race, causing the sound of my rushing blood to fill my ears. My body perks like a Brittany spaniel pointing at their master’s kill.

“Ok,” I reply.

He shakes his head again.

“Yes, Sir.”

Blinking at him, my brow furrows in confusion. My mind feels oddly fuzzy, like I’ve had three glasses of wine. I’m an intelligent, independent, capable woman. Why the hell am I acting, and feeling like a complete moron?

“What?”

Tilting his head, a hint of amusement flashes across his otherwise determined expression.

He curls his lips into the most sinful smirk I’ve ever seen, it pulls my attention straight away.

He must notice because he darts his tongue out of his mouth and slowly runs it across his lips.

The obvious tease makes me imagine what it would feel like on my nipples.

The lurid thought makes me ache in the most delicious way, I swear to God I hear myself moan.

He chuckles, the deep sound sends a shiver down my spine.

“Dolly. When you answer me, I want you to say yes, Sir. Can you do that for me, Princess?”

Swallowing hard, I nod my head.

He waits patiently, his dark brow arching expectantly after a handful of seconds.

Realizing he’s serious, I quickly reply.

“Yes, Sir.”

He smiles, a thoroughly pleased look passing over the chiseled features of his face.

“Good girl. That’s a very good girl.”

My mouth falls open, I feel the heat of a flush as it peppers my cheeks.

I’ve read a million romance books, have heard that line in my head more times than I can count, but this is a first for me.

I told myself that if a man in real life ever dared to say that to me, that I would laugh in his face.

Yet here I am, with goosebumps on my arms. Willing and eager to fall on my knees and do anything he asks of me.

“Thank you,” I say without thinking.

My eyes widen at the sound of my own voice. What the hell is wrong with me? Did I just thank him for calling me a good girl? I know I really like him, but I must have lost my damn mind.

“Thank you, Sir,” he corrects, his southern accent suddenly very thick.

It’s then that I know that this isn’t some sort of flirty, playful thing.

Sutton is deadly serious. Is he a Dom? I have no idea, but my curiosity is getting the better of me.

I want to see where this goes, at least for the rest of our date.

I can play along for a couple of hours. “Do it for the plot,” as my roommate Sam always encourages.

“Thank you, Sir,” I reply, mimicking his accent.

Narrowing his eyes at my flippant reply, his smirk widens in stark contrast. I can’t tell if I’ve annoyed him or turned him on. Honestly? I hope a little of both.

“Oh, careful Princess, you don’t want me to treat you like a brat. I want to reward you tonight, not punish you. Can you promise me that you will be respectful?”

Nodding a reply, I lick my lips nervously before answering.

“Yes, Sir. I promise to be respectful.”

An easy smile returns to his handsome face, his rigid body language relaxes.

My stomach fills with butterflies as he starts to undress me with his hungry gaze.

I’ve clearly pleased him with my answer, I find myself smiling along with him.

I don’t understand why, but it makes me happy that I’ve made him happy.

It’s a little unsettling, but also oddly thrilling.

Glancing behind me, he motions with his chin at what I assume is the waiter.

“Oh, heads up, Princess. I hope you’re hungry. I wasn’t sure what you would be craving so I ordered all your favorite things.”

Looking over my shoulder, a tiny gasp leaves my mouth as I see two waiters carrying trays filled with food. Concern immediately washes over me. Our tiny table isn’t big enough for every plate, nor is my stomach. This is a crazy amount of food.

“Pick what you want, and I’ll have the rest taken to the women’s center.”

Whipping my head back to him, my heart skips a beat.

This is exactly why I wanted to meet him, I need to know if his public persona is real.

I’ve combed through dozens of news articles, interviews, and social media posts about Sutton Douglas.

Everything I found spoke nothing but praise, saying essentially the same thing.

That he’s an upstanding citizen of Dallas, known for his philanthropy to the city’s less than fortunate.

He runs over a dozen charities, including one that serves fifteen food pantries.

He also works very closely with the hospitals around Dallas.

Last year he paid every medical bill of every transplant recipient.

My favorite quote read, “God wouldn’t want them to start their second life burdened by a debt caused by the broken American Healthcare System.

It’s my honor and privilege to wipe their slates clean. ”

Can you believe that? An honest gentleman with a heart of gold?

On paper, he seems too good to be true. I thought it was a little odd that someone with so much wealth, status, and power doesn’t seem to have any skeletons in his closet.

But maybe that is the truth? He sure seems genuine to me.

He might be a little kinky, but we all have our quirks, right?

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome, Princess. Now don’t skimp because you don’t want me to watch you eat. I want you to enjoy yourself, is that understood?”

Hesitating for a moment, I try to override the part of my brain that only wants to have soup and water. My ex-boyfriend used to oink like a pig every time I ordered a cheeseburger, I hate that it left an indelible mark.

“I understand, Sir,” I reply.

Nodding his head, he casually leans back in his chair. Studying me with an intense gaze, he patiently waits for me to make my selections.

Swallowing hard, I look over the plates of food. I’m almost overwhelmed by my options, and shocked that my favorite entrees are indeed on the trays. How did he find out what I like to eat? I’m pretty sure I only told him that I like Texas bar-b-que.

Stepping closer to my chair, one of the waiters catches my attention.

They both smile at me, but I know they want me to hurry.

My anxiety spikes from the pressure, I begin to point randomly.

Shrimp cocktail, a ribeye steak with a loaded baked potato, Caesar salad, truffle fries, and birria tacos.

It’s more food than I’ve probably eaten all week.

Turning his attention to the waiters, Sutton dismisses them as soon as they are done placing the plates on our table. Picking up his drink, he brings the crystal glass to his lips.

“You’ve made some good choices, Princess. Now I want you to eat until you're nearly satisfied, and not a morsel more. Then I’ll have them bring out dessert.”

Huffing a laugh, my gaze sweeps over the full table. I don’t think I can eat dessert on top of this, but something tells me I shouldn’t push back.

“What about you? Aren’t you going to have anything, Sir?” I ask, picking up a crispy truffle fry.

Swallowing his bourbon, he gives me a ravenous look that makes me weak. Leaning in over the table, his eyes slowly trail from my face to my breasts. They pause for a handful of heartbeats before rising to meet mine once again.

“Oh, don’t you worry my sweet Dolly, I’m going to eat…I just have to wait a little while.” he says, giving me a wink as he casually relaxes back in his chair.

I stop chewing, his suggestive words turn me into jelly.

Images of his face between my thighs cloud my mind, I can almost feel my fingers twisting into his dark brown hair as he works me with his tongue.

In my experience, men don’t want to do that, but it doesn’t surprise me that Sutton would.

He’s generous with his money and his time, it makes sense that he would be generous with his lovers in the bedroom.

Trying to quell my impure thoughts, I swallow my mouthful of potatoes and pick up my glass of ice water. Taking a long drink, I boldly glance at his face. I wish I was better at flirting face-to-face and had a saucy rebuttal ready to go. I’m so much better at it when I’m staring at a screen.

He watches me with an intensity that makes my hand shake as I put my glass back down. I see the gears turning, but I’m not sure what he will say or do. Now I really wish I had something sexy to say. I don’t want him to lose interest or get bored. I swear I can be fun. I want to have fun.

“Do you miss San Diego?” he asks, his deep voice finally breaking the silence.

Caught off guard by the question, I lift my shoulders into a shrug. Although innocent, it makes me incredibly wistful. I try not to think about California too much, it has a habit of putting me into a funk when I do.

“Yes Sir, I do. But my little sister, Dani, is transferring to Southwestern in the fall, so it will be nice to have her in the same state as me, at least. And then my parents have been talking about moving out here to retire and be closer to us since we’re putting down roots here.

So maybe I won’t feel so homesick with them in Texas. ”

Raising his eyebrows, a flash of interest dances over his features.

“Southwestern? Really? My little brother Lincoln moved to Austin not too long ago, it’s a nice area. I’m sure she will love it…and your parents too, if they make the move.”

“Is it?” I ask, moving onto the shrimp cocktail. “I haven’t been down there yet. But, hey, maybe your little brother could show her around, huh? I’m sure she would love a tour!”

His smile cracks a little at my suggestion. Looking down at his drink, he says something under his breath that I can’t quite make out.

“I’m sorry, what Sir? I didn’t hear you.”

Lifting his eyes to me, he shakes his head.

“Oh, nothing Princess. So, you really think you’re going to put down roots here? You like Dallas that much?”

Humming softly, I dip my chilled shrimp in the cocktail sauce as I give his question some thought.

I do love Dallas, it really has become my new home.

I could see myself spending the rest of my life here.

I’m a simple girl with simple dreams. I want nothing more than to find the love of my life, settle down, and have a family of my own.

All my friends have lofty career goals and ambitions of running empires, but not me.

As silly as it may sound, I’ve always wanted to be a mom.

I’m not sure I should say that to him right now, though. I don’t want him to bolt for the door.

“Yes, Sir.”

He pauses, his dark blue eyes narrow ever so slightly.

“And do those roots include children, Princess? Or are you one of those girls that want to be a dog mom for the rest of your life?”

Holding my breath, I debate on how I should answer. I could lie, but what would be the point? If our goals don’t align, I don’t want to waste my time, or his for that matter.

“I hope they include children, Sir. At least a couple, but I’d also like a dog. Can’t have a family without a pup, right?”

I take a bite of shrimp before saying anything further.

Sutton’s jaw flexes as he sets his glass down, he exhales through his nose. I watch as all the hunger and wickedness disappear from his face, replaced by an almost somber look.

Did he not like my answer? I’m a little confused by his reaction. Maybe I should have lied.

“Are you ok, Sir?” I ask.

He chuckles; the robust sound tinged in something that sends an electric tingle through my body.

“Oh, Dolly. You might just be bad for business.”