by Linnea May
It's as if he's finally willing to let go, not of me, but of himself and whatever has been holding him back.
He breaks our kiss reluctantly.
"I don't want to lose you," he whispers, his eyes still closed and his lips so near mine that I can feel his hot breath brushing my skin.
"You're not going to," I whisper. "I'm yours, Loran."
I place a soft peck on his lips. "I'll always be yours. If you let me."
My eye search for his, and finally, after a few more minutes of solitary contemplation, he's ready to face me. His eyes open, seeking mine, and a smile appears on his face - a smile finally void of darkness.
"We have some things to take care of," he says.
I nod. "Yes. We do."
His grip around me loosens and his hands wander down to my ass, lifting the negligé and squeezing my naked cheeks greedily, the leash still encompassed in one of his hands. I can feel the hard leather pressing against my skin as he kneads and massages my ass.
"We have to go to the agency," I say randomly. "They need to know where I am."
He nods. "We will do that, my toy."
It's all the admission I need at this point. He's not ready to let me go, but he's ready to leave this part behind us.
He's ready for something else - with me.
"I will take you there first thing in the morning," he promises, before leaning in for another kiss. His lips only touch mine for a moment, before he moves further, inching along the side of my neck as he grabs a fistful of hair at the back of my head. I let out a needy sigh when he pulls my head back, his other hand still locked on my ass while I lean into him.
He's overpowering me and I'm melting in his arms, my heart beating with anticipation as I hollow my back for him, the collar tightening around my throat. He pulls on it until the tension starts cutting off air. I don't mind. I don't need air. I need him.
Still, I moan gratefully when he lets go of the leash, using his hand to slip between my wet folds, carefully teasing my swollen nub.
Our eyes find each other, mine dazed with lust, his filled with desire.
He's smiling when he invades my core with not one, but two fingers, at once - and so am I.
Epilog
Ruby
~ Six months later ~
I take in a deep breath and fix my skirt for the millionth time, casting a superimposed smile at my reflection in the mirror. The girl who’s smiling back at me looks like an entirely different person, a person I haven’t seen in years.
When we went to the agency, so I could make sure they weren’t looking for me six months ago, I knew it would be the very last time I stepped foot in there. I will never know what happened to that last client of mine, the client who never showed up and who never reported my disappearance to the agency. Our madame, Miss Barry, was surprised to see me, because she thought I’d be with my client as planned. He may have copped out at the last minute without telling anyone, or perhaps he found another way to satisfy the desire he was willing to pay so much for - I will never know. It remains a mystery to me, just like my red coat, that was sent to the agency anonymously a few days after I showed up there. The package showed up out of nowhere, leaving Miss Barry just as confused as myself.
Neither Loran nor I had to face any repercussions from our more than unconventional meeting. Sadly enough, neither my parents nor my sister even noticed that I had vanished off the face of the Earth for three whole weeks.
Fate has its twisted ways in bringing people together. Loran and I are a perfect example of that.
I pull myself away from the mirror and leave the bathroom to go downstairs. My fingers absentmindedly search fort he bracelet around my wrist, twisting and turning the two little black hearts anxiously. I haven't been this nervous in months, and I don't think my heart has ever beaten this loudly. I make my way down the hallway, my fingers dancing along the wall on my right, seeking contact with the house that has become my home. It's only been a few months, but the intensity of my first weeks here evolved into stronger connections than any I've ever developed anywhere else.
I pass by our bedroom door and continue on my way to the stairs. I pause again before making my way down to the kitchen. I'm wearing a navy blue suit, the jacket draped over my arm, as I walk down the stairs on shaky legs. I'm not wearing my heels yet, but I still feel as unstable as a newborn deer.
His eyes meet mine when I reach the first floor and join him in the kitchen, where he has been preparing breakfast for us.
"So?" I ask, spreading my arms and giving him a little twirl so he can judge my get-up. "Do you think this will work?"
Loran is standing in front me, looking as marvelous as he always does, a dark suit hugging his broad, muscled frame. He's more used to wearing this kind of work attire, so he‘s not moving nearly as stiff as I am when he approaches me.
"Not sure I can let you go out like this," he says before placing a loving kiss on my lips. "Someone might kidnap you."
"Charmer," I say, winking at him. "I need an honest opinion!"
He chuckles and takes both my hands in his.
"You look perfect, Ruby," he says. "The dark blue goes well with your hair.”
“Doesn’t it?” I ask.
“Perfectly,” he reaffirms. “You have nothing to worry about.”
"Easy for you to say," I reply. "It's not your first day."
He smiles at me. "In a way it is."
I meet his gaze and can't help but agree with him. I'm starting my job as a management assistant at a young sister company of his main business. It was brought into being just a few months ago and is still in the fledgling stage, which increases the burden of responsibility for me, because I know he's putting a lot of trust in me by giving me this position.
I was the one who insisted on putting my college degree to good use, finally, but when I mentioned this in front of him, I didn't expect him to offer me a position, let alone a position of this magnitude. When I said that I wasn't sure whether I'd be comfortable working for him, he clarified that he wouldn't be my boss. In fact, he's barely involved in the affairs of this young marketing company other than being one of its founders and a shareholder. However, that didn't stop him from using his influence to guarantee me a chance at a job that otherwise would have been out of reach for me.
And I'm determined not to disappoint him. I was adamant about quitting my former job even before I met him, but I never thought about what else I wanted to do with my life. All I knew was that I needed something of my own, something that doesn't leave the bitter aftertaste that my former job as an escort did.
I want this, and I can't wait to start. But I'm feeling sick to my stomach because my nerves are getting the best of me.
"You'll do fine," he says, placing his index finger below my chin to tilt my face up to his. "I have complete trust in you."
"But I'm so fucking nervous," I utter helplessly, my lower lip quivering.
"Don't be," he says. "That's an order."
I smirk. "You're not the boss of me."
He lets go of my chin and hooks his finger underneath the slim sterling silver neck cuff encircling my throat.
“At home I am,” he whispers, pulling at the collar as if to remind me.
There's a little heart-shaped lock attached to it at the back, barely visible and as discreet as day collars come. He gave it to me when it was clear that I’d be returning to public life, giving room to the person I am outside the kink that brought us together. I now wear a subtle silver cuff around my neck, as well as the bracelet that sustained me during a very different time in my life.
"Yes, here you are," I agree, getting on my toes so I can leave a little peck at the corner of his mouth.
"Thank you," I say in a low voice. "Thank you for this opportunity."
"You don't have to thank me for that," he says, letting go of my silver collar and running the tip of his finger along my cheek, careful not to mess with my make-up, not today.
"It may just
be a selfish move," he says.
"Selfish? How so?" I ask, leaning into his gentle touch.
"You're a part of me," he says. "By handing this responsibility over to you, I could be following a wish that's been driving me for a very long time."
I look up at him, my face slightly tilted to the side and my eyes wide and questioning. "What wish?"
"The wish to truly build something of my own," he explains. "You know, I've never been involved in my family's business too much, it wasn't wanted - either by them or by me. I've always wanted something of my own. My own family business - a family empire even."
The smile on his face strengthens, and it’s joined by a strong sense of hope.
"You're helping me to build just that,” he adds. “And you look so damn good doing it.”
"Family," I reply, getting up on my toes to steal another kiss from him.
"I like the sound of that."
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Also by Linnea May
VIOLENT DELIGHTS: A Dark Billionaire Romance (sneak peak at the end of this book)
VIOLENT CRAVINGS: A Dark Billionaire Romance
VIOLENT HEARTS: A Dark Billionaire Romance
TAMED: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance
BARRED: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance
Dark Romance with Stella Noir
Silent Daughter: A Dark Billionaire Romance
… Curious to know what happened to the girl who stole Ruby’s red coat?
If you enjoyed this book, you may also like my other Dark Billionaire Romance VIOLENT DELIGHTS. Turn the page to read the first few chapters for free!
VIOLENT DELIGHTS
A Dark Billionaire Romance
by
Linnea May
Prolog
Joseph
She is the best one yet.
I have played this game with many girls before, but no one ever caught my attention like she does.
She’s waiting for me, kneeling with her thighs spread wide, her perky ass resting on her ankles, her back already arched, chest pushed forward, her neck stretched, her head held high, and the focus of her eyes is lowered to the floor. Her hands are resting, palms up, on her thighs.
The perfect pose of the pleasure slave.
Her chest is heaving in a steady rhythm and her eyelashes flicker when she notices me approaching.
It’s the most alluring sight.
My Pet.
There is a dark side to everyone, they say. While that may be true, I doubt that most people’s dark sides even come close to those that cast their sinister shadow over the part of myself that I keep hidden.
I’m consumed by the fury of a raging beast, something so dark and violent that even I was scared of myself once. I tried to ignore its existence, tried to push it away, but the effort was futile and only led to more chaos.
However, I am no longer that furious boy I used to be.
Violence has always been a part of my life, but it no longer controls me.
Now I’m the one in control.
I know who I am, I know how to deal with the beast raging inside, and I know what I need. I found what helps me to cope, and no one has to become part of it, unless they want to.
This is what’s at the heart of it all.
Choice.
Consent.
Rules.
A safe setting.
Every time I browse through the catalog of women who are willing to offer themselves to me, I am confronted with the reality of human psychology. For every sick person out there with these dark desires and needs, there is someone else who is willing to serve those demands. Together they meet the needs of each other’s twisted minds and bodies.
We humans, as a species, are pretty fucked up.
It’s a glorious thing.
My Pet is here because she chose to be here, even though the reality of it may frighten her. She agreed to my offer to buy her, and she’s proving to be the perfect Pet, tailored exactly to fit my desires.
I have been this agency’s client long enough for them to understand my personal tastes right down to the most minute detail. They know what I want from these women, they know what I will do to them, they know what traits a woman must possess, not only in regards to her physical attributes, but also her psychological makeup. And they know what I am willing to pay to satisfy my wishes.
Thirty-nine days, just the two of us, no safe word, no escape. Absolute surrender to my will.
She has entered a world of contradictions, a mix of freedom and discipline doled out in equal measure. One cannot exist without the other. She remains under the agency’s protection, as do I.
However, these thirty-nine days belong to me, and there is little to no way for her to break the established routine. I want to make every second count.
I don’t like interruptions. I need for both of us to be totally immersed, otherwise our arrangement doesn’t serve its purpose.
Its purpose to fulfill my darkest needs.
To satisfy my desires.
To keep me sane.
We are playing a game that few are able to handle. It’s more than just simple role playing in the bedroom. This feels as real as it can get. The only difference is that she knows she will get out alive at the end of it. She will return to freedom, to real life, and be an incredibly wealthy woman once our thirty-nine days are over, and she will never hear from me again.
This is how it works, and this is how it has to work.
She lets out a soft sigh when I caress her cheek, leaning gently into my touch instead of jerking away from it as she did only a few days ago.
She is different. Her defiance seems real, her struggle at times too much to bear, even for me.
She is here to be trained, for me to hurt her, to teach her. But I struggle to maintain my harsh demeanor. I struggle to train and inflict torture on her as I did to all the others before.
Because there is something special about her. Something that makes all of this feel so very fucking wrong.
Something is off with her. Very, very off.
Chapter 1
Liana
This has been the worst week of my life. You may think I am exaggerating, but I am not.
Everything went to shit this week. That is the plain and simple truth.
It’s 10 p.m. on a Friday night, and I’m sitting at the bar of a rundown neighborhood joint, sipping on a cheap bourbon and feeling sorry for myself. I hate bourbon, I’ve never been to this place before and I’m comically overdressed. I bet half of the slobs here think I am a hooker, because I look so out of place.
I don’t even know where I am. I have never been in this area of the city before. I just ended up in this place after wandering the streets for hours, lost in thought and unwilling to go back to my empty house. Walking keeps me in balance, it always has. It’s as if the dark thoughts can’t catch me as long as I just keep moving, walking. I don’t want to go home and face the horrors of this past week.
Faced with the prospect of spending the weekend in my empty place, I had started walking as soon as I left the office, but quickly realized that my heels are not meant for this. I couldn’t take them off because it’s too cold, so I just stumbled into the first bar I came to, which was this little shit hole. I’ve been dwelling in my pain for the past hour, staring at nothing and drinking this God-awful bourbon, afraid to go home.
It’s pathetic, I know, but so appropriate, considering the turn my life has taken.
I’m not saying my life was glorious before. No, it definitely wasn’t. But I had been content and felt no need to change anything. First of all, I had a job. Nothing special. I wasn’t changi
ng the world or anything, but it paid the bills and I enjoyed it. I worked at the university as the secretary to a muddle-headed professor. He may have been brilliant in his field, but he was unable to master simpler things, such as responding to emails, creating PowerPoint presentations, and searching the university’s intranet.
Professor Miller appreciated my work. He was the nicest man I’ve ever met, always greeting me with a smile, and he was so easy to impress with simple things that come easy to any millennial. He was an older gentleman with very polite manners, who thanked me profusely for every little thing I did. Working for him was easy, it was predictable. My job with him was the safe constant I needed in my life.
And now it’s gone.
He’s gone.
Professor Miller died in an accident, hit by a passing car as he was crossing the street, lost in his own world and not paying attention. When he died, my job died, as well. Losing him was more than just a pay-the-bills job-related tragedy: I lost my safe and secure haven, the calm and reliable constant in my life that kept me sane after kicking Luke out of my life.
Luke. My ex-boyfriend. The son of a bitch who had the audacity to fuck another girl in our bed, and on our sheets, when he thought I was out of town. Yes, he really was that stupid. Or maybe I’m the stupid one for trusting him, considering he was always so insecure. Maybe that should have clued me in that maybe he was the problem?
I will never forget the expression on his face when I walked through the door. I had arrived back home a day early, because I couldn’t stand another minute with my relatives who I had been visiting. I wanted to surprise him, bearing those dumb chocolates he likes, ready to make up from another awful fight we had had the day before I left.
I did surprise him, but not in the way I imagined.
I caught him in the act, yet he was the one who’d accused me time and again of cheating, because of my “sick” needs, as he put it. He never understood me. He lacked the decency to even listen to me when I tried to talk with him about it. Every time I summoned the courage to talk about my deepest desires, he looked at me with that appalled and disgusted look on his face and told me that I needed therapy. As if I wasn’t feeling weird enough about it already.
