by Linnea May
Then again, what do I stand for? Eternal poverty and struggling, because that’s the noble way to do things? It sure as hell doesn’t feel noble.
But next to these thoughts, I can’t fathom the fact that he’s even making this offer. He doesn’t look like someone who needs to buy women for pleasure. He could have any woman, any time. Why on Earth would he pay out such a substantial amount of money for just one night – and with a woman like me?
“I don’t get it,” I give voice to my doubts. “Why are you doing this? Because let me tell you, there’s no need for it. A man like you could have any woman he wanted.”
He flashes his gorgeous smile, the one that makes my stomach do funny things.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says. “But trust me when I tell you that this is the only way that works for me.”
He pauses, fixating on me as if he wanted to make sure that I’m listening.
“This about more than just sex,” he says. “You have to understand that.”
“I thought this is just for one night,” I say, nodding toward the paper in his hands. “Or, twenty-four hours to be precise. At least that’s what it said.”
He nods.
“Yes, but a lot more than just sex would happen during those twenty-four hours, Miss Brown,” he says. “You’d give yourself to me. Your only reason for existing would be to please me – and receive pleasure in return.”
It’s hard to ignore the jump my heart makes at his words.
Please him...
Why does that turn me on? The tingling in my core is new to me. I shift around in my seat, as if I that would calm my hungry body. This offer will be hard to turn down.
And I have to turn it down, right?
Chapter 8
Ryan
She’s mine, but she doesn’t know it yet. I can see it in every look she gives me, every movement she makes, every breath she takes. Sweet Laura is shifting on her seat, trying to hide her desire behind a wall of suspicion and questions she doesn’t really want the answers to.
She has yet to ask me the real questions plaguing her mind. I know she will say yes, but she can’t let herself go there just yet.
If it’s too hard for her to come up with the right questions, I might have to help her along.
“Have you ever been someone’s submissive?” I ask her.
She blushes at the question, and before she’s able to reply, she has to reach for her glass one more time, taking a large sip of the soothing liquid.
“No,” she says after putting the glass down. For a moment, it seems as if she wants to say more, but whatever it is, she decides to keep it to herself.
“Do you know what it means?” I continue my prompting.
A smile joins the pink flush on her cheeks.
“Yes, I think I do,” she says, barely able to look at me.
“You think you do,” I repeat. “Would you care to elaborate?”
Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head.
“What does it mean to you?” she wants to know instead, turning the tables back to me.
Fair enough. She deserves to know.
“It means that you disregard your will and desires, and agree to let me take care of you, in every way, for as long as you are mine. Some people call it power play, and I think that is quite suitable. You surrender your will to me. You’ll do exactly as I please, exactly as I command you to do, and if you fail to please me, you’ll be punished. And when you do please me, you will be rewarded. It’s that simple, really.”
She bites her lower lip as she listens to my words.
“Rewards,” she repeats. “You mean, the money?”
I shake my head.
“No, the money has nothing to do with it. You are paid for agreeing to spend those twenty-four hours with me and obeying the rules that come along with it.”
“But what if I break the rules?” she asks. “Will that be when I’m punished?”
I shake my head.
“Failing to obey me doesn’t necessarily mean you’re breaking the rules,” I say. “Here, let me show you.”
I open the folder to search for another document, the contract that lays out the framework of my agreements with the girls.
“This has to remain between us,” I warn her, before handing her the paper.
She nods as she takes the contract, curiously scanning through it. It doesn’t state any details about what she can expect to happen between us, but it provides a general outline of the necessary confidentiality, indicates she can’t leave my house, use the internet, or make phone calls while she’s with me, and includes a non-disclosure obligation.
“This is more than just rules,” she says. “This a legal contract.”
“Correct,” I agree. “I expect compliance in every aspect. And if these conditions aren’t met on your end, I have no reason to hold up my end of the deal.”
“You mean you wouldn’t pay me,” she clarifies.
I nod. “We would also run into some legal trouble. Obviously.”
“Sure,” she says, looking so tense and serious that it’s almost comical to me. “And –”
“Miss Brown, have you ever been spanked before?”
My question catches her off guard, and her reaction is priceless. She freezes mid-sentence and stares at me with wide eyes, and the color of her cheeks changes to an even deeper red than before. The green of her eyes strikes me again in this moment. They’re so intense and vibrant, as if an entire forest full of dark fir trees was moving behind them.
“Have you ever felt pain that spiked into pleasure?” I add. “Have you ever been tied down, whipped, and forced to come multiple times in a row?”
Her breathing deepens as she listens to my words. She fixes her cardigan around her ample chest, as if she could hide the heaving motions that tell me everything I need to know about her. No matter if she has any experience with this type of thing or not, she’s a natural submissive. Her eyes flit away, fixating on her glass, her lap, a random spot next to the table, before she’s drawn back to me.
“No,” she breathes. Her voice is merely more than a hoarse whisper.
“Would you like to try all those things?” I encourage. “With me.”
The look she’s giving me lacks clarity. Her eyes are still big and wide, but she’s neither smiling nor frowning, instead exhibiting a neutral expression void of any emotion. Only the flickering of her long eyelashes tells me of the turmoil racing inside her head.
She’s smart, not an impulsive person prone to making rash decisions. She will say yes, but not today. Things will be different with her, I knew that before I even approached her. Buying an experienced whore to play a part she’s familiar with is one thing – paying a girl who’s never done this type of thing before, a girl who won’t fake it – can’t fake it – a girl whose submission will be brutally honest and raw, that’s a whole new story.
I like new.
I like different.
I can only hope that my knowledge of human nature doesn’t betray me with this one. Despite her expressive eyes, I find it harder to read her than anyone else I’ve been with before.
But I appear to be right about one thing.
“I need time,” she says. “To consider.”
“That’s what I expected,” I tell her.
I open the folder again, producing another, smaller folder to give to her. She takes it with both hands, eyeing it as if I’d just handed her a valuable treasure. In a way, I have.
“It’s all you need to know,” I say. “Everything you’d be agreeing to.”
She nods and places the folder in her lap, her hands resting on top of it while she continues looking at me.
“When do you need to know my decision?” she asks, sitting up straight and tense, waiting for my response.
“If I haven’t heard from you within twenty-four hours, the proposal is off the table and you’ll never hear from me again.”
She gasps in surprise.
&n
bsp; “Twenty-four hours,” she repeats. “That’s not a lot of time –”
“It’s long enough,” I interrupt her. Then I rise from my chair, drop a quick, soft kiss on the top of her head, and proceed to the door.
Chapter 9
Laura
He doesn’t appear to be the least bit surprised when I call him with my answer. It takes twenty-three hours and fifteen minutes after our coffee date for me to finally find the courage to make the call. I didn’t have to work today, and spent all day dwelling over this decision.
I couldn’t consult Layla, even if I wanted to. She doesn’t even know that Ryan Hawkins gave me his card let alone that I met him for coffee yesterday. I know I will have to tell her something, because I won’t be able to keep the money a secret. But that will be future-Laura’s problem.
Luckily, Layla’s not home when I pick up the phone to call him. I didn’t prepare anything to tell him, nothing but “yes.” He was right. His proposal is attractive to me in many regards, more than I’m comfortable to admit. I know all of this would be an entirely different story if he wasn’t so handsome, if his eyes didn’t unsettle me the way they do, if his touch hadn’t felt so soothing and electrifying at the same time.
I never thought I’d be the kind of a girl to have a one-night stand, but as it turns out, I can be under the right circumstances.
I’m about to leave town to start over, he doesn’t want more than one night, and he’s offering to compensate me in a big way for something I’d most likely do anyway if given the chance.
Mr. Hawkins has been haunting my thoughts since the moment I met him, and it’s only gotten worse since we met for coffee yesterday.
He asks to see me tomorrow evening, for dinner.
“This soon?” I reply, a little shock settling in my chest.
“Yes, tomorrow night at seven o‘clock,” he says. “I’ll pick you up.”
“That won’t be necessary, I can –”
“Seven o‘clock sharp,” he interrupts me. “I’ve got your address.”
With that, he hangs up, leaving me dumbfounded.
Tomorrow evening. That’s so soon. And I have to work tomorrow. He never even asked if I’m free or not; he just expects me to be ready for him.
He claims me, just like that.
And I can’t help it, but I like it.
No man has ever wanted me like this before. I know I attract stares from a lot of guys, mostly because of my height and the fact that my boobs aren’t easy to hide, but I’ve never been approached by someone like him. After all, I’m just a destitute waitress serving drinks to the rich and famous.
A wave of embarrassment travels through me as I realize I have nothing to wear for him. I don’t own any fancy dresses, expensive jewelry, or shoes suitable for being seen with a man like him. I know what he’s used to, and I know where people like him go out to wine and dine and how they dress for the occasion.
“Fuck,” I hiss, as I dart over to my closet, frantically searching through my cheap and limited wardrobe in hopes of finding anything that could pass off as a halfway decent outfit for a dinner reservation with Mr. Moneybags.
I’m not left with a lot of choices, ending up with a sheer white blouse that I bought for a job once, matched with the black pencil skirt I wore the night we first met. The skirt caught his eyes once before, so I’m hoping he’ll appreciate the effort.
Canceling out on work didn’t come easy to me. I’ve never done it before because I can’t afford to. I’m paid by the hour and need every cent I can get. This man is associated with a lot of firsts for me. I also had to lie to Layla, another thing I’ve never done before. I told her the same thing I told Angelo: I wasn’t feeling well and needed some rest. I still don’t know how I’m going to explain all of this to her in the end, but I’m pushing the thought as far away as possible for now.
It’s another problem for future-Laura to deal with.
Layla was quick to jump in to take my shift, since she needs money just as much as I do, so she’s not home by the time I’m getting ready for my date with Mr. Ryan Hawkins.
I’m too nervous to wait for him to ring the doorbell, so I decide to wait downstairs in front of the house. I adjust my hair and outfit one more time before hurrying out the door as if I was being chased. I’m early, there’s no need to hurry, but my heart is racing so fiercely that I can’t relax.
I should have downed a shot or something. We always have liquor at home, something cheap and multipurpose that can be mixed with soda, perfect for pre-game drinking and a lot cheaper than drinking at a bar.
Why did I not think of it before leaving the apartment? Then again, he probably wouldn’t be too happy to pick me up reeking of alcohol.
There’s not much time for me to drive myself crazy any longer. Just a few moments after I’ve stepped outside, a black car, a limousine as far as I can tell, drives up in front of the house. I remain glued to the spot, watching as the door to the backseat opens and Mr. Hawkins steps out, looking so magnificent that I want to die of shame in light of my cheap-looking get-up.
He’s wearing a dark gray suit, tailor-fitted and upscale, just like everything else I’ve seen him wear so far. His black hair is not gelled to the side today, but appears somewhat tousled and messy in comparison, giving him a boyish charm. A dimple appears on his left cheek as he casts me a mischievous smile.
I hold my breath when he comes to a halt in front of me, drawing in so closely that I can feel the warmth of his body. He lifts his finger up to my chin and tilts my head back so I’m forced to meet his piercing blue eyes.
I feel close to fainting.
“We haven’t started yet,” he whispers. “But I’m sure you don’t mind if I forget about the paperwork for a minute.”
Before I can ask what he’s talking about, he steals my breath away with a kiss.
A kiss that changes everything.
Chapter 10
Ryan
She has barely said a word since I picked her up. I can still taste her on my lips, the sweet aftertaste of a hungry girl.
I expected her to draw back when I went in for the kiss, the one I’ve wanted to claim from her since the first moment I saw her, but she didn’t retreat. Instead, I could feel her lean into me, eagerly welcoming my tongue and chasing me with hers. It’s said that still waters run deep. Maybe they also serve as a hiding place for naughty nymphs.
I took her hand and led her to the car, enjoying the view of her tight skirt as it moved up her leg when she climbed into the backseat. She tried to fix it, but I stopped her by placing my hand on hers, and she let it go right away. No words necessary; a simple look sufficed.
Now she’s sitting next to me, playing nervously with her fingers in her lap. Her slim thigh is still mostly exposed, showing off her long legs. She doesn’t reciprocate my look, but turns her head to stare out the window for most of the ride.
“Nervous,” I state the obvious.
She turns to me, a shy smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
“Is that a problem?”
I shake my head.
“I like it,” I tell her. “As long as it’s just that, and not that you’re afraid of me.”
“I’m not afraid of you, Mr. Hawkins,” she insists.
“You can call me Ryan,” I say, fixating on her with a demanding gaze. “For now.”
“For now?” she asks, her eyebrows arching in confusion.
“For today.”
She looks confused, but lets it go.
“You can call me Laura,” she says. “Or L. That’s what my friends call me.”
“Cute.”
She furrows her eyebrows.
“Laura is fine, too,” she says. “If you don’t like –”
“That’s not it,” I hurry to say. “It’s just that I usually use a different name for my girls.”
“Oh,” she clears her throat as she looks away, turning her attention down to her lap, onto her slender fingers. My eyes follow he
rs, and it’s the first time I notice the silver ring on the index finger of her left hand. What an odd place for a ring, especially when it’s the only one she’s wearing.
“What do you call them?” she asks. “Your girls.”
“Slut,” I say, curious to see her reaction.
She gasps at the word, her gaze jumping back to me with an indignant expression.
“I don’t like that,” she says. “I don’t want to be called that.”
I can’t help but laugh at her determined demeanor. She’s so fucking precious.
“Okay,” I say. “I’m sure we can come up with something else for you.”
“We can? It’s not against the rules?”
“It’s part of the negotiations, darling. We’ll agree on a set of rules that will work for both of us.”
“Negotiations?”
“We’re here,” I announce, as the car pulls up into the driveway, diverting her attention back out the window.
She appears confused when I help her out of the car. Her green eyes scan the surroundings in bewildered haste.
“I thought we were having dinner… before,” she says, suddenly seeming a lot smaller than she actually is.
“We are having dinner,” I say. “At my place. Well, one of my places.”
“Oh.”
She fixes her skirt again, and this time I don’t stop her, but I let her know what I think of it with a telling look. She catches my gaze and lifts her hands away from the material immediately, casting shy looks my way as I lead her through the entrance, my hand at the small of her back.
The entrance lobby is deserted as always, only the concierge greets us with a quick nod, recognizing me immediately.
“What a nice place to live,” she remarks randomly as we enter the elevator.
“I don’t actually live here,” I say. “It’s just a place I stay at when I have business in town. I live out in the country most of the time.”
“Right,” she says, watching as I hit the button for the penthouse floor.
