Violent Cravings: A Dark Billionaire Romance

by Linnea May

  Her green eyes lock me down and I can see her vibrant mind working behind them.

  “Yes, I’ll be good,” she says, still trying to catch her breath.

  “Where do I sign?”

  Chapter 13

  Laura

  Today is the day that I’m going to lose my virginity.

  I never thought that it would happen like this. That I would wake up one morning and know for certain that this was going to be the day. That it would be with a man like Ryan Hawkins, under circumstances like these.

  That I would be paid for it.

  I’ve been given clear instructions as to what will happen today. Everything up to a certain point is laid out in extreme detail. Just as promised, I was paid a substantial amount of money right after I signed the contract. He told me to buy something pretty for myself, something I could wear for him tonight. So I did.

  I’m wearing a Valentino dress in velvet red with delicate Piaget jewelry and matching Jimmy Choo stilettos. I even bought a new handbag. He forbid me to wear flat shoes, and specifically asked me to buy heels. I’ve never worn high heels before in my life, and even though I’ve practiced walking in them in my room, I sincerely hope that whatever he has planned for me doesn’t involve a lot of walking.

  This is by far the most expensive shopping trip I’ve ever been on. In fact, I’m pretty sure I spent more money this afternoon than I’ve spent in an entire year before, maybe even two. The dress alone cost me more than two months of rent.

  I still haven’t told Layla anything, and it’s just my luck that she’s working again when I’m waiting for him to pick me up. I didn’t have the guts to say anything, not even a lie. So, I left a note on the kitchen table to let her know that I’ll be back tomorrow evening and that she doesn’t have to worry about me.

  As an afterthought, I jot down, “I’ll explain everything later.”

  Future Laura’s problem. Boy, is she going to be busy.

  So now I wait. It’s a sunny afternoon, and I’m standing in front of my house, tensely waiting for a black limousine to arrive. I was given explicit instructions: I was told what to wear, what to bring, and to be ready at 4 p.m. sharp. He’s not going to pick me up himself, but instead he is sending one of his drivers, and he told me that I would be blindfolded for the drive. I’m to trust the person who picks me up and brings me to his place. The driver will lead me inside, and then I am to wait for him wherever that person leaves me.

  I don’t understand why it‘s necessary to blindfold me, given that I’ve already been to his place, but maybe it’s part of the fun for him.

  I hold my breath when I spot the limousine. The car stops right in front of my house, and my eyes are glued to it as I slowly walk down the steps towards it.

  To my surprise, the driver jumps out just a moment later, hurrying around the side of the car to open the door for me. It’s a young guy, probably around my age.

  “Miss Brown,” he greets me, all the while beckoning for me to get inside. “You’ll find a blindfold on the middle seat. If you would please be so kind as to put it on before we start our journey.”

  The way he talks to me is so formal and unnatural that it almost makes me laugh. I’ve never been addressed this way. If anything, I’ve always been on the other side, playing the part of the servant who felt compelled to hide behind a wall of formality.

  I wonder what this guy thinks of me. I’m sure this is not the first time he’s had to do this for his boss. He must think I’m a prostitute, like all the others before me.

  The thought leaves a sting on my heart, and for a moment I wonder about telling him the truth. Would that make a difference? Probably not.

  I climb into the backseat and find a piece of black silk cloth on the seat. The driver gets back behind the wheel and watches me in the rear mirror as I weigh the blindfold in my hands. Our eyes meet briefly, and even without him saying a word, I know that he won’t start driving until I put the blindfold on.

  So I do.

  The car starts moving as soon as the world goes dark around me. My fingers tighten around the bag in my lap, and I suddenly find myself struggling to breathe normally.

  This could be the most stupid thing I’ve ever done in my life. Or the smartest. I honestly can’t decide which it is. Something is wrong with him, something must be wrong with him. I still don’t understand why things “have to be like this,” as he seemed so fond of saying. With how handsome he is and his wealth and power, he could easily have any woman any time he wanted. Heck, probably multiple women at once, if that’s what he’s into. Why pay such an insane amount of money for someone like me? I can’t give him anything special, and I’m terribly scared of disappointing him.

  I never told him that I’m a virgin because I was too afraid of how he might react. Some men would like it, I know that. The allure of being a woman’s first runs deep in almost every culture in the world, but there’s no way for me to know how he feels about it. He might hate it. It might scare or disgust him.

  Why didn’t I tell him? I’d feel so much better if he knew about it.

  If this secret wasn’t looming between us, I could even look forward to this. The way he talked to me, the way he touched me - all of it was enough for me to know that I want this. I want him to show me what this special place feels like. Sub space, he called it.

  I wonder if it comes close to the way I felt back then, on his couch. Was that what it will be like? Will it be different? Scarier? More intense?

  I will know soon.

  Chapter 14

  Ryan

  When I walk into the room, I find her looking exactly the way I wanted her. The room is dimly lit, the shutters in front of the windows shut to keep out the afternoon sun. Thick, heavy drapes in red velvet frame each window, matching the color of the walls and the carpet under our feet. Almost everything in here is either red or black, with the occasional golden accent, including the handles on a dresser to my right and the metal frame of the king size bed behind her.

  She’s sitting on a black chair, her eyes shielded by the blindfold, wearing an incredibly sexy dress in a ruby tone that goes so well with the interior of the room. I’m once again convinced that she belongs here. She may not be a whore, not a girl delivered to me by the agency, but she belongs here – to me – nevertheless.

  She hears me come into the room and flinches when I close the door behind me. Her blinded eyes turn in my direction, anxiety written all over her face and expressed in her jittery body language. Her shoulder are tense, and she’s sitting up straight, her hands resting on the bag in her lap and clawing into the handles as if it was her life line.

  No, doll, no one can save you now.

  As I approach her slowly and deliberately, my gaze travels down to her feet. She’s wearing heels, just as I told her to. Even though she’s sitting, her legs appear to be endless. I can’t wait to see her standing up in those shoes. She may even match my height in them.

  As I come to a halt directly in front of her, I can tell she’s shivering. It’s barely visible, and I know she doesn’t want me to notice it, but the feeble vibrations of her body don’t escape my eyes. Nothing ever does.

  She’s been a very good girl so far. She went and bought herself something nice to wear for me, she’s wearing heels, and she has not spoken a word since she was brought here. I watched from afar as my driver and assistant Keith escorted her inside, making sure that she’d find her way without having to take off the blindfold. I always do it this way. I don’t want the girls to know where they are because I don’t want them to return.

  I lean forward, deliberately caressing her cheek as I move my hands to the back of her head to remove the blindfold. The hint of a nervous smile plays at the corners of her mouth.

  She keeps her eyes closed for a few more moments after I remove the blindfold, leaving enough time for me to cross another item off her checklist. Her make-up is perfect. I told her to tone it down and leave more room for her eye color to breathe, but
I still want to see it smeared across her face when I’m done with her. She’ll cry, she’ll scream, and she’ll sweat – and I want all of it to be written across her delicate features.

  She finally dares to open her eyes, finding mine within a moment. Her vibrant green is framed with a thin black line, her lashes bathed in black, as well, but she left her eyelids almost bare, only highlighting them with nude colors. Perfect.

  “Welcome, doll,” I say, placing my palm on the side of her face.

  She leans into my touch. “Hello, master.”

  It exhilarates me to know that she’s never addressed anyone else like this. I’m her first, and her one and only master.

  So far, my ever apparent rationality reminds me. She may have plenty after you.

  I shake it off. The wish to ruin her for every other man is strong within me, but I can’t give in to it. It would ruin me, first and foremost.

  I catch her scanning the room behind me.

  “Keep looking at me,” I caution her, now holding her chin between two fingers, forcing her gaze to focus on me. She obeys, her eyelashes batting with curious excitement, like a trapped butterfly.

  “Never take your eyes off of me,” I tell her. “Unless I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, master,” she says, nodding.

  “Good girl.”

  I leave a quick peck on her painted lips. They’re dipped in a deep ruby red, matching her dress.

  “Let me see that dress on you,” I say, taking the bag from her lap and stepping back to give her room to get up and model it for me.

  She looks a little lost for a moment, mourning the loss of her bag, her life line. Without it, her hands have nothing to hold onto, and they hang idly at the side of her body when she rises from the chair.

  My doll is so beautiful, blessed with a beauty that most women would kill for, but she doesn’t carry herself that way. She’s insecure, slouching to make herself smaller than she is, instinctively lowering her eyes for a split second, before she remembers my command just in time and raises them up to look at me again. The dress looks perfect on her, hugging her frame in all the right ways, but she couldn’t look more uncomfortable. Her toes are pointed inward, giving her posture an awkward and infantile stance. She looks unstable and helpless.

  “Walk for me,” I tell her, taking a few more steps back to give her more room. “Imagine this is a catwalk; walk toward me and parade that dress for me.”

  She looks horrified at the suggestion. Her eyes widen and her mouth grimaces as if she was in pain.

  “Do it,” I insist, raising my voice. “I’m not going to tell you again, doll.”

  She swallows hard and nods.

  “Yes, master.” Her voice sounds hollow and weak, as if she’s about to cry.

  Finally, she decides to obey, carefully placing one foot in front of the other, balancing herself on the heels while struggling to maintain eye contact. She walks until she’s about two feet from me, then she pauses, a hesitant smile gracing her face, before she turns her back to me and walks back to the chair. It’s the first time I’m seeing the dress from behind. The low-backed detail allows for a good view of her spine, all the way down until just above the curve of her ass. I’m glad she’s wearing her hair up, just as instructed. It allows for an even better view of her naked back and will make for a great moment when I free her brunette locks to fall down her slender frame.

  “Very good choice,” I praise her. “That dress looks fantastic on you.”

  She comes to a halt and turns to me. The smile she casts me this time is a lot more genuine than the one before.

  “Thank you,” she says. “I like it, too.”

  “Your presentation, however,” I add, approaching her. “That was pathetic.”

  The smile is gone as quickly as it appeared, quickly replaced by a worried expression.

  I place my index finger below her chin and force her to look back up at me.

  “You’re so beautiful, so exquisite,” I whisper. “But you need to learn how to show it off. You move as if you want to disappear from the world instead of drawing its eyes to you.”

  She bites her lower lip. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” I say. “Change it.

  Her eyelashes flutter with nervous anticipation as she processes my words.

  “You’ll learn,” I assure her, leaving her to walk over to the dresser. I place her bag on top of it and open one of the upper drawers to retrieve the first of many items she’ll wear for me.

  Her eyes widen when she sees the collar in my hand.

  “Have you ever been collared?” I ask her.

  She shakes her head. “N...n...no.”

  It takes just one raised eyebrow to make her aware of her mistake.

  “No, master,” she corrects herself.

  “Good girl,” I praise. “I’m happy to be the first to bestow that honor upon you.”

  She offers a shy smile when I close the leather training collar around her neck. It’s a simple one with no frills, just a simple d-ring at the front and a tiny lock in the back, and only I will have the key.

  “Show me you wrists,” I order after the collar is set in place.

  She lifts her arms, her palms facing up as if she was carrying a tray in front of her chest. A faint sigh escapes her lips when I fasten leather cuffs around her dainty wrists, making sure that they’re not too tight but not loose enough for her to take them off either.

  “You’ll wear the color and cuffs for as long as you’re here,” I say. “Always. Do you understand?”

  Her green eyes lock onto mine when she nods like a good girl.

  “Yes, master.”

  Chapter 15

  Laura

  I was scared when I first got here. I couldn’t see a thing, I had no idea where we were going, and the longer the drive took, the more suspicious I grew of the guy behind the wheel. The drive was a lot longer than the last time I was brought to Ryan’s place.

  Master, I correct myself. I’m no longer allowed to call him Ryan; the instructions were clear.

  Or else...

  I don’t really know what will happen if I make a mistake. Will he warn me? Spank me? He never said anything about giving me warnings before he punishes me, but I know I’ve displeased him on several occasions since he stepped into the room. He scolded me for slouching, he scolded me for not being able to walk in my heels, but I have yet to receive an actual punishment.

  My eyes rest on the leather cuffs around my wrist, but just for a moment before he reminds me to keep my eyes focused on him once again.

  If he’s counting strikes against me, this must have been my last one. He looks agitated.

  “Now,” he says. “Do you know what will happen next?”

  We fuck, I think, but I know that’s not what he wants to hear. This is more than just sex, he told me.

  “No, master, I don’t,” I reply. “Will you tell me?”

  He smiles at me, visibly pleased at my correct wording. He’s wearing a suit again, a black one as far as I can tell in the dark. He’s wearing a slim tie as well. It appears to be slightly lighter-colored than the suit, a dark gray maybe. His jaw is clean-shaven and his black hair is gelled immaculately to the side. A part of me wants to ruffle that hair and reveal the boyish charm he hides under his well-groomed exterior.

  I discovered he’s a person who is easy to stalk on the internet, so I know that he’s only six years older than me, even though he appears to be a lot more mature. He may only be a few years my senior, but he’s accomplished so much more within those years than I ever will. I wonder what else I will learn about him.

  “It’s quite simple, really,” he says. “All you have to do is obey my commands. When I tell you to kneel, you kneel. When I tell you to walk up and down like a runway model, you do it. When I tell you to crawl on all fours, you crawl. When I tell you to spread your legs for me, you spread your legs. Understand?”

  I blush at his last
words. Something about the self-evident way he says these things is touching me in a way I didn’t think possible. He talks to me as if I was his property.

  Which I am.

  Why do I find that thought so arousing?

  “Yes, master,” I say, aware that he can see right through me. He knows the effect he has on me; there’s no sense trying to hide it.

  “Good girl,” he says. “Now, show me how well you can behave. Walk for me, just like you did before, but this time, I want you to do it right.”

  I furrow my eyebrows. “What do you mean by right?”

  He casts me a warning look.

  “Master,” I hurry to add. “What’s do you mean by “right,” master?”

  He nods, casting me a look that tells me enough to know that he won’t tolerate a lot more blunders like this.

  “Show me how pretty you are,” he says. “Don’t try to hide your beauty.”

  I don’t really know what to make of that, but it’s all he’s giving me. He steps back, making a wide gesture across the room to encourage me.

  I take a deep breath and try to do as I’m told. So much for my hope that there wouldn’t be a lot of walking involved. I can barely keep my balance in these damn heels, my ankles roll on almost every second step, and I have to stretch my arms out to the sides, as if I was walking on a rope. This is not elegant at all, but I’m trying my best.

  It doesn’t help that he scolds me every time I lower my eyes to watch my feet.

  “Eyes on me!”

  His voice grows harder every time.

  “Straighten your back! Look up! Head high!”

  What’s this supposed to be? I feel like I’m on an episode of America’s next top model, only that there’s no prize at the end and no cameras pointing at me.

  “Shoulders back!”

  This is ridiculous. I’m so annoyed, I can’t help but roll my eyes at him.