The VIOLENT Series: The Complete Boxed Set

by Linnea May

  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 hers, 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 a
re 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.

  The door closes, and her nervous breath tells me that she expects me to jump her. That’s what happens in the movies as soon as a couple finds themselves alone in an elevator, right? And I can see why. The small enclosure provides a degree of intimacy that a normal-sized room doesn’t, but the privacy is only temporary, adding a degree of excitement.

  She tenses up next to me, her eyes meeting mine when she dares to look up. Her expression is laced with anticipation, and the way her tits heave under the thin fabric of her sheer blouse is driving me insane. I want to rip that blouse off her beautiful body and push her against the wall to have my way with her. My entire being yearns for this girl, fueled by almost a year’s worth of self-inflicted abstinence.

  Not a moment too soon, the elevator doors open, releasing me from the temptation.

  Soon. Soon, I’ll be able to do all of those things that I want to do to her.

  The elevator leads right into the penthouse, which she finds surprising. Her mouth and eyes widen in awe as the light-filled hallway opens up in front of us.

  She’s shy and doesn’t dare to move until I place my hand at the small of her back to gently push her forward. The sun is just about to set in front of the floor-length windows opposite us, and while I’m used to the view, it’s astonishing to her. She’s naturally drawn to the spectacle of orange and bright violet colors outside, casting their warm streams of light inside the living room.

  “Wow,” she breathes, as she approaches the window and is finally close enough to touch the glass. There’s something childlike about the way she admires the view. Something so innocent and pure that even I can’t help but be affected by it.

  “It’s quite a sight,” I admit.

  She huffs.

  “Quite a sight,” she copies me. “I can’t think of anything more beautiful than this.”

  “I can.”

  She turns around to face me, tilting her head to the side with a questioning expression. “Like what?”

  I take a step forward, touching her cheek as I lean in closer to catch her eyes with mine.

  “You,” I whisper. “And I bet this sunset doesn’t match the glow on your cheeks when I make you come. Again and again.”

  Chapter 11

  Laura

  If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this is just a normal date. He has prepared a healthy Japanese dinner for us, a gigantic spread of sushi rolls, edamame, little pieces of fried chicken, steamed dumplings, and miso soup served in exquisitely designed tiny bowls.

  The dining table is close to the open kitchen, which is connected to the living room, still bathing in the last rays of the setting sun. He pulls the chair away from the table for me to sit down, like a true gentleman.

  I sit, awkwardly fixing my skirt, even though I know he hates it.

  “I included some vegetarian options,” he says, casting me a quick glance to communicate his disaffection with my attempts at modesty. “Just in case.”

  “I’m an omnivore,” I say. “I eat everything.”

  He laughs and sits down opposite me. “No one eats everything.”

  “I do,” I insist. “There’s nothing that I don’t like.”

  He casts me a naughty smile.

  “I’ll remember that you said that,” he says mischievously, as he pours me a glass of champagne. “Please, eat.”

  It’s the first of many orders he will direct at me, but this one is easy to follow. Despite my angst, I’m quite hungry. We clink glasses in a silent toast and begin to eat, engaging in harmless smalltalk about the food. If he’s trying to loosen me up and make things easier, he’s definitely succeeding.

  I can’t believe I’m being paid for this, for spending a night with a wealthy and influential man like him. So far, there’s nothing unpleasant about it except the unease I feel about being compensated for sleeping with him, just like a whore or escort. I prefer to compare myself to the latter.

  “Since you’re not asking any questions, I assume you’re just waiting for me to tell you what’s next,” he says after a while.

  I’m in the process of swallowing a delicious piece of avocado maki, and his comment catches me off-guard.

  “Um,” I hurry to say. “I’m assuming we’ll eat and…you know, do stuff afterward?”

  I sound like a goddamn teenager, but I can’t help myself. I’ve never been good with words, and since this is my first time, especially not in a situation like this.

  “Do stuff,” he mirrors me, shaking his head as he suppresses a laugh. “We’re not going to do stuff tonight, little girl. This is just preparation. We’ll talk, and if we can come to an agreement on everything related to my offer, you’ll sign a contract.”

  He pauses, his piercing eyes catching my gaze as if to make sure that I’m listening.

  “Believe me, things will be very different once we do stuff,” he adds.

  “Oh,” I say. “So, I’m not… I mean, we’re not –”

  “Not tonight,” he says. “We need to get some things settled first.”

  “Uh, okay,” I say, unsure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. “Like what?”

  “For starters, I need to know your hard limits,” he says. “Things that you’re absolutely not okay with doing.”

  “My hard limits?” I repeat.

  He lets out an exasperated sigh.

  “Your innocence is as alluring as it is exhausting,” he laments. “I’m sure it will be easier if I just come right out and ask.”

  He clears his throat and takes a sip from his champagne, leaning back in his chair before facing me again. The suit jacket stretches around his upper arm when he brings the flute up to his lips. He must be ripped under there, and a naughty voice inside my head is begging for him to take off his jacket. I’ve never seen him without one, but I’m sure it’s a sight to behold.

  “Do you like spankings?” he asks, ripping me away from my musings. “Do you like to be choked? Tied? Whipped? Caned? How hard? Can I leave marks on your perfect skin? Can I fuck your ass? How about your nipples? Are they sensitive? Do you like it when they get played with? Tortured?”

  My entire face is glowing with heat, and I hope to God that I don’t look as flushed as I feel. But his confident smile tells me that my heated embarrassment is clear as daylight and written all over my face.

  I don’t know what to say. I’ve never done any of those things, so how am I supposed to know whether I like it or not? All I know is the way it makes me feel when I hear him talk about it, when I think about him doing all those things to me.

  It excites me. My heart is pounding and my core is throbbing with curious agitation. I’m aroused just by listening to him.

  “Is that what you’re going to do to me?” I ask in a hoarse voice.

  He nods.

  “That’s what I want to do to you,” he says. “That and a whole lot more. I’m not going to tell you everything, but you’ll be on your knees a lot, you’ll cry, you’ll moan, you’ll scream, and you’ll beg.”

  “Beg?” I whisper. “Beg for you to stop?”

  A smirk graces his handsome face.

  “That, too,” he says. “But first and foremost, you’ll beg me
to fuck you.”

  I inhale audibly, trying to calm myself down.

  “That’s a very bold thing to say,” I tell him, clearing my throat and reaching for another piece of sushi. “You certainly don’t lack confidence, do you?”

  I’m trying to appear unimpressed by his sinister promises, but my hand is shaking so much that it’s hard for me to hold on to the chopsticks, let alone balance the damn sushi roll with them. I’m making a fool of myself, and he couldn’t be happier to witness it.

  “Perfect,” he comments.

  That’s all he says. I don’t know what his remark was aimed at, but it unsettles me even more. I finally manage to get a hold of the sushi and deliver it to my mouth as quickly as possible, occupying myself with chewing to escape the feel of his curious eyes. Of course, there’s no way for me to get away from him. He observes me with an intensity that borders on creepy.

  “I know you didn’t ask, but here’s what we won’t do,” he says, finally breaking the awkward silence between us. “I’m not a fan of knives and needles. I won’t cut your skin. There also won’t be any medical play, golden showers, or anything that’s related to it.”

  He lists those things as if he’s reciting a cake recipe, not showing the slightest hint of embarrassment or disgust, as if it’s something people talk about every day. I’ve no idea what medical play could entail, but I know I’m happy that there won’t be any of the other things he’s mentioned. They were so far off limits for me that I hadn’t even considered the possibility.

  “That’s fine with me,” I respond. “More than fine.”

  He regards me with a serious look. “Good.”

  Silence stretches between us, before he asks another question.

  “Can I fuck you bare?”

  I regard him with a quizzical look, and he lets out an exasperated sigh.

  “Are you on birth control? Are you clean?” he clarifies. “Is it safe to fuck you without a condom?”

  “Oh,” I blush. “Yes, it is.”