The VIOLENT Series: The Complete Boxed Set

by Linnea May

  He smiles. “Good. Very good.”

  His eyes scan the table between us.

  “Are you done eating?”

  I hurry to nod. “Yes, it was very good, thank y–”

  “No need for pleasantries,” he interrupts, simultaneously jumping up from his chair.

  I follow his move automatically and stand up myself, my eyes following him as he takes his glass and the bottle of champagne and gestures over to a seating area in front of the window in the living area.

  “Come,” he says, and turns around, walking toward the sofa.

  I grab my glass and follow closely behind him, my heart pounding so wildly that I’m sure he must hear it.

  He sits down, facing the skyline below us. It’s almost completely dark out now, and the living area is only lit by a few candles on the dining table. The feeble light doesn’t seem to bother him, though.

  I follow his motion to sit down next to him. My unruly skirt travels up my legs once again, but when I try to fix it, he grabs me by the wrist with unusual force.

  “Why are you wearing this skirt if you’re shy to share your body with me?” he asks. “Let me enjoy the view.”

  I swallow hard and nod without saying a word. He takes the glass out of my hand and places it next to his on the coffee table.

  “Now, before we get to the paperwork, there’s one final thing we need to resolve,” he says, locking me down with his hypnotic eyes. He places his warm hand on my thigh.

  “What should I call you?”

  Chapter 12

  Ryan

  “Why not just call me by my name?” she asks, furrowing her eyebrows. “Laura.”

  “That won’t work,” I tell her.

  She rolls her eyes. Again. A habit that must stop.

  “Is this part of the rules? Detaching my name, my identity?”

  This time, I’m the one frowning at her. “Don’t be so judgmental.”

  It’s distressing how close she is to the truth. Not using their name is a way for me to maintain distance between me and my temporary submissives. This one night is nothing but a brief retreat, an escape from the obligations consuming my everyday life – and a purge. I can only maintain control if I stick to these self-imposed rules. I have to.

  I can’t get attached to the girls, and I never have – and I cannot become attached to her either, as much as she may mesmerize me. With her it might be even more important than ever to keep my distance. She’s not just a regular high-class whore, and I’m totally aware of that.

  “Yes, it is part of the rules,” I say, catching her curious gaze. “You said you oppose my usual go-to title.”

  “Title,” she repeats, huffing with disgust. “I’d hardly call it a title. It’s an offensive slur, nothing else.”

  She’s sitting up unnaturally straight, preparing herself for my comeback.

  “I bet I could get you to a state of mind where you’d love to be called a slut,” I say, lowering my voice as my hand carefully travels along her thigh. Her breathing hitches instantly. She’s so determined, so strong, but so responsive to my every move. Breaking her might be the most satisfying conquest yet.

  “A space where you’re nothing but a drooling bitch in heat, dizzy with lust, on your knees, begging for me to give you another release, to fuck you silly. A place where you not only endure pain, you welcome it, you crave it, you need it, because it gets you off,” I whisper, observing every breath she takes, every flickering of her painted eyelashes, as feeble as her response may be. She’s barely moving, but telling me everything I need to know. “Some people call it sub space – have you ever heard of it?”

  She takes in a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure as her body overpowers her mind.

  “No,” she whispers, turning her blushed face to look at me. “But I’d like to see what it’s like.”

  I smile at her, squeezing the flesh on her thigh so hard that she flinches. I bet she’d drool all over my fingers if I decided to explore the area below her skirt right now. Sweet Laura is so unraveled, she’d open her legs for me willingly, granting me access to her throbbing core without the slightest protest. I wish I could test my theory, but I can’t. Withstanding those urges is what this is all about. She’ll be all the more delicious once I can finally have her.

  She’s wearing her brown wavy hair in an up-do tonight, delicate strands trailing out and framing her oval face. A wisp of hair is falling across her eyes when she lowers her gaze away from mine. I have yet to decide whether I prefer her hair up or down.

  “Good girl,” I praise her. “I’ll be honored to take you there. But don’t think it will be easy.”

  She chuckles.

  “Mr. Hawkins, I don’t know you very well, and I probably never will, but I think it’s safe to say that I understand one thing,” she says, her eyes locking back onto mine. “Nothing is ever easy with you.”

  I don’t know how to feel about the way she’s looking at me. There’s an eerie degree of understanding behind the green of her eyes. It feels as if she can see right through me, as if she can read everything I’m hiding from her. She knows I’m fucked up. There’s no possible way for her to know anything, but she looks at me as if she does. She can’t know about the disastrous turn my life took years ago, when the cravings took over and my life was almost shattered into as many pieces as my heart was.

  I shake my head. Fuck that. I’m imagining things. She’s a beautiful girl who’s perfect to serve as this year’s fuck doll. That’s it. That and nothing more.

  There we go. Doll.

  “Doll,” I say. “That will be your name.”

  “Doll,” she repeats, surprised at the sudden detour of our conversation.

  She cocks her head to the side and moves her lips as if she’s tasting the word. “That could work…”

  “It will have to,” I say.

  She raises her eyebrows. “Fine.”

  I have so much to teach her. She’s enjoying the privilege of a fool’s license for today, but once we’re under contract, I’ll no longer tolerate her ways of speaking to me.

  “So, um, what happens next?” she asks.

  My hand is still on her thigh, and I can tell she’s genuinely aware of my touch. The knowledge that I could fuck her right her and now is agonizing.

  “If you agree to do this –”

  “You know I do,” she interrupts me.

  I raise an eyebrow at her.

  “Impatient, are we?” I ask. “You better watch that tongue, doll.”

  Her eyes narrow and she lifts her chin in a clumsy attempt at defiance.

  “Make me,” she hisses.

  The terrified gasp that escapes her lips when I reach for her throat is the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. My hand closes around her dainty neck and I push her back against the cushions of the sofa, while forcing myself beneath her skirt with the other hand. She’s too perplexed to struggle, but her hands instinctively fly up to her throat, clawing at mine in a futile attempt to free herself. Her gesture is anything but convincing, especially considering that she does the exact opposite with her legs. A single pinch at the inside of her thigh suffices to beckon her to open up for me, granting me more than enough leeway to caress her soft lips through her soaked panties.

  “You may not like the name, but you are a little slut, aren’t you?” I hiss, my face so close to hers that I can feel her erratic breath on my lips. “Look at you, so wet and hungry for my cock.”

  She moans when I pull the fabric of her panties to the side, invading her private area with an impatient force that conveys my need for her. I part her soft lips and stroke along her wet entrance. She presses her eyes shut in shame when a slick sound reveals her arousal. Her mind is struggling, screaming for her to resist my invasion, but her body betrays her. I don’t know if she does it willingly, but her hips move forward, egging me on to fuck her with my fingers.

  I laugh and shake my head.

  “My, my,” I say, drawing one last desp
erate gasp from her by deliberately caressing her hardened clit when I withdraw my hand. “Will you be a good girl for me now, or do I need to spank you, too?”

  The flicker in her eyes tells me that a spanking sounds more like a promise than a threat to her right now.

  So cute.

  I let go of her throat and sit back on the sofa, nonchalantly reaching for my glass to take another sip. She remains in her indecent pose, her legs partly spread, her hands absentmindedly wandering to her empty throat, and her eyes wide with wonder as she stares at the ceiling above her.

  This is all new to her. Whatever she just felt, she’s never felt it before, and it scares her as much as it excites her.

  What a lucky man I am.

  “Will you be good from now on?” I ask her, mainly to rouse her from her dazed state.

  She clears her throat and slowly sits back up, placing her arm on the backrest of the sofa as she faces me. I can tell that she wants to fix her skirt, but she resists the urge, deciding not to push me any further.

  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 com
e 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.