VIOLENT HEARTS: A Dark Billionaire Romance

by Linnea May

  Of course, I never acted on it. Like I said, I wasn't a bad kid. I thought I knew what was good and what was bad.

  Until I turned eighteen. I was getting ready to move out for college, and it's probably a good thing that most of my bags were already packed by the time our affair was discovered. It only went on for a few weeks, and it started one fateful afternoon when we were alone in the house and she showed up in my room wearing nothing but a tiny bikini that barely hid her assets. I was sitting at my desk, working on an app that would later become my first step to success and wealth. She asked me to join her at the pool, seductively leaning against my desk and pushing her round tits into my face.

  That's when I snapped. I jumped up from my seat and I took her. I fucked her like a wild animal, exploding like a savage and devouring her lush body as if there was no tomorrow. But I did more than that. I soon realized that simply fucking her wasn't enough, for neither of us. She needed the pain, I needed the dominance, the power, to leave the marks on her body. I needed her cries and her tears, and I reveled in the knowledge that she could no longer run around in her naughty nothings because it would reveal the marks my brute hands left on her.

  It was all good. It was fun. It was the release I needed, an awakening that had been long in the making.

  But it wasn't more than that, not for her, at least. I was young and naive enough to lose my heart to her. As my time to move out for college neared, I began to dread the day that forced me to move away from her. I was obsessed with her, and I was dumb enough to think this was love.

  When my foster family found out about us, I didn't think much of it. I was in love, I was ready to ask her to come with me. That's what I told them, my heart bursting with excitement and hope.

  And she stood there and laughed. She denied everything, said that I was the one who initiated it, that I raped her, that I beat her up... She even showed them her bruises, claiming that I gave them to her when I assaulted her.

  Needless to say, I was thrown out of the house immediately. After all, she was blood, I was just a dependent they took in for a few years, not family. I moved on to college and buried myself in work, trying to forget about her. It would have worked if Elsa hadn't been the witch she was. About a year later, when things were finally looking up for me, she showed back up in my life. At that point, I was still hung up on her, but I was in a much better place overall. The app I had been working on was bought by a bigger company. It was completely undersold, but I didn't know that back then. For me, the amount I had received was gigantic. I was rich. And when she found out about it, she wanted a part of it.

  I was young, I was dumb, and I was still in love with her, desperate to have her back in my life. She made me believe that she was filled with remorse over what she'd done to me, that she missed me and couldn't stop thinking about me.

  I fell for it. I didn't see it coming at all. We fucked, we played, I was back in my element. I did things to her that measured up to nothing I'd ever done with anyone else before. In fact, I had only touched two other girls in the meantime, two drunken one-night stands that left no impact on me.

  But with her, everything was different. It was more of everything. More intensity, more passion, more pain, more power.

  I'd used my money to start my own company in the meantime, vowing to myself that I wouldn't just sell my next idea, but make it grow myself. I was still in college, but I was growing into someone. I made important friends, valuable connections, deals.

  All of that was ruined when she began blackmailing me. She'd just waited for the right moment to do it. She threatened to spread rumors about me hitting her again. She took pictures of herself every time after we played, staging her bruises and tears as if they were involuntary leftovers from my brutal attacks on her.

  I didn't believe her. I didn't think she'd go through with it because I still thought she must feel something for me. Still, I gave her money, hoping that she would let it go. But she asked for more. And more. And more.

  And when I finally refused to give in to her demands, she went ahead and destroyed my reputation. It killed my first attempt at growing my own business, it cost me a lot of money, a lot of friends, a lot of opportunities. Because even when there's no clear evidence, even when there was valid doubt about her story, something always stuck.

  It was years ago, and it taught me a valuable lesson. I recovered from it, but I also learned from it.

  That's why I am who I am today.

  Chapter 34

  Ann

  "That's why you are who you are," I repeat his last words.

  We're sitting on the couch together, each of us holding a drink, a Scotch for him and a glass of white wine for me. I'm curled up next to him, my legs tucked under my body while I randomly seek his touch.

  I was leaning against his chest at first, listening to his heart racing as he went through the memories, but he squirmed, letting me know that he'd rather not have me this close for the moment. I know this wasn't easy for him to share, so I avoided direct eye contact, but I let him know that I was with him by touching him throughout his story, even though he didn't always seem to want it.

  "So who is that person?" I probe. "What kind of person did that Elsa woman create?"

  He sighs.

  "First of all, she gave me the push I needed to become a real success. I moved away, across the country. Putting physical distance between me and the dirt she created was a necessary first step," he says. "I never had a real home, so it was easy to leave everything behind. I didn't have much left, but I still had some financial assets, a functioning brain, and a college degree that made me look good on paper. It was all I needed to start anew. But there's one thing I made sure to never let happen again."

  "What's that?"

  He looks at me, an unmistakable shadow cast over his eyes.

  "Falling in love," he says. "I never dated, but I still craved sex and the kind of play I enjoyed with Elsa before she turned on me."

  I nod. "That's why you buy women for pleasure."

  "That's why I bought women for pleasure," he repeats my words, adding a small but substantial difference. "It kept me sane. I needed the release. I still do. After what happened with Elsa, I thought that it would be better for anyone involved anyway."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "Well, maybe my aunt was right. Maybe there is a hint of the devil inside me," he says. "She could see it, and so did others. It can hardly be a coincidence that I kept bumping against the fences that were laid out for me to lead to a good life, that I kept running into trouble, making those who were supposed to care for me feel miserable, and eventually attracting a woman like Elsa. She awoke a beast inside of me, a beast that others have merely seen lurking behind my eyes."

  He pauses and takes another sip of his drink, while I try decide whether I should comfort him with another touch, or if he preferred to be left alone right now. It's always hard to tell with him.

  "Next to protecting myself from being betrayed like that again, I was also protecting others from being drawn into my darkness," he adds. "It did the job, mostly, at least as long as I only hired women for a one-night thing, or for occasional hook-ups and play sessions. It became a lot more draining when I needed them for more."

  We sit in awkward silence for a few moments. Listening to his story was painful. I could feel my heart clenching and my blood boiling as he kept speaking, feeling for the boy he once was, the boy whose heart had been broken by the same woman twice. The boy whose life started on the wrong foot to begin with.

  I wish I could travel back in time. I wish I could give this little boy a hug and tell him there's nothing wrong with him, that he's lovable just the way he is, even though he may not conform with some people's expectations.

  I wish I could tell him all of that today, but I'm not sure if he would want to hear it. Something has changed between us, we're closer than either of us ever expected us to be. But for some reason, neither one of us is ready to forget about
that contract, about the agreement we made between us, the money that will be handed over once those twelve months are over, and the negotiations that may follow after that. His campaign is still in its early stages, and while we did achieve some major progress during the past few weeks and months, I know there's still a very long road ahead of him.

  Ahead of us, possibly.

  "I hope you don't misunderstand this as fishing for compliments, but I just need to know," I say in a low voice, unable to meet his eyes, even though I can feel him looking at me. "Did I live up to the task? Did I fulfill my role as laid out in the contract to your satisfaction?"

  He lets out a deep sigh, making me feel foolish for even asking that question.

  "I think you know the answer to that, Ann," he says. It's been a long time since he last called me by my name when we were alone.

  Our eyes find each other, and a faint smile is playing around the corner of his mouth. "You've done far more than that."

  I return the smile. "I'm not afraid of the alleged monster inside of you."

  "I know that," he says.

  I reach out for his hand, our fingers intertwining while the words sink in.

  "I don't need to be protected," I whisper. "Not from you, or anyone."

  He huffs. "Yes, I'm very aware of that. But maybe I'm the one who needs protection."

  "You don't trust me," I say, nodding with understanding. "I can't blame you for that, not after what's happened to you."

  Of course, that's not all. He has every reason to be suspicious of someone who has been keeping notes about him for the past few months. Who wrote about his most intimate moments without his knowledge.

  Someone who's still in possession of a business card that could turn all of this into a lot of money, more than he ever offered me.

  I still don't know where we stand. I don't know what this is between us or where it might lead, but I know one thing.

  I can't do it.

  I can't sell him out like that. Even if it meant more money, less worry, an actual dream come true - I could never live with myself. How could I ever do this to the man I love?

  The man I love.

  I'm startled at the thought. Is that it? Do I love him?

  The truth is, I think I do - but I can't tell him.

  He can read it on my face, the internal struggle is written all over it. I've always been bad at hiding my feelings.

  "Put your glass down."

  He speaks in a tone that suggests a change of mood, a change of dynamics between us.

  I comply and place my wine glass on the table next to his Scotch. As soon as I do, he pulls me onto his lap. I straddle him, bathing in the dark depth of his eyes when he takes my face between both his hands and brings me close to his.

  "You know I wish I could," he whispers. "I wish I could trust you."

  "You can," I say, my voice shaking. "You can, Sir."

  It's easier to say these words now that I've made up my mind. Now that I know I couldn't betray him, no matter what the monetary reward. His heart has been broken enough, and all I want to do is to glue it back together. I want to fix what others have destroyed. And I want to do it without getting rid of the carnal darkness that lives inside him because I love that side just as much. I crave it, and I wouldn't want him to be void of it.

  He pulls me in for a kiss, and the way his hands dig into the flesh around my hips reminds me of just how much I need him to be the dark monster he can be.

  Sometimes.

  Chapter 35

  Ann

  "Ride me," he breathes into my ear, pulling my head back by grabbing a fist of my hair at the back.

  I'm naked, my clothes spread all over the floor surrounding us. He tore them off my body with urgent need, yet again destroying another set of underwear into pieces as he removed the fabric from my body, while I merely managed to get rid of his shirt.

  My hands caress along the valleys between his defined muscles, trembling with excitement as I take in his masculine beauty. His chest is bare, not sporting a single hair and radiating sensual heat from his firm exterior.

  "Ride me, Button," he repeats, nibbling at my earlobe. "Now."

  My hands travel further south, following the v-shaped outline of his pelvis muscles that lead me to his center. My hands are shivering with excitement when I fiddle with his belt buckle, touching the leather that has brought me so much agony and delight at the same time.

  He groans when I take him out, closing my hands around his hardened length as I guide him between my legs. His length parts my lips with ease, sending a hot pinch through my core as my walls close around him.

  "Good girl."

  His praise fuels my lust and I begin grinding on his cock, feeling him swell even more as I take him completely in, all of him, for once being the person in charge, the one who is taking what I need from him.

  "Look at me."

  I obey, my lust-dazed eyes finding his as he beams at me, looking so utterly happy and satisfied that it warms my heart. I wish I could always see him like that, every single day, every moment. He deserves to feel this way, despite what others tried to make him believe.

  His hands are at my back, digging into the flesh of my ass as he supports me. His grip intensifies, and soon he's the one taking charge, leading the motions of my hips just the way he wants them.

  I relish the feeling of his hardness ramming inside me, pushing against that sensitive spot right behind my entrance every time he rotates my hips on top of him.

  "That's a good girl," he hisses, squeezing my ass especially tight.

  I yelp with delight when he slaps my ass, leaving a significant sting on my skin.

  "More!" I breathe, and he abides by my wish, landing two more blows on the same side. A tantalizing throbbing remains, adding to my agitation and need for more.

  My eyes seek his, and without stopping to ride him, I quietly beg for more, hoping that my eyes alone will transmit the message. Of course, that doesn't do it. He knows that I want more, but he still needs me to say it.

  "The belt," I exclaim in an exhale. “I want the belt.”

  A dark smile spreads across his handsome face.

  "Beg for it."

  Oh, God no, why does he make me do this? Why does it have to be this hard? And why am I still so shy about expressing my desires, even to him, the only person who would never belittle me for them?

  "Please, Sir," I beg, casting him a seductive look. "Please give me your belt."

  His eyes flicker with excitement. I follow his powerful motion when he pushes me off his lap and jumps up from the couch, getting rid of his remaining clothes in a swift move and pulling the belt out of his pants before ushering me out of the living room.

  "Your bedroom," he orders.

  I hesitate for a moment, casting him a quizzical look for confirmation, and he beckons me to walk in front of him.

  The belt hits my skin with unexpected intensity as soon as I turn away from him. I throw him a look over my shoulder, playfully frowning before continuing to move toward the stairs leading up to my bedroom.

  I can feel his eyes on my behind as I walk up the stairs, trembling with buzz and awaiting another blow at any time. But it doesn't come. He leaves me in a constant stage of anticipation, without ever following up with another strike on my ass until we get inside my bedroom.

  We've never played in here before, and I'm filled with a sudden rush of shame when we enter the room because it's a terrible mess. I've been writing in here, leaving my laptop and my notes lying around willy-nilly all over the place, especially around the small work desk that he bought for me.

  I cast him an apologetic look, and he shakes his head at me, smiling.

  "Jeez, Button, looks like I don't even have to look for a reason to punish you."

  I jerk up when he hits me across my ass again, herding me over to the bed.

  "On your knees, ass up."

  I climb up onto the bed and do as I'm told, but even before I'm fully in posit
ion, I'm hit with two more strikes, leaving me with throbbing pain before I prepare myself for the actual spanking to come.

  "Hollow your back, Button. Look pretty for me."

  "Yes, Sir."

  I stick out my ass, hollowing my back for him and shrieking out in agony when the belt meets my sensitive skin for the next round of lashes. Nothing but the whooping sound of leather cutting the air before it meets my flesh and my anguished cries fill the room as he gives me what I asked for. I will never understand why I need this, why bathing in a scorching pain such as this gets me off like nothing else.

  But I know it's not the pain alone, it's the entire scope of submission that comes with it. I would never let anyone else do this to me. I trust him like no other. I trust that he knows where to hit me, how far he can go, and when to stop. He observes my reaction to every single blow, sometimes adding a short break to watch me breathe through the pain while I process its aftermath.

  His spankings equal a kind of devotion that I've never found anywhere else.

  Tears of agony are streaming down my face by the time he's done with me. I'm panting erratically, dizzy with emotion when he turns me around to lay on my back. The silk sheets press against my tortured ass when he brings me in position, pushing my legs up and spreading them apart before he teases my entrance with the tip of his iron-hard cock.

  I squirm and mewl beneath, partly because of the pain at my back and partly because of impatient arousal.

  "Fuck me."

  The words are barely more than an exhale, but he's heard them nonetheless. I sigh with delighted relief when he shoves himself inside of me, granting me consistent, deep thrusts while I coil with relish beneath him. I'm quivering with lust already, but the feeling is elevated even more when I feel his hand around my throat.