by Linnea May
I shake my head, even though she cannot see it. "I won't lose anything. They have nothing against me, and I have the best attorneys you can ask for. My innocence in all of this is easy to prove."
Her gaze trails back over her shoulder, catching mine. "I bet your parents had good attorneys, too. And still, they are in prison."
"Big difference," I say. "My parents were guilty, they actually did something wrong. I didn't."
She nods. "Right."
The ice in her drink clinks as she brings it up to her lips. She takes a tiny sip, barely more than dabbing her lips, before she twirls around to me. Her rumpled hair falls down her slim shoulders, giving her the look of a — very brightly colored — lion, as she walks back to me.
"Do you think you'll ever forgive them?" she wants to know.
"My parents?"
She nods, leaving her glass on the coffee table before she curls up on my lap.
"Actually, I went to see my mother this week," I reveal, my pulse accelerating as I share another secret with her.
Her eyes widen. "You did? You went to see her in prison?"
I nod, unable to hide my smile at her excited reaction.
"Wow," she exclaims, beaming at me. "She must have been so happy to see you."
"She was ecstatic," I say, and Elene giggles on my lap. "I told her about you."
She tenses up. "You... what?"
Our eyes meet, and I try to hide the buzz it gives me to share these things with her. I've never been this open with anyone, and I never felt the urge to share things like this. With her, I do, but it still needs some getting used to.
"I was having girl trouble," I say, trying to give my words a light-hearted spin. "I thought she could help."
The smirk on Elene's face widens. "And? Could she?"
I shrug. "I think so. She can be a rigid and stubborn woman. Traits that make a good fighter. She told me not to give up on you that easily."
Elene leans in closer, placing her hand on my cheek as she moves her face closer to mine, close enough for our noses to touch. Warm intimacy is radiating between us, heating our skin and wrapping my chest in unfamiliar comfort.
This girl. She's stronger than any drug, any high I ever experienced. The effect she has on me is not going anywhere, not receding but growing stronger with every moment I spend with her.
"Well, mothers always know best, so I'm glad you listened to her," she whispers, her lips brushing mine with a promise for a kiss. "I'm glad you didn't let me go, because I never wanted to leave."
Epilog
Elene
* Six months later *
"Were you nervous?"
His question catches me off guard. I turn around, meeting his inquiring gray gaze while the driver starts the car. Damon is sitting in the back seat next to me, dressed in a navy blue suit and matching tie, his brown hair gelled back and two-day stubble adorning his strong jaw. I wonder if I will ever get used to how stunningly handsome my boyfriend is.
"Of course I was!" I reply. "Meeting the parents is a big deal."
He chuckles. "It didn't show, I can tell you that."
"Good," I sigh, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "They were so nice, though. It was easy. Especially your mom."
He bobs his head to the side.
"Nice, hmm," he mumbles. "Maybe. She's been trying very hard, especially since they were released, I give her that. She's getting there, more so than my father."
I nod. His father was a different story, for sure. I felt weird when we drove up to their small apartment, chauffeured in a black limousine, both dressed in upscale designer clothing, while they can barely make ends meet. I could see the way his father was eyeing him and then me, literally scanning us from head to toe, while I wished I wasn't sporting my new Valentino dress and Louboutin heels. Both were a gift from Damon, and he insisted that I dress up tonight. Maybe he wanted to make his parents, and especially his father, feel bad for their mistakes, even though they've already paid with everything they had.
"Your father needs a little more time," I offer. "You didn't go easy on him."
Damon nods, reaching for my hand and squeezing it lightly.
"I know you want me to patch things up with them," he says. "But I can't act as if the past never happened. Not yet. I need time, just as much as they do."
"That's fine," I assure him. "As long as you're willing to forgive them."
He looks at me, his handsome face displaying a cautious smile. "I'm getting there."
My reciprocating smile is wider than his, laced with encouragement. "I guess that is all I can ask for. For now."
"I am going to help them get back on their feet, like I promised you," he says. "But only if they prove themselves worthy of my help."
I roll my eyes at him.
"You wanted to do something meaningful with your money, didn't you?" I ask him. "Isn't that why you started investing in the first place?"
He sighs. "And you know where that got me."
"Yes, to me," I pipe, winking at him.
I know he's still hung up on that startup investment that went down the drain and almost got him into legal trouble, but ever since that was dealt with, I no longer let him dwell on those dark thoughts. That guy, Scott, was the only one who faced an actual lawsuit in the end, and while the money Damon invested may be gone, he still has a clean history. He got off the hook, just like he said he would. It is nothing more than a bad memory.
The car comes to a halt in his building's driveway, and I follow him through the lobby, balancing on my new and way-too-tight heels. I can't wait to get upstairs and get out of them, maybe take a hot bath. Maybe he'll join me.
The penthouse has changed since I first saw it about six months ago. It was a stunning place back then, but kind of sterile-feeling and empty. The changes since then have been small and gradual, but I've never noticed it as much as I do now. Everywhere I look, I find something that doesn't belong to him, but to me. I left my Kindle reader on the coffee table next to a stack of my magazines. There are three pairs of shoes right next to the door that belong to me, and two coats hanging on the rack next to it. The mail that's piled up on the countertop that separates the open kitchen from the living room has not been sent here, but brought up by me. A lot of it is info material about design schools that I've been thinking about applying to.
That pile is probably the most telling sign of how little time I still spend at my own apartment. I only go there every few days to pick up the mail, water my dying plants, and say, maybe hang out with Sandi for brunch. She's still working at the club, but has recently told me that she's thinking about quitting, too, because she met someone. It's not a client, but a guy who is not part of that world. I've never met him, but he's the first guy who means enough for Sandi to stop sleeping with others. She's no longer a devil at The Velvet Rooms, but an angel — the first step to take before getting out of the business.
Damon wanders to the kitchen. Loosening his tie, he turns back to look at me mid-trip. "A drink?"
I shake my head. "My head is already buzzing from what we had with dinner."
"Tea then?"
He doesn't wait for my answer, but reaches for the kettle right away. I join him, wrapping my arms around his toned waist from behind and deliberately pressing my tits against his back.
"You're asking for trouble," he warns me, as he fills the kettle with water from the tap.
"Maybe," I whisper, adding another squeeze before I let go of him so he can finish his water boiling business.
"Do you think I spend too much time here?" I blurt out.
He turns around to me, furrowing his eyebrows. "What makes you ask that?"
I shrug. "My stuff is all over your place, even my mail. And I can't remember the last time I spent a night at home."
His eyebrows rise. "But you're still calling it home."
I inhale sharply. "Yeah... well..."
"I don't like that," he says, closing in o
n me, his hand digging into my hips as he pulls me closer. "This should be your home."
My anxious heart flutters at his words and I tilt my head back to catch his gaze.
"What are you saying?" I ask, my lower lip trembling.
He smiles, displaying that wayward dimple that only appears on his handsome face every so often when he’s absolutely, totally sincere.
"I'm saying I want you to move in," he says. "It's long overdue."
"We've only been dating for six months," I add for consideration.
But Damon just shrugs. "So? What would change, really? Except for you not having to go back there to get your mail?"
My eyes remain locked on his, narrowing as I try to figure out whether he's being serious or not. But he's keeping a straight face, showing nothing but loving anticipation as he awaits my answer.
"I love you, Elene," he adds, fueling the happy fluttering within me. A smile gives voice to that joy. "I love having you around. I love being with you. Fuck, it's so much better to have you with me all the time than it is to be without you."
A coy laugh joins the blush on my cheeks. "I love you, too, Damon."
He leans down, placing his index finger below my chin to tilt my head back. His lips meet mine with tender affection, a kiss that is more of a gentle seal than foreplay, spiced with intimacy and belonging.
"Okay," I breathe between our kisses. "Okay, Damon, I will move in with you."
His lips break into a smile, and he retreats, just enough for our gazes to connect.
"You'll have to promise me something, though," he whispers, holding me in place with his gray eyes,
I nod. "Yes?"
"You'll have to wear white for me again one day," he says softly, his voice whispering an elusive promise. "It'll be just for me, but I want hundreds of eyes to see you when you do."
I nod, my face beaming with understanding, as a single tear steals its way down my flushed cheek.
"Yes, I promise."
Thank you for reading!
This was the first book in the Velvet Rooms Series – a series of standalone dark billionaire romances. Subscribe to my newsletter to be stay up to date on my upcoming releases. You’ll also get a FREE novel!
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Also by Linnea May
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Dark Billionaire Romances
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New Adult Billionaires
New Adult Billionaire Romances with a college twist.
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For my Master
Billionaires & Bohemians
Bad Boy Billionaires and their artistic counterparts.
TAMED: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance
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Violent Delights
A Dark Billionaire Romance
by
Linnea May
BLURB
She agreed to play. She agreed to be mine.
I won't let her change the rules of the game.
Violence has always been part of my life. I was angry as a child, underchallenged and neglected, with no outlet for my dangerous rage.
Years have passed, and I’m no longer a victim of my own aggression.
I’m in control now.
A control that many seek to surrender.
Just like her.
My Pet.
The beautiful blonde who agreed to submit to my will.
She agreed to be kidnapped and locked away until our contract is over.
She’s here to play a role.
But her defiance seems too real, her terror too honest. Watching her struggle is bone-chilling.
She’s getting to me like no one ever has before, seizing a heart that cannot love.
Or so I thought...
„These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,
Which as they kiss consume: the sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness.”
– William Shakespeare
Prolog
Joseph
She is the best one yet.
I have played this game with many girls before, but no one ever caught my attention like she does.
She’s waiting for me, kneeling with her thighs spread wide, her perky ass resting on her ankles, her back already arched, chest pushed forward, her neck stretched, her head held high, and the focus of her eyes is lowered to the floor. Her hands are resting, palms up, on her thighs.
The perfect pose of the pleasure slave.
Her chest is heaving in a steady rhythm and her eyelashes flicker when she notices me approaching.
It’s the most alluring sight.
My Pet.
There is a dark side to everyone, they say. While that may be true, I doubt that most people’s dark sides even come close to those that cast their sinister shadow over the part of myself that I keep hidden.
I’m consumed by the fury of a raging beast, something so dark and violent that even I was scared of myself once. I tried to ignore its existence, tried to push it away, but the effort was futile and only led to more chaos.
However, I am no longer that furious boy I used to be.
Violence has always been a part of my life, but it no longer controls me.
Now I’m the one in control.
I know who I am, I know how to deal with the beast raging inside, and I know what I need. I found what helps me to cope, and no one has to become part of it, unless they want to.
This is what’s at the heart of it all.
Choice.
Consent.
Rules.
A safe setting.
Every time I browse through the catalog of women who are willing to offer themselves to me, I am confronted with the reality of human psychology. For every sick person out there with these dark desires and needs, there is someone else who is willing to serve those demands. Together they meet the needs of each other’s twisted minds and bodies.
We humans, as a species, are pretty fucked up.
It’s a glorious thing.
My Pet is here because she chose to be here, even though the reality of it may frighten her. She agreed to my offer to buy her, and she’s proving to be the perfect Pet, tailored exactly to fit my desires.
I have been this agency’s client long enough for them to understand my personal tastes right down to the most minute detail. They know what I want from these women, they know what I will do to them, they know what traits a woman must possess, not only in regards to her physical attributes, but also her psychological makeup. And they know what I am willing to pay to satisfy my wishes.
Thirty-nine days, just the two of us, no safe word, no escape. Absolute surrender to my will.
She has entered a world of contradictions, a mix of freedom and discipline doled out in equal measure. One cannot exist without the other. She remains under the agency’s protection, as do I.
However, these thirty-nine days belong to me, and there is little to no way for her to break the established routine. I want to make every second count.
I don’t like interruptions. I need for both of us to be totally immersed, otherwise our arrangement doesn’t serve its purpose.
Its
purpose to fulfill my darkest needs.
To satisfy my desires.
To keep me sane.
We are playing a game that few are able to handle. It’s more than just simple role playing in the bedroom. This feels as real as it can get. The only difference is that she knows she will get out alive at the end of it. She will return to freedom, to real life, and be an incredibly wealthy woman once our thirty-nine days are over, and she will never hear from me again.
This is how it works, and this is how it has to work.
She lets out a soft sigh when I caress her cheek, leaning gently into my touch instead of jerking away from it as she did only a few days ago.
She is different. Her defiance seems real, her struggle at times too much to bear, even for me.
She is here to be trained, for me to hurt her, to teach her. But I struggle to maintain my harsh demeanor. I struggle to train and inflict torture on her as I did to all the others before.
Because there is something special about her. Something that makes all of this feel so very fucking wrong.
Something is off with her. Very, very off.
Chapter 1
Liana
This has been the worst week of my life. You may think I am exaggerating, but I am not.
Everything went to shit this week. That is the plain and simple truth.
It’s 10 p.m. on a Friday night, and I’m sitting at the bar of a rundown neighborhood joint, sipping on a cheap bourbon and feeling sorry for myself. I hate bourbon, I’ve never been to this place before and I’m comically overdressed. I bet half of the slobs here think I am a hooker, because I look so out of place.
I don’t even know where I am. I have never been in this area of the city before. I just ended up in this place after wandering the streets for hours, lost in thought and unwilling to go back to my empty house. Walking keeps me in balance, it always has. It’s as if the dark thoughts can’t catch me as long as I just keep moving, walking. I don’t want to go home and face the horrors of this past week.