by Linnea May
"You're living in California now," he says eventually. "You said you needed a fresh start. I don't want to keep you from going through with that."
Now I'm the one huffing in disdain.
"To be completely honest with you, I don't even know what I was doing in California," I say. "I wasn't doing anything, really. All that talk about a fresh start didn't really live up to anything. I slacked and moped around most of the time, trying to forget you and trying to come up with something to do."
I pause, swallowing my pride before I continue to speak.
"Looking back now, California feels more like an escape," I conclude. "I thought if I just moved far enough away, I'd come up with something to do with my life, find myself, change things. But really, I was just running away from making a decision. The geographic change didn't do anything to make my life any better."
I hesitate, unsure whether I should add the last few words that have been dancing through my head.
"Unlike that move, you did bring some change into my life, and for the better," I finally dare to say. "And I don't just mean your money. I mean you."
We look at each other, the air between us oscillating with significance. He moves a finger along the side of my face, tracing the outline of my jaw and regarding me with a placid expression.
"My doll," he says. "I can say the same about you."
I bite my lower lip, trying to find the right words for what I want to tell him.
"I may not have it all figured out yet," I say. "But I can finally see a place in life for me. Right next to you, Ryan."
Epilogue
Laura
~ Six months later ~
Things went fast with us. Maybe it was because we had a whole year of suffering between our first and second dates. Maybe it was because both of us couldn't endure the thought of having to spend any more time apart after all that had happened between us.
Maybe it was because we didn't know any other way.
Or maybe it's just because it's right for us.
I moved in with Ryan after we had our heart to heart talk in front of his fireplace. He didn't want me to leave, and I didn't want to go. Why fight something when it feels so right? And let's face it, I didn't really have anywhere to go. There was nothing and no one waiting for me back in California. Of course, Layla had been worried sick about me when I didn't come back after a couple of days as promised. My phone was flooded with calls and texts from her when Ryan gave it back to me, but she was calmed down easily enough when I called her that night.
I managed to get him to talk to his assistant that same night, and I helped him pick up the pieces from the chaos that his sudden disappearance had caused. There was still more work that had to be done, but it could be postponed until the next day.
We had settled things with the outside world for the moment, and once that part was over with, Ryan and I sat down for a long dinner, the first we shared outside the velvet room, the room that used to be my prison.
He was scared, and so was I, but we both felt safe with each other.
I had no idea what I was doing, and I only realized the severity of his problems when I saw him struggling to face them. He wanted to turn away from everything and bury himself inside of me, seeking solace in my closeness. It wasn't easy to help him through it, but it was all the more rewarding when I realized that I was actually helping him. I saw him rise up again, and I knew that I was responsible for it.
I felt needed, and I liked it a lot.
He still needs me, but there's no longer that hungry desperation that almost destroyed us.
We focused on his company's acquisition in the weeks that followed. Ryan was reluctant to let me help as much as I wanted to, but he couldn't fight me off when I offered to help him organize the things he had turned his back on. After a few days, I joked that I had become his new secretary because there were times when I was better informed about his schedule and dealings than he was.
Even after such a short time, Lemon often preferred to talk to me instead of with Ryan himself, mainly because I didn't answer to him with the same annoying demeanor that Ryan likes to exhibit, but also because I was doing a pretty good job at organizing things that, until a few weeks ago, I knew nothing about and had been an absolute mess.
"Maybe this could actually be my job," I mused one night, while lying in Ryan's arms after an intensive play session. I was covered in sweat, wearing nothing but the collar and the leather handcuffs that he still loves for me to wear. I take all of it off once we leave the basement room, but my heart jumps with excitement every time he puts them on me, especially the collar. I love the feeling of being his, the feeling of being owned.
The feeling of belonging somewhere. And to someone.
He shook his head at the suggestion and brushed it off.
"No, my doll," he said. "You've been a big help to me, but you need something of your own. Besides, you don't want to work for me. I hear it's pretty stressful. Just ask Lemon if you don't believe me."
"Oh, I'm pretty sure he could tell me a few things," I admit. "But he's stayed with you, even so. It can't be that bad."
Nevertheless, Ryan insisted.
"You said it yourself, doll, your journey isn't done yet," he said. "You found your place next to me, but you still need to find your place outside of us."
And he was right. I shouldn't be his secretary or personal assistant when there were still things out there that I wanted to do for myself, like I knew there was.
College, for example.
It always bothered me that I never finished my degree. I know it would bother my mother as well, because it was disrespectful toward her. She'd fought so hard for me to be able to go to school. She even tried to stop me from coming to care for her when her condition worsened. I haven't been to her grave since the day I buried her, and I know why.
Because I feel like I've let her down.
Money was always what kept me from going back to school, but now I'm in the privileged position of no longer having to worry about that. I didn't want to go back to California, and there was no reason to when there are so many good colleges where I now lived.
I applied to a lot of them, but only received rejections.
Until today.
Today was the first time I opened acceptance letter from one of my top favorite schools. Ryan suggested that we celebrate, even though I'm not sure yet if this is where I will actually go in the end because I’m still awaiting replies to some of my applications.
Still, it's a positive reply and I'm not one to say no to a bottle of champagne and our favorite food when my lovely boyfriend suggests it. We're sitting on our terrace, bathing in the scenery of the evening sunset, sipping on champagne and indulging in a lavish platter of sushi rolls.
I'm a little tipsy from the drink, and Ryan can tell when I cast him a giddy smile. He's looking so sharp in his sunglasses, the dark shirt stretching around his buff, chiseled physique as he lifts the glass up to his lips.
"I'm proud of you," he says, smiling at me.
"I have yet to actually make it," I remind him. "Finishing the degree, I mean."
He huffs.
"That will come easy for my doll," he says. "You've faced much bigger hardships before. Remember, you’re a warrior."
I cast him a grateful smile. "You mean like taming you?"
He laughs, shaking his head.
"That's not what I'm talking about," he objects. "And rest assured, there's nothing tamed about me. You'll be reminded once we're done here and I spank that little ass of yours until you beg me to stop."
He always says these naughty things with such nonchalance, as if he was talking about an innocent hiking trip we're about to take. The heat on my cheeks is no longer caused by alcohol alone. His words excite me, and I can feel the familiar tingling in my core every time he makes these promises.
"Let's just hope none of the boys at school flirt with me," I tease. "They might have to face the fury of my savage boyfriend."
He huffs and takes his sunglasses off, squinting against the setting sun as he rises. My eyes follow him, widening in surprise. Did I say something wrong?
“You’re right,” he says, facing the sun instead of me. “I shouldn’t feel safe having my beautiful doll run around campus footloose like that. Someone might want to steal you.”
He pauses, turning to wink at me over his shoulder, and I cast him a quizzical look.
"And then," he adds, walking over to me.
My breath catches when he stops in front of me, facing me as he drops down on one knee.
"They might have to face the fury of your savage fiancé," he says, producing a little black velvet box from the pocket of his pants. He holds it up to me and opens the lid, revealing a diamond ring with a twisted vine setting. It sparkles radiantly in the evening sun with such clarity that I'm almost blinded by it.
"Laura Brown, my doll, my savior, protector of my sanity and owner of my heart," he says. "Will you become mine for all the world to see?"
I'm dumbfounded. I did not see this coming, not at all. I just sit there, staring at this beautifully broken man, the man who's given me so much, the man who hasn't left my thoughts since the very first time I saw him. And all I want to say is Yes, Yes a thousand times! But my voice is failing me. I'm bereft of speech and don’t know what to do but sink down into his arms, marking my silence with a kiss that tells him everything he needs to know.
Yes! A thousand times, yes!
THE END
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"Happy anniversary, my pet," he whispered as our kiss ended, holding my chin up with two of his fingers, so I was looking at him. His dark eyes were as unreadable as ever, shielded with mystery. Yet, I had already uncovered a range of hidden parts of him - and I knew he would let me in more and more with time.
I smiled. "Happy anniversary, master."
"Are you happy to see me?"
I nodded. "Yes, sir."
I knew he would check. I knew he would check if I had obeyed his wish. And he did. His hands wandered along my back, then moved to the front, gently kneading my breasts through the fabric of my dress.
"Good girl," he whispered, giving me a little peck on the forehead.
And then one of his hands moved along, wandering down my belly, cleverly reaching underneath my light dress. His fingertips skimmed my inner thighs as he slowly moved upwards. I moaned when he reached my center, caressing my wet clit with two of his fingers. Even after all that had happened between us, I was still amazed at how wet just being around him made me.
"You're such a good slut for me," he breathed. "Such a perfect, wet girl."
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Also by Linnea May
VIOLENT DELIGHTS: A Dark Billionaire Romance
TAMED: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance
BARRED: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance
Undisclosed Desire
Master Class
For my Master('s)
His Secret Muse
Dark Romance with Stella Noir
Silent Daughter: A Dark Billionaire Romance
… Curious to read more?
If you enjoyed this book, you may also like my other Dark Billionaire Romance VIOLENT DELIGHTS. Turn the page to read the first few chapters for free!
VIOLENT DELIGHTS
A Dark Billionaire Romance
by
Linnea May
„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 jerkin
g 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.
Faced with the prospect of spending the weekend in my empty place, I had started walking as soon as I left the office, but quickly realized that my heels are not meant for this. I couldn’t take them off because it’s too cold, so I just stumbled into the first bar I came to, which was this little shit hole. I’ve been dwelling in my pain for the past hour, staring at nothing and drinking this God-awful bourbon, afraid to go home.
It’s pathetic, I know, but so appropriate, considering the turn my life has taken.