The VIOLENT Series: The Complete Boxed Set

by Linnea May

  Not today, though. I can't have all of her today. I shouldn't. She'll taste so much better if I break her bit by bit, bite by bite.

  "Today is a test run," I tell her offhandedly.

  I lean in closer and claim her with another kiss. My hand instinctively wanders to the back of her neck, holding her tight to me as our tongues intertwine. This kiss is different. It lacks the desperate hunger, instead speaking of patience and a restrained desire that comes from the knowledge that I will have her, all of her, soon enough. She hasn't officially said yes or signed a contract yet, but the fact that she's still here, with her breathing still rampantly professing that she can barely wait to sit on my cock. She’s trying so hard to please me, even though it goes against everything she prides herself in - all of that is enough for me to know that she will say yes. She will be mine. I've never been more confident.

  She's greedy already. Her hands wander up to my waist, and I’m certain she’s unaware of the soft moans she’s emitting during our lingering, passionate kiss. Without thinking, she reaches for the waistband of my suit pants. Finding the belt, her fingers eagerly travel to the center of my body, where she starts fiddling with the buckle.

  Greedy little thing.

  I interrupt our kiss and reach for her wrists, clasping her hands in place with an iron grip. I shift them away from my belt buckle, forcing them back to the sides of her body.

  She casts me a quizzical look, and I shake my head no.

  "You're not allowed to touch me, unless I command you."

  Her eyebrows furrow into a suspicious grimace.

  "Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  She speaks the words, but her reply is laced with questions.

  It almost angers me that she's not accustomed to a man who can wait, a man who doesn't devour her body at the first opportunity. The way she looks at me proves she's never known patience, and she's never practiced restraint herself.

  That’s all about to change. There will be a lot of firsts for her today.

  She stands in place when I let go of her wrists and put some distance between us by taking two steps back. I cross my arms in front of my chest and jut my chin out.

  "Strip."

  Little Miss Porter flinches as if I'd just hit her, and her eyes widen in shock. She awkwardly steps from one foot to the other, shifting and hugging herself before she turns around to face the panoramic windows behind her. The sun is setting later these days, so it's still a bit light out, but darkness is not far off. I haven't turned on any lights since we got here; the dim lighting provides a far better view of the cityscape below us and less chance of anyone seeing inside my living room. My penthouse is so far up that it’s unlikely anyone would see us even if they were to lift their eyes and seek us out, but it’s still obvious that she is worried about it.

  So cute.

  I repeat my command. "Strip."

  She turns back to face me, and even with the gloomy lighting, I can see her cheeks flushed with heat. It’s followed by a flash of insecurity, and then she quickly recovers and the furious frown returns.

  "I'm not going to say it again," I tell her impatiently, unimpressed by her attitude. "Do you want me to encourage you with a little spanking? Because that can very well be arranged."

  She inhales a deep breath and is about to say something, when I cut her off again.

  "You won't like it, though. And I can't promise to keep your clothes in one piece.” I pause to make sure she’s paying attention to my next works. "Or you."

  Her eyes narrow again. She's seething with rage.

  Hungry rage. Needy rage.

  I don't even have to tell her to keep her eyes on me when she finally begins peeling away her clothes. She unbuttons her blouse first, her gaze locked on mine the entire time. Her eyes don't move away when she lets the blouse slide down over her shoulders, and not when she unbuttons her jeans and steps out of them, when she kicks off her shoes, or even when she reaches around to unhook her bra. She's wearing a cute little white bra and panty set decorated with lace, but it’s of mediocre quality, at best. She'll have to get used to wearing higher quality lingerie once she's living with me.

  My eyes don't evade her unwavering gaze when the bra drops to the floor, exposing her perky breasts in front of me, as hard as it is. It would feel like a defeat, and I'll have plenty of opportunity to savor them in the future.

  This is when she stops. She’s standing before me, wearing nothing but her lacy panties and breathing erratically, though she’s trying to appear calm. I cast her an impatient look, nodding toward her.

  "You're not done."

  Instead of following my command, she breaks another rule by raising her voice.

  "You remove the rest… Sir."

  Chapter 12

  Ann

  I knew he'd be mad, but I didn't expect him to react this swiftly and with such unrelenting force. He closes in on me in one wide step, and for a moment, I fear he might actually hit me.

  But that's not what he has in mind. Instead, he reaches for my wrists and yanks my hands above my head, securing them in place with one hand while he uses the other to grab hold of the hem of my panties. I mewl in protest when he rips them off of my body in one brute motion.

  I instinctively cross my legs, futilely attempting to hide my nakedness; his response is an amused chuckle. He roughly shoves his hand between my thighs and pinches me, forcing me to spread my legs apart and expose my bare center to his touch.

  A touch that doesn't come. He rests his hand at the inside of my thigh, only inches away from my heated core, but he doesn’t show any pressing intention of touching my most intimate place.

  I lift my eyes up to his and am met with a sinister expression.

  Is he trying to intimidate me? If so, he's not succeeding. I knew I wasn't supposed to speak, but I did it anyway. He may think that he's the one holding all the power here, but he really isn't. I created this situation, and as far as I can tell, he doesn't exactly know how to handle it.

  "What did I tell you?" he demands, narrowing his eyes in a hollow attempt to scare me.

  "Not to speak unless you tell me to."

  "And what did you just do?"

  "I told you to take off my panties," I reply. "And you did."

  The indifferent expression on my face when I answer him makes his blood boil. His fist tightens around my wrists as he stretches my arms even higher, forcing me to rise up onto my tiptoes. I almost lose my balance, but manage to catch myself just in time, never breaking eye contact in the process.

  "Being a smartass, are we?" he hisses through gritted teeth. "You're going to regret this, little girl."

  I cast him a smirk. "I doubt it."

  A stunned gasp escapes my lips when he moves his hand upward, parting my lips and harshly invading my core with not one, but two fingers, at once. It's not pain but surprise that causes me to shriek out when he stretches me with his fingers, lewdly drilling inside me. A sharp sensation travels through my insides when he bends his fingers inside of me, almost instantly finding the spot that I always thought was a myth. He keeps his fingers bent and pushes against my mound from the inside, causing me to jerk in a mixture of agony and pleasure.

  What the hell is he doing to me?

  It feels blindingly intense and dizzying at the same time. My vision blurs for a moment, and I can't help but let out a hearty groan. He begins palpating his fingers inside of me, shoving in and out ever so slightly, but never losing the pressure on that particular spot.

  My eyes roll back into my head, and I don't even care. He's so invasive, so brutal, so fucking brazen, but it feels so fucking good. It's as if a switch has been turned on inside of me, a switch that forces the brain to move aside and make room for nothing but satisfying its carnal lust.

  "So fucking predictable," he hisses, certain of victory. "Drooling all over my hand like a needy slut. Do you enjoy disobeying me this much?"

  I want to glare at him through my lust-filled
stupor, but he moves his fingers in a way that robs me of my ability to do anything. I've never been finger-fucked like this. In truth, the boys I've slept with barely even touched me there.

  Just when I thought things couldn't get any more intense, he starts stroking his thumb over my swollen clit. I've been in a latent state of arousal for a while now, spurred on by his words, his looks, his touch. He circles his thumb around my nub, using my own juices as lubrication. I'm torn between shame and arousal, and while my mind warns me not to give in to him, I can't help but grind on his fingers, egging him on and begging for more.

  "Look at me!"

  His voice cuts into my sensual vertigo, pulling me back to reality so I can meet his gaze. The smug look on his face infuriates me, but not enough to overpower the surreal bliss from his touch.

  "Do you like this?" he asks huskily.

  I glare at him. Isn’t it obvious? Does he seriously expect me to answer this question?

  As it turns out, he does. He increases the pressure on my clit, sending shockwaves of overwhelming sensation through my core as he stretches my hands up even further. I'm suspended in front of him like a rag doll, just hanging down from where he’s holding me up with one of his strong arms. I knew he was buff and well-trained, but I'm still wondering how he's able to hold me up in this position for such a long time.

  Once again, his strong, deep voice rips into my thoughts. "Answer me! Do you enjoy this?"

  "What do you fucking think?" I snap back at him.

  He growls angrily. I almost fall over when he lowers my wrists and forces me to follow him over to the window. He removes his hand from my core and lands two sharp blows on my ass, as if he was driving cattle into a stable.

  I freeze when I'm confronted with the window, feeling exposed and insecure, but he slams me up against the glass without concern. I cushion the blow with my hands pressed against the cold glass, standing there in shock while he positions me to his liking. He pushes against the small of my back to force me to stick out my ass and then pinches me between my thighs, so I will spread my legs further apart.

  "What the fuck do you think you're d-"

  "Shut up!"

  His command is accompanied by another sharp slap to my ass, and this one stings so much that it literally takes my breath away. I mewl in agony and cast him an angry look over my shoulder - but I don't move an inch.

  "Eyes to the front!" he barks at me, pointing toward the window.

  I'm baffled by my automatic reaction. Like a reflex, I obediently turn my head back to the beautiful but terrifying view of the city displayed in all its glory in front of me. I don't know what floor we're on, but it's definitely fucking high, and while I've never really had a fear of heights, I'm not particularly thrilled thinking about the fall awaiting me if this glass breaks.

  My anxiety is pushed aside when he spanks me two more times, leaving more painful stings on each side of my ass, before he rams his fingers inside of me again. I've never been torn between pain, fear and pleasure like this before. It's too much, too fast, and the constantly alternating sensations are too much.

  His fingers are deep inside me, tormenting me with a burning bliss. He leans over me, flipping my hair to the side, and then he digs his teeth into the sensitive flesh between my neck and shoulder, adding yet another layer of sensations to the intense combination of anguish and delight I'm already trying to absorb.

  "You can't fool me, little Miss Ann Porter," he hisses into my ear. "Say what you want, act up as you wish, but it doesn't change a thing. Your body is betraying you."

  He reaches for my left breast, cupping and kneading it before he pinches my hardened nipple so roughly that I howl in pain, simultaneously hollowing my back to grind on his magical and intrusive fingers.

  "See, I can feel it here," he whispers, pinching my nipple again. "Your racing heart, your hard nipple, screaming to be touched. And here..."

  He traps my bud between two fingers and pinches it with such ferocity that my vision darkens for a split second. I let out a shriek that sounds foreign to me, so strange and far away, as if it was coming from someone else and not me.

  He chuckles darkly, his warm breath tickling the skin on my shoulder, right next to my ear. "Your dripping cunt, your swollen clit, the way you just arched back into me. Little girl, you're not fooling me. You're fucking loving this."

  "Shut up."

  My helpless whisper is met with another of his haunting laughs and another stinging pain that spreads through my core in a direct line to my left nipple. This time, the pain is met with a wave of ecstasy announcing an orgasm that consumes me by surprise. My eyes widen in shock when I realize that despite everything, despite his disdainful behavior, his patronizing, his filthy mouth, his overly obtrusive way of manhandling me, and his condescending way, despite all of that, I'm about to come on his fingers.

  "No! Don't! Stop! I-"

  "Yes!" he snarls at me. "Yes, you're going to come, like the good little slut you are. Come… now!"

  And so I do. His command sends me vaulting over the edge, and I nearly collapse into his arms when my climax hits me like a savage assault. I've never heard noises come out of my mouth like the ones I'm producing now, a pathetically loud mixture of wailing and moaning, all while my muscles jerk uncontrollably, my core begging to be filled by his cock. But he keeps his fingers outside my body, pressing his palm against my entrance as if he wants to feel out the spasms of my hot flesh and hold them in place.

  My hands are sweaty and gliding down the window lower and lower, as I give in to wave after wave of unimaginable ecstasy. He holds me up for a while, but when my peak begins to recede, he lets go of me, watching as I sink down to the floor in front of him, still moaning and whimpering.

  Twilight has set outside, and when I end up on my knees, my upper body rolled up with my back to him, I notice the street lights illuminated far below us.

  Neither of us speaks for a while. He just stands behind me, probably casting me an evil grin, full of that spiteful and victorious confidence, while I recover from what has been the most intensive orgasm of my entire life.

  I don’t know what do. Or say. I never saw this coming, not even a few minutes ago when he was already inside me, when he'd already ripped my panties off and dug his fingers deep inside of me. I've never done anything like this. No one has ever done anything like this to me. This was new, overwhelming, humiliating - and so good that I will never find the right words to describe it. Whatever he wanted to prove to me, he did. And I failed miserably at defying him. There's only one thing for me to conclude.

  "You win."

  My words come out as barely more than a sigh, but they cut the silence between us like a bothersome siren.

  He doesn't say a word, but kneels down next to me, wrapping an arm around me in a soft embrace and gently beckoning me to straighten up. I don't dare look at him, and thankfully, he doesn't make me. I keep my head low as he gathers me up from the floor, lifting me in his arms, and carrying me over to the sofa, where I curl up in his arms, trembling as hot tears run down my cheeks.

  I have no idea what just happened to me.

  I loved it.

  I hated it.

  I'm fucking scared of it.

  Chapter 13

  Jared

  She said yes that very same night, right before we left the penthouse so I could take her home. But I dismissed her answer and told her that she needed to consider this offer carefully. I couldn't accept an answer she had made while she was still in the throes of a post-orgasmic daze.

  Ann didn't have to say anything for me to know that this was all new to her. She'd never experienced anything like this before - not the treatment, not the rules, not the way she was spoken to, or the way she was touched - the way her climax overtook her entire being, mind, body, and soul.

  As frustrating as her disobedience and defiance was at times, it was also a welcome challenge. I may have broken something inside her, but so far it was nothing more than a sm
all crack. A minuscule fracture in her strong and confident shell. She has never been anyone's submissive before, which makes her all the more enticing to me.

  I could break her. I could truly make her mine.

  This is not what all of this is about.

  My conscience needs to shut up for a second. I know all of that. Her first priority is to play a role for the public first, and then satisfy my desires second. I'm aware of that, which is why I'm reluctant to sign when she agrees to become mine under contract.

  "You can't forget what this is about, ever," I told her one last time, before she signed her name. She looked at me with that same stern expression I've become so familiar with, and nodded.

  "Of course not," she said. "If nothing else, your money in my bank account will be a reminder."

  Her voice was strong and cold, delivering as little emotion as the expression on her face conveyed. With the way she crumbled to my feet after I'd pulled that intense orgasm out of her, I expected her to reveal her submissive side to me a little too early. She may have been in subspace at the time, but in no way is she ready to bend to my will as much as I want her to.

  She's also still a reporter. She reminded me of that just moments before we signed the contract, once again asking for permission to write - just write, not publish. I don't know why this is so important to her, but I told her that there was no way I could keep her from scribbling down words in her diary or something like that, as long as none of those words were ever shared with anyone else, either during or after our arrangement ends. She nodded and signed her name with quick and determined strokes, as if she wanted to do it before she could change her mind.

  And then she moved in with me. She refused to let me help her with anything, and insisted on showing up in front of my house with nothing but a giant suitcase and a handbag that looked so worn out and cheap that I wanted to take it from her right then and replace it with something more befitting her new position. Of course, she refused and defended that horrible bag like a lioness protecting her baby.