Page 61 of Violent Delights

Chapter 37

Liana

This is both the most agonizing and most wonderful dinner I’ve ever had in my life. We’re sitting opposite one another and dining on a spread of light tapas, each dish so exquisite that I relish every single bite. Cured olives, lucques, an assortment of steamed vegetables each with its own surprisingly characteristic taste, and a small selection of undoubtedly expensive cheeses, topped off with a bottle of exquisite red wine that tastes divine and probably costs more than my apartment’s monthly rent.

I’ve never been wined and dined like this, never been treated to such a lavish dinner, and definitely never while wearing a diamond anal plug. It’s such an intriguing sensation that I can‘t calm down. I’m so pleasantly agitated that it’s a struggle for me to concentrate on the food and wine.

“You look tense,” he teases me, as he has often does.

I reach for my crystal wine glass, casting him a sassy smile as I take another sip.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Thank you for this wonderful dinner.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” he says. “You like getting your ass spread, too, don’t you?”

The suddenness with which he poses an unexpected question like this gets me every time.

“I do,” I say, blushing and shying away from his gaze.

“Describe how it feels to me,” he says.

I ignore his command, instead keeping myself occupied with another bite of the steamed and spiced vegetables. I never knew that a simple piece of cauliflower could taste this good.

“Pet,” he admonishes. “Describe it to me.”

My eyes meet his, my heart jumping under his warning gaze. His deep-searching demeanor reaches a part of me that has never been touched before, and I can’t help but respond to it in the way I do.

“I’m not good at describing things,” I tell him, afraid of embarrassing myself.

“You’ll have to learn how then,” he says. “Go ahead, describe the feeling to me.”

Oh, for God’s sake. Why this? I’ve never been a fan of dirty talk, mainly because I suck at it and feel like an idiot every time I try. It’s so much easier for me to follow other commands, like getting on my knees, posing for him, sucking on his exquisitely exciting cock.

“I’m more of a doer than a talker,” I reply, winking at him across the table.

I was hoping this remark would steer him in another direction, to one I’m more comfortable with, maybe asking me to show him something or do something instead of making me say things.

But he’s doesn’t move on.

“Describe it to me,” he repeats, emphasizing every syllable.

I roll my eyes at him, something I know he hates. It works like a charm if I want to get his attention in a certain way.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he wants to know, leaning back in his chair with his hand resting on the table, impatiently tapping with his fingers.

“Maybe,” I reply in an intentionally sassy tone.

“You know what I think of that,” he says. “I give you a collar, wine and dine you like a perfect gentleman, and you roll your eyes at me when I ask you to do one simple thing?”

I smirk at him. His tone is changing, and so is the expression on his face. The candlelight is dancing in his hazel eyes, giving life to a spark that exists there.

“It’s not a simple thing,” I say. “It’s silly. I don’t like talking about it.”

I’ve never teased him like this, and I love the way his expression changes from moment to moment, waiting for me to retreat, trying to follow his order because I’m too scared of the consequences.

But I’m not scared. Not tonight.

I’m both horny and curious to see what he will do if I keep going on like this. I know this is not serious enough of an offense for me to end up in the attic, but it will hurt. It’s been too long since I’ve felt those harshly placed and deliberate stings on my skin. I crave them more than I knew possible.

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