Page 20 of Violent Cravings

Chapter 11

Laura

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this is just a normal date. He has prepared a healthy Japanese dinner for us, a gigantic spread of sushi rolls, edamame, little pieces of fried chicken, steamed dumplings, and miso soup served in exquisitely designed tiny bowls.

The dining table is close to the open kitchen, which is connected to the living room, still bathing in the last rays of the setting sun. He pulls the chair away from the table for me to sit down, like a true gentleman.

I sit, awkwardly fixing my skirt, even though I know he hates it.

“I included some vegetarian options,” he says, casting me a quick glance to communicate his disaffection with my attempts at modesty. “Just in case.”

“I’m an omnivore,” I say. “I eat everything.”

He laughs and sits down opposite me. “No one eats everything.”

“I do,” I insist. “There’s nothing that I don’t like.”

He casts me a naughty smile.

“I’ll remember that you said that,” he says mischievously, as he pours me a glass of champagne. “Please, eat.”

It’s the first of many orders he will direct at me, but this one is easy to follow. Despite my angst, I’m quite hungry. We clink glasses in a silent toast and begin to eat, engaging in harmless smalltalk about the food. If he’s trying to loosen me up and make things easier, he’s definitely succeeding.

I can’t believe I’m being paid for this, for spending a night with a wealthy and influential man like him. So far, there’s nothing unpleasant about it except the unease I feel about being compensated for sleeping with him, just like a whore or escort. I prefer to compare myself to the latter.

“Since you’re not asking any questions, I assume you’re just waiting for me to tell you what’s next,” he says after a while.

I’m in the process of swallowing a delicious piece of avocado maki, and his comment catches me off-guard.

“Um,” I hurry to say. “I’m assuming we’ll eat and…you know, do stuff afterward?”

I sound like a goddamn teenager, but I can’t help myself. I’ve never been good with words, and since this is my first time, especially not in a situation like this.

“Do stuff,” he mirrors me, shaking his head as he suppresses a laugh. “We’re not going to do stuff tonight, little girl. This is just preparation. We’ll talk, and if we can come to an agreement on everything related to my offer, you’ll sign a contract.”

He pauses, his piercing eyes catching my gaze as if to make sure that I’m listening.

“Believe me, things will be very different once we do stuff,” he adds.

“Oh,” I say. “So, I’m not… I mean, we’re not –”

“Not tonight,” he says. “We need to get some things settled first.”

“Uh, okay,” I say, unsure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. “Like what?”

“For starters, I need to know your hard limits,” he says. “Things that you’re absolutely not okay with doing.”

“My hard limits?” I repeat.

He lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Your innocence is as alluring as it is exhausting,” he laments. “I’m sure it will be easier if I just come right out and ask.”

He clears his throat and takes a sip from his champagne, leaning back in his chair before facing me again. The suit jacket stretches around his upper arm when he brings the flute up to his lips. He must be ripped under there, and a naughty voice inside my head is begging for him to take off his jacket. I’ve never seen him without one, but I’m sure it’s a sight to behold.

“Do you like spankings?” he asks, ripping me away from my musings. “Do you like to be choked? Tied? Whipped? Caned? How hard? Can I leave marks on your perfect skin? Can I fuck your ass? How about your nipples? Are they sensitive? Do you like it when they get played with? Tortured?”

My entire face is glowing with heat, and I hope to God that I don’t look as flushed as I feel. But his confident smile tells me that my heated embarrassment is clear as daylight and written all over my face.

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