Page 43 of Violent Cravings

"I know," I breathe. "I know what I signed up for."

His eyebrows knit together for a moment. It seems like he doesn't like to be reminded of our arrangement either, but probably for completely different reasons.

"Don't worry, I'll give you a little break," he says. "As a matter of fact, I may need one, too."

"You? Why would you need one?" I tease, adding a little smirk to my words.

He huffs.

"Doll, fucking you is not for the weak," he says. "But it's a sublime joy. I can't wait to do it again."

"Me neither," I say in a low voice, once again reminded of the fact that there's a time limit to all of this. And I don't even know how much time we have left. The room is completely shielded against the outside light, so I have no way of knowing if it's still daytime or if the night has already settled in.

The only indicator of passed time is my stomach. I'm starving and the rumbling is a clear sign of that. It doesn't escape his ears, either.

"Hungry, are we?" he asks, casting me a smile that I would call loving if I didn't know any better.

"A little," I admit.

"A little?" he repeats. "That's bullshit. I'm starving, and I'm pretty sure so are you. What do you want to eat?"

I look at him with bewilderment.

"I told you, my doll can have anything she wants," he says. "I have so many decisions to make, I want you to make this one."

"Um," I stutter, dumbfounded.

I clear my throat, suddenly feeling awkwardly shy next to him. After all we've done together, why is this so hard for me?

"I don't know," I add. "I mean... what do you have?"

"Everything," he repeats.

"Everything? That's not possible-"

"I can get you anything, doll," he insists. "But I need to know what you want."

He lifts his hand and gently caresses along my cheek, sending sweet little shivers of excitement through me. Even after all of this, his touch feels electric, stirring me more than it should.

"However, my patience is limited," he says, his voice laced with familiar warning. "If you don't tell me what you want, I'll be eating alone."

"What do you want?" I ask, hoping he‘ll take the decision out of my hands.

But he just shakes his head. "No, doll. That's not how it works."

Damn. I should have known this would be too easy. But what do you tell a rich person like him when it comes to food? With his status, I'm sure he's used to fancy hors d'oeuvres, lobster, tiny Kobe steaks, or whatever else rich people like him eat. I'm pretty sure I can't enthrall him with my favorite dishes, macaroni and cheese and pizza. I'm so embarrased, and my post-coital brain can’t come up with anything a little more fancy. Oysters? He loves sushi, so he might be into that, but I could gag at the thought of it.

"Time is running out, doll," he whispers. "And I'm starving. Let me know what we're eating."

"I-I-I'm really okay with anything you-"

"This is an order, doll!" he interrupts me. "Do you want to displease me? You know how I feel about disobedience."

"Pizza!" I blurt out, closing my eyes in shame. "I'd really love to have some pizza."

His reaction unsettles me. He places another kiss on my lips and squeezes me in his arm, so loving and affectionate that it instantly calms my worries.

"Perfect," he says, his voice laced with warmth. "I'd love that, too, doll."

---