You Don't Know Me

by Mandy Lee

  ‘You don’t even know me.’

  ‘I know plenty about you.’

  ‘Is that why you just grilled me in the restaurant? Was that another job interview?’

  His lips turn up at the corners. ‘Isn’t a date always a job interview of sorts?’

  ‘Was that a date?’

  He shrugs his shoulders.

  ‘Not sure.’

  ‘You should get to know me some more before you … you know.’

  ‘I’d prefer to ‘you know’, and then possibly get to know you some more.’

  ‘Possibly?’ I shout. I can hardly believe what’s going on now. ‘You’re an arrogant shit!’ I splurt out the words and regret them instantly. Bugger it, I’ve just insulted my boss. And yes, he deserves to be insulted, but I really shouldn’t have done that because now he’s going to give me my marching orders. There really must be more diplomatic ways to sort this out. ‘Oh God,’ I mumble. ‘You’re going to sack me now.’

  ‘No, I’m not,’ he laughs. ‘You’re perfectly right. I am an arrogant shit. And you’re not the first woman who’s told me that.’

  ‘And I bet I won’t be the last.’

  He revs the engine as the lights change to green, but I can still hear the words.

  ‘You might be.’

  He turns his head and raises an eyebrow. I might be? Any woman who’s ever gone out with this man must have told him exactly the same thing. And there’ll certainly be more. How could I possibly be the last? Unless …

  ‘Oh, don’t tell me you’re after a relationship,’ I gasp.

  We’re moving again now. He swings the Mercedes into the left hand lane, flips on the indicators and turns onto a bridge. Keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the road, he seems to think for a moment or two before answering.

  ‘I’d simply like to see if you meet my needs.’

  ‘I can’t believe this.’

  ‘Just think about it.’ He flashes his blue irises at me. ‘You wouldn’t buy a car without a test drive. And I want a test drive. I’d like to run my hands over your body and feel your curves. I’d like to get inside you and find out how comfortable it is. I’d like to rev your engine and listen to the sound.’

  I squeeze my legs together. God, he’s being crass and I’m turned on. And I can’t help the next words that spill out of my mouth.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t help you, sir. There’s nothing on this forecourt that’s going to interest you.’

  ‘I disagree. I very much like the look of this particular model. And I’m thinking she’s going to be a nippy little number.’

  Now, that’s enough.

  ‘Turn the car around.’

  ‘No can do.’

  ‘Turn the car around.’

  ‘No chance in hell.’

  Panic stations. Send up a flare and unhook the lifeboats!

  ‘Mr Foster, I’m pleading with you. Turn the car around. The next lights you stop at, I’m getting out.’

  ‘I’m afraid not. And call me Dan.’

  I tug at the door, even though the car’s still moving.

  ‘Don’t try to open the fucking door here,’ he barks. ‘You’ll hurt yourself.’

  ‘Then stop the fucking car and let me out!’

  The Mercedes screeches to a halt. I pull at the door again, frantically trying to make an escape, but nothing seems to happen. Letting go of the handle, I flop back in the leather seat, crossing my arms and staring resolutely out through the windscreen. I can barely believe what’s going on now. If I’m not very much mistaken, I’m being kidnapped. The only thing I can do is shut myself off.

  ‘What are you scared of, Maya?’ His voice sweeps across me, sending a shiver of lust through my groin. ‘Look at me.’

  I sense a movement by my side, feel the touch of his fingers against my chin. Gently, he turns my face towards his and before I know it, my head is swirling. I’m lost in those pools of blue.

  ‘I’ll take you home to Camden, if that’s what you really want. But you need to know that you shouldn’t be afraid of me. I’m not going to force you into anything you don’t want to do.’

  ‘But you’ve locked me in.’

  ‘It’s a temporary measure. Just until you calm down and see sense.’ He tips his head towards me. ‘What’s your problem?’

  ‘I don’t have a problem,’ I lie.

  ‘Then let me take you to bed.’

  Now, this is a bad idea and I know it. But while my brain is trying to drag me off in a sensible direction, my body has other ideas. A wave of something warm pulses its way from my stomach and up through my chest, sending me dizzy for a split second. And before I know it, I’m nodding.

  ‘And you’ll stay the night,’ he informs me.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’ll let Bob do the talking.’

  Letting go of my chin, he flips the car into first gear and revs the engine. Before long, we’re moving again, flying across the bridge, circling a roundabout and turning right onto the south bank. He’s clearly finished with talking for the time being. And so am I. Leaning my head back against the seat, I will my heartbeat to behave, but it’s having none of it. In fact, it’s having some sort of a tantrum. I try my level best to tune back into the music. But Bob Dylan has barely managed to inform his lady that he longs to see her in the morning light when the Mercedes pulls in to the left, and waits for a garage door to open.

  Chapter Nine

  I’m leaning against the counter in a huge kitchen, and he’s leaning back against a wall. I’ve only just got my breath back after being hustled out of his car, into a lift, out of a lift, and into his massive penthouse apartment. He touches his head back against the wall, his hands in his pockets and his feet crossed. He looks for all the world like he’s about to break out into a whistle.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Admiring the bodywork.’

  ‘You’re a horrible man.’

  ‘You might be right about that.’ He pushes himself away from the wall and stalks towards me. ‘But then again.’

  As I watch him move closer, I begin to quiver. His eyes are glimmering now beneath their lids.

  ‘I want to go home.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’

  ‘I’m saying the words.’

  He leans forwards, placing a hand on the counter top to either side of me, and he looks down at my lips.

  ‘And you don’t mean them.’

  ‘How would you know?’

  ‘I can tell.’

  He leans in towards me. His lips brush against mine, setting off a firework display in my groin. Shit, he’s right. I don’t mean those words at all. I’m burning up from the centre outwards and now all I want is to feel the touch of his hands.

  ‘I’m going to kiss you now,’ he murmurs. ‘And let’s be clear about this. By the time I’ve finished, you really won’t want to be going anywhere.’

  ‘Arrogant prick.’

  His lips are on mine in an instant. He kisses me deeply, his tongue entwining itself with mine, slowly, lazily, languidly. After the initial onslaught, he seems to be in no rush at all. And his lips are so soft and warm, so bloody perfect, reacting to mine, moulding themselves against me. With immediate effect, I’m a mess, an overly-sexed, frustrated, agonising mess. I thrust my hands into his hair and draw him closer, hardly aware that his hands are round my back, tracking their way across my skin. He pulls himself away and in a split second, my T-shirt is over my head and slung onto the floor.

  ‘Enough of that thing.’

  He runs a hand across my shoulders, taking his time, across my throat and down to my chest. All I can hear is the sound of my breath. I’m starting to gasp. Any more of this and I’ll be hyperventilating. But again, he’s in no rush. He leans back slightly, sucks at his top lip as if he’s thinking deeply, and finally reaches up to my bra. He slips his finger inside the right cup, gently easing it downwards, revealing my nipple. He glances up at me and gives me a boyish grin before he leans in and begins
to suck gently. I feel a hand at my back, pushing me forwards and holding me tight, and I gasp at the edge of pleasure that cuts through my body, right to my centre. Taking his time, he repeats the process with my left cup and my left nipple, and I hear myself groan.

  ‘So …’ He nuzzles his mouth into my neck. ‘Do you still want to go home?’

  ‘No,’ I pant. ‘Shit. No, I don’t.’

  He tilts his head back and gives me a dose of his gloriously blue eyes.

  ‘Well then,’ he smiles. ‘It’s time for round two.’

  Without any warning at all, I’m swept up from the counter and flung over his shoulder. He strides purposefully across the kitchen, through some sort of lounge area that I can barely make out, partly because I’m upside down in a fireman’s lift and party because of the dim lighting. I’m carried up a flight of stairs and down a hallway. A door is kicked open and I’m landed on my feet. He takes a step backwards while I try to regain my balance. I could pass out already, and I’m struggling to see straight, and he’s not even out of breath.

  ‘Are you alright?’ I hear his voice in the darkness.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  I turn slowly, adjusting my eyes to the gloom, trying to take it all in. I seem to be standing in the middle of a huge bedroom. It’s edged on one side by a floor-to-ceiling window that gives out over the river. To the right, I can clearly make out the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben, lit up against the night sky, but to the left it’s all alien to me. I’m aware of a tapping sound. I peer up at a massive skylight and realise that raindrops are softly dripping against the glass.

  ‘I’ll put the lights on, Maya. I’d like to see what I’m doing here.’

  He flicks a switch somewhere and the room is suddenly bathed in a soft, unassuming glow. I turn away from the window, finding myself faced with an entire wall’s worth of walk-in wardrobes. A chaise longue sits in a corner of the room and beneath the skylight, draped in a soft, cream-coloured throw, the mother of all beds. I stare at it, mesmerised. You could lose yourself in that thing … literally.

  ‘Don’t be nervous.’

  My eyes flick away from the bed, over towards the door, and my heart begins to race. He’s standing there, staring at me. His lips are parted and his eyes glimmer. As he begins to move forwards, every single muscle in my body becomes tense. He’s in front of me in an instant and while I gaze at his chest, I feel his hands close around my back.

  ‘Where shall we start?’ he whispers.

  I look up at his face. My eyes are about level with his nose. I’m about to suggest another kiss because the last one was just about the best thing I’ve ever experienced, but then I realise that he’s not waiting for an answer. He sinks to his knees and smiles up at me, locking me into his gaze. And I’m helpless. I’m incapable of looking away, but at the edge of my vision, I’m vaguely aware that he’s reaching out, unbuttoning my jeans with slow, masterful moves, peeling them open, pausing for a moment to lay his palm flat across my stomach. I sense a flutter in my groin and I let out a moan. His smile broadens. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. The jeans are drawn downwards. Gently, he manoeuvres them over my hips and down my legs, pausing here and there to wrap a big hand around my waist or run his fingers across my thighs. At his bidding, I lift my feet, one at a time, so that he can take my jeans off. He skims his hands up the outside of my legs until he reaches my crotch before sliding a finger into my knickers. And then he sets about the same slow removal process, this time landing light kisses along the length of my right leg on the way down and then back up my left. A strong arm comes around my buttocks, holding me in place, and his kisses slowly circle my stomach. He eases my legs apart, his lips working their way downwards, across my pubic hair. A finger strokes lightly across my clitoris, lighting me up with a thousand watts of sexual energy.

  ‘Oh fuck.’

  ‘You’re so responsive.’

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘Oh yes. I’d better get you horizontal. I don’t want you passing out on me.’

  He pushes himself up to his feet and runs his hands down my arms. I should do something now, say something, but I’m hypnotised by his touch, mesmerised by his eyes. I’m in a stupor.

  ‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ he asks, lowering his face to mine.

  I nod weakly while he reaches round to my back and unclasps my bra, slipping it gently from my shoulders and dropping it to the floor. Suddenly, I realise that while I’m now completely naked, he’s still fully dressed. Snapping myself out of my torpor, I reach up and push his jacket from his shoulders.

  ‘Now …’ He leans in towards me. ‘Get your backside onto that bed, Miss Scotton.’ He presses a thumb against my lips and my heartbeat judders. ‘I think it’s about time to take you out for a spin.’

  My brain wants to tell him to fuck right off but instead I clamber onto the bed and lie on my back watching as he unfastens his tie. He pulls it away from his neck and tugs it tight between his hands. Oh shit, he is one of those ‘look at me, I’m so powerful and I’m going to tie you up’ types. I should run a mile but I can’t. My legs have turned to jelly. He throws the tie onto the bed and proceeds to undo his shirt. Slowly revealing himself to me, he draws it from his shoulders, staring at me all the time. And then he unbuckles the belt and throws it onto the bed right next to the tie. Oh shit. I really ought to go now. How on Earth am I going to cope with this?

  ‘Are you going to …’

  ‘Tie you up?’ he grins, unzipping his trousers and shrugging them to the floor. ‘Probably.’ He pauses, standing there in nothing but a pair of white pants that must have some expensive designer label on them. Bloody hell, he’s ripped. There’s not an ounce of fat on him.

  ‘I’m not sure that I …’

  ‘You’ll just have to go with it, Maya. It’s my modus operandi.’

  I prop myself up on my elbows, gazing in disbelief at his toned body: the broad shoulders, the rigid six pack, the firm lines of the muscles that descend neatly in a V shape towards his crotch. He smiles mischievously as he inserts his fingers into the waistband of his pants and slowly edges them down, performing a strip tease for me. My eyes must be the size of saucers as his pants drop to the floor, releasing an erect penis that springs out into the open threatening to cause all sorts of mayhem. Jesus, he’s well-endowed. How the hell is that going to fit inside me?

  ‘Put your arms above your head.’

  ‘I … I don’t really think I can do that sort of … thing,’ I stutter.

  He bites his lip and frowns.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I just can’t …’

  He climbs up onto the bed and settles himself beside me, propping up his head with his hand. The warmth from him radiates through my body. He gazes into my eyes, waiting for an explanation. But what can I tell him? That I ran away from a man who tried to control every single aspect of my life? That I lost myself in my last relationship. That in the aftermath, I buried myself in months of sleeping around? That now, I’m determined to be in control of everything in my life, and this just seems to be the wrong way to go about it? And besides, I’ve never done this sort of thing before. A warm finger glides across my stomach and I convulse inside.

  ‘Let me tell you something.’ The same finger travels up my chest, pauses briefly between my breasts and then catches the bottom of my chin, turning my face gently towards his. ‘You should try it first.’

  ‘I’m really not sure …’

  He smiles a slow, languid smile.

  ‘Trust me. It’s nothing sinister. It’s just sex. You simply allow me to restrain you. You give control to me. You do exactly what I say … and then you simply lie back and enjoy.’

  ‘But I don’t want to lose myself.’

  The smile broadens.

  ‘You’re not going to lose yourself, Maya. In fact, you’re more likely to find yourself if you trust me. Give me a chance to show you how good this can be.’ I feel his hand around the back of my neck, holding me i
n place while his lips hover over mine for an age, waiting for my answer. At last, in spite of everything, I nod uncertainly. Shit, what am I doing?

  ‘Good choice.’

  His body moves over me, his arms enveloping me, and his lips clamp down on mine, kissing me deeply, transforming me into a mess. I have enough time to run my fingers through his hair before he grabs my wrists, his fingers tightening against my flesh. He manoeuvres my arms up towards the headboard.

  ‘Keep them there. Do exactly as you’re told.’

  I quake inside. This doesn’t come naturally to me. But suddenly I just can’t help myself. There’s something about this man that makes me want to give in. He raises himself up above me, kneeling back on his haunches.

  ‘Good God, woman, you’re beautiful.’

  Leaning forwards, he patiently skims his palms across my hips, my waist, my breasts and then up to my neck, leaving a trail of heated flesh in their wake. I moan out loud at the waves of pleasure that his hands send through me.

  ‘I love the upholstery. It’s so soft.’

  ‘You can stop with all the car talk now,’ I whimper. ‘It’s naff.’

  A finger lands quickly on my lips.

  ‘No talking. Close your eyes now. Just feel it.’

  I do as I’m told and he proceeds to explore my body. I feel a warm hand on my right breast, gently cupping it, sweeping a finger round my nipple. He takes the nipple in his fingers, slowly drawing it out. And then his lips close over it, sucking gently, sending a storm of sensations running through my breast and down the centre of my body. I moan in appreciation. He does the same to my left breast. Moving again, he begins to trace kisses down my sternum, across my stomach, his lips landing lightly like a thousand butterflies, churning up a myriad of sensations. I’m becoming hyper-sensitive. He could touch me anywhere now, and my skin would goose pimple at the slightest contact.

  ‘Oh God …’ I breathe. ‘That’s so good.’

  ‘Did I say you could talk?’

  I shake my head and clamp my lips shut.

  ‘I mean it, Maya. You do exactly as I say.’