You Don't Know Me

by Mandy Lee

  ‘Don’t bail on me again,’ he murmurs at last.

  Again? It’s going further than this? Daniel Foster, the disgustingly good looking womaniser is after more? With me?

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘You’d better not. I’d only track you down.’

  I stare up at him, realising that he’s deadly serious.

  ‘Like you tracked me down on Saturday?’

  ‘Exactly. You’ve got a very talkative neighbour, you know. She told me where Lucy works. I’ll always find you.’

  ‘And I don’t get a choice in this?’ I smile as innocently as I can.

  ‘I’m afraid not. Not any more. I’ve had my test drive and I’ve decided to keep you.’

  He digs his head back into my neck. His breaths are slowing now. ‘I knew it would be like this,’ he mumbles into my neck.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Without looking up, he shakes his head, refusing to elaborate.

  ‘Are you alright?’ he whispers.

  ‘Of course,’ I laugh. I’ve just had the most mind-blowing sex of my life and he’s asking me if I’m alright.

  ‘Did I hurt you too much?’

  ‘Hurt me?’

  Oh that. He’s talking about the nipple business. My mind rolls around on itself wondering what to say.

  ‘No. Well yes. But it was kind of …’

  He raises his head and smiles at me.

  ‘You’ve not done the pain thing before?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He lands a gentle kiss on my nose. ‘I got a bit carried away there. I should have asked first. I should have been specific.’

  ‘Is that the normal way?’

  He pushes himself up further.

  ‘The normal way?’

  ‘Well, I’m assuming you’re all BDSM.’

  He chews his lip.

  ‘I’ve dabbled,’ he says casually. ‘I’m just making it up as I go along.’

  ‘So why did that come to mind? Causing me pain?’

  ‘No idea.’ He stares down at me, all uber serious. ‘Like I say, I just got a bit carried away. You seemed to like it though.’

  I smile coyly. I’ve never in my life tried any of that kind of stuff. But my first taste of it could well have got me hooked.

  ‘Looks like I’ve bagged me a filthy kinkpot,’ he grins.

  He withdraws from me slowly, kissing my nipple one last time before tucking my breast back inside my bra. At last, he stands up, pulling up his trousers and rearranging his shirt. He’s perfect again, completely unruffled, which is more than I can say for myself. Glancing down, I decide I’m a brazen hussy, a post-coital disaster zone. I push my skirt back down and button up my blouse. When I’m ready, he holds out a hand, waiting for me to slip my fingers into his before he draws me up to his chest, wraps his arms around me and kisses me softly, gently, so that I really could melt. At last, he pulls away.

  ‘Bathroom. Now.’

  I’m led through a door at the far end of his office, finding myself in a sleek, modern bathroom. An entire wall is edged with a vanity unit, complete with two sinks and a huge mirror. Alongside that, there’s a toilet and a walk-in shower.

  ‘Sometimes I run into work,’ he nods towards the shower. ‘It’s handy to be able to freshen up.’

  Spotting a box of tissues, I pull out a handful. I’m fully aware that there’s something dribbling down the inside of my right leg, and I really need to clean myself up before I go back to an afternoon of reading my book and making endless cups of tea. I’ve hardly begun when he comes up behind me, takes the tissues out of my hand, curls one hand around my stomach and leans down, wiping his cum away from between my legs. Oh God, this should be a moment of severe embarrassment but strangely, it’s not. While he digs his head into my neck, kissing me tenderly, running the tissue up my thigh and along my clitoris, I hear a moan escape from my lips.

  ‘Turned on again, Miss Scotton?’ he whispers into my ear.

  ‘Bloody hell, yes.’

  He must have dropped the tissue now because all I can feel are his warm fingers slowly massaging me back into a frenzied mess. His hand tightens around my waist forcing me back into his erection.

  ‘Me too.’

  I look up at his reflection, finding him staring at me, a smile playing at the edges of his lips. He presses his crotch into my backside, slowly, rhythmically, and before long I’m on the verge of climaxing, my muscles quivering at his delicious touch. Apart from the sound of shallow breathing that’s coming from both of us, the room is silent. He removes his fingers from my crotch, gently pulls my skirt up one more time, and I hear his zip. Oh God, we’re going in for round two. At this rate, I’m not even going to have the energy to switch the kettle on this afternoon. I feel a knee between my legs, urging them open.

  ‘Again?’ I gasp.

  ‘Oh yes.’ He frowns at me. ‘I want my dessert. Is that a problem?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then brace yourself.’

  I lean forwards, placing my hands on the counter, and gaze up at him in the mirror, my entire body tingling with anticipation. He studies me for a moment or two, as if I’m some sort of complicated document he can’t quite understand, and then he reaches down, tracing his fingers from my backside, down to my clit. He parts my lips and guides his cock into me, filling me in one slow, satisfying move. I moan out loud.

  ‘Oh God.’

  ‘It’s good isn’t it?’ He pulls out to the edge and then forces his way in again, slowly. ‘Really fucking good,’ he breathes, staring back down at me, his eyes heavy with lust, his mouth perfectly serious. ‘And for the record, it’s never felt like this for me either.’

  Oh come off it, I want to laugh. You’ve screwed hundreds of women, if not thousands. You’re going to have felt this way more times than you can shake a stick at.

  ‘And that’s a fucking fact,’ he confirms, before I can say anything.

  He skims a hand up my spine, resting it on the nape of my neck, gripping me tight and holding me in place. Again, he withdraws. Again, he drives his way gradually back into me, adjusting his angle this time so that a wave of warmth rolls its way through my muscles. Oh God, I hope he’s not planning on keeping this up for long because if he does, then I’m not going to see the end of lunchtime.

  ‘Dan, please. Go faster. Go harder.’

  The seriousness fades in an instant.

  ‘Did I say you could talk, Maya?’ he smiles.

  ‘No, you fucking well didn’t,’ I growl. ‘But if you carry on like this, you’re going to kill me off. Faster, now! Harder!’

  To my surprise, he follows through with my orders. While one hand stays at the nape of my neck, the other grips me by the waist. My arms grow taut, waiting for the onslaught and it’s not long in coming. He withdraws and slams back into me immediately, sending a fierce heat through my insides. Again he withdraws, picking up the pace, ramming into me again and again.

  ‘I’m going to …’

  ‘Wait.’ His hand tightens against my neck, a warning, as he slams into me another four or five times before he growls, ‘Now.’

  I come to pieces immediately, every muscle in my groin contracting and convulsing, while he throbs inside me, filling me with his hot cum. I’m about to collapse onto the counter top when he slaps me once, on my right buttock. I jolt at the shock, and then I convulse again.

  ‘What was that for?’ I cry out in confusion.

  I’m pulled upright. Still buried inside me, he wraps one arm tightly around my stomach while his free hand comes up and takes my chin, pinning my head back against his chest.

  ‘Remember who’s in charge here,’ he warns me sternly. ‘Don’t think you can order me about when it comes to sex. I want complete control.’

  I shake my head out of his grasp.

  ‘Well, I’m so sorry,’ I sigh, spraying out as much sarcasm as I can gather.

  He tightens his grip one more time and grinds himself into me. Even though he
’s just coming down from one orgasm, I wouldn’t put it past the man to work himself up to another before he’s even out of me. He leans down and nips my ear lobe.

  ‘Don’t get feisty with me, woman. It only makes me want to fuck you more.’ He licks me gently at the back of my ear and I tingle with pleasure. ‘And just for the record, I’m quite capable of fucking us both to death so don’t give me the excuse.’ He withdraws from me, watching me all the time in the mirror. At last, he lets me go and spins me round. ‘Time for something to eat,’ he grins, tucking his penis back inside his trousers. ‘I can’t have you going back to a tough afternoon with Norman on an empty stomach. You’d better clean yourself up this time.’ He plants a gentle, chaste kiss on my nose. ‘If I do it, we’ll never get out of here.’

  When I return to the office, he’s already on the sofa with his feet up on the coffee table, a lunch laid out in front of him: a selection of sandwiches, a bowl of posh crisps, two bottles of water. I have no idea where it’s come from. He taps the space next to him and I sink down by his side. Picking up a sandwich, I turn it around in my hands. The truth is I’m not that hungry at all. My stomach is all over the place.

  ‘So, you’ve decided to keep me then?’ I venture.

  He turns towards me, mid chew, and takes in a deep breath.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Which means?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  He shrugs his shoulders while I take a half-hearted bite out of my sandwich.

  ‘Well, that’s cleared things up a bit,’ I mutter.

  ‘Don’t be a smart alec.’

  ‘Why not?’

  He motions down to his crotch where I can clearly see the beginnings of another erection.

  ‘I’ve got a meeting in half an hour. How the hell am I going to discuss progress on a multi-storey car park with this thing kicking off in my pants?’

  Choking on a mouthful of bread, I gaze down at the bulge and wonder if this is an avoidance tactic. Well, if it is, then it’s not going to work.

  ‘I’d just like to know what you want out of me, that’s all,’ I push on. ‘I mean, I’m not getting into some sort of kinky contract with you.’

  ‘What on Earth makes you say that?’

  ‘You want to tie me up. You like to order me about. You just spanked me in there.’ I nod towards the bathroom. ‘Put me straight if I’ve got this all wrong, but I’m guessing you’re one of those dominant types.’

  His face breaks out into a smile. ‘I have preferences. That’s all.’

  ‘And you want me to be your submissive?’

  ‘I’d like you to submit.’

  ‘In everything?’

  ‘Wherever necessary.’

  ‘That’s a bit too vague.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure we can firm things up as we go along.’ He smiles mischievously. Leaning his head back against the sofa, he stares at me for a moment or two. ‘Listen,’ he says at last. ‘I’d like you to paint something for me. I love that sketch.’

  He points the remnants of his sandwich back at the framed picture on his desk before popping it into his mouth and finishing it off. I shake my head, suddenly heavy, as if my body has been flooded with molten lead.

  ‘I haven’t painted properly. Not for a long time.’

  ‘You haven’t opened your present yet?’

  ‘Yes, I have. I started something but it’s early days.’

  He stares at me some more, his eyes glimmering with interest.

  ‘So, why didn’t you paint for so long?’ he asks.

  I lean forwards and put my sandwich back on the plate.

  ‘Lots of reasons.’ I clasp my hands around my knees. I’m not happy about this, not happy about him rummaging around in my weaknesses.

  ‘If you’re not painting, then you can’t be happy,’ he says, his voice softened, almost tender. ‘And if you’re not happy, then I can’t be happy.’

  Releasing my knees from their grasp, I lean back and turn to him.

  ‘Why would it bother you?’ I demand. ‘You’ve barely known me for five minutes.’

  ‘I’ve known you for long enough.’ He places a hand on my thigh, and somewhere deep inside my stomach a fluttering sensation kicks into action. ‘You’re a stunning woman, Maya. Intelligent, sexy, gifted, incredible. Every time I’m with you, I’m a mess. And you feel the same way about me.’ He holds me with his gaze. That wasn’t a question, but he’s still waiting for confirmation. I nod. ‘Good. Then this is going to carry on. And because this is going to carry on, I need to see you happy. And I need to know why you didn’t paint.’

  I throw my head back, stare at the ceiling and suck in a lungful of air. I’m being put on the spot, yet again, and he’s clearly not going to give up until he’s got an answer. But where to start with it all? Not with Edinburgh. That’s all I know for certain. I can never tell him about Edinburgh. I’ll start later on into the story.

  ‘I was kind of caught up in my ex. I thought we were going to get married and have a family. I just dropped the painting and invested everything in him.’

  ‘And he didn’t encourage you?’

  I shake my head, suddenly ashamed of myself. Why have I been so weak? So directionless? And why did I abandon my dreams? Closing my eyes, I hope to God that I’m not about to cry, but I rather suspect I am. I’m half expecting a barrage of follow-on questions from him now, all on the subject of the ex. But it doesn’t come. Instead, he begins to speak quietly.

  ‘I’m not the greatest expert on the matter. All I know about relationships is what I saw in my parents. And I saw that they loved each other deeply, that they invested in each other and encouraged each other. They were equals. My mother backed my father in his business. She understood that he had to work long hours and she supported him. And in return, my father encouraged my mother.’ He squints towards the windows. ‘She painted.’

  ‘She did?’

  ‘Only amateur. Nothing like you. She was a watercolour woman. But my father encouraged her all the way. And your ex-boyfriend should have done the same. He should have supported you.’ He bites his lip and seems to think before he fires out the next question. ‘Are you over him now?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘Good. Any other exes I should know about?’

  He watches me closely, picking up on the hint of a squirm. Oh great, so he’s sensed my unease. Don’t ask about that, I will him silently. Because I’ve already made my decision, and I’m seriously not going to tell you.

  ‘It’s okay.’ He squeezes my leg. ‘We can peel back that layer another time.’ He reaches forwards, grabs hold of a bottle of water, unscrews the lid and takes a giant gulp before he speaks again. ‘I’d like to see you tonight.’

  I grin like an idiot, reach up and wipe a crumb away from the side of his mouth. He raises an eyebrow at me.

  ‘What should I wear?’ I ask.

  He thinks for a moment, as if he’s weighing up his next words.

  ‘That’s entirely up to you.’

  ***

  When I’m finally ushered back out into the reception area, I find myself confronted by a distinctly confused-looking Carla and a distinctly pissed-off looking stranger perched against her desk. I stop in my tracks and take in the stranger, noting that he’s tall, lean, dark-haired and in his mid-thirties at a guess. And judging by the hint of a snarl that’s currently spreading itself across his lips, he’s taken an instant dislike to me.

  ‘Dan,’ the stranger sighs. ‘Finally.’

  ‘Clive. What are you doing here?’

  ‘I thought I might come for a little catch up over lunch.’ He stands up and straightens his jacket. ‘But when I got here, Carla informed me that you were busy. She said we weren’t to bother you under any circumstances. Apparently, she was under orders not to open your door. All very strange.’

  ‘I was … discussing something with …’

  I watch in amazement as Mr Mean and Hot and Moody seems to swallow hard and fumble for an exp
lanation. Abruptly, all of his cocky self-assuredness evaporates, leaving nothing but an anxious frown in its place, and for the life of me I really can’t figure out what’s going on. Okay, so I might have that just-fucked look about me. My skirt is creased, my hair is ruffled and my blouse seems to be crumpled to within an inch of its existence. And while Dan seems to be as perfectly turned out as ever, I’m pretty sure that this strange man, who’s apparently called Clive, knows exactly what we’ve been up to. But why would that bother the big kahuna?

  ‘This is Maya.’ He waves a hand at me. ‘Maya, this is my good friend, Clive Watson. He’s the head of the Finance department here.’

  The head of the Finance department eyes me suspiciously then takes a step forwards. Taking my hand in his, he stares at me, coldly.

  ‘Do you work here?’ he asks.

  ‘Yes.’ I smile weakly. I’m getting the distinct feeling that this man isn’t warming to me at all.

  ‘Maya’s working in Norman’s office,’ Dan explains.

  ‘So what is she doing up here?’

  I watch as Daniel Foster glances from me to his friend, and finally fixes his eyes on the lift door. He’s shut himself off.

  ‘She just brought some papers up.’

  ‘Interesting.’ The edges of Clive Watson’s lips are lifted a little, but his eyes don’t catch the smile. ‘Can you spare me a few minutes, Dan?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’d better get back downstairs now,’ I say quietly. ‘Lots to do.’

  And with that, I’m gone.

  Chapter Fourteen

  After a less than busy afternoon, I make my way back up to Camden. It’s unbearably hot again after the weekend’s rainfall and I’m soon close to overheating on the tube. While the train judders its way up the Northern Line, I fidget about in my seat, glancing down at the too-short skirt, reminding myself that I’m wearing no knickers and hoping to God that the man in the opposite seat hasn’t noticed. Keep your knees together, for God’s sake, a voice cries out at the back of my head. You can’t go flashing that about at all and sundry.