by Mandy Lee
‘And where do you think you’re going?’ The voice comes out of nowhere, rich and deep and velvety, and I know immediately who it belongs to. Swivelling round on the spot, I find him standing to one side of the lift, his hands buried deep in his trouser pockets. My heartbeat stalls.
‘I was just …’
I point aimlessly at a wall and he scowls.
‘You were just running. Again.’
Taking his hands out of his pockets, he pushes himself away from the wall and begins to close in on me, keeping his eyes fixed on mine, locking me in with a hard, unforgiving gaze. I back up only to find myself stopped in my tracks by the bonnet of a car. By the time he comes to a halt in front of me, I’m a wreck.
‘So,’ he breathes, ‘I’d like to know why you’re running.’
‘Well, seeing as you’re asking, I don’t particularly fancy spending the night with a man who obviously hasn’t given up on putting it about a bit.’
He folds his arms.
‘We’ve been over this.’
‘And I don’t believe you.’
‘What makes you say that?’ he asks.
‘You know exactly what makes me say that. How would you feel if you walked into a room and found me draped all over another man?’
‘Fucking furious.’
‘So, now do you understand?’
He shrugs his shoulders.
‘I told you. There’s nothing for you to worry about.’
‘So explain.’
‘Explain what exactly?’
‘Lily Babbage. You had your hands all over her.’
‘I had my hands on her arms.’ He reaches out and grabs me. ‘Like this.’
A bolt of electricity thrums its way through my body. My heart begins to pound. My breathing grows shallow. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
‘Now, sometimes,’ he murmurs, ‘you might say that this is how one friend holds another, for example when they’re trying to talk some sense into them, just like I was trying to talk some sense into my friend earlier. And sometimes, you might say that this is how a man holds a woman when he’s about to fuck her senseless against a Jaguar XF, just like I’m holding you now.’
‘Oh.’
I take in a deep breath.
‘Oh,’ he mimics.
‘You can’t fuck me senseless against this car.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, it’s not yours for a start.’
‘Yes, it is.’
I cast a quick glance at the smooth, black bonnet, and then turn back to face him. Drawn in by the shimmer in his eyes, by the vice-like grip on my shoulders, I’m already submitting, and I know it.
‘Any other good reason you can come up with?’ he demands.
‘Somebody might come in.’
‘Not likely.’
‘But the main door …’
‘Is functioning normally, thank you.’
My mouth falls open at that. He’s obviously been tracking my movements, anticipating the fact that I’d try to make a run for it. And he’s gone to these lengths to stop me? Half of me wants to reach up and slap him across the face, shortly before storming right out of here. The other half is swooning.
Leaning forwards, he whispers into my ear. ‘And before you go on, you might like to remember that this is my building. That lift over there won’t open until I say so. And that garage door won’t open either, until I inform security. And as for that CCTV camera.’ He nods upwards. ‘Well, that’s switched off until further notice.’
‘You’ve got me trapped?’
‘Looks like it.’
‘But …’
‘Listen.’ He releases my arms and takes a step backwards. ‘If you really do want to get out of here, then all you need to do is say the word. I’ll call security and let you out. But just to let you know, you’d better sound like you mean it.’
He puts his hands back into his pockets. We stare at each other for an eternity. And while he’s apparently cool, calm and collected, I’m a quivering mass of nervous energy. At last, the cold stare begins to soften.
‘Take off your knickers,’ he says quietly.
‘What?’
‘Take them off.’ He motions towards my crotch. ‘And do it slowly.’
I gaze at him in disbelief, inwardly gasping at the sudden flood of warmth between my legs. And then, before I have any idea what’s going on, I’m hitching up my skirt, slipping my fingers into the top of my knickers and easing them down my legs … slowly. What the hell are you doing now, my brain screams out. Where’s your self-respect, woman? Well, God knows where it is. Ignoring my brain, I lean down and step out of my knickers, holding them limply in my left hand as I straighten myself up to find him smiling at me. The warmth returns between my thighs, with a vengeance.
‘You know, you really need to cut this running away crap, Maya.’ Taking a step forwards, he pulls the knickers out of my hands and drops them to the floor. ‘I’ve got enough to think about without having to rig up elaborate traps.’ While he draws up my skirt, arranging it neatly around my waist, his gaze travels to my crotch. ‘You’re wearing stockings. I approve. Did you wear these for me?’
Yes, I want to tell him, because before I saw you with your friend, it was fully my intention to let you fuck me in these.
‘No.’
‘Liar.’
Without warning, he reaches out and tugs at my blouse. Ripping it open in an instant, he yanks down my bra cups and pinches my nipples. I let out a moan and close my eyes, hoping to God that he really has switched off the CCTV, because if anyone can see this, I’ll never live it down.
‘Like that?’
‘Yes.’
He leans in towards me.
‘It’s just as well my woman’s in the mood for pain,’ he breathes into my ear, ‘because she’s about to be punished for her errant ways.’
‘What?’
I have no time to remonstrate. I’m swung round.
‘Hands on the bonnet.’
I comply immediately. He kicks my feet further apart. And then the slap comes out of nowhere.
‘Shit!’ I scream. My right buttock is on fire. I turn my head. ‘What are you doing that for?’
‘Punishment, Maya. For doubting me.’ Another slap. ‘And if you don’t like it, you know what to say.’ Another slap.
‘Fuck it, Dan! I don’t like it!’
‘Then say the word.’
‘No!’ I scream as a fourth slap hammers down on the same buttock. I’m not giving in to him. Six more slaps follow. On each one, I grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes together. Tears are flowing now. ‘I hate you!’ I sob. ‘I fucking hate you!’
‘No you don’t.’ I feel a hand between my legs, urging my thighs apart. A finger enters me. ‘You’re wet. You’re loving this.’ He withdraws the finger, replacing it quickly with two and I gasp at the intrusion. A hand moves into place on the small of my back, holding me fast while he begins to thrust the fingers in and out with short, vicious movements. My stomach muscles clench while a tornado of sensations blasts its way around my vagina. Jesus, he’s being rough with me. And he’s totally right. I am loving it. The fingers are removed and I hear the sound of his zip. His cock presses against my opening, and he forces his way into me quickly, burying himself to the hilt, filling me completely. I cry out in pleasure.
‘Fuck it, Maya. You’re going to drive me mad.’
‘And what the fuck do you think you’re doing to me?’ I shout across the bonnet.
He begins to withdraw and thrust, again and again, hitting the same spot repeatedly with deadly precision, causing my muscles to contract, that familiar pressure to grow inside me. His free hand curls its way under my skirt, holding me in place across my stomach while he smashes into me.
‘Please!’ I cry out, and I’ve no idea what I’m begging him for. I’m so close to the edge, I can barely make sense of anything.
At the sound of my voice, he begins to thrash harder, faster than before, so
that I struggle to steady myself against the car.
‘I’m going to come,’ he growls. Immediately, I feel him judder, feel the warmth of his cum inside me. Still holding me tight, he slows his thrusts, bringing himself down from his orgasm, and denying me one of my own.
‘I didn’t …’ I splutter.
‘I know.’ He pulls himself out of me. ‘This was a fuck for me. You didn’t deserve to come.’
‘But …’
I watch over my shoulder in disbelief as he sets about fastening his zip and straightening his trousers. My arms give way and I collapse across the bonnet. I must look like a prize whore, what with my blouse in bits and my backside on show and Dan’s sperm dribbling its way down my legs.
‘Doubt me and this happens,’ he states as if it’s simply a fact. ‘Have I made my point?’
‘I don’t really know what your point was.’
He sighs.
‘There’s only one woman for me and she’s currently slumped over the bonnet of my brand new Jag. And I sincerely hope that she’s not scratched the bodywork.’
‘Well, if she has, then there’s only one person to blame for that.’
‘Quite right.’
A moment later, a smooth cloth is wiped across my groin. He’s cleaning me up again, taking his time, making sure that every last drop of his sperm is wiped away. At last, I’m allowed to stand up straight. He moves my skirt back into place and turns me round to face him.
‘You’ve ripped my flatmate’s blouse to bits,’ I complain.
‘I’ll reimburse her.’
‘How am I going to get home like this?’
He takes off his jacket and motions for me to put it on. Oh, I get it. The blouse ripping was a tactic, a pre-emptive strike. He knew I wouldn’t be able to run any further if my top was in shreds.
‘Like I said before, you’re coming back to mine.’ He runs a hand across my back. ‘And you’re staying the night.’
‘So that you can punish me again?’
‘Why would I do that?’ Leaning forwards, he smiles into my face while he reaches into a jacket pocket and pulls out a set of keys. ‘The job’s done. You’ve learned your lesson and now I want you back in my bed.’ He twiddles the keys in his hands. His eyes seem to darken. ‘And back in those cuffs.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘Do you like it?’ he asks.
‘What?’
‘The car?’
‘Oh, that,’ I huff.
‘It’s a top-of-the-range Jag, Maya. Show a bit of appreciation. Do you have a driving licence?’
A driving licence? Why is he asking that?
‘Yes,’ I mutter. I passed a few years ago but the truth is I haven’t seen my driving licence in a while now. It must be languishing in a cupboard somewhere along with my passport and every other important document I can never find. ‘Why?’
‘I’ve still got the Merc. And now I’ve got this. A second car. I’ll get you included on the insurance. You’re welcome to use it.’
‘Whatever.’
I’m fully aware that this is some sort of gesture, and I also know that I’m being completely ungrateful, but I just don’t care. Somewhere between the Shard and wherever we are now, I finally came to my senses. Lucy’s blouse is torn to pieces and I’ve got a sore backside. And in spite of all his reassurances, I’m currently sitting in the passenger seat of a top-of-the-range Jag with a man who may well be a real sadist.
‘Why did you do that?’ I ask at last. ‘Why did you slap me?’
He flashes me a quick look, then turns back to the road.
‘You said you wanted to try it.’
Yes, of course I did. But not like this.
‘I thought you might have given me some warning,’ I grumble.
‘Whatever happened to spontaneity?’
‘You just punished me for doubting you. I never agreed to being punished.’
‘You could have used your safeword.’
I chew at my lip. Suddenly, I’m in a grump.
‘You enjoyed it. You enjoyed slapping me.’
‘It’s called spanking, and you had the option of getting out of it. But you didn’t. So what does that tell you?’
‘That I’m a fucking idiot and you get off on inflicting pain.’
‘And are you so innocent? You enjoy the pain, Maya. You’ve already admitted to that. So what’s the fucking problem?’
‘How far would you go?’
‘How far? What’s going on here?’
‘What are your limits?’
I watch as his forehead creases up. His fingers tighten against the steering wheel.
‘You hurt a woman,’ I breathe. And yes, I’m going to get it all out now, because I just can’t carry on like this. ‘At one of those clubs, you hurt a woman. She used her safeword and you just carried on. You had to be restrained.’
He slams his foot down onto the brake and we screech to a halt, causing a flurry of car horns to fire off around us. We’re holding up the evening rush hour traffic now, but Dan doesn’t seem to care. Taking his left hand away from the steering wheel, he turns to glare at me.
‘Who told you that?’ he growls.
‘It doesn’t matter.’
He leans in towards me.
‘I’d say it does,’ he seethes. ‘Who told you that?’
‘You don’t need to know,’ I see the back. ‘And I’m the one asking questions here. How far would you go with me?’
‘How?’ he shouts, slamming a fist against the steering wheel. My body gives a jolt. ‘You’ll believe stories from God knows who but you’ll doubt me?’
His anger sends me into a maelstrom of panic. If he’s accusing me of doubting him, then another round of punishment could possibly be on its way. And I’m not having that. Reaching down into the foot well, I grab my handbag and pull at the door handle. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him reaching for the central locking mechanism, but I’m too quick this time. Before he can do anything about it, I’m out of the car … and running. I have no idea where I am, no idea where I’m going. All I know is I’ve got to get away from this man. As much as I want him, as much as I try to fool myself that he can give me anything remotely like a normal relationship, I need to escape from him before he strips me of all logic and reason and sanity. Dodging the traffic, I stagger to a pavement and gather my senses. The air is filled with the sounds of car horns and revving engines and angry voices, and somewhere in amongst the chaos of it all, Dan’s voice is calling my name.
‘Maya!’
My body pumps with adrenalin and I run again, down a side street this time, and then into an alleyway. I keep going until my lungs are on the verge of bursting.
‘Maya!’
I duck into a doorway, trying desperately to calm my breaths.
‘Maya! Come back! For fuck’s sake!’
His voice is distant now.
‘Maya! I’m not what you think I am!’
I slap my hands over my ears. Don’t believe him, I tell myself. All along, he’s been deceiving you, weaving his web of lies around you and luring you into his trap. No matter what he says, you’re no different to all those other women he’s fucked and abused and abandoned. Now, do the only sensible thing you can do: get the hell out of here.
***
I have no idea how long I spend cowering in the doorway. Eventually, when he’s given up calling and I’m convinced it’s safe, I step back out into the alley and try to get my bearings. Glancing over my shoulder every now and then, I begin to walk, veering this way and that through a housing estate and a maze of dingy backstreets, emerging at last outside the Globe Theatre. Even though it’s early evening, the place is still packed with tourists. Navigating a path through the crowds, I head left along the embankment, moving on in a daze until I finally make it to the Golden Jubilee Bridge. I stagger across the bridge and make my way up Northumberland Avenue, taking a right past Trafalgar Square. I can barely think straight and before I know it, I’ve d
eviated completely from my normal route to Slaters. I don’t have a clue where I am.
Coming to a halt, I shove my hands into the pockets of Dan’s jacket, only to find myself with his mobile phone in one hand and his wallet in the other. Pulling out the wallet, I flip it open, discovering a handful of twenty pound notes and a couple of elite charge cards. I shove it back into the right pocket where my fingers touch something else: a small box. Without bothering to take it out and examine the contents, I continue on my way, telling myself that I’m sure to stumble onto the streets of Soho at some point. Stopping off at a department store, I pick up a cheap blouse. And then I take myself into a bar where I spend five minutes in the ladies, changing into the new top and shoving Dan’s jacket into the plastic store bag. I’ll dump the whole lot into a bin later. If he wants to teach me a lesson, then I’ll teach him one right back.
The next few minutes are spent in a fog of confusion. Wandering through one side street after another, I stop here and there to read a signpost, but Soho doesn’t appear on any of them. All I know is I’ve had enough. At last, I come to a halt at a place I vaguely recognise, where seven roads converge onto one spot. A rickshaw narrowly misses me as I cross the cobbles, heading for the stone column at the centre of the junction. Seating myself at the base of the column, I prop the bags between my feet and break into a full-on, Olympic gold medal-winning sobbing session. Batting away the attentions of concerned passers-by, I take my phone out of my handbag, deciding that it’s high time to call for help. Lucy answers immediately
‘Lucy, where are you?’
‘Still at bloody work. What’s wrong?’
‘When can you get out?’
‘Maya, are you crying?’
‘No.’ I rub my eyes with the sleeve of my new blouse.