You Don't Know Me

by Mandy Lee

  ‘Oh my Lord, she’s beautiful.’

  ‘Told you, Betty.’

  ‘Lord above. I never thought I’d see the day.’ She takes my hands in hers and stares at me, transfixed, and I wonder what the hell he’s told her about me because she seems to be looking at me as if I’m some sort of a goddess. ‘I hope you like chops,’ she wheezes at last. ‘We’ve got chops for dinner. You’re not a vegetarian, are you?’ I shake my head. ‘Oh, thank goodness for that. I asked Dan but he didn’t have a clue.’

  I feel an arm around my waist and I’m dragged backwards, out of Betty’s grasp.

  ‘I’m going to show Maya around the house, Betty. You can chat with her more over dinner.’

  ‘Six o’clock.’ Betty raises a finger and narrows her eyes at Dan. ‘And don’t you be late, young man.’

  Before I can even open my mouth to say goodbye, my hand is clasped firmly in his. I’m guided out of the kitchen and back into the flag-stoned corridor. He takes me further into his home, pushing open a door into what I can only suppose is the main entrance to the house. I catch my breath at the sudden change. We’ve just stepped out of the gloomy servants’ quarters into another world, a world of light and space and air. I’m barely given time to take it all in. Instead, I’m ushered across the black and white marbled floor, past a sweeping staircase and straight into a sitting room. It’s only now that my hand is freed and I’m allowed to take a good look around. Turning slowly, I try to register everything. It’s a huge room, probably the size of my entire flat in Camden. Tall sash windows dominate two of the sky blue walls, spilling sunlight across the pair of sofas, a coffee table, a fireplace. I catch sight of a television, a bookcase or two, a smattering of antique furniture. And then my attention is drawn back to the walls: they’re decorated with watercolours.

  ‘My mother painted most of these.’ I turn to find him examining me closely, watching for my reaction to every last thing. ‘There’s another sitting room on the ground floor, a dining room and a study. But this is my favourite room, the room I tend to use. If you want to know who I am, it’s all here.’ He shrugs, almost embarrassed and I turn away, overcome by the urge to poke my nose into every last corner of the room. Edging my way towards one of the book cases, I realise that it’s crammed with everything from the classics to more recent novels.

  ‘Betty’s a big reader,’ I breathe.

  ‘Betty reads Mills and Boon.’ His arms encircle my waist. A chin comes to rest on my shoulder.

  ‘So, who reads these?’

  ‘Me.’ I turn to find him gazing at me in amusement. ‘Not so much any more. I hardly have the time. I read English at university.’

  ‘You really are a dark horse.’

  He smiles and swings me round. My eyes land on a selection of silver framed photographs set out on a mahogany table. Sliding out of his hands, I move forwards, tentatively. There’s the same photograph that Norman has in his office.

  ‘Norman,’ I murmur. ‘Does he still come here?’

  ‘Yes, he does. Every evening and every weekend. He’s married to Betty.’

  I turn quickly.

  ‘You’re kidding me.’

  ‘Not in the slightest. They’ve been married for fifty years. Betty’s my housekeeper, for want of a better word. I had the old stables converted for them. They live out there, but we all eat together here at the weekends.’

  ‘Bloody hell.’ My eyes rove further along the frames, catching sight of a young boy, a younger Daniel with his parents.

  ‘How old are you in this photograph?’ I motion towards it.

  ‘Thirteen or fourteen.’

  ‘And this one?’ I point to another.

  ‘Eighteen. That was the day I heard I’d got into Cambridge.’

  I shake my head in disbelief. Cambridge. My sexy, arrogant, womanising arse of a boss isn’t just a dark horse, he’s an intelligent dark horse. While my eyes take another sweep of the table, my brain realises there’s something missing here.

  ‘Why aren’t there any baby photos? And there’s none of you as a toddler.’

  ‘I put them away.’ He shrugs dismissively. ‘I was an ugly kid.’

  ‘Dan,’ I laugh. ‘No way have you ever been ugly in your entire life.’

  ‘Yes, I have.’

  I feel a prickle against the back of my neck. His tone was far too serious then, laced with a warning, and from the way he’s staring at me now, his eyes threatening to pull down the shutters, I know I’d better not probe any further. Not yet. Thankfully, I’m saved from the awkwardness of changing the subject when a spaniel skitters into the room. Sliding across the wooden floor, it gathers itself together and comes to rest at Dan’s feet. He crouches down and fusses it.

  ‘And this is Molly,’ he beams back up at me. ‘She’s mine. Just like you. I keep her here. No point in locking her away in a penthouse in London. She’s got the grounds here, and she’s got Betty and Norman.’

  ‘Molly?’ I laugh. ‘You’ve got a dog called Molly?’

  ‘Why not?’ Straightening up, he takes a step forwards and draws me into his arms, holding me tight. ‘So, what do you think so far?’ he demands.

  ‘It’s lovely. In fact, it’s beautiful. I never imagined you were the lord of the manor.’

  ‘I’m not,’ he whispers, landing a quick kiss on my lips. ‘I’m just the lucky fucker who gets to live here. Now come on. I need to get you into bed.’

  My breath catches and the muscles spasm between my legs. Grabbing hold of my hand, he leads me out of the sitting room, back into the hallway and up the grand staircase. On the first floor, he takes the first door on the right. Letting go of my hand, he propels me forwards. I come to a halt, finding myself in a master bedroom, complete with more antique furniture and a king-size bed. The sash window is open in here, and the curtains flutter in a slight breeze.

  ‘Whose is this room?’

  ‘Mine, of course.’ He closes the door. ‘When I’m here.’

  Leaning back against the door, he watches intently as I meander round, running a finger across a chest of drawers, taking in the soft lemon yellow tones of the walls, the delicate lacework of the curtains. At last, I look down at the bed.

  ‘How many women have you had on that thing?’

  ‘I’ve never brought a woman back here before. Just like I’d never taken a woman back to my apartment before you came along.’

  Suddenly, my brain is whirring. Why have I never realised this before? It’s a new type of deal for him.

  ‘I really am the first?’

  He nods slightly. He’s not exactly comfortable admitting this.

  ‘There’s never been anyone special?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I don’t understand. You can have your pick of women. Women must throw themselves at you.’

  ‘They do.’

  He kicks off his boots.

  ‘You’ve never had a serious relationship?’

  ‘No serious relationships. No non-serious relationships. I’ve never been married. Never had any children. No skeletons in that particular closet. I’ve screwed my way through the past few years without a care in the world, and I’m not exactly proud of myself … just for the record.’

  I stop and stare at him, knowing that I need to get this straight, perfectly straight.

  ‘But Claudine?’

  ‘That kind of thing was purely an arrangement. I’ve already told you that.’

  ‘Was she the only one?’

  ‘No. There were a few. But it was never anything more than sex, and it never went beyond the club.’

  ‘And what about you and Clive?’ He narrows his eyes. ‘He told me you used to play the scene together.’

  He shakes his head.

  ‘We picked up women in bars and nightclubs. I used to take them back to a hotel room, and that was that. I never saw them again. Is this a job interview?’

  ‘It could be.’

  ‘And are you finished yet?

  ‘I think so.’


  ‘Good, because I’d like to move on to a practical exercise.’

  Pushing himself away from the door, he moves forwards, circling me slowly, running a hand across my back, around my neck, down between my breasts … further down. I stand perfectly still, closing my eyes, drinking in the sheer pleasure of it all. My nerves are on fire now, my breath torn to pieces.

  ‘Look at me, Maya.’

  I open my eyes again, to find him in directly in front of me. Locking me into his gaze, he leans down and takes the hem of my dress, pulling it up over my head and dropping it to the floor. While one hand locks into place behind my back, he massages each nipple in turn through the material of my bra, gently pressing and pinching until they’re both erect, alive with sensation. Flustered with desire, I reach out and grab his T-shirt. Pushing it over his head and throwing it to one side, I take a moment to skim my hands over his arms, savouring the hard biceps beneath the soft skin, before I stroke my palm across his chest, sensing that his heart is beating just as wildly as mine.

  ‘Does it meet with your approval, madam?’ he asks.

  ‘It’s not bad.’

  ‘Well, it gets better from the waist down. Get these jeans off me.’

  He nods downwards and I’m amazed to find myself falling to my knees. Working at the buttons in a frenzy, I pull his jeans from his hips, revealing a pair of black pants and a massive bulge.

  ‘Oh, what you do to me, woman,’ he breathes, running a hand through my hair. Lifting one leg at a time, he allows me to take off his jeans. And then I move on to his pants, easing them slowly downwards. His penis springs out at me, fully erect, and I stare at it, mesmerised.

  ‘Why don’t you have a taste?’ he asks. ‘An amuse bouche?’

  I’ve had just enough time to let out a filthy giggle when a big hand comes to the back of my head, thrusting me in towards his crotch. I have no choice. I open my mouth and accept him completely. His cock slides into my throat, thick and warm and wet with pre-cum. Clamping my lips around it, I begin to suck and pull, tickling at his shaft with my tongue, taking hold of his balls and massaging them firmly, putting into practice every last thing I’ve been taught by a variety of men over the years. Dan’s pleased me enough times recently. And now I just want to please him back. Keeping his hand firmly in place, he begins to thrust his cock into my mouth, slowly at first, rhythmically, but gradually picking up in pace. He’s on the verge of coming when he falters, placing a palm on either side of my head.

  ‘I want to come inside you,’ he growls. ‘On the bed, on all fours.’

  I scramble onto the bed and do exactly as I’m told.

  ‘On your elbows. Legs further apart.’

  Again, I follow his orders to the letter. Lowering myself down, I feel his warm touch immediately. While one hand steadies me on the small of my back, a single finger probes inside me, slowly massaging up a ball of excitement.

  ‘It’s about time I had all of you,’ he says at last.

  The finger slips away from my clitoris and upwards, tracing its way between my buttocks, and finally coming to rest against the opening of my anus. My heartbeat stalls. God! That? I’m exploding with panic. I’ve never done that kind of thing before. Even in my darkest days when I’d go with anyone, drunk out of my mind, I never went there.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he whispers. ‘We’ll take it slowly. I’ve got lubricant.’

  ‘But here?’

  I turn and find him smiling.

  ‘Yes here.’

  ‘But Betty –‘

  ‘Won’t have a clue what we’re up to as long as you behave yourself and do as you’re told. I’m all prepared for you. Stay where you are.’

  Through a daze of panic and confusion, I watch as he gets up, pads over to a chest and opens a drawer. He takes out a bottle and a handful of ties. Returning to the bed, he smoothes his hand across my backside.

  ‘Calm down. It was going to happen sooner or later. You need to trust me. Remember? You’ll enjoy it.’

  I bite my lip as he runs a hand down my spine. I’d like to tell him I’m not so sure about the whole ‘enjoying it’ thing. As far as I’m aware things are only supposed to come out of that hole. Nothing’s supposed to go in.

  ‘Hands behind your back.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just do as I say. I want you restrained.’

  He leans around me, moving two pillows into place and motioning for me to rest my head against them. Throwing caution to the wind, I sink the side of my head against the pillow, and with my backside still thrust into the air, raise my hands behind my back. They’re taken immediately and bound firmly together at the wrists with a smooth length of fabric.

  ‘Does that feel comfortable?’

  ‘Yes,’ I splutter.

  I close my eyes, hear the click of a lid, feel the cold sensation of the gel. He works it around the edges of my opening, nudges his way in, slowly, calmly, easing me open with first one finger, then two. Immediately, a strange pressure builds up, a completely unknown mixture of pleasure and pain. He pulls back, nudges forwards again, searching his way gradually into unknown territory. On a third withdrawal and a third plunge, I cry out. I’ve never experienced anything like this before.

  ‘Shush!’

  ‘But I can’t!’

  ‘I really fucking want to gag you right now, Maya. Another sound and I’ll do it.’

  ‘But I’ve never -’

  ‘What did I say?’

  The finger is removed and I freeze. So he is going to gag me? It’s not just a lame threat? He really is going to do that? And I’m actually going to let him? A hand reaches under my throat and urges me upwards. For a few seconds, I’m upright, kneeling on the bed.

  ‘Open your mouth.’

  Again, I comply. With lightning speed, a length of fabric is wound between my lips and knotted tightly at the back of my head. I can feel him testing the binds. Obviously satisfied with his efforts, a hand is placed at the back of my head and I’m manoeuvred back down onto the pillow.

  ‘So, now you can’t speak.’ The words filter through my ears. ‘And your safeword is obsolete.’

  I groan into the gag.

  ‘But we still need something. These hands.’ I feel a touch against my fingers, feathery light, brushing its way across my skin. ‘They might come in useful. If you want me to stop, just point. I’m watching. Do you understand?’

  I nod. I can barely take it all in.

  ‘Trust me.’ A hand is against my forehead now, moving my hair away from my face, gently tucking it behind my ears. ‘It won’t hurt for long.’

  A finger presses into my backside and I gasp. Slowly, it works its way round, stretching me. And all the time, his free hand is clamped against my back, holding me in place.

  ‘I think you’re ready.’

  My legs are spread further and I’m aware of movement behind me. The end of his cock is positioned.

  ‘Slowly,’ he whispers. ‘I’m watching.’

  His hands move into place, one on each hip, holding me tight. I close my eyes, waiting for the onslaught, and it’s not long in coming. His penis broaches me, inching its way inside. Sensing an edge of discomfort, I cry out against the gag but I’m determined not to point. He penetrates further, pushing his way into a place that’s never been explored and I hold my breath, waiting to find out whether I’m going to meet pleasure or pain. Reaching round with one hand, he begins to circle a finger against my clitoris, firmly, steadily, creating a knot of pleasure deep inside. And simultaneously, he withdraws his cock, taking it right to the tip before he plunges himself back inside me. He repeats the action, over and over again, while his arm tightens around my waist and the momentum increases. Before long, I’m spinning, clenching, catching my breath as electric shocks shoot their way through my stomach, right into the deepest folds of my muscles. I cry out incoherently, knowing that I’m completely at his mercy, completely given over to pleasure. And it’s all I can do as he smashes into me relentles
sly.

  At last, his breath begins to come apart.

  ‘Now,’ he growls.

  Without warning, he pinches my right nipple, sending a streak of pain through my breast. I come to pieces immediately. Flushed through with waves of ecstasy, every last nerve and fibre seem to fizz and shake and jitter. He holds me in position for a minute or so, slowly pumping his way down from his orgasm, twitching inside me as the last drops of cum fill up my back passage. At last, he withdraws.

  ‘Stay where you are.’

  I bury my face into the pillow, trying desperately to work my way through a mess of emotions. He’s just trussed me up and gagged me and taken my arse … and I loved every minute of it. And more than that, pain sent me over the edge. What kind of person am I? Jeez, I must be a deviant to enjoy all of that. A kinky weirdo. The bed moves again and I feel a warmth on my backside. He’s cleaning me up, slowly and tenderly, wiping his cum from my crotch and my legs. At last, I’m nudged onto my side. He releases my hands, unties the gag, and I curl up into his arms.

  ‘Did you like that?’ He twists a finger through my hair.

  ‘I bloody did,’ I smile. ‘I hope you’ve washed your hands.’

  ‘Of course I have. I’ve washed my dick too. I’m not finished with you yet. Sorry about the gagging business. I couldn’t have Betty hearing you scream.’

  ‘I liked it.’

  ‘Then we’ll do it again.’ He readjusts his head against the pillow. His eyes glimmer mischievously. ‘You’re as kinky as me, Miss Scotton. I think I might have met my match.’

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ‘Where have you been?’ Betty scolds him.

  ‘Asleep,’ Dan answers quickly, making no eye contact whatsoever.

  I grin to myself. In actual fact, he’s spent the last four hours either pleasuring me to within an inch of my life or fucking me senseless. I’m surprised the man can still function at all when I feel like I’ve just run a marathon and swum the Channel.

  ‘Anything I can do?’ he asks.

  ‘Yes. Go and fetch Norman.’

  He nods at Betty and motions for me to take a seat at the kitchen table. ‘You sit down, Maya. I won’t be long.’