by Mandy Lee
‘We like pain, don’t we?’ he whispers into my ear.
‘Yes.’
‘Do we want more?’
‘Yes.’
He pinches again, holding my nipple tight, prolonging the agony. ‘Yes, what?’
‘Yes, please.’
Immediately, the hands are removed and I’m guided towards the bed. Crawling onto it, I lie on my back, watching as he tugs off his shirt, ruffling his hair in the process. When he looks up, I half expect a cheeky smile or a joke, but I get neither. With his eyes fixed on mine, he unfastens his jeans and shrugs them off, pants and socks following quickly. He straightens up, a powerhouse of muscles, perfectly formed, his expression utterly determined, completely focussed on the moment. He stares down at me, his eyes emptied of all emotion, and my heart thuds with a sudden realisation. This is the man I saw at the club: the cold, hard dominant who surfaced briefly with Claudine. And Jesus, it’s hot.
Climbing onto the bed, he nudges my legs apart and positions himself between my thighs. Without taking his eyes from mine, he anchors himself on his right elbow and lowers himself on top of me, grasping my hair at the forehead and forcing my head back. I take a deep breath, waiting for the next attack, and it’s not long before it arrives: his lips are on mine again, hard and demanding, while his tongue probes my mouth, lashing out against my own. Fired up by a strange mixture of fear and excitement, I return the ferocity of the kiss, keeping up with his momentum for an age until, at last, he draws away.
Immediately, he begins to work his way down my neck, sucking, biting, licking, every little action growing in force and pressure and before long, I’m on edge, wondering what he’ll do next, how far he’s planning to go. My pulse is at top speed now. My heart’s pounding, and my brain seems to have launched into riot mode, sending out an order to reach up and grab a handful of his hair. Tugging at it with a violence I never thought I could muster, I force him away from me, but it only fires him up more.
He brings his face up to mine, yanks my head back and I reply immediately by digging my nails into his back with all the force I can manage. He lets go of my hair, grabs my wrist and forces my arm above my head, holding it in place. And then he adjusts his position. In a heartbeat, he’s propping himself up on his left elbow, grabbing hold of my free hand and pushing it above my head, pinning both of my wrists together with his right hand.
Satisfied that I’m restrained, he moves again, back onto his right elbow. Wrapping his left palm around my waist, he squeezes hard. I buckle at his touch, my lungs contracting involuntarily, and I cry out.
‘Use your word, Maya.’
Clamping my lips together, I shake my head. If he thinks I’m going to throw in the towel, he can think again. I’m enjoying this far too much.
His mouth is on me again now, working its way down my neck and across my sternum. At last, he reaches my right breast. Pausing there, he licks at my nipple, setting off a horde of vibrations. I brace myself, my brain on high alert, knowing exactly what I’m in for next. He licks again, dragging out the seconds while he sends me wild with anticipation. I’m writhing under his grip when he finally latches on to my nipple and bites. A shockwave of agony surges right through me, blowing every other sensation clean out of the way. I hear a scream, and I know it’s mine. I struggle under the weight of his body, but I’m fixed into place. At last, he releases my nipple. Struggling for breath, I close my eyes, mentally tracking the retreat of the pain, noting the curious sense of calm that arrives in its place.
Raising his head, he searches my eyes for something.
‘Use your word.’
It’s not an order. It’s a plea, and one that I’m going to ignore because when all’s said and done, I want to be at his mercy, I want him to control me utterly and completely, and I want this rush.
‘No,’ I manage to groan.
His eyes flash with understanding. Forcing my legs further apart, he presses his cock against my opening and pushes inwards, quickly. Moving his left hand to my hip, he digs in his fingertips to the point of pain. And then he lets go of my wrists, moving his right hand to the back of my neck, wrapping his fingers around my flesh and gripping tight. With my hands freed, I scratch and dig at his skin, amazed at how I’ve been transformed into some violent, near demonic creature.
My actions fire him up again. In one hard movement, he thrusts inwards, hitting the back of my vagina with a force that knocks the air out of my lungs. I’ve just about recovered, when he thrusts again. And I scream. Picking up the pace now and holding me fast, he pounds into me with quick, vicious movements. And I’m drowning, drifting away in a fog of pleasure and pain, vaguely aware that my fingernails are gouging into his back, punishing him for the onslaught.
As the familiar pressure rises in my core, his eyes remain locked onto mine, unforgiving and demanding. At last he lowers his head, biting at my bottom lip, harder than he’s ever done before, before moving down to my nipple and biting again. I let out another scream. In response, he ratchets up the speed again, covering my mouth with his and kissing me fervently. After a few more seconds of pure, unadulterated, animalistic fucking, I feel his body tense beneath my grip, his breath falter against my mouth, and I let go. Muscles contract around him as my orgasm takes hold: an implosion, a rush of warmth travelling from my clitoris inwards.
His lips leave mine, parting as he unravels.
‘Fuck,’ he rasps. ‘Fuck.’
Filling me with his cum, he slows the pace, shivering in my arms as he works himself down from the high. He collapses on top of me, wrestles his body back under control and withdraws, manoeuvring himself into a sitting position. Leaning back against the headboard, he beckons me to curl into his arms and as soon as I’m in position, he checks my wrists, turning them slowly in his hands before he moves his attention to my neck.
‘I hurt you. You should have used your word.’
I look up to find him watching me anxiously.
‘I hurt you too. And I didn’t need to use my word. I liked it.’
I’d be lying if I said anything else. I’ve just had a good dose of the dominant, and it turned me on big time.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask, sensing the slightest of tremors in his body.
He shakes his head, brushing off the question with a shrug and propping his head back against the headboard.
‘The last few days haven’t been easy,’ I offer.
‘Meaning?’
‘You’re upset. I get it. At least I think I do. This is your way of dealing with things.’
He runs a finger down my cheek, and although he’s looking at me now, I know he’s drifting away. He shakes his head.
‘This isn’t dealing with anything.’
***
I don’t know where I am but wherever it is, I don’t like it. He’s standing in front of me, holding a glass, his dark eyes glimmering with want. He smiles at me, an empty, soulless smile. A hand reaches out, but I don’t want it to touch me. It’s touched me before, and the thought of it makes me want to tear my skin away from my body. But I can do nothing. I’m frozen, imprisoned in my own body, waiting for that poisonous contact. He lifts the glass, opens his hand and lets it fall to the ground. The glass smashes, sending a thousand shards skittering across the ground.
***
I wake with a start, taking short, sharp, rasping breaths. I’m sweating.
‘Maya?’
At last, I manage to focus. Already dressed, Dan’s sitting next to me on the edge of the bed. He cups my cheek in his palm. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Just a dream.’ I shiver. The curtains have been opened, the sash window raised slightly.
He feels my forehead. ‘You’re clammy. What were you dreaming about?’
It’s a bad idea to let him know that Boyd’s managed to invade my dreams. A little white lie is in order.
‘I don’t know. I can’t remember.’
He frowns, as if he doesn’t quite believe me, and then his expression lightens.
‘Time to get dressed. Dinner in ten minutes.’
‘But I need a bath.’
And I certainly do, seeing as I spent the better part of the afternoon in a sweat. After the mad bout of rough sex, he made love to me twice more before I finally drifted off into a troubled sleep.
‘Later. Cottage pie waits for no man. And if we’re late, we won’t get pudding.’
He taps me on the shoulder, a silent command to get moving, before he collects his mobile from the bedside table and goes to stand by the window. With a yawn, I push myself out of bed and make my way into the bathroom. As soon as I’m on the toilet, I know I’ve started. Glancing round, I notice the tampons. They’ve been left for me on the unit, right next to yet another selection of toiletries. I smile to myself. True to form, while I’ve been sleeping, he’s clearly been busy organising my life for me. After sorting myself out, I make my way back into the bedroom to find a packet of knickers lying on the bed. I pick them up and examine them.
‘Did I do well?’ he asks. ‘Size twelve.’
Opening the packet, I take out a pair and let them dangle in front of me. They unfurl like a sail.
‘Lovely.’
‘There wasn’t much choice in town. They’ll have to do for now.’
‘Firmly constructed,’ I muse. ‘Totally unrippable. And thank God for that.’ Bending over, I step into the granny pants and pull them up. ‘I’d like to hang on to some of my underwear.’
‘Mmm.’ He licks his lips. ‘Sexy.’
‘You can forget about sex. I’m on my period.’
A wave of alarm washes across his face.
‘For about four days,’ I add.
A second wave.
He falters. ‘We can work around it.’
I’m not at all sure what he means by that and right now, I really don’t want to know. He watches as I collect my bra and dress, put them on and tidy my hair. By the time I’m ready, he’s looking out of the window again, his phone still clasped in his hands.
‘What’s the matter?’
Slipping an arm round his waist, I join him.
‘Just thinking about Molly.’
I catch the flit of a shadow amongst the trees.
‘There’s someone out there.’
He manoeuvres me into his arms.
‘No.’
‘But I saw ...’
‘There was nobody.’
The dream filters back to my waking brain, echoes of Boyd’s face in the darkness, and I begin to panic. Is that Boyd out there? Is he really still stalking me? Would he go this far? I turn back to the window. Yes, I saw it that time. There was definitely a movement.
‘There is someone out there.’
He blinks, suppressing a scowl as he struggles with the next words. ‘It’s security.’
‘What? You have guards here?’
‘I do now.’ He draws in a breath. ‘Look, Norman knows about it. Don’t say anything to Betty. She’ll only flip.’
My mind’s in a spin and somehow, through the muddle, Clive’s words come back to me: It’ll be sorted tonight.
‘Why couldn’t you just tell me this was happening?’
‘I didn’t want you to think I was going over the top.’
‘You are going over the top.’ I try my best to wriggle out of his arms, but I’m held tight. ‘Jesus. What’s come over you?’
‘Don’t be annoyed.’
‘You’re paranoid.’
‘No, Maya. I’m not.’
‘If that’s the case, then there’s something you’re not telling me. I don’t like being left in the dark.’
His mouth opens as if he’s about to speak, and then he thinks better of it.
‘You said I could trust you, Dan. You said you’d never let me down.’
‘I won’t.’
‘But you’ve kept this from me. I’m not some weak, pathetic woman who needs protecting. Tell me why you’ve done this.’
He’s not about to admit the truth. I can tell. Maybe I should help him along a little. After all, he doesn’t need to know the source of my information.
‘Boyd. You think he poisoned Molly.’
He stares at me, saying nothing.
‘Just because he’s obsessed with me, it doesn’t mean he killed your dog.’
‘I know that.’
‘Then there is something else, something you’re not telling me, some reason why you’ve reacted like this.’
He shakes his head.
‘It’s just me, that’s all.’ He closes his eyes, lost in thought. When he opens them again, I catch a hint of fear. ‘I’m not taking any chances.’
Chapter Eleven
The next morning, we’re back in London. As we ride the lift up to his apartment, I take the opportunity to admire the man in my life. While I’m still in yesterday’s dress, albeit with a pair of fresh, clean knickers, he’s ready for work in a grey suit, complete with waistcoat and a pink silk tie. I’m silently wondering how I can delay his departure for a quick grope when the doors slide open prematurely. We seem to be stopping off at the lobby.
‘What’s going on?’
Without a word, he leads me out by the hand. The first thing I catch sight of is the reception desk and the slick-headed concierge lurking behind a computer screen. And then I catch sight of the second thing: a burly-looking man-monster who’s apparently been stuffed into an armchair. As soon as he sees us, he rises to his feet, doubling in width and tripling in height.
‘You must be Mr Anderson.’ Moving forwards, Dan extends a hand.
‘Beefy,’ the creature announces, his voice deep and rough, as if he’s been gargling on gravel. ‘You can call me Beefy.’
In disbelief, I watch as a chunky hand is extended in return, as Dan shakes it, and I try to take it all in, but I can barely believe what I’m seeing. Good God, this man is huge. A vast bundle of muscles. Everything seems to be bulging: arms, legs, torso, neck. But, as if he’s been hastily thrown together, nothing seems to go with anything else. While the legs are too short for his body, the arms are way too thick. And as for the head, that’s practically rectangular, almost like a brick. And it’s topped with a carpet of close-cropped blond hair, adorned on either side by a miniature cauliflower ear.
‘Don’t stare,’ Dan whispers, giving me a squeeze. ‘It’s rude.’ He shifts his attention back to Beefy. ‘This is Maya.’ Putting a hand to the small of my back, he nudges me forwards. If he’s as disturbed as I am, he certainly doesn’t show it. He’s as cool, calm and collected as ever.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ Beefy grates. His tiny, bird-like eyes flit from Dan to me.
‘And this is your bodyguard.’ Dan looks down at me. ‘Shall we go?’
***
If I was in a state of shock at the sight of Beefy, then it’s quadrupled when I find myself standing in the apartment, confronted by a scene of chaos. There’s a suitcase by the fridge, a messy selection of plastic bags strewn across the sofas, a crate in the middle of the kitchen, canvases lined up against the bottom of the staircase and a pile of cardboard boxes balanced precariously by the breakfast bar. Bewildered by it all, I shuffle forwards and rummage through the plastic bags, dragging out a clump of T-shirts. Suddenly, confusion morphs into something else, and I think it might be anger.
‘What the …’ I come to a halt, gazing at the mess.
‘Well done, Carla.’ Laying his keys on the counter top, Dan motions for Beefy to come through the front door. ‘And Lucy too.’
‘Jeez, that was quick.’ I sling the T-shirts back into the bag and fix Dan with an affronted glare. ‘This is …’ I point at the suitcase. I have no idea why I’m flapping. After all, I heard him make the call. I suppose I just didn’t expect it to happen so quickly. ‘What’s …’
Slipping a hand behind my back, he pulls me in close. ‘We move at our own speed, remember? I cleared space in the wardrobes and drawers.’
‘When?’
‘Sunday.’ He smiles brightly
.
Stifling an urge to scream, I stare up into those bright blue eyes. I’d like to let him know his arrogance knows no bounds, and I have no idea what our own speed is exactly, but I’m pretty sure it’s a bit too fast for me. Get yourself together, my brain grumbles. Say something. You can’t just let him steamroller you into everything.
‘Is there a problem?’ he asks.
‘I don’t like other people going through my stuff. And I don’t like you trying to take over my life.’
‘I’m not trying to take over your life.’
‘You could have fooled me.’ I extract myself from his grasp. ‘Hiring big, bloody bodyguards.’ I wave a hand at Beefy. ‘And all that stuff at the house.’ A general wave in no particular direction. ‘And now this. I thought you were going to slow down.’
‘I am slowing down.’ He shrugs. ‘I told you about the bodyguard, we’ve discussed the house and you knew about your stuff being brought over. Chill your beans, Maya.’
‘Chill my beans?’ I cast another glance at the clutter and push out a sigh. ‘Am I going to have a say in anything?’
‘You agreed to move in. I’d call that having a say.’ He studies my face. ‘Don’t misread the situation.’
I have no idea what to say to that. It’s just as well I’m distracted by a deep, gargling cough. Tracing the direction of the noise, I find Beefy loitering in the open doorway.
‘Come in, Beefy.’ Releasing me, Dan takes a step back. ‘Let’s give you the lie of the land.’
While I clear a space on a sofa, flop down onto it and stare at my belongings, Dan gives Beefy a quick tour of the apartment, taking him upstairs. And judging by the fact that my bodyguard doesn’t seem to be blushing on his way back down, I can only assume that they’ve given a wide berth to the room of kink.
