True Colours (The You Don't Know Me Trilogy Book 2)

by Mandy Lee

  ‘I’d better get going. Good luck.’

  As soon as he’s gone, I make my way upstairs, slowly, warily, as if I’m about to surprise a complete stranger. He’s not in the bedroom, but the door to the en-suite is open and I can hear the sound of running water. Entering the bathroom, I find him in the shower, hands resting against the tiles, head dipped under the water, motionless.

  ‘Dan?’

  He doesn’t respond. Maybe he hasn’t heard me.

  Unnoticed, I take off my clothes, open the door and slip in behind him, running my hands around his firm waist and noting that his knuckles are bruised. He rolls his head against the tiles, straightens up and turns. Wrapping his arms around me, he kisses me deeply, urgently, and it’s obvious that he’s wound up tight. Pulling away, I take hold of his hand and inspect the knuckles. I want to tell him that he’s gone too far, that he needs to be patient and leave it all to the professionals. But I’m going to act on Clive’s advice. Instead, I wait for him to speak.

  ‘It’s all out of control,’ he whispers, gazing at his hands. ‘Everything.’

  ‘You’ll sort things out. You always do.’

  ‘I can’t think straight. I’m making bad decisions.’

  ‘Then tell me what you need.’

  He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to. I see it in his eyes as soon as they meet mine. He needs to escape, to hide, call it what you want. It’s how he’s always dealt with pressure in the past, and it’s how he needs to deal with it now. Cupping his face in my hands, I take a deep breath. I’m about to offer him his very own brand of forbidden fruit.

  ‘No baggage. No past. No connection. No hurt.’ I can remember his words exactly, and it’s all I need to say.

  He understands immediately.

  ‘I told you, I’m not going there.’

  ‘And I’m telling you, this is what you need.’ He doesn’t deny it. ‘Do whatever you need to do. Be whoever you need to be. It won’t change a thing.’

  He shakes his head. ‘Maya, don’t push me ...’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I’m really fucking tempted.’

  ‘Then give in to temptation. One last time. With me.’

  Exhausted, he leans back against the tiles and stares at the floor. And while he battles his way to a decision, just about every single part of me begins to quake. I have no idea what I’m letting myself in for, but if it’s a choice between this – whatever this is – and watching Dan come to pieces, then it’s an easy choice to make. Slowly, his shoulders relax, his breathing calms and his fists unclench. When he finally speaks again, his voice is detached, curiously devoid of feeling.

  ‘Go and dry your hair. Wait for me in the bedroom.’

  I’ve had just enough time to sort myself out when I hear the bathroom door open. Completely naked, he enters the room and throws his clothes onto the chaise longue.

  ‘Eyes down,’ he orders briskly.

  Washed through with nerves and anticipation, I do as I’m told. Taking my hand in his, he leads me out across the hallway, and into our secret room.

  I hear the door close behind me. I’m brought to a halt in front of the cross.

  ‘This is it,’ he says. ‘The moment of no return. Do you want to change your mind?’

  I swallow hard, taking in the leather restraints, wondering what on Earth he’s going to use on me, how far he’s about to go.

  ‘Answer me.’

  ‘No,’ I whisper, my voice small.

  Instantly, I’m grabbed from behind: an arm across my stomach, a palm across my mouth. His grip tightens. I feel his hard chest against my back, his penis at the top of my buttocks. Forcing my head back against him, he grinds into me and I fizzle at the contact.

  ‘No talking. Understand?’

  I nod, my breath quick and ragged against his hand.

  ‘Unless I ask you a question. Then I expect your answer immediately.’

  I nod again.

  ‘I need permission to slap you.’

  Slapping? My brain fires out. He wants to slap you? For fuck’s sake, what the hell are you playing at? Get out of this now.

  ‘All part of the deal, Maya,’ he breathes into my ear. ‘Control, remember? I’m used to a whip, but we’re not going there. That’s agreed.’

  The hand slides away from my mouth and I’m turned to face him.

  ‘But slapping?’ I gasp, careful to keep my eyes trained on the floor.

  ‘Across your thighs,’ he explains. ‘Only your thighs. And only if necessary.’

  ‘Will it hurt?’

  ‘I thought pain was your thing.’

  My breath falters and I take a peek at him, surprised to find that the transformation is already complete. He’s gazing at me now from beneath hooded lids, his eyes cold and inquisitive, his entire stance altered. With his shoulders arched and every single muscle tautened, he’s clearly primed for attack. Focussed yet unemotional, utterly in control, and with an air of command that expects complete compliance: I’m looking at the dominant, pure and simple.

  Locking an arm around my back, he grabs a handful of hair.

  ‘Look at me,’ he orders.

  I comply, and his blue eyes pierce me to the core.

  ‘You wanted this. You asked for it. I need your permission.’

  ‘Then I give it.’

  ‘Good. And now you’ll do as you’re told. Is that clear?’

  I waver.

  ‘I said is that clear?’ he demands harshly, tugging at my hair.

  ‘Yes.’ I wince.

  ‘Move backwards. Stand against the cross.’

  Hesitantly, I do as I’m told. He moves forwards, slowly, making no eye contact whatsoever, his face expressionless. Concentrating on the job in hand, he takes my left hand and raises my arm, securing the leather strap of a manacle around my wrist and checking for comfort before he does exactly the same with my right arm. And then he kneels, tapping my feet, signalling for me to spread my legs. When he’s satisfied with the position, he sets about attaching the lower manacles to my ankles, pinning me firmly into place.

  ‘Comfortable?’ he asks, getting to his feet.

  ‘Yes.’

  He takes a step back, surveying my body, every last bit of it, and my skin heats up under his gaze. Good God, he’s being all mean and hot and moody, and bloody hell, it’s turning me on. My pulse is racing now, my heart pounding, my crotch throbbing with need, and I’m struggling to breathe.

  Silently, he makes his way over to the wardrobe. Pulling back the door and opening a drawer, he picks out a length of black material, tightening it between his hands as he prowls back over to me. He takes a moment to examine my eyes before he raises the material and I’m plunged into darkness. I feel his breath against my cheek, the warmth of his taut body against my chest as he fastens the blindfold behind my head. When he’s finished, he stays exactly where he is, pressing his crotch against me, easing his hands over mine.

  ‘I’d love to gag you,’ he murmurs into my ear.

  ‘Then do it.’

  The right hand is removed. I’m slapped hard on my left thigh. Hearing the crack of flesh against flesh, I jolt, gritting my teeth against the sting.

  ‘Did I say you could talk?’

  ‘No,’ I whimper.

  ‘Then don’t.’ He pauses, his breath against my mouth now. ‘You may need your safe word. What is it?’

  ‘Coffee.’

  ‘Coffee,’ he confirms.

  And then, as if he’s reminding me of our connection, he kisses me, long and hard, demanding full access to my mouth with his tongue. Moving away, he leaves me bereft, suddenly chilled by the air and on high alert. I hear the sound of his footsteps, the soft clink of metal. Knowing exactly what he’s got in his hands, I feel his fingers on my right nipple, squeezing, pulling, elongating.

  ‘I’m going to clamp your nipples,’ he informs me. ‘Tell me now if you’ve got a problem with that.’

  I remain silent. Ever since I first clapped
eyes on those things, I’ve been intrigued.

  A hand grabs my chin.

  ‘You asked for this, Maya. You know the way out.’

  He waits for a response. I shake my head.

  And then I sense the cold edge of metal against my nipple. It closes in on me, tightens, and I cry out at the onrush of pain. Letting my head fall back, I soak it all in: the flood tide of chemicals, the afterglow of adrenalin. Slowly, carefully, he applies the second clamp to my left nipple. It grips me, gently at first, and then with an increasing force.

  ‘Tight enough?’

  ‘Yes,’ I moan.

  ‘Well, I’m about to go further.’

  The clamps are tightened again. He tugs at the chain between them, sending lightning bolts of agony right through me. For a few seconds, my nerve ends are on fire. My brain empties itself of any thought. My entire body tenses and I scream. And then, as the pain recedes to a dull throb, I groan … gasp for air … relax.

  ‘You want more?’ he asks, his voice suddenly tender.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’ He smooths my hair.

  My brain scrambles for an answer, finding nothing.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Think.’

  Still struggling for breath, I shake my head. Again, he tugs at my hair, pulls at the chain. I brace, fighting to control the sensations, to keep my lungs working. It’s clear that he’s not giving up any time soon, and I need to say something quickly, before he drives me insane.

  ‘Because it turns me on,’ I choke. And that’s an understatement. I’m already wet down below. My vagina’s pulsing, my clitoris throbbing, and I need him inside me.

  ‘Why does it turn you on?’

  Shit. Why? I hesitate. He tugs again. Spinning my way through the cycle of pain, I moan loudly. Come up with something, my brain cries out. And do it now!

  ‘Because I’m at your mercy,’ I pant. ‘Because I’m totally under your control.’

  ‘You don’t need pain for that,’ he whispers, drawing his lips down my neck. ‘The pain’s nothing more than an add-on. What do you get out of it? Tell me, Maya. I want the truth.’

  Another tug.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I groan.

  He slaps my thigh. My body jolts again.

  ‘Not good enough, and you know it. I want an honest answer.’

  I shiver inside, delving through a tangle of thoughts for something that’s going to satisfy him. I have no idea why I’m being interrogated, but there’s only one way out of it. There must be an answer somewhere. I just can’t put my finger on it.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I hear my voice quiver. ‘I really don’t know.’

  ‘Think.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  He readjusts the clamps, loosening them slightly before he reapplies the pressure. As if a sluice-gate has been opened, a wave of torment floods right through me.

  ‘Oh God,’ I cry out.

  Another slap on the thigh. Grimacing, I resist the urge to shout, to tell him in no uncertain terms to fuck off.

  ‘I told you to be careful what you wish for.’

  ‘I know, I know, I know.’

  Within seconds, his mouth is on my neck, biting and sucking hard, working its way down my throat while the grip on my hair tightens. Forcing my head back, he presses his chest against mine, pushing upwards, moving against the clamps and sending further spasms of pain ricocheting through my nerves. Suddenly, a finger is thrust into me, probing roughly with no intention of causing pleasure. He’s simply preparing me for the onslaught to come. Evidently satisfied that I’m ready, he withdraws the finger and pinches at my clit, sending me into a frenzy. I let out a long, low moan as his cock enters me and he begins to thrust.

  There’s no build-up. Immediately, he begins to slam into me, smashing out a relentless rhythm and causing shockwaves of delicious heat to erupt in the depths of my vagina. And all the time, while the pressure rises inside, he nips at my flesh or grasps at my hair or tugs on the chains between the clamps, inundating me with spasms of agony. It’s a full-blown attack, totally ruthless and gaining in frenzy.

  ‘Tell me now,’ he growls. ‘What do you get out of this?’

  ‘I … told you,’ I manage to cry out between breaths. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Where does this take you?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘Think, Maya.’

  ‘I can’t,’ I shout. And maybe that’s it. ‘Nowhere.’ And suddenly, a sob escapes my throat. ‘It takes me nowhere. It blots everything out. Oblivion. It takes me into oblivion.’

  ‘And why do you need oblivion?’

  ‘Because,’ I gasp, reeling as he delivers another slap against my thigh.

  ‘I want an answer.’

  And I just can’t give one. Because another sob has followed on from the first … and another … and another. I’m crying now, and it’s not because I’m in pain. It’s because I want it and crave it. And I don’t have the slightest clue why.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I cry. ‘I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t fucking know.’

  Suddenly, he comes to a halt.

  ‘This ends now.’ He removes the blindfold.

  Head back, I blink at him through half-focussed vision. Still buried deep inside me, his eyes have softened. Completely fixed on mine, they suddenly seem to be filled with concern.

  ‘Dan, what’s the matter?’

  ‘This isn’t right.’ He struggles to catch his breath. ‘It’s just not right.’

  He skims a finger down my cheek, turns his attention from my face to my breasts. Still breathing deeply, he releases the clamps, one at a time, sending fresh waves of agony through my body. Dropping the clamps to the floor, he brushes his thumbs across my nipples.

  ‘Whoever I used to be, he’s gone. I don’t want to hide and I don’t want to blot things out. From now on, we find other ways … other ways to deal with the shit.’ Slipping a hand around the base of my back, he withdraws to the hilt, raising his eyes to mine. ‘Never ask me to hurt you, Maya.’ And now he presses inwards, sending a shimmer of want right through me. ‘Never ask me to be somebody I’m not.’ He pulls out again, to the tip.

  ‘I thought it was what you needed.’

  ‘I know,’ he whispers, touching his lips against mine, while he drives back in. ‘I thought I needed it too, but I don’t. Now that I’ve got you, I don’t.’

  He picks up the pace, notch by notch, until he’s thrusting into me, over and over again. Lips parted, he watches me constantly, one hand on my buttocks, the other at the back of my neck. And while my insides begin to glow, I lose myself in those blue eyes and everything that they’re offering me: an ocean of love and reverence and care. Overwhelmed by sensations and emotions, I just can’t control myself. I come quickly, convulsing in his arms.

  ‘I’m the man who loves you,’ he rasps, ramming into me once, twice, before he comes too. ‘That’s who I am. Never forget that.’

  I listen to his ragged breath as he stays inside me, kissing me slowly, gradually working himself down. With a final peck, he withdraws, releasing my feet before he straightens up and unfastens the straps around my wrists, guiding my arms back down, one at a time. My legs buckle beneath me, and I’m caught. Steadying my body for a moment, he picks a throw out of the wardrobe and wraps me in it, immediately sweeping me up in his arms and carrying me out of the room.

  I’m expecting to be taken to the bedroom, but we enter the studio instead. Still holding me in his arms, he lowers himself onto the couch, cradling me gently, and begins to stroke my hair.

  ‘What are we doing in here?’

  He nods towards the triptych.

  ‘Pleasure and pain.’

  ‘I didn’t think you’d noticed.’

  ‘Of course I’ve noticed. Pleasure on the left, pain on the right, and I’m assuming that’s a space for me right in the middle … because I give you both.’

  I’m suddenly embarrassed. I had no idea he’d even come in
here.

  ‘It’s just an experiment,’ I half-apologise.

  ‘It’s more than that. You’ve been working through it, trying to understand what you get out of the pain, why you crave it.’

  I look up at him.

  ‘I should never have introduced you to it.’

  ‘I don’t see the problem.’

  He smiles wryly.

  ‘I’m no expert, Maya, but I’ve seen enough over the years. I’ve met plenty of people who can’t get enough of it … for all sorts of reasons.’ He glances out of the window, clearly thinking about how to phrase his explanation. ‘There are people who just do it for the rush. It’s as simple as that. It turns them on, gets them high.’ He looks back at me, eyes glimmering. ‘But then there are people who do it because they want to be punished, because they think they deserve to be punished, because their self-esteem is in tatters.’

  ‘And you think that’s me?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Gazing right into the heart of me, he traces a finger down the side of my cheek. ‘But I don’t want to take any chances. I don’t want to hurt you any more.’

  A minute or two pass by in silence before he urges me to my feet. Manoeuvring me over to the window, he pulls the throw away, leaving us faced with our naked reflections, perfectly clear in the darkened glass.

  ‘Look at yourself,’ he breathes.

  I just want to shrink, but he doesn’t let me. Instead, he holds me firmly against his chest, encouraging my chin up so that I’m looking at my own body.

  ‘You’re a beautiful woman, Maya Scotton. You need to see that. You need to understand it. You’ve bewitched me with your intelligence, your humour, your spirit, your talent. Take this all in because it’s true. And I know you don’t believe it.’

  I sense the beginnings of tears.

  ‘Don’t cry,’ he warns me. ‘Don’t you dare cry. If you want to know how to finish off that picture, then put me in the middle, but face me away from the pain. I don’t want to hurt you any more because you don’t deserve to be hurt. Nobody does.’ I catch sight of a smile. ‘You deserve to be loved.’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I’ve taken the time to watch him sleeping, happy to see him peaceful, and now I want to send him a message in exactly the way he understands. Organised in strict alphabetical order, my paltry collection of CDs has been added to his, and I know exactly which song I’m looking for. Locating the album, I load it and press random buttons until the display tells me I’m heading in the right direction. I take it to the beginning of the song, ratchet up the volume, open the windows and take my place on the terrace, waiting.