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

  When I’m finally satisfied with the basic outlines, I shift my attention to the centre panel, and come to a halt. I know that it’s reserved for a man, but although I can see the angles, the colours, the way the bodies interconnect between the two outside sections, as yet I have no idea how he bridges the gap.

  There’s a knock at the door. I turn the canvases round before I call out.

  ‘Come in.’

  Beefy pokes his head into the room.

  ‘I’m to tell you, miss, it’s one o’clock.’

  ‘One?’ I stare at my bodyguard, unable to believe that I’ve been sketching for so long. ‘Right.’ I smile unsteadily. ‘I’ll get ready.’

  Beefy leaves me to it. With a building sense of trepidation, I clean up, take a shower and change into a dress. Leaving my bra on the bedroom floor and plumping for a pair of granny pants from Dan’s shopping trip, I go back downstairs, collecting my handbag along the way.

  Beefy’s waiting for me outside the front door.

  ‘Any idea where we’re going?’ I ask him as we step into the lift.

  He shakes his big head, but the flash of guilt in his beady, bird-like eyes tells me that he’s lying. Breezing through the lobby, I toss a brisk ‘Good morning’ in the direction of the concierge and push through the doors. It’s sunny outside and I’d love nothing more than a walk down the south embankment, but there’s a black limousine waiting for me on the forecourt, a driver standing by the open passenger door.

  ‘Miss Scotton.’ He waves towards the back seat.

  I slide in, looking back at Beefy, surprised that he doesn’t join me. The door’s closed, the driver installs himself and we pull away. Suddenly I feel bereft without the Beef monster by my side. I have no idea where I’m going, or what’s about to happen, but I’ve got the distinct feeling that I might need a bodyguard.

  It’s a short ride down the back streets, the quickest route to Southwark, and it soon becomes apparent that I’m going nowhere special at all. We’re simply on our way to Fosters Construction. Arriving at the rear entrance, I’m greeted by Dave from security and ushered into the building. Before long, still accompanied by Dave, I’m riding the lift to the fifteenth floor. Gazing at my reflection and musing a little more over Mr Foster’s plans for the afternoon, his words rattle around in my brain: ‘Be careful what you wish for.’ By the time the door opens onto the swanky reception area, my stomach is in knots. Leaving Dave behind, I make my way over to Carla’s desk, feeling distinctly unsteady on my feet.

  ‘Good afternoon, Miss Scotton.’ Looking up from her computer, she smiles a knowing kind of smile, and I’m hardly surprised. After all, she must have seen my scribbles in Dan’s diary. She must know exactly what we get up to in his office. ‘Mr Foster’s waiting for you. Please go straight in.’

  Sucking in an almighty gulp of air, I begin to edge my way into the big kahuna’s lair.

  I catch sight of him immediately. Sitting at his desk, he’s busy leafing through a file, so busy that he doesn’t seem to notice me. I cough quietly. He glances up, takes in my dress, shows no sign of emotion and goes back to his document.

  Keeping my position by the door, I wait.

  ‘Close it please, Miss Scotton,’ he murmurs.

  Typical. Totally vague.

  ‘Close what?’

  ‘The first thing that comes to mind.’ He turns a page.

  I look down at my handbag. Yes. That’ll do. Clicking the catches together at the top, I continue to wait.

  ‘And now, perhaps you might close the door,’ he adds, his voice suddenly laced with impatience.

  I push the door shut, and wait some more. If he’s after another game of silly buggers, I’m more than up for it. After what seems like an age, he puts the document to one side, leans back in his chair and examines me. There’s a tiny quiver, right between my thighs. It’s followed quickly by a fluttering sensation.

  ‘So?’ I venture.

  ‘So.’

  ‘Is there a reason for you hauling me over to your office?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He stares at me some more, the edges of his lips curving up, ever so slightly.

  ‘Would you like to fill me in?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ He stands. ‘I have a gap in my schedule.’ Straightening his jacket, he circles round to my side of the desk. ‘And we have some matters to discuss.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Oh,’ he mimics, leaning against the desk.

  ‘So … what matters are we discussing?’

  His eyes glimmer. ‘Your astonishingly poor behaviour, for a start.’

  ‘I said I’m sorry. And just for the record, you didn’t have to buy the whole of Harrods.’

  ‘And just for the record, you didn’t have to down a vat’s worth of champagne and make no decisions.’

  ‘So, that’s it then?’

  ‘No, that’s not it.’ His face is unreadable now. No trace of a smile. ‘Come here.’

  Nervously, I inch forwards. And the closer I get, the more I fizz with anticipation. I come to a halt a couple of paces away from him.

  ‘We also need to discuss the terms of our relationship.’

  ‘Do we?’

  ‘Of course. If I’m not very much mistaken, you tabled a new set of demands yesterday.’

  ‘I did?’ The blood rushes to my cheeks.

  ‘You don’t remember what you said in the fitting room?’

  Another surge of blood. I decide to plead ignorance.

  ‘Not really …’

  ‘Then allow me to remind you.’ Moving away from the desk, he takes a step forwards. ‘You said you wanted me to be cold and hard with you, just like I was with Claudine.’

  ‘Did I?’

  He nods, taking another step so that he’s right in front of me now. He prises the handbag out of my grasp, places it on the floor and straightens up, running a finger down my arm. A shimmer passes through my spine.

  ‘I’m not prepared to go there.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You don’t need to know.’

  ‘But you were like that …’

  While I trail off into silence, pondering over what I was about to say, his eyes flash with understanding. He knows exactly what I’m referring to: those few minutes when he caved in to something dark, when I caught a glimpse of the old Dan.

  ‘It won’t happen again.’

  I frown at his declaration. Somehow, I need to make him realise that he’s given me a taste of something I seem to like, and now I want more.

  ‘What harm could it do?’

  ‘Plenty.’

  ‘But it’s just role play, a bit of fun.’

  ‘Not for me.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I’d rather not go into that.’

  ‘Oh come on …’

  And that does it. In a nanosecond, his expression hardens. I’m seized by the shoulders and tugged in close.

  ‘Enough, Maya.’ Irritation crackles in his voice. ‘You have no idea what you’re asking for.’ A hand comes to the back of my head, holding me tight. Trailing his lips across my cheek and setting off a swarm of tingling sensations, he stops at my mouth, barely touching me now. ‘And now onto your second demand,’ he breathes. ‘You said you wanted me to demean you.’

  Oh shitty shit, shit, shit. Why, for the love of God, did I have to go and say that? ‘The bloody internet, that’s why,’ a voice complains from the back of my head. ‘A handful of dirty pictures and you’re a slut on heat! What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘I was drunk,’ I explain, my voice sounding worse than pathetic.

  ‘And speaking the truth.’

  His lips close around mine. Probing my mouth with his tongue, he kisses me slowly, deeply. I’m under attack … yet again. And there’s no way I’m ever going to come out on top, not now that he’s started the whole ‘let’s mesmerise her knickers off’ thing.

  ‘All I ever want is to make you feel good about yourself, and now you’re asking me to u
ndo it.’ Taking my chin in his hand, he nips at my bottom lip.

  I jolt, sensing a rush of warmth between my thighs.

  ‘Why do you want me to do that?’ he demands. Letting go of my chin, he traces the outline of my nipple with an index finger.

  ‘Because …’

  He wheels me round, clamping me tight against his chest and squeezing the nipple hard, sending shock waves of electricity right through me. I gasp, trying to control my heart beat, my pulse, everything.

  ‘Because what?’ he demands. ‘A few days ago, you couldn’t understand why a woman would let a man demean her.’

  He slips a hand between my thighs, running his index finger over my g-spot. I lean my head back against his chest and close my eyes, drinking in the sensations while my brain battles to stick with the conversation.

  ‘Everything I’ve done …’ He begins to massage me. ‘It’s been for your pleasure. I’ve never gone too far. I’ve never treated you like an object.’

  ‘I know.’ My breath falters. ‘But let’s just try …’

  ‘Let’s just try what?’ He waits for my answer, but it doesn’t come. The truth is I have no idea what I’m asking for. ‘Whatever we do, we’ll do it my way.’ I feel his mouth against my neck, skimming from just below the ear, further down. ‘Which brings me to your third demand.’ He presses a finger hard against my clit. ‘Pain.’

  ‘I don’t remember …’

  ‘Of course you do.’ He presses again, then circles his finger firmly, stirring me up into a storm of lust. ‘Now let’s get something straight here. I have my limits. And one of those is using a whip on you. Never ask me to do that again.’

  Suddenly, he puts an end to the torment. I’m released from his grip, left in a fuddle of disappointment.

  ‘Okay.’ Wrestling my breath back under control, I turn back to face him. ‘No whipping. Fine. But I like the nipple stuff.’ I point at my breasts, as if I really need to remind him where my nipples are. ‘And I sincerely hope you’re not going to stop the spanking thing.’ I glance up at a corner of his office, suddenly washed through with embarrassment. I can barely believe what I’m saying here. It sounded ridiculous enough when I was three sheets to the wind, but now I’m sober … ‘Because I’m good with spanking,’ I witter on like an idiot. ‘So you can spank me.’ I swallow hard and shrug. ‘If you want to, that is.’

  ‘Of course I want to.’ I risk a look at him now, only to find that he’s grinning from ear to ear. ‘In fact, I’d love to spank you right now.’

  ‘You would?’

  ‘Oh yes. So long as we’re clear about the small print. If I do spank you, you don’t go running for the hills.’

  ‘I won’t,’ I confirm.

  ‘Glad to hear it.’ Suddenly brusque and business-like, he straightens his jacket and tie. ‘Lean over the desk.’

  I open my mouth to speak. I’m silenced immediately by a raised finger.

  ‘Ten,’ he says firmly. ‘Good and hard.’

  Oh, bloody hell. A lunchtime spanking. I wasn’t expecting that. My heart judders like an old boiler and my legs threaten to give way beneath me. I can barely believe it when I do as I’m told, steadying myself against the edge of the glass. Immediately a warm hand comes to the small of my back, pinning me into position. He urges my legs apart, pulls up the dress and arranges the material around my waist. Leaving the massive knickers in place, he smooths a palm across my buttocks before moving his attention to my crotch. His finger travels slowly, further down, across the ridge of the tampon string. My mouth dries up. My brain empties itself out. I’m in total limbo as I wait.

  ‘Keep this quiet,’ he murmurs.

  And then he begins.

  The first smack lands on my right buttock, searing straight through me. I choke back the urge to cry out.

  ‘This is for your terrible behaviour yesterday.’ The second slap lands on my left buttock, hard and unforgiving. ‘And by that, I don’t mean downing enough champagne to floor a rugby team, or tormenting a personal shopper.’ I close my eyes, whimpering quietly, enjoying every moment of it. The third slap follows quickly. ‘I mean your drunken attempt at sexual negotiation.’ He smooths his hand across my buttocks, slowly, before landing the next slap. ‘You gave me your submission, Maya.’ Another slap. ‘In everything to do with sex.’ Another slap. ‘Who’s in control here?’

  ‘You,’ I mutter.

  Another slap. ‘I can’t hear you, woman.’

  ‘You,’ I shout.

  ‘Correct.’

  The next slaps come quickly. Before I know it, he’s finished. He tugs me up against his chest. ‘Lesson learned?’

  ‘Yes,’ I breathe.

  ‘Good.’ He releases me. ‘Now take off your dress.’

  ‘What?’

  I swivel round to find him making his way to a sofa. He pauses, beckoning me with a finger and pointing to a spot on the floor. And then he settles himself down. Crossing his legs and snaking his arms across the back, he watches as I sidle over to him. Doing exactly as I’m told, I stand on the designated spot, lift the dress over my head and drop it to the floor. He shakes his head.

  ‘That’s an expensive item of clothing. You should treat your possessions with respect.’

  ‘Is that what you do?’

  ‘Always.’ He smiles for a second or two, and then he issues the next command. ‘Get rid of the knickers.’

  Excuse me, what?

  ‘But I’m on my period.’

  Suddenly serious, he tips his head to one side.

  ‘Would you like another spanking, Miss Scotton? Or are you simply going to take off those hideous pants?’

  I stare at him, silenced by an expression that’s telling me he’s not going to take no for an answer. Shivering with nerves, I slip my fingers into the top of the knickers and draw them down my legs. Stepping out of them, I kick them to one side.

  ‘Legs apart.’

  Suddenly flushed with embarrassment, I lower my head.

  ‘Do as you’re told, Maya.’

  Biting back the urge to ask what the ruddy hell’s going on, I move my feet but not too far. Slowly, his gaze moves from my face to my crotch, taking in everything in between. I could shrink into a ball. The tampon string must be in full view.

  ‘So, at this point,’ he says, ‘the dominant usually informs the submissive that she’s a good girl.’

  My head flips up and suddenly, I understand: he’s giving me a dose of what I asked for … his way.

  ‘However, I wouldn’t dare call you a girl, because you’re a woman, which you’ve made perfectly clear to me on more than one occasion.’

  I smile back at him, coyly.

  ‘Now touch yourself.’

  ‘What?’

  He raises an index finger. A warning not to speak.

  ‘I said touch yourself. I’m going to watch you.’ He pauses, his eyes darkening. His own smile has disappeared now behind the mask. ‘And you’re going to make yourself come.’

  Oh, Lord above. He wants me to put on a show for him. And bugger it. I’ve never done anything like this before. Glancing down at my dress, I wonder if I should just make a run for it, but seeing as I’ve agreed to put an end to the running, that really wouldn’t be cricket.

  ‘I’m off to Whitehall in an hour.’ He checks his watch. ‘A meeting with the Housing Minister. So, if you wouldn’t mind …’ He waves at my crotch.

  Closing my eyes, I reach down and begin, slowly circling my left index finger over my clitoris. It doesn’t take long for the warmth to spark into life between my legs.

  ‘Look at me, Maya.’

  Obeying his instruction, I stare at him, noting the smile that plays across his mouth as he watches me intently, sometimes focussing on the movement of my finger, sometimes on my face. I’m a quivering wreck now, breaths faltering, growing ever more shallow by the second, but I’m determined to see this through. Summoning every last bit of willpower, I carry on, circling slowly, and the warmth grows.


  ‘Now this is beautiful,’ he says quietly. ‘Play with your nipples.’

  It’s fruitless to complain. Raising my free hand, I touch my left nipple, running a finger across the areola, groaning at the sensations that shimmer through me. And then I take the nipple between my thumb and forefinger, working at it gently, elongating it, suddenly aware that the warmth in my vagina has transformed into a full-on heat. There’s a ball of pressure right between my thighs, waiting to implode at any minute. But through it all, I keep up the circling motion, keep my eyes secured on his. Lips parted, he watches me closely as I take myself to the hilt. Finally, after what seems like an age, I’m there. Without an order, I squeeze my nipple, pushing myself over the edge. Muscles contract. The ball of heat scatters through my flesh.

  ‘Oh God.’ Closing my eyes, I groan as an orgasm ripples right through me. And then I shake, judder, fold in on myself. I’m half way to collapsing in a heap on the floor when I sense a movement. His arms embrace me, propping me up.

  ‘Nicely done,’

  I open my eyes to find his face next to mine. And he’s smiling proudly.

  ‘You’re an excellent executive toy. Much better than a stress ball.’

  ‘Glad to hear it.’

  A hand trails its way from the nape of my neck to my spine, and I’m on fire again. Just fuck me now, I want to scream. Just do it. And I don’t care if I am on my period. Get your old fella out and crack on! I’m slightly suspicious that he will when he moves back, takes off his jacket and lays it on the floor.

  ‘I thought you looked after your possessions,’ I remark tartly.

  ‘I do.’ He points at the jacket. ‘Down.’

  Suddenly I get it. He’s looking after me, making sure that I’m comfortable.

  ‘I’m not your possession.’

  ‘Just do as you’re told.’

  With a huff, I sink to my knees, watching as he unfastens his trousers, eases down his pants and reveals his cock. And good God, he’s aroused, fully erect, ready to go. With one swift movement, he slides a hand round to the back of my head, and grabs hold of his cock with the other.