Compulsion (2 page)

Abruptly he withdrew the dildo and spun the table again, hard, so that the woman ended up positioned in front of one of the other men. I didn’t know where to look—at the TV, which I was finding startlingly erotic, or at my neighbor, who was now jerking off in earnest, his muscular body strung out with tension, fist flying, eyes fixed on the screen.

I don’t know if I made a noise or if he somehow sensed me there just because I was radiating heat and riotous emotion, but without warning he leapt up from the couch and landed in a crouch, staring straight at me.

Oh this was
so
not good! I turned and sprinted down the garden.

He caught me before I got halfway.

Strong hands grabbed my shoulder and I swung round, crashing into his chest. I panicked and immediately began to struggle. He wrapped his thick arms around me, trapping one of my arms along the side of my body, and squeezed. I struggled harder, flailing and pushing with my free hand. He squeezed harder and lifted me until my feet no longer touched the ground.

Suddenly the fight went out of me and I had to battle to breathe instead. His arms were like titanium bands around my chest. I could feel my bones creaking, lungs wheezing, and black spots danced across my vision. I went limp, sagging against him. He loosened his grasp a fraction and I managed to drag a thin trickle of precious air into my lungs. The black spots cleared but strength did not return to my muscles.

Awareness rushed through me—I felt his hard torso crushing into me, utterly unyielding, a brick wall covered in velvet skin.

He was cool from his swim and his skin had a clean, male smell, faintly over-layered with chlorine and freshly applied deodorant. I fought off my sudden impulse to lick him, to run my tongue over the smooth skin in the dip of his collarbone.

Christ, girl, what’s wrong with you? You’re in deep shit here, and you want to lick him like a freaking lollipop!

“I’m going to put you down. You are not going to scream and you are not going to run. We’re going to sit down inside and we’re going to talk. Okay?”

He was panting, his voice rough. When I didn’t answer, he shook me. “Okay?”

I nodded. He released me slowly. It was a long slide down his cool skin before my toes touched the ground again. He kept a hold on my arm, strong fingers wrapped just above my elbow. No chance of escape yet—he was just waiting for me to try.

He pulled me back toward the house—so
not
where I wanted to go! I had a sudden, terrifying thought. What if he thought I was a criminal, a burglar? Oh shit, what if he called the police? I started to shake. Why, oh why, had I done this?

He propelled me straight into the lounge and pushed me down to sit on his couch. The couch where he’d been… God, I was in so much trouble!

The porn movie was still playing on the TV. Despite my fear and embarrassment, my eyes were drawn to irresistibly to the screen. The men had prepared a huge butt plug for the woman on the table and were spinning her around to see who would get to insert it. She seemed to know what they were about to do and was moaning and begging, “Not the big one, oh god, please, no, not the big one…” The table stopped and with a satisfied smirk the man who ended up standing between her spread legs picked up the butt plug, glistening with lube. He motioned to the men on either side and they seized the woman’s ass cheeks, pulling them apart, spreading her open and holding her motionless. The camera zoomed in as he positioned the plug against her tightly puckered anus and began to push it in, twisting it slowly as he worked it into her, ignoring her clenching resistance. With a cry she surrendered, her muscles overcome by the merciless pressure. The butt plug popped inside, stretching her beyond her limits for an instant, then disappearing into her body as she choked out a sob. They released their hold on her immediately and sent the table spinning again.

The sound of my neighbor shutting and locking the sliding door refocused my attention on my current dilemma. He dropped into the recliner opposite me, picked up the remote and turned off the TV. At least he wasn’t going for his phone. It was lying on the side table, next to his beer.

He was silent. I could feel his eyes on me but I couldn’t look at him. All I could hear was my blood pounding in my ears, and all I could think was that this was the worst moment of my life—and I’d had some pretty humiliating moments, so that was saying something.

The silence drew out. Eventually I couldn’t bear it. In a small, choked whisper, I said the only thing that I could possibly think of under the circumstances.

“I’m so terribly sorry.”

“Are you Jane Hedley?”

Surprise made me look up and meet his eyes. They were light—pale-blue or gray—I couldn’t be sure from across the room.

“How do you know my name?”

“Dave Fitzsimmons, the estate manager, mentioned you this afternoon. I stopped by to arrange to have my lawn mowed once a week and we had a nice chat. He said you were friendly, and that I should knock on your door if I needed anything. Apparently you’re usually at home in the evenings and on the weekends.”

Great, even the estate manager knows that I don’t have a life.

Bet he didn’t tell you about my secret hobby as an international super spy!

But of course I didn’t snap out my snarky comeback. I just said, “Oh.”

He gave me a sharp glance, as if he knew I wanted to take the piss.

“My name is Matthew Forbes. Now tell me why you were spying on me.” He sounded as if he were used to being obeyed.

I wasn’t spying, I was just welcoming my new neighbor. Darn, did I forget the cake again?

“Er… It’s all just a terrible mistake. I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again.”

“What didn’t you say?”

“What?”

“You were going to say something else. You did it before too. What didn’t you say?”

“Um, I wasn’t spying, I just wanted to welcome my new neighbor. Darn, did I forget the cake again?”

I delivered it really badly, my voice a trembling squeak, but he burst out laughing. I felt a tiny sliver of relief. Surely he wouldn’t call the police if he was laughing at me like that? The laughter transformed his face, softened all those severe angles. He looked…friendly, almost.

I plucked up my courage.

“Um, Matthew… Are you going to… I mean, what are you…?”

“What am I going to do about you? Or to you?”

I nodded. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. My eyes were drawn to the snaking tattoos encircling his arms from wrists to shoulders. My mouth went dry, but whether it was from nerves or from the desire I felt for him, I didn’t know.

“That depends.”

“On?”

“If you’re going to be honest with me.”

He got up and walked over to me, stopping just before he touched me. To my shock he knelt down in front of the couch. The waistband of his jeans was level with my knees and the top two buttons were undone. I was staring but I just couldn’t stop.

He picked up my hands from where they were clenched in my lap, parted them and turned my dirty palms upward then loosely held my wrists. His hands were very warm and far larger than mine, with long, strong fingers and neat, squared-off nails.

“Why did you come here?” he whispered.

We stared at each other. His eyes were grayish-blue, like the ocean on a cloudy day, and his irises were rimmed with black.

I’m a nosy idiot.

You’re so goddamn hot, I just wanted to look at you.

I’m totally creaming for you and I just couldn’t stay away.

I had a fantasy that we’d meet, fall in love and have wicked hot sex for a week.

“You’re not saying things again.”

Nobody else has ever noticed that about me before.

“I wanted to ask you to come to a party with me.”

He was obviously surprised by my answer. So was I. I’d been agonizing over the party for weeks, but I wasn’t the brave, confident type who asked guys out on a whim. Or at all.

He leaned in closer, crowding me. His shoulders were twice as wide as mine. I felt breathless as I waited for his answer, or maybe it was just the effect that his immediate physicality had on me. He was so large, so solid, his naked chest looming over me. His obvious power called to something primitive inside me and I wanted to test my strength against his, to wrestle with him so that he could subdue me, trap me, pin me under the weight of his muscles, take me. Oh god!

“What party?”

“My office Christmas party.”

“When?” He was focused on getting the facts.

“This Saturday night. Seven o’ clock.”

“Where?”

“The Renaissance Plaza Hotel.”

“Black tie, I presume?”

“Yeah.” Part of the nightmare.

“Again, why?”

I’m tired of being Plain Jane.

If I arrived with you, all those people who ignore me at work will catch a wake-up.

Just once, I’d like to be the princess who gets the handsome prince.

“I don’t have a date yet, and…I’m invisible at work.”

I whispered that last bit. I’d never admitted it to another soul.

Understanding flared in his eyes, followed by calculation. He let my wrists go and stood up.

He moved over to the curtainless window and looked out into the darkness. He caught me watching him in the reflection in the dark glass. Too much time went by.

I stood up and sidled toward the door.

“I’ll go now. Again, I’m really sorry, and thanks for being so decent about it.”

He stepped into my path, close.

“I’m not being decent about it. I’ll take you to your party, but there’s a price tag.”

“Price…tag?”

“Um-hmm. You’ll have sex with me. At the party. Where, when and how I say. You will submit to me completely.”

His voice deepened as he spoke. My legs suddenly lost the fight to keep me upright. Shock tore through my body in an icy wave, followed by a hot rush of arousal. His face was deadly serious. He meant every word.

He caught my arms, holding me up. I stared at him helplessly. I just didn’t know what to do. I found him desirable on every level, that much I’d known before I’d even started on this stupid adventure of mine, but I’d never imagined that he’d want me back. Men always ignored me. And what he was suggesting was just indecent. No dating, no romance, nothing of the fairy tales that I fantasized about. I was shaking my head, totally incapable of verbalizing what I was feeling, because I couldn’t understand it myself.

“B-but I don’t even know you,” I whispered eventually.

He smiled, showing me his even white teeth that were as perfect as the rest of him.

“That’s not a problem. We have five nights to get to know each other, starting now.”

I was out of smart comments, but my expression must have said it all, for he elaborated.

“Between now and Saturday night, you will come here and spend the evenings with me. By Saturday, we will no longer be strangers, and you will be ready.”

Reeeaaaly?

“Uh, what will we do to get to know each other?”

I was quite proud of myself—that was actually an intelligent question.

Wakey wakey, brain. I need you here!

“I’ll work out an agenda for us. We may go out, or we may stay in. You’ll like it.”

“Well, do I get any say in it?”

“No.”

That was it? No discussion? No polite inquiry about my interests? Then again, the way he was looking at me was anything but polite. And I hadn’t been polite either, I supposed, spying on him in his own house.

“What if I say no? What will you do then?”

He stepped back from me, releasing his hold on my arms, and my skin felt cold where his hands had gripped me. I folded my arms and put my own hands exactly where his had been.

“What do you expect, Jane? I’ll do nothing. You’ll go back to your house, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

I was relieved. He wasn’t going to report me to the police. But I wasn’t happy.

“You’ll go to your party, with or without a date. It’ll be none of my business. You may, or may not, continue to be invisible at work. That, too, has nothing to do with me. You may, or may not, ever think of this moment again, and wonder what would’ve happened if you’d said yes.”

His cold words were clipped and precise. He’d summed up my dilemma in a neat, little package and put it on the table before me. I was under no threat from him, and he wasn’t going to coerce me into doing anything that I didn’t want to do, but my own life was all the threat I needed. The sameness of it, the invisibility. The inevitability.

“Give me a moment. I need to think.”

I went back to the couch on autopilot and sat down.

All my life I’d felt as if I had the potential to be so much more, to do so much more, but I had no clue how to go about it. And there were no role models in my family to help me. My parents, who were as loving and supportive as one could ever wish for, lived in blissful mediocrity, and I was turning out just the same.

Take my virginity, for instance.

Yeah, that’s topical right now!

In the beginning, when I was a teenager, I’d hung on to it so tightly. I’d thought it was such an important thing, and that I was so much better and wiser than my friends who’d thrown theirs away so carelessly in the backseats of cars, or in dark bedrooms at high school parties. But I never met a guy who valued it—or deserved it. So no one asked me out at school because I was no fun, and the guys only wanted to date girls who’d sleep with them.

By the time I got to college, and then started working, I seemed dried up and left behind somehow. Men paid no attention to me. No handsome prince ever fell in love with me and claimed the precious gift that I’d guarded for him with respect and gratitude. I was just Plain Jane, the PA—twenty-four years old, practical, efficient and of no interest to men.

Until now, it seemed.

It would be a chance to lose my virginity in a spectacular way. He was spectacular. It would be like my favorite romance books, the forced seduction of an innocent but fiery-spirited heroine by a dangerous lord of power and wealth, who eventually falls in love with her. Desired tingled in my pussy.

Oh please, what’s wrong with you?