Secrets After Dark (19 page)

Dx

I stare at it for a while, a nasty feeling swirling in the pit of my stomach, reading it over and over again. I was fine when he left me with Andrei. When is he talking about? Because I don’t remember him leaving me with Andrei after our passionate encounter in the cave. By then, I was oblivious to everything, no doubt lost in my drug-induced haze. So does he mean when Andrei and I left him dancing with Anna? A horrible nausea engulfs me and my hands clench around my phone. Because that would mean he thinks he didn’t see me again until after the party.

I stand up, my heart pounding, feeling sicker than ever. My thoughts are racing wildly.

That would mean that it wasn’t him in the tunnel.
Oh God. If it wasn’t Dominic, then it must have been...

I turn around and catch a glimpse of myself in our sitting-room mirror. I look grey and terrified. The obvious, the only conclusion, is that if the man in the tunnel wasn’t Dominic, he must have been Andrei. He greeted me by name. Only Dominic or Andrei would do that.
No. I won’t believe it. I can’t! I’ve got things confused, that’s all. I’ll sort it out with Dominic when I see him.

But then the nature of my own, personal trap becomes clear. If I ask him whether he made wild love to me in the cave and he says no, he’ll know that someone else did. The very thought makes my head spin with horror. Even if he believes that I honestly thought it was him, will it change everything between us?

I was so jealous when I thought even for a moment he was attracted to Anna. What would he think if he knew I’d had sex with someone else?

I shudder. What about me? Have I really been seduced without knowing who it was? I remember the way I welcomed every touch and kiss and caress, how much I yearned for that hard, satisfying fucking. He asked did I want it, was I sure... and I said yes. He said ‘No more games’ and I thought it was Dominic referring to our meeting in the dungeon earlier. I opened myself willingly. I begged for it.

But did he know that I thought it was Dominic? Did I call him by name?

I can’t remember if I spoke Dominic’s name out loud or not. The thought makes me feel doubly ill. Because if it were Andrei with me in the tunnel last night and I did say it, he can be under no illusion now about how I feel about Dominic.

I sink down to the floor moaning.
Please, let it not be true. Please. Did I have sex with Andrei? And did I really love it as much as I remember?

Chapter Eleven

Dominic is furious with me. His eyes are black with rage, his face pale.

‘You did
what
?’ he says in an ominous voice that quivers with suppressed rage.

I am lying on my front on the bed in the boudoir, wearing only a leather harness that criss-crosses over my breasts and is collared at my neck, and cinched in hard and tight round my waist, leaving my upper back and buttocks bare. My hands are bound to the bed, pulled up over my head and cuffed to the railing that runs along the head. My legs are spread-eagled and each ankle is tethered to an opposite bedpost, leaving me entirely exposed. I want to curl up into a ball, but it’s impossible.

‘You fucked him?’ His voice gets louder until he’s almost shouting. ‘You fucked Dubrovski? When you know how I feel about you – and about him? How could you, Beth?’ His voice changes again, quiet but sharp as a knife. ‘Did you enjoy it? His cock shoving away inside you? I bet you did.’

I’m sobbing. ‘No, please believe me... I thought it was you, I thought you were in the cave with me! Not him. I had no idea, I promise.’

‘Likely fucking story, Beth. Give me some credit.’

‘I was drugged, tripping, and it was pitch black!’

‘You fucked him. And you loved it.’ His voice is icy.

‘No, no...’ I can’t believe this is happening; I can’t make him believe me. My voice deserts me as sobs grip my chest and throat. My power to explain is gone.

I hear Dominic moving about the room, then he is standing behind me.

‘You betrayed me, Beth,’ he says in a low voice. ‘After everything we’ve been through, and everything I’ve done for you. You cheated on me. Now you can do something for me.’

‘What?’ I managed to gasp between sobs. ‘I’ll do anything for you, you know that.’

‘Really? Then you’d better show me by taking what’s coming to you.’

I’m waiting for him to tell me what I can do to convince him when the blow comes. The cat o’ nine tails, that stinging creature with its hundreds of sharp little teeth, comes down hard on my back. I’m braced for pain, the crackling of my skin underneath its bite. I know that the cat is usually brought out when the skin is already warmed by softer, gentler instruments – Dominic is obviously determined to make me suffer the most extreme of punishments. But I don’t feel the bitter pain I’m expecting. Instead the whip’s touch is more like a hot caress, sending out tiny cracks of lightning over my back. I gasp.

It comes down again and I can hear from the thwack that it’s coming down harder and faster. Dominic’s putting his strength into it. But again, rather than cutting me with agony, the blow is deliciously invigorating to my senses. I feel myself begin to come alive underneath it, the smarting whack making my sex hot with need.

‘I can see you,’ Dominic says. ‘I can see you getting wet with your punishment. Are you thinking about Dubrovski?’

‘No,’ I whimper, but not loudly enough for Dominic to hear and he’s preparing another blow for me anyway. They begin to pelt down on me, falling on me like burning rain, making me melt and burn in my groin and feel a desperate need for him to take me to the edge of this pleasurable pain.

‘This is your punishment,’ he says. ‘Are you sorry?’

‘I’m sorry, yes, I’m sorry...’ I manage to say as the cat flicks maddeningly all over my fevered back, sometimes over the tops of my thighs and the soft globes of my buttocks.

‘Sorry what?’

‘Sorry, sir. I’m sorry!’

‘Beg for forgiveness and perhaps I won’t cut you to shreds.’

The whip cuts me again, a couple of its strands coming down over my tender exposed sex, licking inside like sharp leather tongues. I scream out.
Are there any limits here? What did we agree?
I can’t remember.

‘Beg me,’ he hisses.

‘I beg you for forgiveness, sir.’

‘Aren’t you enjoying your thrashing, my little slave?’

‘No, sir, no... I mean, yes... oh God.’ I cry out again as the cat takes a sudden stinging journey over my buttocks. My sex throbs with need.

The blows suddenly stop and I moan. I’m not there yet but I’m in a maddened place where my body is yearning for it so much, I can hardly stand it. I feel a pressure on the bed. He’s behind me, kneeling between my spread thighs. He’s gripping me by the hips, lifting up my backside and then he’s plunging his hot hard cock into my slippery depths, not pausing to savour me but thrusting on with fierce intensity, fucking with no thought for me but for his own pleasure and it’s unbearably exciting. I want to be his vessel, to let him take his pleasure. My back is alive with the sizzling after-effects of the whipping, my bottom tender but thrilling to the thwack of his groin and balls against it. He’s fucking me so hard, concentrating only on driving his shaft in and out.

He leans down over my back. ‘Do you like this?’ he whispers.

I’m shuddering and stiffening. My body is working independently of my mind, its quivering and ready to release my climax on to the hot cock that’s slamming in and out of me.

The voice in my ear says, ‘Come on, come for me, Beth, I know you love it, just like you loved it in the cave,’ and as I gasp and shriek with the intensity of my orgasm and as I whirl into the intoxicating sensations, I realise that it is not Dominic who is fucking me, but Andrei Dubrovski.

I wake up hot and confused. I’m in my bed at home, and not in the boudoir at all. But it was so horribly real, so intensely physical... I feel drained and yet agitated and unfulfilled at the same time.

Did I come in my sleep? And who did I imagine was fucking me?
I feel ashamed at the thought that I might have been unconsciously fantasising about Andrei.
You love Dominic
, I tell myself harshly. And I know that I definitely, most certainly, do not want to have sex with Andrei.

Dreams are tricks, not revelations. They don’t tell a straightforward story.

I lie back on my pillows, pulling my duvet up around me, remembering the whip in my dream. Ever since I felt the marks on Dominic’s bare back, I’ve been dreaming of whips in one form or another, but never like this. Never with this kind of intensity.
Or pleasure.

I shiver as I recall it. But whips don’t simply sting deliciously, I know that. They hurt and cut, and make tender skin bleed, weal and scar. I’ve felt the power of an extreme flogging and I hated it. So why, in my dreams, do I love it so much?

Perhaps my imagination is working overtime because I’m seeing Dominic tonight, and in the boudoir, where he first initiated me into the more adventurous ways of making love.

And perhaps I’m also worried about what I’ll find out.
I’m relieved that Dominic, as yet, has no idea of my fears about what happened in the cave. I feel sure, in my heart, that it was Dominic who made love to me. But perhaps that’s just wishful thinking.

I arrive at work nervously.

Laura noticed the change in me over breakfast when I was reluctant to talk about everything that had happened since she’d last seen me.

‘You mean Dominic’s back?’ she demanded, stirring milk into her muesli, a towel wrapped around her damp hair. ‘And your pet billionaire took you to a masked ball and a night in a plush hotel? No wonder you’re depressed.’

I smile. ‘Of course I’m not. I’m very happy Dominic’s home again. I’m sure it will lift my spirits. It’s just...’

‘What?’

‘I don’t know.’ I shrug. ‘Feeling low.’

Laura tsked. ‘No pleasing some people. Well, send your sexy Russian my way if you’re tired of him, that’s all I can say.’

If only she knew
, I think as I pass the lodge at the entrance of Albany and nod my hello to the porter.
But I can’t tell anyone. Not even James. This has to be my secret and mine alone.

Sri answers the door to me, rather than the bodyguard, so Andrei must be out.

‘Gone to work,’ Sri confirms in a small voice when I ask.

I can hear the clack-clack of a keyboard from the office, and when I go in there is a young man I’ve never seen before, dressed in a cream suit, his fair hair neatly combed. He looks up enquiringly as I come in and says, ‘Can I help you?’

‘I’m Beth, I’m working on Andrei’s art for the flat.’

He nods. ‘Oh yes. I’ve heard. I’m Edward, and I’m filling in for Marcia while she’s away.’

‘Any news about her mother?’ I ask.

‘Recovering, apparently. She’s got something in her chest.  Polaris.’

‘Polaris?’ I echo. ‘Isn’t that a kind of missile?’

Edward frowns. ‘You’re right, it’s not polaris.’

‘Pneumonia?’ I suggest.

He looks a little affronted. ‘I think I would remember if it was pneumonia. That’s very easy to remember, isn’t it?’

‘Well then... um...’

‘I’m sure it begins with P,’ he murmurs, gazing down at his keyboard.

‘Polio?’ I suggest.

He gives me a slightly withering look. ‘If you’re going to be silly...’

‘Psoriasis?’ I hazard, teasing him.

‘That doesn’t even begin with P,’ he retorts. ‘It doesn’t matter anyway. She’s getting better. I shan’t be here for long, just a day or two, so I won’t get in your way.’ He leans towards me, suddenly cosy and conspiratorial. ‘He’s quite a one, your boss, isn’t he? Very He-Man. And by the looks of things, he’s dragged She-Ra back to his den for a bit of one-to-one combat, if you know what I mean.’

I frown, remembering my brothers watching cartoons during the summer holidays when I was very little. ‘He-Man and She-Ra were brother and sister, weren’t they?’

‘Were they?’ He shrugs. ‘It’s all a bit before my time. Anyway, he’s obviously quite the lady-killer from the sounds of it.’ He gestures over his shoulder with his thumb in the direction of the hall. ‘You’ll see, I expect. Now, I’d better press on, this man’s diary is more complicated than
The
Times
cryptic crossword.’

I think he’s stopped talking about fantasy figures now, so I head to the study.  So much has happened since I was here only two days before. I realise that the pile of work still to do has diminished and that I’ll soon be able to start considering how to hang the pictures. There is more than enough to create a stunning collection here. But there is nothing that is quite suitable as the stand-out piece Andrei wants for his bathroom.

I feel grateful that Andrei isn’t here. I don’t know how I could face him now. Perhaps James was right and I should tell him to stuff his stupid job... But...
what if it wasn’t him, but Dominic? Then everything’s all right...
And if it wasn’t, and it
was
Andrei...
then did he know I thought he was Dominic? Or did he think I wanted him?
‘No more games.’ That was what I heard. Could it have referred to our conversation at dinner, when he flirted with me and I rebuffed him?