Page 29 of Resisting Mr Black
Eight
As the Aston Martin cuts through the Surrey countryside, I do my best to relax back in the passenger seat. We’re yet to discuss his kinky sexual preferences and although part of me is intrigued, the other part of me is anxious about what he’s going to tell me. What if he tells me he’s got a sex dungeon complete with black PVC gimp masks and the only way he will have sex with a woman is if she is tied up and subjected to a good spanking first?
Oh, God. I’m not sure I’m ready to hear this.
“What have you heard about me?”
I give him a sideways glance. “That you’re a member of an exclusive S & M club.”
“Where did you learn that?”
There’s no way I can get round this question with a lie. “Lucy Googled you.”
He keeps his eyes on the road straight ahead, his expression giving no clue as to how he feels to being cyberstalked. “When you hear the phrase S & M, what do you think of?”
I shrug and stare out of the window. “It’s not something I know anything about. Whips, chains, people tied up and getting spanked, I suppose.” I shoot him a curious look. “Are you a Dom?”
He throws his head back and laughs. “No, I’m not.”
“Are you a Sub?”
“No. The Dom, Sub thing doesn’t appeal to me.”
I’m struggling. “Then help me out here, why does any of it appeal to you?”
“Control,” he fires back. “I like to have control in all aspects of my life, and the bedroom is no exception.”
Lucy’s words about him being a dominating type in bed come back to haunt me. “How did you get into it?”
He doesn’t reply for a few moments as if he’s considering his response. “Five years ago, I went through a dark patch and someone introduced me to the scene.”
I’m not sure whether I should ask the next question. “Are you still… into it?”
“I haven’t been to the club for years, but I still like to be in control. I’m not into anything hard-core.”
I shift uncomfortably against the leather seat, and he throws me a worried look. “I’ve scared you.”
This is all totally alien to me. I’ve had sex, of course, but I’ve never indulged into anything more risqué than sexy underwear and a blindfold. “It doesn’t matter how I feel.”
He takes a right and turns into the driveway of the hotel. “It matters very much.”
I shake my head and look out of the window at the row of sky-scraping oak trees that line the drive. “No, it doesn’t.”
He swings the car into his usual parking space right outside the front of the hotel and cuts the engine. “We’ll discuss this more tonight.”
“What’s happening tonight?”
“I’m taking you out to dinner.” He’s telling me, not asking me.
“No, you’re not.”
He exhales slowly as if I’m testing his patience. “Why are you fighting this?”
I frown unsure what he’s referring to. “Fighting what?”
“Me and you.”
My heart stops. I have no come-back.