30DaystoSyn (20 page)

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Back to your place,” he said, his eyes
steady on hers. “Where I intend to spend the night.”

She blinked. “But I’m still on my—”

“To hold you in my arms while I sleep,” he
said. “Nothing more.” He grinned. “Unless you want to do something to me.”

Her slow smile made his cock leap. “You
never know,” she said.

He asked to use her shower and she agreed.
She sat on the bed and watched as he dragged the T-shirt over his head. For the
first time she saw the large blue-inked tribal tattoo that covered his left
shoulder, dipped a third of the way down his upper arm with one curve that
resembled a wave stretching onto his collar bone and another like a wing along
his left shoulder blade.

“How long have you had your tat?” she
asked.

“In prison. It’s a rite of passage in there
and especially if you have Máori blood.”

“What does it mean?”

He didn’t want to tell her so pretended he
hadn’t heard her and continued with his story.

“I hope you have more than girlie body wash
in there,” he mumbled.

She was tempted to sneak in to take a peak
but the look he had given her as he closed the door had been a warning not to.

“There will be plenty of time to share the
shower after Friday,” he’d said in that husky voice that did wicked things to
her libido.

After Friday, she thought, and prayed her
period would go no longer. She’d never wanted anything as much as that.

Well, she thought, other than to have him…

“You have terrible water pressure,” he said
as he came out of her bathroom. He was toweling his hair but she barely noticed
for he was completely nude.

“Kiwi!” she exclaimed, averting her head.

“Huh?”

“My God! You’re naked!”

“As the day I was born,” he said and she
heard laughter in his voice. “What of it?”

“I don’t want to see you…”

“Yes, you do,” he said and walked over to
the bed, tossing the towel he’d been drying his hair with onto her chair. “Turn
around.”

“No,” she said, resolutely facing the wall.

“Woman, turn around,” he said and she could
feel his bare knee pressed against her.

“Absolutely…”

He reached down to cup her chin and brought
her head around. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Melina,” he said with a sigh, “by the end
of the month, there won’t be an inch of me you haven’t seen. Might as well
start tonight.” He tugged on her chin. “Melina, open your eyes and look at my
cock.”

“No,” and the word sounded petulant even to
her.

“He’s not aroused.”

“No.”

“But I can put my hand on him and get him
that way very quickly if you don’t open your eyes and say hello to him.”

She scrunched up her face but pried one eye
open. He was right before her but all she could see was the deep indention of
his navel and the sweet line of hair that dipped from between his pecs to the
vee of his groin hair. The tiger line was wet and branched outward like a tree
at his navel. She had the wild impulse to lean forward and drag her tongue over
a pebble of water glistening on his taut belly.

“Look at him, Lina,” he ordered. “He’s not
going to flip up and bite you.” He chuckled. “Yet.”

She raised her eyes to his and pursed her
lips at the humor she saw sparkling there. “You are incorrigible.”

“I’ll be engorgible if you don’t look at
him,” he stated, removing his hand from her face.

“That’s not even a word,” she said with a
sniff but lowered her eyes slowly to his groin. She jerked her eyes back up to
his.

“Yeah, I know and he’s all yours,” he said
with a touch of pride in his voice.

“Sweet Jesus,” she whispered, swallowing
hard as she stared at his mouth.

“Touch him,” he said then his voice went
low and deep. “I dare you.” He shifted his legs apart, braced his hands on his
hips and arched his left eyebrow. “As you Southerners say, I
double
dog
dare you.”

Very, very slowly she lowered her eyes to
his cock. The moment her gaze fell upon it, it stirred and she knew he’d
deliberately flexed it to make her uncomfortable. All right, she thought, if that
was how he wanted to play it…

She turned on the bed so she was facing him
squarely. Her knees grazed his but he didn’t give an inch. He stood his ground
before her with his hands on his hips. She glanced up at him to find him
staring down at her with a noncommittal look on his handsome face. Once more
that thick eyebrow shifted upward in challenge and she looked down again.

A single drop of water was making its way
down the hard plane of his side. She leaned forward and flicked it away with
her tongue. His harsh, indrawn breath made her smile.

“Be careful,” he warned. “Water may not be
the only thing you find on your tongue if you keep that up.”

She didn’t look up at him. Instead her
attention had moved to his shaft. Once more it leapt and this time she realized
it was thicker than it had been. He was becoming aroused.

“Tell me what you would like to do with
him,” she said without looking up.

There was a slight intake of breath
followed by a few seconds of silence.

“Excuse me?” he asked and she thought his
voice sounded a bit ragged.

She raised her eyes to his once again then
deliberately licked her lips. She was playing with fire and she knew she was
but the woman in her was becoming emboldened by his nearness, the male beauty
of him and the very impressive organ that moved yet again.

“Tell me what you would like to do with
him.”

“I’d like to shove you down on that bed and
ram him into you,” he said.

“You can’t do that,” she told him.

“No, but I didn’t say it would necessarily
be your cunt I’d ram him into,” he said. He moved closer until she was leaning
away from him, suddenly fearful of the lust she saw blazing in his blue eyes.
He leaned closer still. “What if I flipped you over and shoved him up your—”

“You wouldn’t do that,” she said.

He narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t?” he
growled.

She shook her head. “No, Kiwi, you
wouldn’t, but if it turns you on to threaten it, be my guest.”

His smile made her stop breathing. It was
dangerous and self-satisfied and downright evil. Before she knew what he was
about, he reached down, drove his hands under her armpits and hefted her up to
scoot her across the bed. His knee dipped the mattress and he had her over on
her belly with his body covering hers before she could regain rational thought.
She gasped for he was grinding his cock against her ass as his strong hands
held her upper arms pinned to the bed by the wrists. The moment he lowered his
head and his lips pressed to her ear, she felt a shiver of desire spread
through her lower body.

“Tell me what
you
would like me to
do with him,” he whispered, swirling his tongue around the opening of her ear.

“Kiwi, don’t!” she said, trying to squirm
away from him but he was like a boulder resting on her back and ass.

He drove his knee between her legs and
thrust it tight to the vee of her thighs.

“Tell me, Melina. What do you want me to do
with him?”

She wanted it inside her but she
couldn’t—wouldn’t—admit that. She knew when he finally got around to taking her
she would be so addicted to him, so needful of what he would give her that she
would be completely lost to him. He would own her body and soul and she wasn’t
sure she was ready for that.

If she ever would be.

She was almost afraid of the things he was
making her feel. The things he was making her crave.

“Tell me,” he whispered and pumped his
groin against her repeatedly. He was hard as steel.

“You may leave now,” she said and he went
still.

“Eh?” he questioned.

“Don’t make me repeat it.”

He stayed where he was for a second or two
longer than rolled off her. He lay on his side facing her, staring into her
eyes, searching her face.

“You really want me to go?” he asked.

“Stop talking,” she replied.

His brows drew together—held—then slowly
relaxed. The twin vertical ridges above his nose became more prominent for a
moment and then he was smiling savagely at her. He grunted and pushed up from
the mattress.

She lay on her stomach with her cheek
pressed to the coverlet and listened to him dressing. A part of her wanted to
call him back but another wanted him to leave without another word.

That wasn’t to be.

When he was dressed, he came back to the
bed, leaned over her with his hands to either side of her head. “I’ll remember
this, wench, and you’ll pay for it,” he said and she was vividly reminded of
her highwayman dreams.

“Lock the door behind you,” she managed to
say though her mouth was as dry as straw.

He grunted again and the sound of his
footsteps as he left her, the sound of the door closing behind him, the roar of
his car engine as he backed out of the drive made her wonder if she had taken a
terrible, terrible misstep with him.

Night Fourteen

“Take off your blouse and your bra,” he
ordered that next night. “Remove your skirt and sandals and come here.”

He was sitting in the overstuffed
chair—shirtless, barefoot and with his jeans unbuttoned at the waist. The
lights were on over his chair and the straight-backed one.

“Drape your clothes over the chair.”

She could feel the blood racing through
her, the pounding of her heart as she did as he told her. Although her cheeks
were burning hot enough to singe her eyebrows, she walked bare-chested to his
chair and stood before him without raising her arms to hide her breasts from
his view.

“You’re learning,” he said.

He looked very self-possessed as he
reclined in the big wingback—like a high priest waiting for his human
sacrifice. His knees were spread wide and his fingers were curled over the end
of the chair arms. Completely relaxed, breathing easily, his blue eyes intent
on her. Those gorgeous eyes were the only thing moving and they were crawling
over her slowly and deliberately lingering on her breasts before moving on
again.

“You were very naughty last night,” he
said. “I usually punish naughty girls.” He moved his right hand and patted his
thigh. “Come here.”

She tensed. He wanted her to sit in his lap
and she wanted to—oh how she wanted to—but there was something in the way he
was looking at her that didn’t bode well for cuddling. She lifted her chin.

“If you make me give that order again, I’ll
pick you up and turn that shapely ass of yours over my knees. If I am forced to
do that I promise you won’t like the heaviness of my hand,” he said gruffly.
“I’ll make it sting like you wouldn’t believe.”

She turned to sit sideways in his lap but
he shook his head.

“No,” he said and the right side of his
mouth quirked upward. “Straddle me.”

She looked down at his hips. The deep seat
was wider than they were but the curved front of the arms would prevent her
from doing as he asked. She crinkled her forehead, turned her head to one side
to ask for clarification.

“Climb atop me, put your knees to either
side of my hips and then straddle my thighs,” he instructed.

She put her right knee on the seat and he
scooted forward so when she brought her other knee up and settled down him she
was seated directly over his groin. His eyes held hers and she watched them
darken.

“Put your elbows on the back of the chair.”

In doing that, she had to lean toward him
until their noses were almost touching. She could feel the soft warmth of his
breath against her lips.

For the longest time he did nothing more
than stare into her eyes. His hands were motionless on the arms of the chair,
his head pressed back. Though he didn’t move she could feel the thickening
between her legs.

“Kiss me,” he whispered.

She tilted her head and put her mouth to
his. She plied his lips gently but that wasn’t what he wanted. He pulled away,
shot her a look that singed.

“Use your tongue, woman,” he said. “Rape my
mouth with it.”

A trickle of electricity speared through
her lower body. French kissing wasn’t something she was very good at but she
slanted her mouth over his and thrust her tongue between his lips.

He groaned and the heady power that filled
her gave her confidence. She swept her tongue over his, flicked it to the
sensitive corners of his mouth. She heard the chair arms squeak and knew his
grip had tightened on them.

She deepened the kiss.

His breathing sped up. The thickening
beneath her hardened.

He pulled away again and this time when he
spoke his voice was guttural with desire.

“Rub your cunt against me.”

She knew what it was he was directing her
to do. She’d seen movies. She’d read books. He wanted a lap dance and though
she’d never done anything even closely resembling that act, she ground herself on
him.

His growl sent a tingle through her. He was
completely at her mercy, vulnerable, laying his passion bare for her to feel.
Her attention riveted on his face, she began to rotate her hips, pressing down
on him as the hardening became a taut ridge pressing against her.

She was grinding on him, rocking her hips
forward and back, swiveling her sweet little ass provocatively. He was pretty
sure she hadn’t blinked since she began her slow, gyrating movements over him.
He ached to slam his hands to her hips, shove her down as hard as he could
until there was pain but he kept his hands on the chair arms. His fingernails
were digging into the fabric. His bare heels were pushing into the carpet.

That tight ass left his lap for a moment
and he growled at her—almost hissed at her. She smiled and pressed her bare
breasts to his chest, rubbing them against him in countermovement to the ass
she returned to his groin.

“Woman, you—” he began but she shushed him.

Didn’t say a word. Didn’t blink. Just kept
the slow, rhythmic undulation of her hips going on him.

He was as hard as a rock and aching to be
inside her. If he didn’t stop her soon, he’d do something he would regret.

He put his hands on her hips to still her
movements and said the hardest words he’s ever spoken.

“You can go now,” he croaked.

Instead of protesting, she pushed his arms
away with her elbows and was out of his lap before he could take another
breath.

She left him sitting there with a raging
hard-on, dumbfounded that he had sent her away.