30DaystoSyn (25 page)

“You like riding me?” she countered.

He ground against her. “Baby, you ain’t
been rode yet. Believe me you’ll know the difference between this and a
full-out ride when I mount you.”

His words sent quivers of desire racing
through her. The heaviness between her thighs increased and her body—having a
mind of its own—arched her hips up to meet the swirl of his.

“There you go poking that nest again,” he
said. “I think I need to teach you that could get you in deep shit.”

She started to laugh but then he began
moving his thigh up and down at the vee of her legs. His hand went to her
breast, his strong fingers kneading, and the stiff nap of the towel abrading
her nipple as he massaging her. She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth to
keep the threat of a moan from reaching his ears.

But he knew what he was doing to her. He
was studying her face—his eyes caressing her as heatedly as his palm through
the thin material of the towel—and there was satisfaction in his direct gaze.
When he smiled, the most dastardly smile she’d seen cross his lips to date and
glided his hand from her breast to the crook of her knee, lifted her leg and
pressed his thigh tighter to her, a shudder rippled through her. He was
bringing her more fully into contact with the hard surface of his thigh and the
scrape of the denim along her naked folds.

“You like that?” he asked.

“Kiwi…” she said then arched her head back
for he had increased the speed of his movement. Quaky expulsions of air left
her lungs as she tried to squirm away from his insistent invasion of her
senses.

“Unh, unh, baby,” he denied. His fingers
tightened on the underside of her knee and he drew it up and to his side to
brace it against his ribcage, leaving her more exposed to the rough slide of
the denim. Once more he increased his speed.

“Please!” she whispered. The friction was
doing what it was meant to do. She had handfuls of the spread clutched savagely
between her fingers—holding on for dear life.

He was hard and his cock was stabbing into
her opposite thigh as he made her ride his. Her toes curled and a strange
itching began in her right heel. She stared up at him with her lips parted,
dragging air into her lungs quicker and quicker as the release began to build.

“Oh, yeah. There you go, baby. Now you got
it,” he said. He was gliding her up and down against the polyester bedspread
with each thrust of his thigh, grinding his erection against her. He dipped his
head to put his lips at the hollow of her throat.

“Kiwi!” she groaned and brought her hands
up to his shoulders.

He shifted his body, shoved her legs wide
apart and settled himself between them. He hooked his arms under her legs and
lifted them to his shoulders. The massive erection pressing against the front
of his jeans was now in direct contact with her cunt. She wedged her arms under
his and clung to the flexing muscles of his back.

“Come for me, baby,” he said. His knees
were pressing hard into the mattress as he rocked his lower body against her.
“Come for your man.”

Mindless with the lust building within her
she dug her fingers into his back, heard him grunt, and then extended her
nails.

“Gouge me,” he ordered. “Dig your nails
into me. Let me feel your need, baby.”

One part of her mind pressed at her to rake
her nails down the smooth expanse of his back but another part warned her not
to hurt him.

“Scratch me,” he snarled. “Do it! I want
you to. I
need
you to!”

He was thrusting against her with senseless
abandon—striving to make her come—and the bed beneath them was moving, the
headboard striking the wall.

“Claw me, Melina!” he demanded and the
moment she did, release broke over her and she cried out.

The orgasm seemed to go on and on as he
pressed down hard on her exposed, responsive flesh. The towel had come undone
at her breast and his naked chest was rubbing upon hers. He was making strange,
gasping sounds then he stiffened and she knew.

She
knew
!

The heat, the wetness of his release
touched her through the fabric of his jeans as a hard shudder undulated through
his body. With her arms tight around him, her nails gouging into his back, she
felt every ripple as it coursed through him.

With a groan she interpreted as
embarrassment he collapsed atop her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice ragged.
“Baby, I’m so sorry.” He tried to roll off her but she wouldn’t allow it. She
held onto him as hard as she could.

“It’s okay,” she said.

“That was just wrong,” he whispered.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I will.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

He was mortally ashamed of allowing his
body to betray him as it had. He had not meant to let it go that far. In
wanting to give her pleasure, he had humiliated himself and no doubt shocked
her to the core of her being. That she refused to allow him to ease off her
puzzled him.

“Thank you,” she said.

He lifted his head from her shoulder and
stared at her.

“That was a long time in coming,” she said.
“Maybe now I won’t have to kick the leg of your timetable again anytime soon to
get your attention.”

Her words hit him like a ton of brick.
Understanding shot through him.

“You did that on purpose,” he accused.

She smiled, snaked her arm from under his
and put her hand to his cheek. “Sometimes you need to get the ball rolling down
the alley before it gets too heavy in your hand, Kiwi,” she said.

“You sneaky little witch,” he grumbled.

This time she allowed him to move off her
and he fell to his back, lifting it so she could get her other arm from under
him. The front of his jeans was sticking to him. That particular discomfort was
something he hadn’t felt since he was a teenage boy but back then it hadn’t
embarrassed him as it did now. He was a grown man and should have had enough
restraint not to have allowed the disgrace of the cum clinging to him. He could
smell it and that made matters worse.

She turned to her side and laid her head on
his shoulder, draped her arm over his naked waist.

“You did what you set out to do,” she said.

He swiveled his head toward her. “And what
exactly was that?” he asked.

“To pleasure me,” she said. She slid her
fingers through the hair on his chest. “And you did that very well.”

He grunted, still mortified by his slip.
The heat of his shame was scorching his face.

“Can I tell you something?” she whispered.

Her gaze was boring into his very soul. He
would allow her any request under the sun and the realization struck him hard.
He nodded.

“You’re the first man to ever give me an
orgasm,” she said, her smile sweet and tender. “You will be the first to go
where no man has gone before.”

Slowly he grinned. “So you’ll be my final
frontier?”

The smile left her face. “I could live with
that,” she replied. “Can you?”

He knew what she was asking. Final meant
the last. It meant the end.

He thought about it for a moment then
reached over to cup her chin. “Yeah, baby,” he said in a husky voice. “I can.”

Night Eighteen

It had been the worst day of his life, even
more trying and frustrating than the day before and he was glad it was winding
to a close. The following day might be worse still but he doubted it could be.
Things were as bad as they could get without being cataclysmic.

* * * * *

The press had been gathered in herds around
his house as he maneuvered his car through the phalanx of news vans. Thankfully
his Beamer was still intact and where he’d left it when she dropped him off at
the river walk this morning. He’d gone straight from there to his office and
was infuriated that dozens of reporters were already lurking there as he drove
up to the automated security gate. They came swarming to his car and he turned
his radio on full blast to drown out their questions. Angrily he had wondered
why Kit hadn’t stationed security inside the parking structure but then saw
several come running to disperse the paparazzi. He was able to pull into the
parking structure and get to his private parking space before six or seven
reporters broke away from the security men and came running toward him. He
slapped his hand against the elevator’s scanner and cursed as he waited for the
doors to open.

The reporters reached him and he spun
around, hurrying through the gantlet of microphones shoved in his face to make
it to the stairwell. He was bombarded with incessant questions as the reporters
tried to find out where he’d been all night.

“Who were you with, Syn?”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“A boyfriend?”

“Were you with her?”

“Him?”

“Where were you?”

He wondered if he was going to have to
shove or deck someone to keep them from following him up the stairs. Luckily
security guards were coming down the stairs as the door opened and he stepped
aside to give them room to scatter the crowd.

“Syn, what do you think of your mother’s
charges?” was the last thing he heard as he took the stairs two at a time until
he came to the fourth floor and—breathing heavily—went out into the corridor to
take the elevator the rest of the way up.

The loud, raucous voices hurtling questions
at him had given him a vicious headache. When he closed his office door, he
leaned against it and hung his head. His phone began ringing almost immediately
but he ignored it, wondering where the hell Spike was and why she wasn’t
fielding his calls. He started to push away from the door and head for his
private bathroom. All he wanted to do was shower, dress and see what other
damage had been done to his reputation and career.

He heard the doorknob turn and the panel
push against his back and he spun around, ready to do fierce battle with
whatever asswipe it was who was trying to enter his home. He jerked the door
open to find Jake standing there with a quartet of uniformed police officers
behind him.

“What’s going on?” he asked his lawyer.

“They’ve got a warrant for your arrest,”
Jake told.

“For what?”

“Synjyn McGregor, you are under arrest for
assault and battery,” one of the officers said.

Two entered his office as he backed away in
confusion, silently asking Jake for an explanation.

One cop pushed him against the wall and
dragged his arms behind him as the other read him his rights. He was escorted
to the elevator and when it opened back through the milling crowd of reporters
whose excited voices were louder and more demanding as the cameras followed him
to the waiting police car.

“Who the hell am I supposed to have
assaulted?” he asked as the officer opened the back door of the cruiser.

“Mrs. Olivia Hanere-McGregor,” the cop
said.

His head was pushed under the overhead jamb
of the car door and he was shoved none too gently into the backseat.

“What?” he asked.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Jake said.

“Call her,” he told Jake. “She’s at work. I
was with her all night. Call her, Jake.”

The last thing he saw was Jake taking out
his mobile to call Melina.

* * * * *

The sound of the door opening gave him the
first moment of peace he’d had all day. He heard the deadbolt click into place
and the sound of her footsteps as she hurried to him. He was standing by the
desk with all the lights in the Room blazing down on him.

“Are you all right?” she asked as she
reached him.

“Ignoring the rules of the Room, Miss
Wynth?” he countered.

“Fuck the rules, Kiwi,” she stated, her
eyes searching his face. “Are you all right?”

He reached for her, gently bringing her
against him. “I will be now you’re here,” he told her. “Thank you for pulling
my bacon out of the fire.”

“You are very welcome,” she replied. “I’m
just sorry Jake wouldn’t let me see you.”

“No one needed to know you were there to
vouch for me.”

“It helped I had Miss Mavis with me.”

He eased back so he could look at her. “Who
is Miss Mavis?”

“The owner of the Tucker Inn motel,” she
said. “No matter what you think of the interior of Miss Mavis’ motel, she took
my advice a year or so ago and installed security cameras in the office and by
the ice and vending machines. The machines were being broken into on a regular
basis so she needed a way to catch the culprits. When Jake called me to tell me
your mother said you’d been the one to beat her up…”

“If she’d wanted me to beat the shit out of
her, I would have been happy to oblige,” he mumbled.

“That’s not true,” she said. “She’s your
mother. You might not like her, but you do love her.”

“Who says?” he challenged.

“You wouldn’t have given her the condo or
the new cars or paid her credit cards or given her an allowance if you didn’t.”

“That’s just guilt,” he said.

“Over what?”

“Ruining her life, maybe?” he said with a
shrug.

“You did nothing to ruin her life, Kiwi.
She did that all on her own.” She craned her neck to look up at him. “You know
what I think?”

He sighed. “No, but you’re going to tell
me,” he said.

“I am a firm believer in if a woman stays
in her place, the man will be forced to. She didn’t have to draw attention to
herself so your dad would notice her that day at the beach.” When he made to
protest, she shook her head. “She did. We all do. A handsome boy walks by and
you preen like a peacock in front of him. She got his attention and she
followed him to his van. She didn’t have to climb inside. I’m sure he didn’t
force her. Those were conscious decisions she made all on her own.”

“She was thirteen,” he reminded her. “How
much consciousness could she have at that age?”

“Enough to know it was wrong,” she said.
“If what you said of her parents holds true, they taught her the difference
between right and wrong. Don’t you agree?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, but—”

“But nothing. She knew precisely what she
was doing. She knew she could get pregnant and whoopsies! She did. You play,
you pay. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that.”

“So you remembered the video cameras,” he
said, wanting to change the subject to something he felt more comfortable with.

“I knew they’d be time stamped. That’s what
took me so long to get down to the police station this morning. I called Miss
Mavis, she told me the cameras had been working last night and that she’d meet
me at the police station with the cassette. Lucky for us, the position of the
camera pointed at the ice machine has a clear view of our room door. As soon as
the cops saw you on the tape going into our room at midnight and not coming out
until morning, it was a done deal. There was no way you could have been at the
Hilton at eleven p.m. as your mother claimed.”

“From what Jake told me this morning, she
is one very unhappy camper. He asked if I wanted to have her charged with
giving false testimony.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I had to think about it but decided it
would be best just to let it go. The press is already having a field day over the
potentiality of me pimping out my own mother. Imagine how they’d run with
finding out I had her jailed.”

“I would think the police would now be
suspicious of the accusations she’s made against you. Like with Tatyana, it’s
her word against yours and if she’ll lie about something as nasty as you
supposedly beating her up…” She stopped. “By the way, who did beat her up?”

“Who the hell knows?” he asked.

“Why don’t you put an ad in the paper
offering an unseemly amount of money to the man who can prove he provided her
with those bruises? Assure him he’ll get immunity from charges if he comes
forward then make sure the paparazzi learn of it.”

“I think I’ll pass. No sense in poking
another wasp nest. But you’re a pretty smart chippie for having thought of it.
Lucky for me, I have you,” he said. “I’m not sure it’s lucky for you, though.”

“How so?”

“They’re going to find out about you now,”
he said. “They’re going to be all over you like flies on a carcass.”

“Delightful image,” she said.

“I’m being serious, Lina. As soon as they
learn your name, they’re going to be camping out at your office, at your home.
They’ll follow you everywhere you go. They’ll probably have buzzards circling
around Cedar Oaks. Your life is going to be a shambles because of me.”

“My life was boring anyway,” she said.

“Don’t be flippant about it,” he snapped.
“I didn’t want this for you. It’s been sheer hell for me since Tatyana.” He
took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “I want you to move in with me.”

Her answer came too quickly.

“No.”

“No?” he questioned.

“I’m a big girl. I can take care of
myself.”

“You have no idea what it’s like, Melina,”
he said. “To have microphones thrust in your face. To have everything you do
recorded 24/7.”

“Oh, I think I do. Unless you forget, I am
already being recorded 24/7.”

“I am a man of my word. Those cameras were
removed this morning. I told you they would be and they were.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Melina…”

She dropped her hand from his waist to his
ass and squeezed. “Are we going to spend the entire evening talking or are we
going to continue what you started last night?”

“I believe I can accommodate you,” he said.

He reached down to tug her blouse from the
waistband of her skirt. Slowly he unbuttoned the blouse then peeled it back
from her shoulders. It fell to the floor behind her.

He smiled as he reached for the front
closure of her lacy red bra and unhooked it. He divested her of it then his
arms went around her and his fingers to the button of her skirt. He undid it,
pulled down the zipper and let the skirt flutter to the floor.

“Sweet,” he said of the bright red panties
she had chosen to surprise him.

Extending his hand, he took hers to steady
her as she stepped out of the skirt.

“You want me to continue what I started
last eve?” He surprised her by dropping to his knees before her, his hands
sliding down her hips, drawing her to him as he sat back on his haunches. “Your
wish, milady,” he said, “is your humble servant’s command.”

Surprise gave way to shock as he drew her
closer to put his mouth to the juncture of her thighs over her panties. She
squealed and grabbed his head, seeking purchase she could not find.

“You need to let your hair grow out!” she
protested. There were no thick strands she could bury her fingers in.

“Hmm,” he said and the vibration against
her groin sent forks of lightning coursing through her lower belly.

His breath was hot. The moistness of his
mouth pressed so intimately to the curls above her clit all but did her in. She
felt the familiar thickness forming in her cunt and wished he would take
possession of her clit with his lips. Wished he pull down the panties and put
his mouth flesh to flesh.

“You like this?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she said with a shuddery breath.

“Good,” he said then sent her into waves of
acute frustration as he shot to his feet, using her hips to propel him up.
“Then you’re going to
love
this!”

Before she knew what he could mean, he spun
her around, locked her back to his chest and secured her there with his left
arm locked tightly around her waist. He then shoved his hand down the waistband
of her panties and his fingers curled over her mound, the tips touching her
opening, palm resting on her clit.

“
Kiwi
!” she gasped, wriggling
against him. She grabbed his arm with both hands—afraid if she didn’t tether
her body, she’d go whirling into space.

“Baby!” he replied. He lowered his head to
latch his teeth onto the soft flesh where her neck met her shoulder. The prod
of his erection poked at her backside and she knew how a female cat must feel
when the male captures her.

He spread his middle and index fingers and
pushed them between her outer folds of her cunt, dragged them up again—slowly,
firmly—as his teeth dug a bit deeper into her skin.

“Kiwi, please,” she said.

She heard him chuckle and the sound so
close to her ear made her weak. It sent spirals of heat racing through her.

The infinitely slow, rhythmic rise and fall
of his fingers stroking her so sensually was taking a toll on her senses. She
was being bombarded with a desire so intense, so overpowering she half expected
to do a Victorian faint into his strong arms.

But he held her upright and continued his
foray along her now-wet nether lips. He was careful not to allow his thumb to
come into contact with her. It was dragging along the tender flesh of her inner
thigh instead. She ached for him to touch her clit. Not only that but she
wanted him to dip his fingers into the slickness that was flowing from her
core.

He was cautiously avoiding that, as well.
He was stroking her to either side of her aching entrance, the pads of his
fingers pressing lightly on the upstroke then deeply on the downstroke.