30DaystoSyn (38 page)

“My, my, my, my,
my
,” she said.
“Ain’t that something?”

He heard the rustle of silk and knew she
had removed her robe.

“I’m naked now, Kiwi,” she said and his
cock pulsed again. “And you can’t see what I’m about to do to you.”

She was trailing her fingers all over him.
First his legs, then his hips. She ordered him to hike his arse from the cross
then dragged the ruined shorts from under him. The rough wood of the cross
stuck to his backside and it was not a pleasant feeling but her hands on him
more than made up for the discomfort. Her fingernails grazed his lower belly,
spiked through the hair there and up his tiger line. She ringed his nipples in
ever decreasing circles until the tip of one nail scraped lightly over the
swollen pap and he tugged against the clamps on his wrists.

“Lie still,” she warned.

He was grateful for the headrest. He pushed
the back of his head against it and bit his lip to keep from moaning as she
began to flick his nipples and pinch them lightly.

“And you like that, too,” she said. “I can
tell. These little darlings are hard as pebbles.”

The moment her mouth touched his pec and
her teeth closed around his left nipple he bucked as though he’d been spurred.

And in a manner of speaking he had been.
She was doing things to his body that had him silently begging for her to ride
him. He wanted to feel the wet heat of her cunt sheathing him so badly he had
trouble drawing breath.

She kissed her way from his nipple to his
shoulder, up his neck then took his chin to anchor his head as she took his
mouth.

Electric shocks of raging desire flooded
his lower body as she thrust her tongue boldly into his mouth. Her fingers were
on one nipple—lightly pinching, tugging, flicking—and it was driving him mad.
He struggled against the clamps, writhed beneath her kiss but she punished him
for it by withdrawing both her mouth and her fingers.

“Do that again and I will leave you!” she
warned. “Lie still, milord. This is your last warning.”

He wanted to whimper. He was no novice to
bondage and sadism. He’d known his share of it. He liked to be hurt and that
bothered him to some extent. Not enough to forego the pain but he had always
drawn the line at the domination part of the equation. He liked the bondage. He
liked the pain the women administered to him. He did not reciprocate by hurting
them, giving them pain but he did like to dominate them. As for their dominion
over him? Never.

Never dominance. That, he had never allowed
the women he brought to the Dungeon or to the Room to do to him. That he
allowed Melina to control him was telling. He was beginning to realize he would
allow her to do almost anything to him and he’d gladly endure it—even the
humiliation of being dominated.

Her mouth returned to his and she kissed
him savagely for a moment then nibbled her way down his chin to the hollow of
his throat. She licked him there then kissed her way down the middle of his
chest to his bellybutton. He dug his fingernails into his palms in order to
remain immobile. It would not do for him to garner her anger again. She would
stop and she would leave him wanting with a hard-on so rigid it made his teeth
ache.

She dragged her tongue over his
bellybutton, pressed it inside then worked her way through his pubic curls to
the place where his shaft met his groin.

Then she wrapped her hand around his cock
and he could not stop the groan.

“And I think you like this, too, eh?” she
said, running her fist lightly up and down—tugging, stretching.

He began to pant as she worked her hand on
him. Her thumb rubbed over his head, pulled apart the slit and the pad of
it—coated with his juices—rubbed all over the broad knob.

She slid her free hand between his legs and
cupped his balls and he had to fight the release that had come galloping up to
turn him into one very aroused, very hard man.

She let go of him and he whined with
frustration but she barely gave him time to take a breath before she was
straddling him and the hot core of her was pressed against his head.

“You want me?” she asked.

He nodded eagerly, licking his lips. Aching
with need for her to sheath her cunt on him.

“Really?” she queried and then slid down
him so quickly, so tightly, so firmly and so wetly he could not stop the orgasm
that shot through him like summer lightning on a hot June night.

She rode him, rocked against him as the
orgasm went on and on. He thought the top of his head would explode as the
pleasure-pain jagged through his groin and shot up his spine to his head. He
cried out as the last spurt left him and her cunt rippled around him from her
own release.

“Synjyn!” she shouted. She bucked, ground
against him one last time then collapsed upon his chest, her cheek to his
shoulder, and her lips to his throat. Her hot breath scalded his flesh as she
breathed heavily.

They lay that way for quite some time and
he was amazed that he was still inside her when she finally moved and he slid
free of her warm slickness. She moved off him and reached up to remove his
blindfold. He blinked against the intrusion of the light then looked up into
her beautiful face.

“This is not comfortable for me so I know
it isn’t comfortable for you,” she said. “Let’s take the rest of this to the
bed. Whatcha say?”

“Whatever you wish, milady,” he agreed.
“Your every wish is my command.”

Night Twenty-Nine

He woke her tossing and turning. Strange
garbled sounds were coming from deep in his chest as he thrashed his head on
the pillow. She hesitated touching him for fear of startling him. She eased to
a sitting position and looked down at him. In the faint glow of the bathroom
light she could see sweat glistening on his face.

“Kiwi,” she said softly. She called him
three more times—each time louder than the last—until his eyes flashed open and
flicked to hers. The moment she saw them widen she knew she shouldn’t have been
hovering over him when he came awake.

With a sharp cry he sat bolt upright in the
bed, cringing away from her. His chest was heaving and his breathing ragged. He
was trembling violently.

“It’s me, baby,” she said in as calm a
voice as she could muster. “It’s Melina.”

He stopped breathing and stared at her. His
lips were parted and the little moan that came from the core of him broke her
heart. “Melina?” he questioned, his voice higher than normal.

“Yes, sweetie. It’s me.” She slowly put her
hand out to touch his face.

He shied away from her and she stilled.

“It’s okay,” she told him. “It’s just you
and me here.”

“Here?” he repeated.

“In your bedroom,” she said. “At the Club.”

He slowly turned his head to take in his
surroundings. What he saw made him visibly relax and he put a hand up to wipe
at his sweaty face.

“You had a bad dream,” she said and saw him
nod.

“Dream,” he repeated. “Yeah, it was a
dream.” He lowered his body until his head was in her lap. “Just a dream.”

She gently put her hand on his head and
stroked back his hair. He was hot to the touch and now and again a shudder
undulated through him. He wrapped an arm around her thigh and held her to him.

“Just a dream,” he said again and she felt
the tension leaving his body.

“Go back to sleep,” she said. “I’ll be
right here. Okay?”

“Okay.”

She leaned back against the headboard and
continued to stroke him. After a while she heard his breathing become slow and
measured and knew he was asleep. She spent the remainder of the early morning
hours alternating between looking down to watch him and staring across the
room.

Night Thirty

Part One

“Who the hell could that be this early?”
she grumbled as she ran out of the kitchen. It was only six a.m. She hurried to
the door before the bell could sound again and jerked it open to find Jonny
about to push it again.

“He’s asleep!” she said.

“Oh,” Jonny said. “I’ll come back later.”
He turned to go.

“Jonny, wait!” she said and reached out to
take his arm. “I need to ask you something.”

“Okay,” he said.

“I was on my way into the kitchen to make
some coffee,” she said. “Want a cup?”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m
sloshing when I walk now. Lead the way. I wanna see the kitchen.”

He followed her and hopped up on a bar
stool as she went about adding water to the coffee carafe.

“You know he ain’t never brought a woman
here before,” he told her. “Not even Spike but she doesn’t count anyway.”

She looked around at him. “She counts to
you,” she said with a smile and watched him blush.

“Yeah, well,” he said and looked away. “You
know.”

“Yes,” she said, drawing out the word. “I
do know.”

“So, what you wanna ask?” he queried,
obviously not comfortable talking about his budding relationship with Spike.

“He has nightmares,” she said. “The other
night and again last night.” She poured the water from the carafe into the
coffeemaker well. “Do you know what they’re about?”

He ducked his head. “Yeah, maybe, but I
don’t think he’d appreciate me talking about it.”

She reached for the canister on the counter
marked Coffee and opened it. “I want to help him, Jonny but I can’t if I don’t
know what I’m dealing with.”

“The dreams started when he was boxed-in at
Parrie,” he said. “You know, prison?”

That was what she thought. “What can I do
to get him over them?”

“Don’t know that you can,” he replied.
“Don’t know anyone can.”

“You’ve tried?”

“Me and Craigie and Jake,” he told her.

“Maybe if you tell me what didn’t work I
can try something that would,” she suggested.

“Well, first off, don’t try holding him,”
he said. “That will only freak him out more.”

“I held him the other night in the Dungeon
and he was all right with it,” she said. “I just rolled over and put my arm
around him. I held him here last night and although he was tense, he went back
to sleep.”

Jonny gave her a long look then nodded.
“Could be ’cause you’re a girl. Any time Craigie or I’ve tried to shake him
awake when he’s having one of them things, he gets dog-shit crazed and…” He
suddenly paled. He was looking past her and she knew the Kiwi had come into the
room.

She turned slowly. “We weren’t…” she began.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. He shifted
his gaze to his friend. “You need something, Jono?”

“Ah, yeah,” Jono said. He cleared his
throat. “You asked me to remind you about Kit’s birthday present.”

“I’ll take care of it. Anything else?”

“No,” Jono replied. His cheeks were burning
from having been caught talking about his friend.

“I’ll give them a call to let them know
you’re coming to pick it up,” he said.

“Yeah, choice,” Jono said. He gave her a
fleeting smile then walked quickly from the room.

She looked at her lover and felt as guilty
as she knew Jonny did.

“Come here, baby,” he said, holding out his
hand.

She went to him. “I’m sorry, Kiwi,” she
said as he drew her into his arms. “I was worried and…”

“I think you know what happened to me at
Parrie. It happens to a lot of men. It’s over with and I’m dealing with it,” he
said softly. “It bothers me to speak of it so we won’t talk about it again.
Okay?”

She closed her eyes—hurting for him—and
held him tighter to her. “Okay.”

“Let’s get going. I’m starving and I know
this little place that serves the best Southern breakfasts. I’m addicted to
grits and four scrambled eggs with cut up patty sausages all mixed up together.
Slather me half a dozen slices of wheat toast with mayhaw jelly on them and I’m
in hog heaven.”

“You eat all that and you’ll be in heaven
sooner than you think,” she cautioned.

“After we eat, I’ll drop you off at your
place,” he told her.

“Come to Mass with me,” she asked but he
shook his head.

“Not yet,” he told her. He slid his hands
to hers, leaned down to put his forehead to hers and playfully rubbed her nose.
“I need to go to confession first.”

“You like doing that, don’t you?” she
asked, thinking of all the times he’d laid his forehead to hers.

“That’s the Māori way.”

“Sorta like the Eskimos,” she said then
blushed, thinking about the dildo in the glass front cabinet.

He laughed. “Yeah, like that but without
the lube.”

She knew he was referring to the vibrator
and felt the heat burning her cheeks. He grinned wickedly then let go of her
right hand to tug her behind him.

* * * * *

The doorbell rang and she went to answer
it. Jake was standing outside her door. He looked dapper in a three-piece suit
and was carrying a briefcase.

She frowned, hesitated before she opened
the door. “Hi,” she said. Just having returned home from Mass, she had changed
into a sweatshirt and jeans—the attire her lover had asked her to wear to the
session that afternoon. He’d moved their meeting up by two hours. “What’s up?”

“May I come in?” he asked politely.

“I’m sorry. Where are my manners? Of
course!” she said and stepped aside to allow him to enter.

He gave her a halfhearted smile that did
not assuage the growing tightness in her stomach. She went around him and led
him into the great room, asked him to take a seat. When he did, she sat across
from him on the sofa.

“That looks official,” she said, looking at
the briefcase he had set down beside his chair. “Do you have something for me
to sign?”

“No, nothing like that,” he said and seemed
to be unable to bring a full smile to his lips. “I just wanted… I felt I
should…” He bent over the chair arm to open his briefcase. He withdrew a
legal-size manila file folder and held it clutched in both hands. He licked his
lips then seemed to make a decision. He squared his shoulders. “I like you,
Lina,” he said.

“I like you, too, Jake,” she said, baffled
by the defeated look on his dark face and the sadness in his eyes.

“We all like you,” he told her. “Jono,
Spike, Kit, Craigie and I. Craigie and Kit’s wives can’t stop talking about
what a nice person you are.”

She glanced at the file folder then up at
him. “That’s always pleasant to hear.”

“None of us want to see you get hurt,” he
said.

Her tight stomach sent a wave of discomfort
up her chest. “Is there a chance of that, Jake?”

He appeared to waver then extended the file
folder to her. “You need to see this.”

She didn’t want to accept it. It felt as
though he was handing her a venomous snake and it would strike as soon as she
put out her hand to accept it. Too, there was something ominous about the way
he was looking at her that added to her unease.

“Please, Lina. This is important or I wouldn’t
be here,” he insisted. “You need to be aware of this before this evening.”

Her hand shaking, she took the folder from
him. She hesitated before she put her thumb along the edge and opened the file
folder, her chest filling with the sour acid that was suddenly bubbling up from
her stomach.

She looked down at what was on top.

There was a photograph of a beautiful young
woman with long brown hair and green eyes smiling back at her. The woman’s name
was Tiffany Gerritson. Her picture was paper clipped to a photocopy of a
newspaper ad. She lifted the photo to read the ad.

Wanted: Young woman (American only) willing
to engage in domination role play. No BDSM. Salary: $250,000 upon completion of
contract. Length of employment: 30 consecutive nights. Qualifications: must be
between the ages of 22-28, beautiful with long naturally brown hair and green
eyes (no glasses or contact lenses); cannot weigh more than 110 pounds; no
tattoos or body piercing (earlobes
only
okay) no scars or physical
imperfections; must be both physically and mentally fit (extensive examinations
by accredited physician and psychologist to ascertain physical and mental
health will be conducted);
Must
be a college-educated virgin. Only women
who meet all criteria need apply. Send photo and email to [email protected].

She looked up at Jake, her mouth open, her
breathing now rapid and shallow.

“There are nine women there, Lina,” he said
softly. “There are nine ads—beginning with that ad in September of 2005 in the
Houston
Chronicle
.”

She turned the woman’s photo over. Behind
Tiffany was Rachel Conlan. The ad came from the
St. Petersburg Times
. It
was the same ad and Rachel could have been Tiffany’s sister.

Or hers.

Tears filled her eyes as she turned that
photo over and looked at Vivian Rasmussen who had answered the ad in the
Louisville
Courier-Journal.

Another woman who looked like her.

And another: Carolyn Brewster, the
Raleigh
News & Observer
.

And another: Jessica Trout, the
Knoxville
News-Sentinel
.

And another: Brenice Chastayne, the
Little
Rock Democrat-Gazette
.

And another: Danielle Fitzgerald, the
Birmingham
News
.

And still another: the
Richmond Times-Dispatch
.

She turned Lainie’s photo over to find her
own smiling visage looking back at her. The ad from the
Atlanta
Journal-Constitution
was attached to her picture. The only difference
between her ad and the others was the amount of money.

Slowly, she closed the file and laid it in
her lap, clasped her hands over it.

“I think you need to explain,” she said
quietly.

“That is what he does, Lina,” Jake said,
leaning toward her, his hands threaded together and dangling between his spread
knees. “It all began with a drunken bet he made way back in 2005. We were all
drunk that night—shitfaced really—and high on weed. We put our addled heads
together and came up with the ad. He sat down and wrote it. He prefers Southern
women for his entertainment and each of you looks just like the others.” He
reached over to put his hand over hers. “You realize, of course, you all look
like Olivia.”

She flinched and a tear rolled down her
cheek. She eased her hands from under his.

He cleared his throat and sat back in the
chair. “The Club opened in June of 2005 and he placed that first ad in
September. He only places the ads in the months of February, April, July and
September.”

She looked up. “Why?”

“The February ad runs for the month of
April. The April ad runs for the month of June. July for September and
September for November. That allows for two months of vetting for each
candidate.”

Bile rose up in her throat. “I understand,”
she said.

“On the last night, he takes the women over
to Savannah in his corporate jet. There will be a sailing yacht waiting to take
them out to sea for a dinner cruise along the coast. The check will be in an
envelope lying on the table beside the woman’s plate. He will hold her chair
out for her then look at his watch as he pushes the chair up to the table. The
reason he looks at his watch is because he places side bets with us on just how
long it will take for her to open the envelope after seeing it. The soonest was
eight minutes and Spike won that bet. The longest was twenty minutes and I won
that one.”

“What happens after they open the
envelope?” she asked.

“I imagine he fucks them since that is what
it’s all about for him. The evening concludes around eleven as the captain
takes the yacht back to the marina in Savannah. The woman leaves and Synnie
never sees her again.”

“Have any of the women tried to see
him
again?”

“No. Once he’s done with a woman, he’s done
with her. That’s it. He’s paid her and he expects her to get the hell out of
his life and stay out. He tells them if they try to contact him, he will have
Kit pay them a visit. Since Kit has never had to be sent we can only imagine
what kind of threat Synnie made. He can be a dangerous SOB when he wants to.”

“I see,” she said. Her entire body was
beginning to seize up.

“There’s something else you should see,” he
told her. He leaned over to pluck another file folder from his briefcase. He
hesitated then handed it to her on a long sigh.

“I am sorry, Lina. I truly am.”

She wanted to open the folder even less
than she did the first one. The little voice in the back of her mind warned her
not to. As soon as she did, she drew in a ragged breath—a little moan of abject
hurt escaping her lips.

In the folder was the mockup for another
ad. This time destined for the
Columbia, S.C. State
. A note in the
Kiwi’s handwriting was clipped to the mockup. It read
Contact Janice Layne
Jan. 2 for run Feb. 1
.

“You thought you and he had something
special, didn’t you, love?” he asked gently. “You thought he had fallen in love
with you as you’ve fallen in love with him. You really thought there would a
morning after tonight, didn’t you?”

Her lips began to tremble.

“I’m sorry, Lina,” Jake said. “I am really
sorry. I hate the way he plays with peoples’ lives. There won’t be a morning
after tonight, love. It will all be over for you.”

She put the file in her hand on the table
beside her then handed him the one with the photographs. “Thank you for telling
me, Jake,” she said then got to her feet. “I’d like you to leave now.”