“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.”
Chapter Twenty-One
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.
She was panting, pushing her ass against the steel of his cock. She let her head fall back to be braced upon his shoulder. His nibbles were driving her mad but not as deliciously so as the stroking that had increased in speed.
“Come for me,” he
whispered.
She wanted to.
By the gods, she wanted to! The need was building, racing up from her tailbone to her womb. Her lower belly was clenching. Her juices were oozing from her cunt.
“Come for me,” he commanded again and this time he drew his fingers up to her clit—catching it between his fingers and his thumb.
“Kiwi!” she cried out.
He was working the little button. Lightly twisting it. She was spiraling completely out of control and had he not been holding her up, she would have collapsed.
The orgasm hit so fiercely, so strongly she screamed. She tried to wiggle out of his arm but he kept tight hold of her. She shoved at his arm, tried to push it away, to get her hands to her lower body to make him let go of her clit. The orgasm was going on and on and the sensitive little nubbin was its very own entity. It was screaming to be released too.
“Please, stop!” she begged and felt his palm cup her—the warmth of his flesh cradling her made her shiver. The very tip of one of his fingers slid into her entrance and she felt her knees give way.
“That’s what my baby needed,” he said.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Night Nineteen
Since she hadn’t gone to visit Drew the day before because of all the unfolding drama, she had gone today and was just walking in when the phone rang. She rushed to answer it.
“Hello?” she asked, smiling when she heard his voice.
“Don’t eat. Have Jono stop and get us a pizza. I bought a twelve-pack of stubbies,” he said. “He’ll be there an hour earlier for you tonight.”
“What’s a stubby?”
“Beer,” he said. “Oh, and wear a dress this time. One you won’t mind me ripping off you.”
He hung up and she stood there with the receiver to her ear.
“Ripping off you,” she repeated and shivered. That sounded like the legs on the timetable were getting a bit wobbly.
She grinned.
* * * * *
Instead of taking her to the Room, Jonny had taken her to the Tucker Inn. He arrived in a beat-up piece-of-shit car he called a bomb. He had explained—in detail—how he had successfully eluded the paparazzi and exchanged the black BMW for the clunker.
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