“Let’s just say I could have fed a small army.” He had possession of her hand and brought it to his lips. “But it was worth any amount of money to see the look on your face when you realized who would be singing.”
She turned to him and he caught her other hand, pulling her to him. “Thank you, Kiwi.”
“You are welcome,” he said.
He bent his dark head and took her lips gently, sweetly, his tongue barely grazing the underside of her front teeth as the elevator stopped and the doors slid silently open.
Once inside his suite, he took her directly to his bedroom. Slowly he removed the pullover and skirt, her bra and panties and swept her into his arms to lay her on his bed.
“I’m a bit disappointed,” she said as he tugged his lightweight wool sweater over his head.
He sat down in the chair by the bed and pulled off his sneakers and stuffed his socks into them. “How so?” he asked, setting the sneakers on the other side of the chair.
She turned to her side and propped her head on her fist. “I thought you would be taking me to the Dungeon tonight.”
He arched a brow as he got to his feet. “Really?” He unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his fly then ran the zipper. “How did you get that notion?”
She followed the progress of his strong hands as he pushed the jeans from his hips and down his thighs, thinking how perfect those thighs were. Nice and thick with just the right amount of dark, curly hair covering them.
And what was nestled between those thighs was equally nice and thick.
“You were going to take me there last night, weren’t you?” she asked.
He stepped out of his jeans, tossed them to the chair then came over to the bed. She turned to her back when he put a knee to the mattress and loomed over her.
“Do you want to visit the Dungeon?” he asked, settling his weight upon her, nudging her legs apart with his knees, and lowering his lips to the curve of her neck.
“I’m just curious,” she replied.
He put his lips to her ear. “You know what they say about curiosity,” he whispered then caught her earlobe between his teeth.
A shiver ran along her spine and she put her hands up to smooth over his back.
“But satisfaction brought her back,” she said.
He lifted his head and looked at her—his eyes smoldering. “You want to be satisfied in my Dungeon, wench?” he inquired.
“I want to see your Dungeon, Kiwi,” she said. She tilted her head to one side. “What’s in there, anyway?”
A slow, evil smile stretched his lips. “Chains and handcuffs and all manner of other restraints.”
“Not my cup of tea,” she said. “Anything else?”
“Whips and quirts and paddles.”
“Ah, no.”
“Vibrators and dildos and anal beads and—”
“Anal? Ugh!” she said, making a face. “Even the word turns me off.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Don’t knock what you haven’t tried, woman.”
“No, thank you,” she said.
He shrugged. “There are other things you have to experience to understand.” He rubbed his stiffening cock against her. “Things that don’t cause pain but a great deal of pleasure.”
“Like?”
“Ben Wa balls for one,” he said. “Do you know what they are?”
She felt her cheeks burning. “I’ve heard of them, yes.”
“But do you know what they do when they are inserted inside?”
She shuddered. “I don’t think…”
“Yes, do think,” he ordered. “Think about two smooth little balls clicking together inside your cunt—stimulating you, rolling across your G-spot and when I enter you…”
“What?” she gasped. “With them still inside me?”
“Of course,” he said. “They will give me pleasure too, rolling over the head of my cock.”
Her entire body quivered at the image.
“Do you want me to take you down there?” he asked and she understood clearly the double meaning.
She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and looked intently into his eyes. “You won’t hurt me?”
“I will never hurt you, baby,” he told her.
“Promise?”
He placed his forehead to hers. “On my honor, I swear it to you.”
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she nodded. “Yes, I’d like to see it.”
He moved off her and walked over to the armoire.
“I’m not sure I want anyone to see…”
“There’s no one here, baby,” he said over his shoulder. “Everyone has left, the security system is engaged, and the cameras are turned off.” He turned around with a gift-wrapped box in one hand and a pair of black shorts in the other. “No one will see us and no one will ever know we went down there.” He came back to the bed and handed her the gaily wrapped package.
“What is it?” she asked.
He rolled his eyes. “Open it and see,” he said as he bent over to step into the shorts.
She removed the bright-pink foil ribbon from the box and turned it over to carefully undo the tape holding the paper to the box. She heard him sigh but refused to look up at him. He had his forearms braced on the footboard of the bed as she peeled back the paper. Just to be perverse and make him wait, she laid the box aside to neatly fold the paper.
“Woman…” he warned, a low growl accompanying the word.
She smiled—still not looking at him—put the paper aside then picked up the box. She lifted it to her ear and shook it.
“Now you are really starting to irritate me, Melina,” he said.
She didn’t reply. She laid the box in her lap and lifted the lid.
“Ooh,” she said, looking down at a gorgeous black silk fabric over which was embroidered gardenias.
“You like it?” he asked.
“I love it,” she said.
“Put it on.”
She swung her legs from the bed, drawing the gift from its box as she did. She held it up and when she saw the single red rose embroidered on the front over where her heart would be once the silk robe was on her body, she felt a prickle of tears behind her eyes. Under the rose was her name in a flowery script and wound around the stem of the rose was his name written in a font fashioned from thorns.
“Where did you find this?” she whispered.
“I had it made in Dubai for you,” he said.
She went to him, threw her arms around his neck. “You are the most wonderful man a woman could ever want!”
He wrapped his arms around her and held her so tightly he never wanted to let her go. Her words gave him hope that in three days’ time, he would be the only man she would ever want.
“Put it on. Let me see,” he said, reluctantly releasing her. He stepped back, anxious to see what she looked like—her bare toes peeking from the hem of the lush robe—knowing she wore nothing underneath.
She slid her slender arm into the sleeve and the satisfied moan that came from deep in her throat pleased him.
“It feels like being enveloped in cool air it’s so lightweight,” she said, pulling the belt around her waist. She ran the palms of her hands down the material. “Kiwi, it is so beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as the woman wearing it,” he replied. He put out his hand.
She slipped her fingers through his and he began walking backward, never taking his eyes from hers.
“I am a helluva lucky man,” he said.
“I’m the lucky one,” she answered.
He turned, drawing her behind him. He led her through the great room, the foyer and through the door into the seventh floor landing. He walked over to the floor to ceiling mirror, ran his fingers along the left edge and the mirror opened outward like a door. Behind it were stainless steel doors beside which was a palm scanner. He placed his hand against it and the doors shushed open to reveal a small elevator.
“I have my own portion of the Dungeon,” he explai
ned. “A place none of the other members know about.”
“Where you take your women in private,” she said, feeling a hot stab of jealousy at the thought.
“Yes,” he replied and tightened his hand on hers. He pulled her into the elevator behind him.
“I thought I was the only one you’ve ever brought up here.”
“You are. There is another elevator similar to this one downstairs. That’s the one I used with them.”
“How many?” she asked as he pushed the button marked S4.
“More than I care to remember,” he replied.
The doors closed and the elevator started down.
She glanced at him for he was staring at the mirrored finish of the polished doors.
“You’ve a question?”
“Since you value your privacy so stringently, how do you deal with the women you’ve brought here?”
“Confidentiality agreement,” he said offhandedly. “They didn’t sign, they didn’t go.”
“And you trust them not to tell anyway.”
“I paid them very well and with the payment they received a very stern warning about what would happen if they ever revealed our arrangement.”
“What would happen?” she asked.
“You don’t need to know,” he said.
He felt a shudder ripple through her and knew he’d frightened her but he had no intention of telling her in what way he had threatened the women.
The cage settled and the doors slid apart. Beyond was pitch blackness.
“Ah, that isn’t encouraging, Kiwi,” she said in a worried voice.
“Lights!” he called out and one by one a row of can lights in the ceiling flickered on to reveal a room roughly thirty feet by fifty feet. The walls were dark-gray fieldstone and the floor a darker, weathered stone. Torchlights like those in the other parts of the Club were spaced evenly along the walls. The room looked like something out of an old movie about the Inquisition.
“The setting doesn’t allay my unease, Kiwi,” she told him. She was looking at the rough wooden beams of the St. Andrew’s Cross that sat in the center of the room.
“No harm will come to you here,” he said. “I keep my word, Melina.”
He stood off to one side with his arms crossed over his bare chest as she walked slowly around the room. She stopped in front of a rack that held the various restraints he had mentioned to her. Another rack held an assortment of whips, floggers and quirts. She looked away from them very quickly and barely glanced at the glass front of the cabinet where vibrators and dildos and other sex toys lay on glass shelves. The autoclave and sink in the corner of the room caught her attention and she looked around at him.
“Health and safety issues are very important in BDSM role play,” he told her.
She nodded and walked behind the St. Andrew’s Cross, her hand trailing over one of the metal clamps that was attached to the upright.
“There is a lever that tilts the cross backward and down,” he said. “That way the cross has a dual purpose. Horizontally it becomes a table.”
“A torturer’s table,” she said quietly.
“If that’s how it is to be used, yes.”
There was a double bed with an old-fashioned iron headboard and footboard at the far end of the room. Hanging from the four iron posts were manacles.
“The door to the right of the bed leads to a bathroom,” he said. “There is an oversized shower made of fieldstone.”
He watched her crane her head to look up at the ceiling. Her forehead creased.
“A sex swing,” he enlightened her. “I can lower it so you can…”
“Ah, no. That’s not necessary,” she said and color stained her cheeks. “Kiwi?”
“Yes,” he drawled.
“When I first met you, you said you weren’t into bondage and sadomasochism, no kinky stuff.”
“That’s not what I said,” he disagreed. “I said there would be no bondage, no sadomasochism, only domination for you. That I wasn’t going to submit you, personally, to anything kinky or dangerous. I told you I didn’t enjoy hurting people and I don’t.”
He saw her look at the whips and floggers. “But you like to be hurt,” she said and when he didn’t answer, she turned her eyes on him. “You let those women do things to you that involved bondage and sadism and kink.” She swept her hand toward the racks. “This is all for you, not them, isn’t it?”
He didn’t want to answer her assumption so remained silent. How could he tell her that pain was sometimes the only thing that kept him sane?
She took a few steps toward him. “Did you think I would do the same things those other women did?”
“Do you want to?” he countered.
Her face crinkled. “Do I want to hurt you?” She shook her head. “No, I don’t.”
“Even if I’d like you to?” he asked.
“Not even if you begged me to,” she said firmly.
He hitched a shoulder. “Okay, so that settles that.” He looked over at the cross. “But would you be up to taking the lead in just a little kinky way?”
“Taking the lead?” she asked. “How?”
He walked over to the cross and stood in front of it. “What if I asked you to bind me to this cross, lower it and then make love to me on it?”
She stopped in mid-step. “You want me to tie you up?”
“No,” he said. He placed his back against the cross, lifted his arms and stretched them along the uprights then shifted his legs so he was standing with his ankles against the metal clamps. “I want you to restrain me and have your wicked way with me.”
“Kiwi, I—”
“I prefer to be blindfolded so I can’t see what you’re going to do next,” he said. “If you want to gag me—”
“Hell, no, I don’t want to gag you!” she snapped, eyes wide. “What the heck is the matter with you?”
“I’m damaged goods,” he said quietly. “I thought you’d realized that by now.”
She came closer until she was only a foot or so away. “You’re not damaged goods, Kiwi.”
“You have no idea, baby,” he said. He clenched his fists, his arms beginning to ache from being held above his head.
“You really want me to hurt you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” she asked and he thought he heard the threat of tears in her voice.
“I don’t know, baby. I just like it. I can’t explain it to you. I won’t explain it. There are things that turn me on that I know are evil but I can’t help it. I like…”
A muscle flared in her jaw and he knew she was clenching her teeth. “I won’t do it, Synjyn. I won’t hurt you.”
“All right.”
“I mean it. I won’t do it. Ever.”
“All right,” he repeated.
She looked at his arms. “But this…?” Her brows drew together. Her gaze locked with his. “This I could do if you agree not to ask me to hurt you.”
“I understand,” he said. “I’ll never ask it of you.”
She hesitated for a moment or two then drew in a long breath, exhaled then lifted her chin. “Tell me what I need to do.”
“You need to clamp my wrists and ankles first.”
It seemed to him she wasn’t giving herself time to back out as she reached up to lock the metal restraint in place around his right wrist. She was close enough to him as she moved to the left wrist to rub her body against his and he leaned into her, his lips to the side of her throat. He nuzzled her and she sucked in a breath, pressed her cheek to his. She thrust her body tight to his after restraining his left wrist.
“Tell me what you want, baby,” she whispered in his ear.
“There is a lever behind the cross. Depress it and the apparatus will lower.”
She rubbed against him then slid her hand to his cock. “This will never do,” she said and shocked him to the core when she slipped her hand inside the fly.
“Then cut them off. Ah the shorts, not the balls,”
he said with a grin. “I’ve got more in the chest over by the bed.” He had to swallow before he could tell her where the scissors were for she was massaging his growing erection.
“I’ll wait until you’re flat on your back then I will remove them,” she said. She dropped gracefully to the floor between his legs to lock his ankles to the cross.
“The blindfold is in the glass shelf unit,” he informed her. “I would—”
“Stop talking!” she snapped, shooting to her feet. She thrust her body tight to his. “You don’t talk until I give you permission to. Is that understood?”
He felt his cock stiffen as though someone had driven a titanium bar from the slit to his balls. His heartbeat sped up. He parted his lips.
“Don’t you say a word,” she warned and reached down to take hold of him.
Her eyes were hot, steady on his and her hand so tight around his stiff shaft it was almost uncomfortable.
Just the way he preferred to be held.
“I asked if you understood me.”
He parted his lips, curled his tongue over his bottom lip, and nodded slowly. He watched her eyes lower to his mouth. He quickly drew it back inside his mouth.
“Oh, I have plans for that tongue, milord Syn,” she said. “You won’t be able to hide it from me.”
Stark desire shot through him and he twisted against his bonds. Not in any attempt to get free but because his body was on fire with need. He groaned when she released him and moved away, heading for the glass case.
He turned his head to watch her. In the long black robe she set his blood to boiling in his veins. Her long dark hair was in a thick French braid hanging down her back and the sash of the robe accentuated the flare of her hips. She moved with such feline grace, the skirt of the robe molding her sweet little ass to perfection. He stopped breathing as she opened the glass-front case and had to stand on her bare tiptoes to reach the blindfold hanging over a vibrator sitting in its stand. He heard her laugh when she pulled the blindfold away and saw the dildo. She looked around at him.
“An Eskimo?” she questioned.
He silently lifted a shoulder and pursed his lips.
She looked back at the vibrator and laughed again. “And a polar bear with his tongue out standing at the Eskimo’s feet. What’s that for?”
30DaystoSyn Page 34
