30DaystoSyn

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  “You like the bra?” he asked, shifting his gaze over the soft ivory lace that lovingly cupped her full breasts.

  She nodded and folded her hands in her lap. He couldn’t have that.

  “Put your arms behind the chair and lock your fingers together.”

  Again there was a look he couldn’t quite fathom but she did as she was told. He was standing a few feet away and when he walked over, then hunkered down in front of her, he saw her eyes flicker. The rhythm of her breathing increased to make her breasts rise and fall enticingly.

  He looked down at the full skirt she was wearing. He preferred pencil skirts and made a mental note to tell her that was the only kind he wanted her to wear. But for tonight—and for what he had in mind—the full skirt was definitely better. He reached out to put his hands on her knees.

  She flinched but she held his gaze as she knew she was supposed to. She didn’t look down at his hands and the only reaction she had when he inched the hem of the skirt up to her knees was to curl her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “Spread your legs,” he said and gently pushed against her knees.

  There was a slight flare of her beautiful green eyes then she obediently moved her legs apart. Not as far as he wanted so he put outward pressure on her knees until she had spread her thighs as far as he thought necessary. When she did, he moved forward, pressing himself against the edge of the chair.

  She was looking down at him and there was anxiety on her face. He could hear her breath as she dragged it into her lungs then expelled it in a wavering rush. His hands were on her bare knees and he caressed them slowly, gently—never allowing her gaze to move from his.

  “You did something the other evening I don’t want you to do again,” he said. “Do you know what that was?”

  He knew she did. He could see the guilt in her eyes and the blush that tinted her cheeks but she shook her head.

  “Liar,” he whispered. He pushed his hands a little bit above her knees and onto the creamy expanse of her thighs—his fingers digging lightly into her flesh—and she stopped breathing.

  He kneaded her thighs for a second or two then took his hands from her.

  “No masturbating,” he said. “Understood? No matter how horny you are, you are not to masturbate.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “I mean it, Melina. Are we clear on this?”

  She drew in a ragged breath and slowly nodded. He knew she wondered how he knew what she’d done. It wouldn’t do to tell her he’d watched her while refraining from joining her in the pleasure by jerking off.

  He leaned closer, lifted his hands to the front closure of her bra and had it apart before she could take another breath. The gasp that came from her opened lips made him grin. The sight of her freed breasts as he pushed the cups aside brought an instant jerk to his cock. He gave her no time at all to adjust to him looking at her naked chest before he slipped his hands over the creamy mounds—the hard little nipples pressing into the centers of his palms.

  She made a strangled cry as her flesh met his. Her body went rigid and her knees jerked, would have closed had he not been between them. With each tender squeeze he gave her, she made a little moaning sound. The sound intensified the hard-on that pulsed within the confines of his jeans.

  He looked down at her breasts and flexed his fingers around them. He slid his palms over her nipples and to the sides then under the glorious orbs to weigh them softly in his hands.

  “Beautiful,” he said. “So soft and firm. Absolute perfection.”

  He lowered his head, bent forward to place his lips against the soft rise of her right breast. She sucked in a breath at the touch and then shivered as he moved his mouth to the silken area over her sternum then on to the rise of her left breast before returning his lips to her sternum. The kisses were slow, infinitely gentle—no more than a butterfly wing fanning over her skin—and they left her breathing faster. He lifted his head and looked up at her. Their gazes fused as he kneaded her firm mounds. Slowly he began drawing his fingers together. He pictured them closing in on the dusty moons of her areolas. The caramel-colored skin there was as soft and smooth as the finest silk. He was moving ever closer to the puckered buds at the apex of her breasts and her breathing became erratic. Her little moans came closer together and when he glanced up at her face, he saw her eyes were closed. Her body was straining toward him but he doubted she was aware that was happening.

  He smiled.

  His fingers were almost touching her nipples when he stopped. She opened her eyes to find him staring intently at her.

  She knew.

  Even before he said it, she knew, and when he released her breasts without plucking at her aching nipples, she moaned. It was a sound that embarrassed her and made his smile even more brutal and hateful.

  “Not what you wanted?” he asked and when she vigorously shook her head, his smile faded. “Live with it,” he said then sprang gracefully to his feet. “You may leave now.”

  He was walking into the darkness when she released an angry growl. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him stop, turn and give her a stunned look. She bent down, snatched up her blouse, thrusting her arms into it without snapping her bra shut.

  “Excuse me?” she heard him say. “Did you growl at me, Melina?”

  She ignored him. Wrapping the two halves of her open blouse around her, she wanted to get out of the room before she said something she’d regret. Said something that would cost her the million dollars she wanted so badly.

  “Melina?”

  She had the door open when he came storming up behind her. He shot out his hand and slammed it shut before shoving himself against her back to press her to the panel.

  “When I ask you a question you’d better answer me, woman!” he snarled in her ear, his lips pressed against her lobe.

  “Yes, Synjyn,” she said. “I growled at you!”

  She felt him stiffen. He put his hands on her upper arms and spun her around, pushing her tight to the door.

  “What did you say?” he demanded. His eyes were hard as flint.

  “I said I heard you,” she answered. She tried to push him away but he wasn’t having any of that. He was like a rock shoved against her.

  “What did you call me?” he asked again, this time louder.

  “Synjyn,” she said. Her eyes bored into his. “Your name is Synjyn McGregor. You—”

  This time he yelled at her. “How did you learn my name?”

  “From the internet!” she yelled back.

  He let go of her and stepped away from her. “Go,” he ordered, his face ugly. “Get the hell out of here before I say or do something I’ll regret!”

  She jerked open the door and left, leaving him cursing a blue streak behind her.

  “Oh, hell no!” he exploded. “Hell no!”

  Jono jumped out of the way as the glass of scotch went flying by his head. It shattered behind him and he turned his head to look down at the shards littering the floor after the glass hit the fieldstone of the fireplace and shattered.

  “Why the fuck didn’t you stop her?”

  Jono turned to face him. “Don’t pack a shitty, bro. You didn’t say anything to me about keeping her from having a social life,” he said drily. “And it isn’t my concern—or yours for that matter—anyway.”

  “The hell it isn’t!” he bellowed. “She belongs to me! She is mine!”

  He watched Jono’s eyebrows shift upward. “Oh, yeah?” he asked. “Since when?”

  Instead of answering, he marched to the desk, snatched up his cell phone, thumbed through the numbers then stabbed at one of them. He put the phone to his ear, a muscle working in his jaw.

  “I want that bastard who brings her home every day gone,” he snarled at his chief of security Kit Tomlinson. He paused then rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t want him taken out! I want him gone! Give him a job in the Cleveland office or the Detroit office or fucking Mogadishu. Shit, I don’t care where you send him. Just get him the fuck out of Georgia
!” Another pause. “Well, offer him ten times what he’s getting here, you moron! He’ll take it! What the fuck does he do anyway?”

  What Tomlinson told him brought dark red rage to his face. He didn’t bother to end the call. He simply threw the phone at the fireplace. It connected and joined the glass on the carpet.

  “That’s how she found out my name!” he shouted. “Goddamn prick! He’s a computer nerd!”

  “Bro, you need to chill,” Jono said. “If you don’t, you’re gonna have a stroke.”

  “Son of a fucking bitch,” he said through his teeth. “Goddamn son of a fucking bitch kissed her. He fucking kissed my woman good night at the door!”

  “The bastard,” Jono said.

  “That’s what I’m saying!”

  “Hope he didn’t give her cooties in the process.”

  “He had better not—” He stopped, narrowed his eyes and heard himself growl at his best friend. “She’s mine,” he stated.

  “Did you tell her not to date?” Jono inquired.

  “No, but she knew not to.”

  “So along with being a cute little chickie she’s a mind reader too?”

  “Watch what you say about my woman!” he snapped.

  “Will you listen to yourself?” Jono queried. “Bro, I think I need to find a screwdriver because you’ve got some loose screws rolling around inside that head of yours!”

  “Fuck you and the kiwi you flew in on!”

  Jono grinned in answer to the insult.

  “Wipe that smirk or I’m gonna put my fist through your face,” he muttered as he turned away.

  Jono came over to slap a comradely arm around his shoulders. “You don’t want her dating?” He leaned in. “Tell her, bro,” he whispered.

  “I intend to.”

  “Good on you, mate,” Jono said then tightened his hold. “I don’t know what you’ve been doing to her but I really don’t want to see her come out of that building again with tears in her eyes. Do you feel me?”

  He shrugged away the hold. “I wouldn’t feel you if you were the only living being left on the planet but yeah, I get what you mean.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m not doing anything to hurt her,” he said. “At least not physically.”

  Jono frowned. “And mentally? What are you doing to her in that way?”

  “Nothing that will leave lasting problems,” he assured his old friend.

  “Better not,” Jono said. “I like that little girl.”

  “Yeah, well, like her from a distance, my man.” He scowled at Jono to emphasize his point. “A fucking long distance.” He narrowed his eyes. “And don’t forget what I told you about calling her Lina! I won’t have it, Jono!”

  Jono rolled his eyes. “I’m out of here, bro. You’ve gone way round the bend with this shit.”

  He poured himself another scotch when Jono left. He swilled it down as if it were water and poured another.

  And another.

  And another until the bottle was almost empty.

  He was well on his way to a brutal hangover when an idea struck him. By then he was so inebriated he didn’t question what he was doing although it took him quite some time to find his spare cell phone. When at last he had, he repeatedly fumbled with it until he managed to thumb in her number.

  She answered on the first ring and he had a slight twinge of guilt when he heard the fear in her voice. No doubt she thought the nursing home was calling about her brother at that time of night.

  “It’s me,” he said and was annoyed that he was slurring his words. What he said came out as ish me. “Did you hear me?” He walked into his den so he could watch her on one of the screens. It annoyed him even more that he was staggering.

  “Yes Sir,” she said and there was wariness in her tone.

  “Don’t you fucking do it again,” he said as he plopped down on his sofa and stared intently at her. “Is that clear?”

  There was a pause. “Do what?” She was sitting up in her bed with the receiver away from her ear because he realized he was shouting at her.

  “Fucking go out with another man, Melina!” he stated. “Don’t you fucking do it again! Are you understanding me?”

  “You didn’t say I couldn’t.”

  “Stop talking!” he ordered.

  “You asked me a question,” she told him.

  “You’re not listening to me!” he yelled. “I said stop talking!”

  “I’m not in the room with you,” she said. “We’re not having a session.”

  “Doesn’t matter!” he yelled. “You’re not supposed to talk, bitch!”

  “Then I won’t,” she said and hung up on him.

  “Don’t you fucking hang up on me, woman!” he screamed at the phone. “Do you hear me, Melina? Answer me!”

  When she didn’t, that cell phone went the same route as its predecessor then he slid from the sofa to the floor and buried his head in his hands. He had the headache from hell building in his skull and nausea was galloping up his esophagus.

  “I hate you! You’re a fucking son of a bitch asshole dickwad prick with a God complex!”

  He lifted his head as her angry voice came from one of the screens on the wall. She was pacing like a caged tigress and there was fury on her beautiful face.

  Chapter Nine

  Night Six

  She wasn’t sure what to expect when she entered the room the next evening. The spotlight was not on the mark where she normally stood but on a large wingback chair sitting in front of a sweep of draperies. He was sitting in the chair with his legs spread wide, his palms resting on his thighs. Instead of the usual jeans and t-shirt, he wore a pair of dark-gray slacks and a black shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows.

  She turned, locked the deadbolt then walked to where she thought the large red X was.

  “No. Come here,” he ordered.

  Drawing in a calming breath, she walked across the thick carpet to stand directly in front of him.

  “Closer.”

  She moved as close to the chair as she could get.

  “On your knees.”

  For just a second or two she thought about refusing. She might never have had sexual relations with a man but she knew what a woman did on her knees before one. From the look on his face—shadowed beneath the glare of the overhead light shining down on his head—his intent wasn’t as innocuous as it had been in the days before.

  “On. Your. Knees,” he repeated. “And don’t you dare say a fucking word.”

  Pursing her lips, she did as he told her, her palms resting on her thighs as she knelt.

  “Put your hand on me.”

  She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the thick bulge at the juncture of his thighs. Her eyes slid slowly back to his.

  “Slide your palm under my cock and cup me,” he said in a voice that held a warning.

  Heat flooded her face but she reached out to glide her hand between his legs, under the thick prominence pushing at his slacks. The base of her palm bumped against him to stop her from going any farther. Slowly she closed her fingers around him as far as they would go.

  He held her captive with the piercing probe of his blue eyes. He didn’t blink. His gaze never wavered. It was locked on her, zeroed in like a missile searching for a target. His cock flexed in her hold.

  “That is what wants you,” he said in a husky voice. “That is what needs you more than I need air to breathe.”

  For one brief, wild moment she wanted to squeeze him hard enough to hurt him but she knew she wouldn’t. Not just because he would end their sessions then and there if she did, but because she really didn’t want to see any more pain in his eyes than was already there.

  “Rub it,” he whispered.

  She slid her palm backward and forward under his hard shaft, the thickness of it apparent from the tent of the loose fabric of his slacks. For some strange reason it made her feel powerful to touch him as she was and feel him stir. His eyes were hot blue flames burning into hers. She watch
ed him run his tongue along his bottom lip and wondered if he was aware he was doing it.

  “You called me a fucking son of a bitch asshole dickwad prick with a God complex,” he stated. “Quite an insult, Melina. I think I should wash your mouth out.”

  She stopped stroking as she gaped at him. She started to speak but caught herself in time. He was obviously punishing her tonight for defying him by talking out of turn the night before.

  “You have a question?” he asked.

  She couldn’t hold back her anger given permission to speak. She threw caution to the winds.

  “How did you know that?” she demanded, snatching her hand away from his crotch. “How did you know that? And the other night. How did you know…?”

  “That you masturbated thinking about me?” he asked.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” she sneered and winced because she’d spoken again without being given the opening but he didn’t seem to notice or care for he didn’t call her on it.

  “You were fantasizing about me, Melina,” he said.

  “How did you know?” she asked.

  His smile was nasty. “There are cameras in your house.”

  For a moment she couldn’t speak and when she did the one word was nothing more than a breath of sound. “What?”

  He leaned forward in the chair. “Don’t you think since I’ll be paying the kind of money I’ll be paying you that I should get something other than these dry sessions every night? I told you right up front what I expected of you. I told you that you were to do what you were told, when you were told and how you were told. Didn’t you know I’d have spies watching your every move to make sure you did just that?”

  She shot to her feet. “You didn’t say anything about putting cameras in my house! That is an invasion of my privacy!”

  “They aren’t in the bathroom. I drew the line at that.”