30DaystoSyn (22 page)

“That’s why we couldn’t go to the Room
tonight,” he said. “She told me she was coming over to speak with me.”

“I see,” she said. “When I took over MI,”
he said, “I bought her a condo on the North Shore. I gave her carte blanche to
decorate it as she liked and I paid for everything. I give her a new car every
six months and I pay her credit cards which have no limits. I give her an
allowance every month.”

What he was telling her made her grit her
teeth. She knew the woman had never done anything for him in his entire life,
had neglected and abused him when he was younger yet he gave her everything he
could. She wondered if he realized he was trying to buy her love.

“Why did she come to see you?”

“To demand I give her
seven-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars,” he said and she heard the bitterness
in his tone. “Seven-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars for plastic surgery on
her boobs, her arse and her cunt.”

The thought of a mother asking her son for
something like that turned her stomach. “Did you give it to her?”

“No,” he said. “And I’m not going to give
her another penny of my money.” He clenched his jaw. “Not another red cent. The
condo and everything in it—as far as I know—is paid for. The condo is in her
name. I’ll pay off the credit cards but that will be the last money she ever
gets from me. She can let some old bastard keep her from now on.”

“Good,” she said and when his eyes flicked
up to hers, she smiled. “I think it’s well past the time you cut the cord from
your mother.”

He grinned then his eyebrows drew together.
“I’m hungry.”

“Me, too,” she replied.

“You didn’t eat?”

“I was about to when you called.”

He sat up and swung his legs from the sofa.
“What did you make?”

She felt the heat staining her cheeks.
“Jalapeño poppers.”

“Are there enough for me?”

“No, but I can make some more.” She looked
past him to the archway and the kitchen beyond. “I’ll have to reheat mine. Are
you sure you want poppers for supper? That’s not much for a growing boy.”

“No, but I’ll order a pizza while you’re
making them.”

She stopped. “How did you get past the
reporters?”

“I have a new bike and that thing can
moooove!” he said. He chortled. “And go places news vans can’t.”

He lay on his side with his head propped in
his hand and watched her sleep. To him, she was the most beautiful woman in the
world and with her lips slightly parted, the back of one hand resting on the
pillow beside her head, he thought of sleeping beauty. He wanted to lean over
and kiss those lush lips, to wake her but he contented himself with just
watching her until his eyes grew too heavy. He moved over on the bed and laid
his head beside hers on her pillow and went to sleep.

She woke to a low rumble of thunder and the
nerve-grating sound of him snoring beside her. She turned her head to look at
him. He was lying on his back with his head on her pillow. His left arm was
pressed tightly to her side and lay crooked over his chest. He drew in a long,
earth-shattering snort as lightning flared beyond her window.

“Kiwi?” she said. “Turn over.”

He mumbled something unintelligible and
smacked his lips.

She nudged him with her foot. “Kiwi? I mean
it. Turn over.”

A loud clap of thunder shook the windows
and he stirred. Another shook him awake and his eyes came open as another flare
of light pulsed through the blinds. He turned his head toward her.

“Eh?” he asked.

“You were snoring,” she accused.

“No I wasn’t,” he mumbled.

“Yes, you were.”

“I don’t snore.”

“Yes, you do,” she insisted.

“That wasn’t snoring. I don’t snore,” he
told her.

“Then what was that god awful noise you
were making if it wasn’t snoring?”

“What you heard was just the Gigantitron
idling,” he said with a smirk.

“Goofball,” she replied.

“Wait ‘til you see him in gear,” he said
with a wag of his brows. “You won’t be so dismissive then, woman.” He draped
his right arm over her and gathered her to him. “Now, shut up. I’m sleepy.”

She was almost asleep when he nuzzled her
neck.

“No,” she told him.

“Still?” he asked.

“Afraid so.”

She heard him sigh and hoped her period
would end the next day.

She was in the shower when he woke to a
leaden-gray morning with rain pounding the windows. Not a good day to be riding
a motorcycle, he thought.

He had to piss so badly his teeth were
aching so he got out of bed. He hoped he could do his thing before she finished
bathing. There was only one small bathroom in the house and not for the first
time did he wish she’d let him buy her a new place to live.

He tried to keep his face averted from the
shower curtain behind which he could see her shadow but as he lifted up the
toilet seat his eyes kept straying that way. He was standing there with his
dick in his hand when the water shut off. In midstream there was no way to cut
it off and when the plastic curtain slid aside on its noisy hooks he
deliberately looked away from the tub.

“Good morning,” she said.

“G’day,” he replied and felt heat spreading
over his face. He could hear the scrape of the towel as she dried off and
desperately wanted to see her completely naked.

He finished pissing, shook himself, and
then stuffed his dick back into the black boxer shorts she’d given him to sleep
in the night before, thinking about the anger that had burned him to the core
as he waved them in front of her.

“Where the
hell
did these come
from?” he’d demanded.

“They are brand new. I just took them out
of the package,” she said. “I bought them for—”

“
For who
?” he had shouted.

The look she’d given him had set his teeth
on edge before she answered, “For Drew. My brother.” She’d cocked her head to
one side. “Who did you
think
I bought them for, Kiwi?”

“Oh,” he’d said sheepishly. “I thought—”

“I know what you thought,” she said. “Shame
on you. Until the end of the month, I’m all yours.”

Those words hadn’t registered the evening
before because he was distracted, but this morning they drove under his skin
like sandspurs and he turned to face her. Luckily for him—or unluckily
depending on how he looked at it—she had the towel wrapped securely around her,
her long hair hanging wetly down her back as she padded over to the small
vanity.

“What the hell did you mean?” he asked.

She paused in running a comb through her
hair. “About what?”

“That you were mine until the end of the
month.”

“Thirty days,” she reminded him. “Isn’t
that what the ad said?”

He stared at her and felt anger bubbling up
from the volcano of his temper. “You think that’s when it will end?” he asked.

She gave him a look he couldn’t read. “I
guess that depends on you, Kiwi,” she replied and walked past him. “Flush the
toilet and wash your hands.”

He reached for the handle and stood there
watching the water circling down the toilet. Something dark moved inside him as
he turned to the sink. He looked up into the mirror hanging above the little
vanity and saw a man he didn’t recognize staring back at him.

“I guess that depends on you, Kiwi,” he
repeated to his image.

And for the first time he understood the
ball was in his side of the court.

Night Sixteen

“Well?” he asked as soon as she came into
the Room. He was standing under the pool of light over the straight-back chair.

She turned to twist the deadbolt on the
door.

“You can answer, you know!” he snapped.

She faced him. “The wet season has passed,”
she said and watched triumph spark through his blue eyes.

“Good,” he said then snaked out an arm to
capture her. He dragged her to him and slammed his mouth over hers. She felt
the hot press of his tongue pushing past her lips.

He took her mouth like a conquering hero
his due. His lower body thrust savagely against hers so she could feel the hard
prod of his cock. Lacing her arms around his neck, she pushed back, rubbing her
groin along his.

“Jesus, woman,” he breathed against her
lips. He snapped away from her, putting her at arm’s length. His hands were
shaking as he licked his lips. “Take off your blouse and your bra and your
skirt!”

She smiled and began to slowly unbutton her
blouse, keeping her eyes locked on his.

He growled.

She stopped with her hand on the second
from the last button.

“You want that blouse in one piece at the
end of the evening?” he asked in husky voice.

She gave him another smile and finished
unbuttoning the blouse. She shrugged out of it just as slowly as she’d ran the
buttons.

“You are going over my knee if you don’t
speed it up,” he warned.

She turned her smile into a smirk as she
dropped the blouse behind her.

He snatched it before it hit the floor. “You
should take better care of your clothes.”

Just as slowly, she reached behind her to
unhook her bra then eased one strap down her shoulder while cupping the
opposite breast in her hand.

“Woman…” he groaned.

She moistened her lips, watched his blue
eyes widen then turn hot as hell.

“Take it off or get it ripped off,” he told
her, a muscle grinding in his cheek.

Lowering her arms, she let the bra slide
over them. He didn’t bother picking it up. Instead, he leaned down, cupped her
left breast and drew the nipple into his mouth.

She sucked in a breath as he ravaged the
peak with his lips, his tongue, nipped it lightly with his teeth. Pressure shot
instantly to the juncture of her thighs and she felt her womb pulse. The thick
bulge pressing to her made her knees weak. He must have sensed it for he
tightened his hold on her, growling deep in his throat as he worked her nipple.
She put her hands to his head to hold him against her and as soon as she did,
he let go of her and stepped back.

“You…I…” He scraped his hand across the top
of his head. He was trembling and she knew it was from the force of his
arousal.

She wanted him. She wanted to know him as a
woman knows a man. The only way she could do that was to make him lose control
of the situation, to back him into a corner and hold him pinioned there. He’d
told her he had a timetable for her deflowering.

She needed to fast forward that timetable.
She reached for the bottom of his dark gray T-shirt.

He tightly clamped his lips together as he
raised his arms so she could remove his T-shirt. His cock was so hard it hurt.
She tossed his T-shirt to the chair then put her hands on him, her palms just
beneath his pecs, then slid them upward. As she did, a quiver went down his
spine.

She was looking up at him with her eyes
trusting and needing and hot as hell as she dragged her fingertips over his
paps. Just as he had done, she stepped in and placed her lips—gently but
firmly—around his nipple and he could have broken concrete with his cock.

He let his head fall back as she suckled
him, stabbed the peak with her sweet tongue then nipped playfully. He closed
his eyes and drew in long, wavering breaths as she plied that wet warmth over
him. His hands jerked at his sides but he kept them off her. He was afraid if
he touched her, he would drag her down to the floor and take her, fuck her so
hard and for so long they would both be sore come morning.

And she wasn’t ready for that yet.

Baby steps. He…

His heart stuttered to a stop for her hands
had dragged from his pecs to the buckle of his belt and she was unbuckling it.
When he made to push her hands away, she shook her head vehemently, shooting
him a narrow-eyed look that made him put his hands down slowly. His fingers
twitched and he swallowed hard as she pulled the leather from its prong then
out of the buckle, peeled the belt back and reached for the closure at his
waist. He lowered his head, opened his eyes to stare down at her as she took
hold of the zipper pull.

She inched the zipper down a couple of
teeth then…

The knock came lightly. Three taps. No
more.

He stilled, shook his head to deny the
interruption. He was trembling from the force of the desire raging through his
body, breathing heavily, and sweat on his forehead.

Once more the knock sounded at the door.
This time five taps—more insistent, louder—then Jono’s embarrassed voice.

“Bro, it’s important or I wouldn’t be
here.”

“Fuck!” he snarled, drawing back his lips
as he stared at her.

She smiled apologetically and pulled the
zipper up, buttoned his fly.

“Bathroom,” he said in a rough tone he
didn’t recognize as his own voice.

He was going to fucking kill Jono. Kicking
aside the chair and wishing he hadn’t for he was barefoot, he cursed a blue
streak as he limped to the door, viciously twisted the deadbolt handle and jerked
the door open.

“
What?
” he shouted. “What the fuck,
Jono? The city had better be on fire or your ass is grass!”

“I really am sorry, bro,” Jono said. “But
she went to the office. She told them you had asked her to meet you there. In
your office.” He looked down sheepishly. “They let her in.” He took a steadying
breath then lifted his gaze. “She trashed the place. You weren’t answering your
phone and they didn’t know what to do. Someone called the cops and they came
and arrested her. She…”

“What the fuck do I care if they arrested
her ass? She can rot in jail for all I care! She sent me there. Karma’s a
bitch!”

“She’s your mother, bro,” Jono said.
“Reporters showed up as they were bringing her out. It’s all over the news. She
told them you own the brothel where she works.”

“
I what
?” he exploded.

“Someone called down there and found out
your name is back on the deed of the condo,” Jono told him. “She’s been using
it for…” He shrugged. “You know what.”

“Sweet Mother of God!” he gasped. “Are you
shitting me?”

“Go,” she said from the bathroom. “Take
care of it. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Wanting to scream with frustration, he spun
around and marched over to the chair to retrieve his T-shirt. He didn’t bother
with his shoes.

“I am sorry, bro,” Jono apologized again.

“Not as sorry as that fucking old bitch is
going to be!”