Schooled

by Lorelei James

  beach in the Ryukyu Islands, then back to Hokkaido, and they’d spend the last week in Tokyo.

  “Any part of that you don’t want to do, tell me. I purposely kept our itinerary fluid.”

  “No, I want to do it all. Ronin, I’m still pinching myself that I’m really here. While this is my first exotic foreign adventure, I know it’s not a once-in-a-lifetime event for you like it is for me.”

  Ronin pressed his lips to hers, bestowing the type of sweet, reverent kiss that made her sigh. “Wrong. This is a once-in-a-lifetime trip for me too, Mrs. Black. This is the only honeymoon we’ll ever take. Yes, I’ve seen some of these sights, but I’ve never seen them with you. In years to come we can return to these places, but it’ll never be like this again for us.”

  Amery nuzzled his neck. “I love you. And I’m loving this romantic side of you.”

  “Does it surprise you?”

  “Yes. You’re so used to being . . . Sensei Black that sometimes you forget you’re also just Ronin. My Ronin.”

  That appeared to startle him. “I’ll work harder on showing you my romantic side, okay?”

  “Okay.” If they continued this conversation in the same vein she’d end up genuflecting at his feet—and the rope master side of him would enjoy that far too much. So she changed the subject. “I took stock of the pantry. There’s not much to cook so should we go to the store tomorrow?”

  “I’d rather sample Kyoto’s cuisine.”

  She frowned. “Really? Why? We don’t eat out that much at home.”

  “Which is why I want to take advantage of having hundreds of different restaurants within walking distance. Plus, you’ll end up cooking for me every night during my training weeks.”

  “You trust me to cook? Aren’t you afraid you’ll get fat-laden meatloaf and buttery mashed potatoes and other not-good-for-you Midwestern comfort foods from me?”

  “Smartass.” Ronin smacked her butt.

  Amery wrapped her arms around his neck. “I assume your diet will be different with that much training?”

  “Yes. But we can talk about it later. I’ve got a better use for my mouth at the moment.” With those promising words, Ronin carried her to the meditation room and showed her the benefits of a low table surrounded by cushions.

  ***

  It didn’t escape her notice on day three after they’d visited the formidable and majestic Arashiyama Bamboo Grove that Ronin had embraced the laid-back “on vacation” vibe. Like everything else he did perfectly, Ronin was a perfect travel partner. Knowledgeable. Attentive. Flexible. Spontaneous. Passionate.

  Whoo-boy did the man define passion. He couldn’t keep his hands off her. Not only in the privacy of their condo, but he always had to be touching her in some way in public. The hard-eyed sensei who eschewed PDA at home embraced it fully here, which had been a welcome surprise, because she noticed most other couples were very hands off.

  The morning of day four dawned rainy, so they’d explored the Nishiki Market, where restaurants and individuals could purchase locally produced Japanese food items. Ronin found bizarre things for them to sample, which was equal parts fun and gross—Amery wasn’t a fan of fermented whale blubber.

  While they wandered through the stalls, she wondered how the food vendors would react if they knew they were serving their wares to an Okada Foods heir. Okada food trucks were everywhere throughout Kyoto. But as usual, Ronin did nothing to reveal who he was. How the man could be so arrogant and yet so humble continually baffled her.

  But she knew he used his connections to secure a table at the best restaurant in Kyoto for them. Then he surprised her with tickets to Kabuki Theater. Afterward they ended up in a raucous nightclub and got sucked in by the energy of the techno music and the club-goers. Fueled with a few potent cocktails, they found themselves grinding against each other in the midst of hundreds of other couples. Watching her hot man cutting loose and gyrating that fantastic body like a world-class stripper made her hot, made her wet, made her anxious to get the fuck out of there.

  They left the club immediately.

  Ronin didn’t drag her to the bus stop; instead they cut through the alley behind the building that abutted a wooded area.

  “Is this a shortcut back to the condo?”

  “No.” He ducked beneath a canopy of kudzu vines, pulling her along behind him. “This place is known as lovers park.” He pulled her back against his front and tipped her head to the side to get at her neck. “I am out of my mind to fuck you, after the way you were dry-humping me in the club.” His lips teased her ear while his hands squeezed her hips. “Sweet Jesus, woman. What you do to me with your clothes on.”

  “Surprised that a preacher’s daughter can move like that?” she said huskily and swayed her hips side to side, raising her arms above her head.

  “Oh, I know exactly how well you move, baby. That’s why I couldn’t wait until we get home to feel you grinding against me when I’m buried inside you.”

  “And if someone strolls by?”

  “I don’t fucking care.”

  That low growl burrowed into her ear and sent little spikes of need buzzing across her skin.

  His rough-skinned hand slipped beneath the hem of her skirt. “Bend over and grab the back of the bench.”

  The concrete bit into her palms as she braced herself for the powerful surges of his body. In the stillness she heard the soft whoosh as his pants hit the ground. She canted her hips and waited breathlessly for that first heated touch of his skin to hers.

  Ronin hiked her skirt up, pulled her panties aside, and plowed into her.

  Amery didn’t care who heard her cry out at that first deliciously hard thrust. Or the second. Or the third. Then he slowed down, swiveling his hips and rocking his pelvis, fucking her in the overpoweringly sensual way that reminded her she belonged to him.

  Afterward, he kissed her. Possessively. Decisively. Then his mouth formed a smirk and he whispered, “Thirteen.”

  Chapter Three

  While Amery snapped pictures of whatever struck her fancy on the crowded street, Ronin ducked into one of Kyoto’s famous textile houses and picked up the yukata he’d ordered for her.

  Throughout their last day exploring the city, he’d kept the sexual tension high—toeing that line between anticipation and frustration.

  Things had changed between them since they’d come to Japan. He hadn’t realized how uptight he’d been in the months following his neurologist’s edict of no combat sports training. Amery had supported him unconditionally, which had been exactly what he’d needed, during those times when he wasn’t quite sure himself where his head was.

  But his heart was with her. Always.

  Ronin had foregone rope play during their stay in Kyoto because he had something special planned for their last night. He wasn’t sure how Amery would handle how things were about to change for them, when his focus would be entirely on his training. There were no days off. If Master Daichi had his way, Ronin would train for two weeks, take two weeks off, return and train for two more weeks, and repeat.

  But he knew his body well enough that it’d take week one to reach his prime condition. Week two he’d push himself. Week three he’d begin to tire and need a mental and physical break. And a week alone with his wife on a private beach would rejuvenate him.

  Ronin just hoped they both survived the three-week stint of intense training leading up to sand, sun, and surf.

  She sat on a bench waiting for his return. She frowned at the package he carried. “I thought we were waiting to buy souvenirs?”

  “We are.”

  “So what’s that?”

  “A gift.”

  “For your sensei?”

  “No. I brought a case of whiskey for him, remember?”

  “Then who’s it for?”

  “You.”

  When she leapt up and attempted to get in his face, Ronin crowded her against the wall behind the bench. “Hold that sassy tongue, woman. This is the first go
ddamned thing I’ve bought you since we got here.”

  “This is not fair. You wouldn’t let me buy you that funky geisha clock that would’ve looked awesomely obscene in your office at the dojo.”

  He placed his mouth on her ear. “You want to give me something?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’ll take your complete submission to me tonight.”

  “Oh.” She paused. “You’re binding me?”

  “Yes. And it will be a formal binding.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, Master Black. But I accept your terms.”

  “Perfect.” Ronin kissed her temple and handed her the package. “No peeking. Let’s eat before we head back.”

  Sometimes during this trip Amery had been so quiet he wasn’t sure what was on her mind. But as they shared plates of pan-fried noodles with veggies and skewers of spicy tempura-fried chicken, she chattered away. While she waited for him she’d checked in with Molly. Evidently her office manager and her new graphic artist were doing just fine without the boss lady there.

  Ronin tuned out for a moment, wondering how his second-in-command, Knox, was faring, working in the dojo with Shiori. Since he traveled to Japan twice a year, he’d learned it was easier not to worry about things that were out of his control. But leaving this time was different because Knox and Shiori fought like two tomcats—neither willing to back down. He should check in. . . but he figured it’d be a good test for him, and them, to see if they were capable of handling some of the duties he intended to hand over after he returned.

  “Ronin?”

  He glanced up. “Sorry. I don’t suppose Molly mentioned what’s going on at Black Arts?”

  “Nothing beyond Yondan Deacon being a sadistic asshole for claiming she needed to ‘toughen up’ in his Muay Thai class.”

  “I’m surprised she’s still going to classes. His dropout rate for men is high because they can’t hack it.”

  “Hah!” She pointed her chopsticks at him. “Deacon the Destroyer won’t let her drop out. Molly tried. After she skipped class he showed up at her apartment with a heavy bag and sparring equipment. Twice.”

  Ronin froze. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why didn’t I know that?”

  “Uh, because you’ve been mediating Knox and Shiori, you’ve been taskmaster for Katie the Kook, you’ve taken Ivan the Terrific under your wing, you’re strategizing training partnerships with Badass Blue, you’re running a dojo, building a fight promotion company, and dealing with health concerns.”

  He lifted a brow. “Ivan the Terrific? Not Ivan the Terrible?”

  “Ronin. The man is hot. Like seriously hot. There’s nothing terrible about him. Well, except for that mean face he makes when he loses during training. But when he smiles?” Amery sighed. “He’s back to being terrific.”

  His wife fucking sighed. Over Ivan.

  “Oh, don’t make that growling noise. You know I only have eyes for you.”

  “Doesn’t sound like it. Sounds like someone has been breaking the ‘no observation’ rule again.”

  “So punish me.” She smirked and scooped rice into her mouth.

  “Oh, I intend to. Besides, you didn’t list the most distracting thing in my life.” Ronin ran the tips of his fingers up her arm, making sure to hit all the spots that made her tremble. “My beautiful wife.”

  When their eyes met, a sense of urgency consumed him. He needed her. Needed to remind her how much stronger their connection grew every time he had her bound—which hadn’t been often recently.

  Without breaking their eye contact, he shoved her plate aside and said, “You’re done.” He stood, threw a pile of bills on the table, and clasped her hand, towing her out of the restaurant.

  They didn’t speak at all during the bus ride, but Ronin rested his palm at the base of her neck. He wanted his hold to impart the calming effect of his touch, and yet remind her that the heavy weight of his hand was as immobilizing as his rope.

  As they made the fast walk back to the condo, he couldn’t help but notice the flush on her cheeks, the increased rate of her breathing, and the sheen of perspiration that teased him with her scent.

  After he punched in the code and they were inside, Ronin cupped her face in his hands, forcing her attention only to him. “The binding tonight will take place outside on the patio.”

  She hesitated a moment before saying, “Okay.”

  “I’ll need half an hour to prepare.”

  “Okay,” she said again.

  “But first I want you to open your present.”

  He was a little nervous as Amery delicately slipped the knotted ties down the plain brown paper. She folded the wrapper back to reveal the vibrant material.

  Her gaze hooked his. “Is this what I think it is?”

  “Open it and find out.”

  She ripped into the package and gasped at the floral pattern created in brilliant hues. “It’s a kimono?”

  “A yukata. A more casual kimono. I had it modified so it’s easier to put on than the traditional one.”

  “And easier to take off,” she murmured, running her finger across the material.

  “This fabric is sturdier than silk although it retains the look and feel of it.”

  Amery looked up at him. “This is exquisite.”

  “It’ll look even more exquisite on you.”

  When she shook the garment out, another bundle of fabric tumbled free. “What’s this?”

  “The matching robe.” He unfurled the pearlescent fabric that shimmered between pale pink and ivory. “I’ll have you wear the yukata another time. Tonight I want you in this because I want to try something new.”

  She smiled at him. “I’m all in for trying something new.”

  He hadn’t expected that response. “I promise no pictures.”

  “You always want pictures. Which makes me wonder . . . should I be nervous about this new binding?”

  “Probably.”

  She laughed, as he’d hoped.

  “Go on, beautiful, and get ready for me.”

  ***

  Ronin adjusted the ropes dangling from the rafters, rechecking the tension.

  He looked around the binding area one last time, compiling a mental checklist. Bamboo pole. Tatami mat. Cushion. Scissors. Water. Blanket. The paper lanterns stationed at various points on the rafters above the patio emitted a soft golden glow, but provided enough light to work by. Luckily the moon was full. He’d already double-checked his ropes and scattered them across the patio.

  Once his preparations were complete, he returned inside to the reflection room. He’d grown up with a space like this in his childhood home: a room formed from four sliding walls, empty, save for the small altar. His mother used to send him or Shiori into the reflection room if they’d been fighting. Sometimes she used it when she needed a quiet place to gather her thoughts. With the addition of futons, it served as a guest room. So the space wasn’t solely for meditation or reinforcing a spiritual connection. But that was exactly what it felt like now.

  Ronin removed his street clothes and slipped into a white gi. Instead of using one of his official belts proclaiming his jujitsu rank, he tied a han obi around his waist. The informal belt had been crafted from the same fabric as Amery’s yukata. It was a small thing to retain that thread of connection between them, but one he needed. And the bonus? The belt also doubled as a blindfold.

  A few katas loosened his muscles. He pulled his hair back, bowed to the altar, and slipped out of the room.

  As soon as Ronin stepped onto the patio, the buzz of power sizzled through him upon seeing Amery—his wife, his rope model, his everything—waiting for him on her knees, her head bowed, her hands folded, wearing the clothing he’d had created specifically for her.