by Koko Brown
She fought the impulse to give in to him. It wasn’t in her nature to submit to someone else’s will. Oshun wasn’t the kind of woman to let anyone control her. Control was always hers to wield. But, a one-night stand with a club hook-up three months ago changed all that. Now, instead of hitting it and quitting it the way she’d intended, she was laying in his bed, legs spread, pussy dripping, and hungry for his cock.
He slowed down his strokes as he bent down to kiss her again. “I know you heard me. Play with my pretty pussy and I’ll let you come all over this dick again.”
Her walls contracted at his promise, and a shudder spread throughout her body. As defiant as she wanted to be, she was too close and too hot not to acquiesce. She used her fingers to stroke herself slowly. Her clit was so sensitive it bordered on painful. She knew if she added too much pressure or speed, she’d tumble over into bliss.
She knew it would feel so good. But, she held back because it turned him on to watch her stroke herself. She ran her fingers from clit to slit. Her fingertips scraped against his cock every time he pushed in and pulled out. When she heard him hissing between his teeth, she knew his senses were overloaded as well.
“Faster,” he commanded. “Don't fucking stop.”
She sped up her motions. She could feel the familiar tension building up inside her, could feel the burning heat that seared her from the inside out. When the muscles in her thighs began twitching, and her pussy began contracting in powerful spasms, Oshun knew it wouldn't be long. Two more circular strokes and she felt herself break apart, felt her breath catch in her chest, and release spread like warm butter through her nerves.
The orgasm wrecked her, breaking her into unrecognizable pieces. Instead of helping her, Masaki Yamaguchi perpetuated her demise by slamming his cock over and over into her. It was hard and so rough, and she loved every minute of it. So much so, she begged him not to stop, begged him to keep destroying her.
He didn't disappoint. He kept hammering at her, prolonging the orgasm that ravaged her as she convulsed beneath him.
“God, you squeeze me so fucking tight, Oshun,” he howled as his rhythm faltered. She felt his cock swell, and seconds later he pulsed his release into the latex barrier between them.
When he pulled out, she was still quivering, her body shaking of its own accord. Masaki must have seen her shaking as an invitation, because he rearranged himself so that his mouth met her pussy lips. His tongue gently bathed her, soothing and exciting at the same time. She'd thought he'd broken her, but within seconds, his tongue had her tensing in another release. This was sweet and gentle, but still, there he went again making her lose control.
He licked her cunt again, swirling it at her opening, groaning in satisfaction against her slick lips. He touched her once again with his tongue, finally relenting his hold over her when he heard her hiss.
Taking advantage of the reprieve she'd been given, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Dark eyes shining with mischief and a self-assured grin met hers. He took a moment to slowly pass that dangerous tongue of his over his lips, closing his eyes while a deep moan rumbled in his chest.
“God my pussy is so sweet.”
As much as she wanted to disabuse him of the notion of him owning her sex, she knew she'd be lying. The way he kept her begging for his attention when they came together, there was no doubt in either of their minds that his fucking name was stamped across it in bright red letters.
Mas.
In every way that mattered, she certainly was his. She didn't lie to herself about what and how deeply she felt for Masaki. What she felt wasn't the problem, how she lived was.
Being his was a notion she could only entertain while inside the confines of either of their homes. Here in his bed, or just a few minutes to the east in hers, she could wallow in the decadence of this man's affection, in the reckless abandon of her heart's greatest desire. But outside either of those situations, in front of the world, she could never take what she so desperately wanted; her place at his side as his woman.
He crawled up her body, pressing his mouth against hers, demanding that she open herself to him again. She barely parted her lips before his tongue was inside, painting her lips and tongue with the taste of her essence.
It was a heady experience, one that had her threading her hands through the ink-colored strands on his head, pulling him deeper into the kiss. If she weren't so fucked-out, this kiss could very well have been the start of another round for them.
She gentled the kiss, smoothing her hands carefully down his back until she met the meaty curve of his ass. She gave it a satisfying smack that pulled a wide grin from each of them.
“That never gets old,” she said.
“What? You smacking my ass?”
Oshun chuckled. “That too. But I was referring to the way you fuck me until I'm boneless.”
He placed a playful peck on the tip of her nose, and rolled over to the side, pulling her into the little spoon position. Dropping another peck on her shoulder, he snuggled in close behind her.
“I know a way to top me fucking you boneless,” he offered.
“Not possible. No way you could improve upon perfection.”
“Wanna bet?”
He rolled away from her, leaning toward the nightstand closest to him. When he reclaimed his position next to her, he handed her a square velvet box. The kind of velvet box that usually housed expensive jewelry. The thought of what could be inside this box had cold fear spilling inside her. It was only the lifetime of keeping her emotions buried from the rest of the world that allowed her to school her features.
Suppressing the shudder that threatened to spread through her, Oshun turned to Masaki, hoping the look of expectancy he wore didn't mean what she feared.
“What is this?”
“I believe in English, the word you're looking for is…gift. Typically, you have to open it to see what's inside.”
Oshun sighed deeply and rolled her eyes.
“You know you're an asshole, right?”
He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “I know you have a pretty little asshole that I plan on burying myself in once we've both recovered from our last round.” He pointed to the still unopened box in her hand. “Stop stalling. Open it.”
She felt the puckered skin of her rosebud contract at his words, and a slight pulse of electricity zipped through her clit. It didn't matter how he wanted to have sex with her, her body was always excited by his propositions.
Stay focused, Oshun. This isn't the time.
She opened the box, afraid of what it held, and was slightly relieved when she saw two keys resting on the cushioned bed instead of an engagement ring.
“I'm confused,” she said with a shaky smile on her face. “What are these for?”
“They open my front door. This is my corny way of asking you to move in with me.”
“Mas.” The seriousness of her tone drained the light and easy atmosphere their lovemaking had created. She watched him tense up, pulling himself to a sitting position against the headboard.
“What, Oshun? You can save the “It's too soon” crap you're about to spew at me. We've spent nearly every day together over the last three months. You spend three to four nights a week sleeping in my bed, and the rest of the week I'm in yours. We already live together. All I'm asking is to make it official. So, if you're going to say no, at least don't insult my intelligence with a lie.”
And there it was again, the one topic that always seemed to shake whatever peace they found in each other's presence. Oshun closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. It was fast becoming her conditioned response whenever Masaki brought up the topic of commitment.
“Mas, us spending nights together is totally different than us moving in together. I can't do that.”
“You trying to tell me you're not there, you're not ready?”
She shook her head. Emotionally she was more than ready to make that commitment to him. Unfortun
ately, logic kept reminding her why it couldn’t be. Her life wouldn't allow for the type of connection Mas seemed to be pushing toward more and more.
“Mas, you're so special to me. You know that. But, I've told you from the beginning I wasn't looking for a relationship. My life doesn't allow for it.”
“What the fuck does that even mean, Oshun?”
He quickly swung his legs over the side of the bed, stalking to the dresser and rummaging for a pair of underwear inside. He stepped into a pair of black boxer briefs, and turned to her with his arms crossed against his chest. Standing there in the middle of the room, his full six-feet height seemed more ominous than usual.
The sharp slant of his eyes became more pronounced as his heavy gaze focused on her. His broad chest rose and fell in fast movements, his full-sleeve tattooed arms flexed with power, revealing carved, lean muscles. In that moment, she could see who he was so clearly. Asian, strong, powerful, confident, and sexy as all fucking hell.
“You're a waitress at a club, Oshun. Single, with no kids, or dependents that I know of. I mean, that's about the simplest life I can imagine. What the hell is really holding you back?”
She cringed at the harshness in his voice. She’d led him to believe her life was simple. He could never know otherwise. Keeping that in mind, she didn't hold the insult he'd just hurled at her against him. She knew it came from a place of frustration. He was frustrated she kept pulling away from him. But more importantly, he was frustrated about not being able to understand her reasoning.
She shifted in the bed, pulling herself up against the headboard, and covered her exposed body with the sheet. When they were naked, Masaki controlled the scene. That was a fact she’d accepted with much difficulty. Gearing up to have what could prove to be their biggest argument to date, she needed to maintain what little power she could.
“It's like you said, ‘that you know of.’ You don't know me, Masaki. And the truth is, I can't really afford to let you know me. I told you that night in the club I wasn't looking for forever. I wanted to have some fun, and that was all.”
He ran his fingers angrily through the tapered dark waves on his head, then dropped his hands to the cut vee of his hips.
“Are you fucking someone else? Is that what this is about, keeping your options open?”
She shook her head, looking up toward the ceiling hoping for strength. Strength to keep her temper in check, strength to keep her emotions corralled, and strength to not give in to what they both wanted.
She pulled the covers off, and planted her feet firmly on the ground. She found her bra and panties strewn on the floor, and quickly pulled them on before sitting down on the bench at the foot of his bed.
“Masaki, as you've said, I spend three to four nights of every week with you, and you spend the rest with me at my place. Even if I wanted to fuck with someone else, when would I have time? I'm not seeing anyone else. I don't want anyone else. This isn't about you. This is about me and my life. It’s about…”
The muffled ringing of her cellphone interrupted her. She jumped up to get it, abandoning the conversation to answer the line.
She swiped right on the phone screen, and put it to her ear.
“Speak,” she answered.
“We've got a problem. You're needed.”
With no further response, she ended the call and grabbed her clothing scattered around the room.
“You are not leaving this conversation, Oshun. We are finishing this.”
“It's already finished, Mas. I can't give you what you want. I can be with you, but I can't commit the way you want me to.”
She dressed quickly, and walked down the stairs in her socked feet, grabbing her black low-top sneakers from the hall cupboard she'd placed them in when she'd arrived a few hours ago. She tied them, then turned to watch Masaki as he descended the stairs.
She didn't give him the chance to speak. She didn't have time for all that. By the sound of her partner's voice on the other end of her cellphone, things were about to get messy. But then again, things were always messy in her life.
That call served as a perfect reminder of why she could never commit to a man like Masaki Yamaguchi. Everything from the way he dressed, combed his hair, and even the way he furnished his house, denoted how organized and compartmentalized his life was. She wouldn't wreck his neat and clean life just to smear it with the grimy filth that plagued hers. Even though she knew he probably wouldn't agree, she cared too much to bring her baggage to his doorstep.
She kissed him quickly, then slipped through the door as she called over her shoulder, “I'll call you later today.”
A chill spilled down her spine as she walked to her car, and thoughts of doubt began to trouble her. “Hopefully he still answers when I call.”
TWO
Masaki slammed the front door and ran back up to his bedroom. He paced quickly back and forth across the large room, trying his best to quiet the rage bubbling in his head.
He'd tried hard to keep his other life away from Oshun, but Masaki couldn't allow himself to be pushed around by anyone, not even the soulful beauty who'd captivated him these last three months.
He knew he couldn't force Oshun to be with him if she didn't want to be, but he could damn sure get answers as to why. Answers he'd been seeking since he'd first connected with Oshun three months ago.
He could remember that first night so clearly in his mind. He'd seen the dread-locked vixen or rather he'd seen the dangerous way she'd swayed her hips to the vibrant dancehall rhythms blasting through the club's speakers. He watched the intricate sensual way she’d danced, and his cock chubbed up at first glance.
Not one to be driven by his desires, Masaki took notice, and set about securing her company for the evening. He'd watched her travel back to her seat at a booth in the VIP section once she'd finished dancing.
He'd stood at the bar, then asked the bartender to send her whatever she was drinking and put it on his tab. When she had the drink in hand, she held the glass up to him in salute, and motioned for him to come join her behind the velvet rope.
Sitting there talking to her had been an exercise in patience. He'd wanted nothing more than to find somewhere they could get naked for a few hours, there he could skeet off a nut or two and then be on his way. But, chatting for just those few minutes with the thirty-two-year-old young woman kept him enchanted long enough to remain seated next to her. Her chocolate brown eyes cued him into her keen wit, something even sexier than her cinnamon brown skin, high round tits, and ample ass.
They'd both known from that first drink they would end up fucking before the night was through. She'd been game with his plan, made no qualms about it, asked for no pretenses to be offered. She wanted to fuck, and she was all-in for allowing him to spend the night pleasing her. When they'd arrived at the hotel, she'd made it clear she wasn't looking for anything but some fun. She didn't want to exchange numbers, didn't want to know anything about him other than if he had enough condoms to last the night. Hearing her stipulations, he'd been certain he'd found the perfect companion for the evening.
It wasn't until the morning when he'd awoken to an empty bed, his dick damn-near raw from all the fucking they'd done, that he realized he'd made a terrible mistake. Letting that woman go without being able to contact her quickly became a regret he couldn’t live with.
It had taken him a month of showing up at the club under the cover of having a good time to, “accidently” run into her again. She was serving customers drinks in the same VIP lounge he’d met her in. It didn’t matter to him that she was a waitress. He wasn’t interested in what she did for a living, only that she’d allow him to spend time with her. The memory of what it felt like to be buried so deeply inside her made him determined she wasn't getting away. He wouldn’t relent until he'd convinced her a friends-with-benefits scenario was a workable way for them to enjoy each other and avoid the entanglements of being in a committed relationship.
He'd thought he was so sm
art in convincing her to go along with his plan. Too bad he hadn't calculated the fact he would become attached to more than just the sex, but to the woman as well.
Until this moment, they'd kept their lives separate, living in the now. But knowing she was holding back on him, especially when he suspected it was because of another man, didn't sit well with him.
If she wanted to run game, she'd chosen the wrong man to do it with. The power and connections he possessed always swayed things in Masaki's favor. Crossing him wasn't a smart thing to do. So, as much as he cared for her, if she wanted to act like a trick, he'd treat her like any other toy he'd possessed. He'd stake his claim, letting her and everyone else know there was a hefty penalty for touching what belonged to him.
He went looking for his phone when he heard it chirping on his nightstand. He picked it up, waiting for the caller to speak.
“Boss, we've got a problem.”
Every time Masaki heard the word “Boss” his brain shifted gears, and the transformation began. Most days, Masaki wore the face of a clean cut real estate developer. He wore crisp button-down shirts, silk ties knotted to perfection with creased suits sharply tailored to fit only him. It was all a persona developed to prevent anyone who watched him too carefully from seeing the truth of who he really was; the head of the Canarsie Yakuza family.
Could this night fuck with my nerves anymore?
His second, Izumitani “Izzy” Hisato, was supposed to be in the middle of a high-priority job Mas had delegated to him. This call instantly pulled Mas from the day-to-day facade he wore for the public and Oshun, and made him sink into the ruthless gangster his organization demanded he be.
“Where are you?” Mas tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, picking up the shorn clothes Oshun had pulled off him a few hours ago.
“Mother Gaston & Hegeman.”
Masaki ran down the stairs and slipped his feet into his shoes.
“On my way now.”
Masaki opened his door, and took the few steps to the driveway. A few moments ago, he was making love to his woman and asking her to move in with him. Knowing Oshun would balk at being called his woman, his mood soured more. Her skittish ass might be afraid of commitment, but he wasn't. She was his, and he was hers. In his mind, there was no other alternative than for them to be together. All that remained was for him to convince her of that.
