Addicted to Lust

by Amy Tasukada

  Contents

  Synopsis

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  Thanks for reading!

  Author Note

  About the Author

  Bonus First Chapter of The Yakuza Path: Flowers of Flesh and Blood

  Addicted to Lust (A Yakuza Path Romance) © 2021 Amy Tasukada

  All rights reserved.

  No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and co-incidental.

  ISBN ebook: 978-1-948361-28-6

  ISBN Paper: 978-1-948361-29-3

  Cover Design: Natasha Snow

  Outline Critique: M.S. Wordsmith

  Line Editing: Susie Selva

  Copy Editing: Lyss Em

  Interior Format: Rene Folsom

  Synopsis

  Can a night of passion lead to a happily ever after?

  Yakuza captain Hayato’s life is a mess. His boyfriend broke up with him, changed the locks, and kept all his stuff. He can’t crash at his brother’s because his girlfriend is moving in. And just when Hayato thinks things can’t get worse, he accidentally gets blackout drunk and wakes up in the arms of a clingy underling.

  Masuo believes he and his boss made a deep connection, but when he’s blown off the next morning, he feels lied to. Assigned to run a failing pachinko parlor, Masuo is determined to turn it around to prove himself to everyone…especially his sexy superior.

  When Hayato realizes he’s falling for the young parlor manager, he is more than ready for fun. But as Hayato’s tragic past comes back to haunt him, Masuo wonders if he’s ready to carry all Hayato’s baggage.

  Can the unlikely pair learn to accept each other and find their way to happiness even while new challenges arise, or is their love destined to fall like balls through a pachinko machine?

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to my family, without whose support this book would not be possible. To Nell Iris, who is not only the queen of fluffy romance books but also a dear friend. Ash and Addison, thank you too for your comments and help. Leigh Hart, thanks for being my go-to plague buddy and your wonderful plotting ideas.

  Finally, you. Thank you for giving my book a try.

  1

  January sucked. Hayato always started it with a New Year’s hangover. Then came the anniversary of the worst day of his life. And that wasn’t including the cold. At least the snow was pretty sometimes, but January storms usually skipped the happily-ever-after fluffy snow and went straight to freezing rain of doom. No matter how many layers Hayato wore, he always froze his balls off. The whole month should be tossed out like a used condom in a love hotel’s trash.

  If he stayed in bed, he could pretend the calendar had never turned. He could go back to sweet December when nothing bad ever happened and the world was a blur of sales and romantic dinners. Or maybe he could stick with his current plan to spend the whole month of January drunk until the thirty-one days of hell passed and February dawned, if not warmer, at least a little brighter.

  He hugged his pillow closer, then gagged, his sinuses assaulted by the stench of sweat and cum. Like the hangover wasn’t bad enough. Only January 1 and already the month had lived up to its reputation as the one of suffering and hatred.

  Hayato threw the pillow off the bed and rolled onto his back. Furry pink walls shocked any remaining sleep out of his system. The matching sheets and heart-shaped tufted headboard confirmed it. He’d spent the night at a love hotel. No big deal. No one wanted to spend New Year’s alone. The sound of rushing water in the bathroom signaled Hayato needed to leave before things got complicated.

  He clicked on the lights, bathing the room in a purple glow, which helped with the hangover but not in the get-dressed-and-scram department. His clothes were strewn about the hotel room like glitter at a drag show. His white lace shirt glowed in the dark night, but everything else might as well have been a black blob leading into the netherworld.

  He reached under the bed. The familiar worn leather of his favorite pants made for one victory. He pulled them out, expecting to find his underwear inside, but they weren’t. Hayato ran his fingers through his hair, the day-old hair spray knotting together what had once been delicate waves fashioned into his brown locks. His amethyst ring caught and ripped out a few strands. Hayato gagged at the sticky knot, hoping it was hair spray and not something else. He twisted the ball of hair and dumped it into the trash on top of three soiled condoms. Damn. Whoever he’d slept with must’ve been good. Too bad Hayato couldn’t remember.

  He crawled around the room and gathered the rest of his clothes.

  Scarf, check.

  Coat, check.

  Super adorable gray cardigan with rainbow buttons, check.

  But no underwear. Well, not his underwear. He’d found a pair of boring plaid boxers. Definitely not his and definitely changed his opinion about last night’s partner. Hayato mentally demoted his partner from Mr. Impressive down to Mr. Good at Sex but No Taste.

  Had Hayato even worn underwear to the Fushimi ward’s New Year’s party? The whole evening was too fogged over with alcohol for him to remember. The water in the bathroom stopped. Screw the underwear. He preferred going commando anyway. He bent down to kick on the first leg of his pants.

  The door opened.

  Hayato’s jaw dropped. Mr. Good at Sex but No Taste switched back to Mr. Impressive.

  No. That name wasn’t enough for the man before him.

  Maybe Mr. Hung Like a Horse, or Mr. Screw Me into Next Month, or Mr.—

  “The shower’s free if you want to go next,” the man said, his voice husky and sweet like bourbon stirred with a cinnamon stick.

  He grabbed a towel and wrapped it teasingly low around his hips. His dark nipples and the way he bit at his lip ring after speaking made Hayato lose all will to attempt to pull up his pants.

  “Unless you have something else in mind.” He looked down at the forgotten leather in Hayato’s hands and grinned like only a cocky early twentysomething who’d spent the last night making a man ten years older writhe and moan all night could.

  “Nah.” Hayato slid the leather up his legs. “I’m heading out.”

  “Can I have your number?”

  Hayato laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “It’s cute. You asking and all.” Hayato zipped up his fly.

  Mr. Bourbon and Cinnamon’s sandy-brown eyes narrowed, then he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. The man seemed to enjoy the gym, but it would take more than a little bicep muscle to distract Hayato. At least without a few drinks in him first.

  Hayato slid his arms through his sleeves and buttoned up his shirt. “I’m sure we had a nice time last night, but I have a boyfriend.”
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  “What? You told me you weren’t seeing anyone.” His mouth dropped open. His pouty lips probably looked great around a cock.

  “I’m not.”

  “But you just said you have a boyfriend.”

  Hayato rolled his eyes. “We’re getting back together today.”

  Mr. Bourbon and Cinnamon shook his head, dripping dark strands of hair framing his youthful face. “That doesn’t make any sense. You were the one who suggested we go to a love hotel in the first place.”

  Hayato sighed, took a tube of Temptation Rose lip gloss out of his pocket, and dabbed it on his lips. Was this boy going to make Hayato explain his whole life?

  “See, Jiro and I got into a fight on Christmas,” Hayato said.

  “And you broke up?”

  “Sure.” Going slow seemed to work for the kid, so Hayato stuck with it. “Jiro overreacted because he’s a high-strung salaryman who worries the world is ending when the Nikkei goes down twenty points. But it’s been almost a week. He’s cooled off by now, and we’re going to get back together. Today. I need to talk to him first. So you see, that’s why I can’t give you my number. It would make things awkward.”

  “It sounds like you and Jiro are over. Forget about your ex and give me a chance.”

  He and Jiro weren’t over. Hayato wrapped his scarf around his neck, tying the ends into a loose knot.

  “I wish you a good New Year.” Hayato kept his language formal and stiff.

  The boy took a step forward. “We had great chemistry. We’d be awesome together.”

  Begging outside the bedroom was the biggest turnoff.

  Hayato couldn’t listen anymore. He grabbed his socks, stuffed his feet into his shoes, and left. How could someone be so clingy after a single night?

  2

  Hayato couldn’t reunite with his love with last night’s hair spray, or other mysterious substances, in his hair, so he snuck into his brother’s tiny studio apartment, where he’d been crashing for most of the week. Subaru worked nights and would sleep well into the afternoon. He’d never hear the shower run.

  Hayato needed to look his best, so he curled his hair into styled wisps pushed to the right, covering an eye. Jiro had once confessed Hayato’s alluring one-eyed look was a major turn-on, and today, Hayato wasn’t taking any chances. He smacked on a fresh layer of lip gloss, but nothing could hide his work suit. Hopefully it wouldn’t upset Jiro, but he hadn’t left Hayato much choice.

  He exited the apartment and got on the train. It would only take a few stops, then he’d be home. He couldn’t wait to return to Jiro and get that sweet, sweet make-up sex. Especially since Jiro had a lot of making up to do.

  They were going to screw in the shower, and in the kitchen, and on the balcony. And if Jiro complained about how the neighbors might see or how unhygienic screwing in the kitchen was, well, maybe Hayato would walk out on him. Then he’d see how it felt to have the door slammed in his face.

  A cold breeze cut through Hayato’s power fantasy. Even joking about walking out made his heart pound louder than rain on a metal roof. Jiro was the missing piece in Hayato’s life, what made him whole. They simply fit. The week without Jiro had left Hayato broken and alone.

  His phone chimed, and a small gasp escaped his lips. The air fogged around him. It had to be Jiro, finally replying with how excited he was to have Hayato home. How the ten-minute walk from the train station was too long and Hayato needed to run!

  Hayato pulled out his phone and checked the screen. His smile faded. His glossed lips pressed into a thin line.

  Jiro hadn’t texted at all. Not now and not in the last five days. All Hayato’s voicemails had also gone unreturned.

  Hayato shook his head and replied to the pachinko parlor manager’s Happy New Year message with a smiley face and goat emoji. Then Hayato texted the dozen other managers he directed with a similar New Year’s message of joy, even if darkness had clouded his heart.

  He shoved the phone back into his pocket and warmed his hands with his breath. They lived way too far from the train station. With each step, he rehearsed what he’d say to Jiro. Hayato would forgive him, sure, but Jiro would have to promise not to flip out over something small again.

  The apartment doorman opened the door. Hayato smiled and wished him a happy New Year, ignoring that the man mentioned not seeing him the past few days.

  Hayato stepped into an elevator and made his way to the eleventh floor. The boring burgundy carpet and fake plants had never looked so welcoming. Even the gaudy golden baroque wallpaper sung.

  He came to his door and stuck his key into the lock, but it wouldn’t turn. Hayato narrowed his eyes and tried again.

  Nothing.

  A sharp pain struck his heart. He and Jiro were meant for each other. They couldn’t continue their life together if Hayato couldn’t open the door.

  “The overreacting bastard changed the locks,” he grumbled.

  The elevator dinged, and Hayato glanced over. Jiro strolled out, boxes of New Year’s food stacked so high in his arms he couldn’t see over them. Hayato had had to practically beg Jiro to pick what dishes he wanted before the store sold out, and here Jiro was, strolling down the hall, ready to eat both servings like it had all been his idea.

  Hayato doubled back, but Jiro must’ve seen him because he darted into the elevator. He balanced the boxed food in one hand while furiously clicking a button with the other. Hayato stuck his hand between the closing doors.

  Jiro said nothing, and not a single bone in his smug body turned.

  Hayato cleared his throat and put a hand to his chest. “I wanted to say I forgive you. Now give me the key to our apartment.”

  Jiro laughed, then peeked his head out from behind the boxes. His cold eyes and his short low-level-management haircut made him appear even more frigid. Hayato wasn’t one of his employees. Jiro couldn’t fire him because he said something Jiro didn’t like.

  “It’s been almost a week. You’ve had time to cool off.” Hayato hated the pleading tone in his voice.

  “I told you. We’re over.”

  Hayato winced and clutched his stomach. Jiro’s words cut like a blade. Pain welled in Hayato’s chest and throat. It couldn’t be the end.

  “You know, at first I thought you were joking, like you were trying to get me to do one of your crazy BDSM role-playing things again. I mean, come on, what yakuza paints his toes like a magical girl every Sunday?”

  “It shouldn’t ma—”

  “But then I remembered your brother. Even thinking about him gives me chills. He’s a yakuza, isn’t he? No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to get any more involved.”

  “Subaru has nothing to do with us.”

  “We had this argument on Christmas. I’m not going to change my mind,” Jiro said.

  “We’ve been together for two years.”

  “If the company ever found out I was dating a yakuza, my career would be over. I can’t take a chance. Not when there’s an upper-middle-management position opening up.”

  The reunion of his dream had been so much sweeter. Instead, Hayato’s anger burned quickly, leaving his limbs heavy and dulling all his senses. Heat flushed through his body like a flame singeing timber.

  “Did it all mean nothing to you?” Hayato asked. “I tell you the truth and then you throw me out like garbage. You didn’t answer my calls and now you change the locks. Did you even stop to think about me? About us?”

  Jiro shook his head. “It’s over, Hayato. It’s been over for a while. We’ve been going through the motions for months. Now I’m going to pretend it never happened, and you should too.”

  “What?”

  The elevator lurched to a stop.

  “If you’ll excuse me, sir. I will be on my way,” Jiro said.

  The doors opened, and Jiro escaped as someone walked in. Hayato stuck out his head. Jiro strolled to the stairs on the other side of the hall.

  “What about my stuff!” he yelled.


  Jiro didn’t even look back.

  The doors shut, and Hayato rode the elevator down to the lobby.

  Jiro’s callous words had scorched Hayato’s heart until it scarred, and he felt nothing. Two years down the drain. Their life together, the future they’d planned.

  Hayato’s phone rang, and he slowly took it out of his pocket. Endo’s name flashed on the screen. Finding a quiet place in the lobby proved difficult with the bustle of families, but Hayato found an abandoned chair near the back exit.

  “Ward Leader Endo,” Hayato answered, hoping his voice didn’t shake as much as his heart ached. The last thing he needed was his boss thinking he couldn’t control his emotions.

  “I got some new work for you today.” Her firm tone left no room for argument. Not that Hayato would ever dare.

  “I understand. Whatever you need, I won’t fail you.”

  “Masuo graduated to officer. You probably met him at the party last night.”

  Everyone from the ward had come to the party. With so many people, Hayato would’ve had a hard time remembering everyone even without the haze of alcohol.

  “He’s the idiot who broke the Mayumaro figurine,” she added. “So it’s your job to show the klutz how to run things. I’m sticking him in the parlor underneath the club. As long as he doesn’t do anything stupid, it should be fine. We need to get it open and making profits.”

  “Got it,” Hayato said. “I’ll see he’s set up right.”