by Anne Stuart
“Don’t pretend you’re still unconscious—you don’t fool me. He didn’t hit you that hard.”
Jilly didn’t open her eyes. She was lying on something hard; it felt like the tiny cot in the storage room. She moved slightly, just to check, but she didn’t seem to be tied up. That was another improvement, even if someone seemed to have ripped off the top of her head and poured lye inside. Or tentacles.
“Go away,” she muttered into the mattress. She was facedown, and that was fine with her. It felt safer that way.
“I don’t seem to have that option.”
“Shit.” She lifted her head, slowly, gingerly, and looked toward the voice. It was Reno, of course, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Even in the dim light she could see he was a total mess. His white shirt was filthy, blood and dirt ground into it. Dried blood darkened his flame-colored hair, the cut on his cheek had opened again and he looked totally thrashed.
“What happened to you?” she asked, starting to sit upright when her head exploded. She lay back down. “Did you finally annoy someone enough to have them beat the shit out of you?”
“Let’s say someone annoyed me enough,” he said, his voice dry. “How’s your head?”
“It hurts. Why the hell do you care? And why are you here? Don’t tell me you came to offer yourself in my place, because I won’t believe you.” She didn’t bother disguising her grumpiness. It had been a very bad day.
“Of course you wouldn’t. You’re not stupid, and neither am I. I knew Hitomi-san had no intention of ever letting you go. He just wanted to get me in here, as well. As soon as Taka shows up, then nothing will stand in the way of his taking over my grandfather’s organization.”
A memory fought its way through her clouded brain. “He’s not really going to kill my sister.”
“He’s going to try. However, she’s well out of reach, and I don’t think she’s stupid enough to get her feelings hurt and go running out into the streets, straight into the arms of people who’ve been trying to kill her.”
“Feelings hurt?” she echoed, sitting up, her rage more powerful than her pain. “That’s what you call it? You miserable rat bastard, it was leave or kill you myself, and it’s not like I haven’t killed anyone before.” Her voice only wavered slightly.
He leaned his head back against the wall, and she could see a dark bruise forming on his chest beneath the ripped shirt. “You’re still an idiot. Why didn’t you keep your mouth shut in there?”
“Would it have made a difference? Would they have let us leave?”
“No. But at least you wouldn’t have a headache.”
“Thanks for the concern,” she said. “Give me a couple of aspirin and I’ll be fine in the morning.”
“You’ll be dead in the morning.”
“Aren’t you a bundle of laughs?” she said.
He pushed himself off the floor, carefully, and moved over to the bed. She scrambled out of the way, but on such a small surface there wasn’t far to go, and she wasn’t about to go for the floor.
He sat down, leaning back against the wall and letting out a sound halfway between frustration and exhaustion. “Just be quiet for a moment, Ji-chan,” he said. “I need to think.”
“You don’t need to think,” she said. “You need to get out of here and find out if your grandfather is still alive. You need to warn him about Hitomi.”
“He already knows about Hitomi-san. And he’s still alive—I would know if he wasn’t. My grandfather is not going down easily. But Kobayashi may not have had the chance to tell him that Hitomi’s made his move.”
“So?” she said. “Make some daring escape. Get us out of here, warn your grandfather and save the day.”
“You’ve been out for a while. I’ve been trying. The door is locked and bolted from the outside, the windows are barred and I have nothing to use as a weapon.”
“What about all those boxes? Maybe there’s something in there….”
“The boxes are filled with fake Chanel handbags. I don’t think we can beat someone senseless with a purse.”
“In every box?” she said, looking at the huge pile. Each one was almost four feet square, which made for a hell of a lot of fake Chanel.
“I dumped a couple while you were still out. We can always try hiding, but I don’t think that would buy us more than a few minutes. And it’s not my style to hide.”
“And it’s mine?” she said, insulted.
“You’re not going to have any say in the matter.”
“Now, why does that sound familiar?” she said. They were back to scrapping—she could almost forget the dark, hot hours in the king-size bed. Almost forget the casual cruelty of his words just a few hours ago.
“They beat the shit out of you,” she said after a moment, quieter.
“Yes. But Azuki’s in the hospital.”
“Who’s Azuki?”
“The kid who hit you.”
Silence. “Isn’t that a little extreme?” she said.
“He’s lucky I didn’t kill him.”
Another silence. “Why?”
He closed his eyes. “Why what?”
“Why did you want to kill him? Why did you come here when you knew you were walking into a trap? Why did you spend the night in bed with me and then tell me I was lousy at sex? What the hell is going on?”
He opened one eye to look at her. “I thought we agreed you weren’t stupid, Ji-chan. Figure it out.”
The problem was that the room was dark—the bare lightbulb barely penetrated the cavernous space. And darkness made everything more intimate.
She tried to retreat farther on the narrow cot, but there was nowhere else to go, and she’d inadvertently gotten his attention.
“Are you trying to melt into the wall, Ji-chan? I don’t think that’s a reasonable way out of here.”
“So we just wait?”
He gave her a long, considering look. “If you’re bored, I can offer a suggestion.”
“No!” she said, her voice a nervous little squeak.
He laughed then. Rat bastard, indeed. “You can only be a virgin once, you know. It would pass the time.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“That wasn’t what I was thinking of.” He had a lazy half smile, and he stretched, wincing slightly as something pained him.
“You must practice that look in the mirror,” she said, going for caustic.
“What look?”
“That ‘I’m such a hot bad boy that you can’t resist me’ look,” she said.
He laughed at that. “I didn’t know it worked.”
“Why the hell are you so cheerful?” she demanded, incensed. “We’ve been imprisoned by murderous yakuza, we can’t find a way out and we’ll probably be dead by tomorrow.”
He shrugged. “At this point we don’t have anything to lose, and it’s going to be a long night.”
“For you, maybe. I intend to sleep.”
“The bed is very small.”
“You can take the floor.”
“I can take you.”
She froze. “The hell you can. I’m never having sex again in my entire life.”
“That’s not much of a vow if you’re only going to live one more day,” he pointed out.
“You said I was lousy in bed.”
“I said I prefer experienced women. So I’m offering you a chance to practice and distract me at the same time. Besides, I don’t have any other choice.”
“Use your hand,” she snarled.
She was in the wrong place, backed into a corner of the room on the tiny cot. When he moved toward her there was no place for her to go. She could dive onto the cement floor, but that wouldn’t slow him down, and he had a dangerous look in his eyes. “I don’t think so,” he said softly.
“If you touch me, I’ll kill you.”
“I don’t think so,” he said again. “You want me.”
She let out a hoot of laughter that sounded very convincing. She almost believed it he
rself. “Dream on.”
He was close now, very close, moving like a panther across the tiny space, and his mouth was dangerously near hers. She could feel her heart pounding, her palms were getting sweaty and she’d forgotten all about her headache.
“Say no, Ji-chan. Tell me you don’t want it.” She opened her mouth to say it, but he stopped her. “But only if you mean it. Tell me you don’t want me to put my hands on you.” He let his fingers trail down her neck, so soft, so sexual. “Tell me you don’t want me kissing you.” He brushed her mouth with his, barely a glancing touch. “Tell me you don’t want to come with me inside you.”
Any self-respecting female would tell him to fuck off. She’d tried that, but it hadn’t seemed to sink in. She could tell him no, right now, and he’d move back, away from her. Like a predator who thought better of the tasty snack he’d come across.
But she might die tomorrow. And if that was going to happen, she didn’t want to be alone tonight.
He was on his knees on the cot now, and his hands had slipped down to the front of her blouse, and he was slowly unbuttoning it, pushing it off her shoulders so that it puddled around her, and she only had the silk camisole to cover her. “Say no, Jilly,” he whispered in her ear. “Tell me to leave you alone. Tell me you don’t want me. Go ahead and lie.” His mouth was at her ear, and she could hear soft, seductive whisperings, and then he bit her earlobe, a tiny sting of pain and pleasure.
She gathered her self-respect for one last time. “I don’t want to spend the last night of my life having sex with someone who doesn’t care about me,” she said, waiting for him to retreat, waiting for a mocking comment, waiting for the end.
He sat back on his heels, looking at her, and for once his beautiful face was still and thoughtful. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
For a declaration of emotion it was piss-poor, but it was enough. She sat very still as he pulled the camisole over her head and tossed it on the floor, and then his hands started up her sides, slowly.
“Did I tell you that you have beautiful breasts?” he whispered as his hands closed over them. “Just perfect. Not too big, not too small. And they taste delicious.” He leaned forward and put his mouth on one, and she jumped as she felt a powerful current move through her body, ending between her legs. He moved his mouth to her other breast, sucking it, and she heard a quiet little moan that could only have come from her.
“I don’t know which one I like better,” he whispered, using his tongue to tease her nipple into a hard knot. “This one—” he moved to her other breast, using his teeth this time, just letting them scrape lightly over it “—or this one.”
“Oh, God,” she whispered, losing it.
“I take it that’s a yes?” he said, kissing the underside of her chin, nuzzling her lightly.
She tried to gather one last shred of dignity, even though she wanted to throw it to the winds. “You used me last night,” she said.
“If you say so.”
“So I’ll use you tonight.” It seemed to make sense, at least to her.
“My pleasure,” he said, and pulled her down onto the narrow cot so that he knelt between her legs.
She’d never felt more vulnerable in her life. She was half naked, he was fully clothed, and she’d just given him total power over her, for all that she thought she’d be using him. There was no way she could feel in control when his hands were touching her, his long fingers brushing against her skin. It was a lost cause. She didn’t move when he slid his fingers beneath the draw-string waist of the silk pants and began sliding them off her legs.
Leaving her in a thong again. Exposed. Waiting.
He pulled off his torn jacket and tossed it on the floor. He yanked off his ripped and stained shirt, as well. There were bruises on his beautiful chest. Things were beginning to fall into place. He’d tried to kill yakuza-boy and had been beaten. He’d tried to kill the man who’d hurt her.
She rose on her elbows to look at him. He was bruised, bloody and beautiful. And he was hers, whether he knew it or not.
She put one hand flat across his belly. And then she began to undo the button on his pants, and then the zipper, and he watched her, making no move to help or encourage her.
She didn’t need help or encouragement. Tonight she knew what she wanted, knew what she needed, and she wasn’t going to let anything get in her way. Tonight she would show him just how good she could be.
He was already hard, as she expected he’d be. He was wearing silk underwear, not the fundoshi that she’d planned to tear off with her teeth. Maybe that would come later. If there was a later.
“Sit back,” she said in a low voice.
He raised an eyebrow but did as she asked, leaning back against the wall as she sat up.
She started with his neck, the fragile spot at the base of his throat, kissing him, moving carefully across the bruises until she reached the flat male nipples. She licked and he groaned, reaching his hands up to touch her hair.
She pushed him back down on the cot. “This is for me,” she said sternly.
He tasted of sweat and blood and almond soap. She sucked at his nipple, and it hardened in her mouth.
She moved down his stomach with her lips. She could feel the increasing beat of his heart, the tremor when her tongue touched a new sensitive spot. He was so delicious she wanted to bite him, and she did, lightly, just below his navel.
He muttered a word in Japanese, one she hadn’t heard, but she had no doubt it was positive. She ran her tongue over the bite mark, and moved on.
“Lift up your hips,” she whispered, and he did what she told him to, letting her slide his black pants down his long legs.
If she’d had any doubts as to whether she was being effective, it was wiped out. His cock was hard, bigger than she’d expected. No wonder it had hurt in the beginning.
“I thought Japanese men were supposed to be smaller than average,” she said.
“Whoever did the measuring hadn’t been around you. Shit!” The exclamation came out as she touched him, carefully wrapping her fingers around his silken length.
“No cursing,” she chided him, her fingertips dancing on the smooth, beautiful skin of his cock. “You have to behave yourself.”
“And when have I ever behaved myself?” he said, his voice strained.
“If you don’t, I won’t do this.” And she let her tongue drift across the head, tasting the dampness that had already gathered.
“Shi—” He broke off the word and said something in Japanese. More words she hadn’t heard.
She lifted her head to look at him. His eyes were half closed, and his hands were fisted on the thin blanket beneath him. “What are you saying?” she asked, suspicious.
A half smile tugged at his perfect mouth. “Just compliments, Ji-chan. Do it again. Please.”
The odd thing was she wanted to. She wanted to take him into her mouth and make him groan again, she wanted to make him as out of control as she’d been the night before, and she wanted to do it with her mouth.
She’d read all sorts of terms in the romance novels she loved. Alabaster shaft. Rigid pole. Turgid, tumescent rod….
It was a cock, big and hard, and she slid her lips over it, bringing as much as she could into her mouth.
He muttered something incomprehensible, and for a moment his hand released the blanket he was gripping to hover over her head, and then he put it back again, tense, aroused, incredibly patient as she tasted him, explored this strange part of his body that was so mysterious and powerful.
She tried to remember the books, but her brain was going on autopilot, and she lifted her head to look up into his dreamy face. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said, suddenly worried.
“Do anything you want,” he murmured, and this time he let his hand touch her face, a reassuring caress. “Just don’t bite too hard.”
She laughed, still a little uncertain, but she wanted him in her mouth too much to worry. She wanted him everywhere,
over her, inside her, wherever he wanted to be. Her own body was trembling now, and she could feel her arousal so strongly that it distracted her. She wanted, she needed more, and she didn’t know what to do.
His hands cupped her head, gently, guiding her into a rhythm, and he took her hand and placed it around the base of his cock, the part that was too big to fit in her mouth, and his hands guided her, pressing, squeezing.
She gave up any pretense of control, lost in the sensations she was drawing from him. She was moving faster, sucking harder, and she wanted him to come in her mouth, she needed it….
But just as she felt him begin to peak, he pulled her away, lifting her with seemingly effortless ease and putting her astride him so that she was straddling his cock, with only the thin scrap of cloth between them.
“I don’t know whether I love thongs or hate them,” he said in a shaky voice. He broke the straps and tossed it to one side, and then he placed the head of his cock against her. She waited for him to push it in, to finish it, but he didn’t move.
“It’s up to you,” he said. “Take what you need.”
“I don’t…I can’t…”
“Of course you can,” he said, his soft voice at odds with the tense control she could feel rippling through his body. “Just take what you want.” And he put his hands on her hips, to reassure her, not to rule her.
She sank down, just a little, and she could feel him filling her, pushing into her, and a little spasm of release shook her. He held her steady while it lasted, and then, when she was breathing again, she took more of him, and another small climax hit her.
She looked down to where their bodies were joining and began to tremble. “Please,” she whispered.
His fingers tightened on her hips for a moment, then relaxed again. “If you want it, Jilly, you have to take it.”
Somehow her hands had gotten to his shoulders, clutching them. She pushed his head back and kissed him as she took him deep inside her with one, fluid move.
His hand was tangled in her hair, and he was kissing her, with a kind of desperation that was the finish for her. She started to climax again, in slow, powerful waves sweeping through her body, and she dropped her head on his shoulder, holding on as the convulsions shook her body.
