Lotus Flower Bomb: The Mogul Series Book Two

by Goree-Bell, Kenya

  Flower licked back at him and felt triumphant hearing him groan in response. She reached up and pulled him closer with one hand on his neck and anchored the other, holding his braid. She sucked his tongue into her mouth, mimicking what she’d done earlier. He groaned again. She moaned and squirmed, trying to get closer.

  “Enough.” He pulled away and fell back against the pillows and sighed. Flower looked up at him. His lashes created dark shadows against his skin, but they were nothing compared to the tiredness she saw. She moved her leg from over his.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so carried away.” She lay her head back down on his chest to hide her embarrassment and the need that was burning inside her.

  “Never apologize for your passion with me.” He stroked her shoulder.

  “Well, it’s your fault anyway with that thumb action,” she grumbled.

  He chuckled softly and leaned down again to kiss her forehead. “The next time I want you wearing nothing.”

  Chapter 7

  Akchiro stayed away a week after that night, and Flower couldn’t help but think as she pinned her hair up in a tight chignon that he’d did to punish her. Not for being late but for daring to show him concern. How dare I! she thought, walking out the bathroom over to the red silk dress lying across the bed that she’d purchased earlier that day. She refused to let his behavior bother her. She went on as she had, meeting her friends for lunch, shopping, studying the language and culture because the longer she stayed and interacted with people, the more she came to love Tokyo, and not even he could spoil that with his petulance.

  She felt she understood more during her interactions with local people, and Eva even remarked upon it at lunch today and they proceeded to have their entire lunch conversation in Japanese before her two friends had to rush back to work, pushing Flower harder to fully grasp the intricacies of the Japanese language. They liked the fact that now that she had moved closer to their home and offices, she could hang out with them more. She’d spent more time with them since she moved than the whole previous six months she’d been in Tokyo. She had to say that she loved it too. It was like old times except she was not working the long hours she was accustomed to and she had to fill her days with something, which was the main reason her language skills were getting so much better. She’d always been a person who believed in self-enrichment, loving to learn new things, and made a point in learning a new skill every year. Though deep down, she knew that learning his language would go a long way in learning the man. He intrigued her even if his actions were baffling and frustrating.

  She stepped into the dress and pulled the strap up. Zipping the sides, she stepped over to the walk-in closet opposite the bathroom and looked at herself in the floor to ceiling mirror making sure her demi-cup strapless bra didn’t show. She’d been doubtful that the dress would fit the way she wanted with her natural size being a double-D, but the attendant at the couture boutique worked wonders and showed her all the possibilities for someone as petit and curvy as she. The dress fit like a glove. The red silk chiffon was layered to look as if the off-the-shoulder number was a stained glass window. Her heart soared when, after a few alterations to ensure she wasn’t tripping over herself, the beautiful gown was delivered right on time. The hem fluttered around just above her feet like crimson butterfly wings.

  This dress was very high couture, but it was what Akchiro required for this business dinner tonight. Her heart skipped a little when he asked that she accompany him. She knew that he was at the top echelon of society and for him to have invited her on such an occasion spoke volumes. She also knew that most businessmen of Akchiro’s brought their girlfriends and not necessary their wives to such events because mixing business with family was unheard of; Bridget had told her that to speak of one’s family or anything personal was a huge faux pas and they were admonished never to do it. They’d been told the guys who ran Takeda never referred to each other as brothers and never acted in a familiar way around the staff. Knowing that Flower didn’t know what to expect tonight, obviously this was a role he wanted her to fulfill in this relationship.

  Flower did a once-over to make sure her hair was in place and her skin shined, turning to look over her shoulder at her slightly exposed back, and walked out into the living room. Akchiro called the day before to tell her that he would pick her up at eight o’clock, and it was seven forty-five. She walked over to the bar that held a number of high-end spirits and took out her favorite to make a quick and dirty Bombay Sapphire gin and tonic, the perfect low-calorie drink, a smile quirked as she thought of the quip she often gave Eva and Bridget when making the drink. Sipping it, she felt warmth come over her, settling the nervousness that threatened to engulf her. She double-checked to make sure she had her Judith Lieber clutch and her lip-gloss inside.

  The soft whisper of the elevator was her only warning before he was standing just inside the door. After he removed his shoes, he came to where she stood. His heated gaze raked her from foot to crown. She swallowed under his stare and closed the distance between them. Standing on tiptoe, she grabbed his shoulder and pulled him down to place a kiss on his cheek. “Hiyo, would you like a drink before we leave?” He looked at his watch then nodded briefly to her.

  Nerves frayed her, the drink having done nothing to calm her nerves. Flower walked over to the bar and made his drink. As she walked back, she saw that he was quietly assessing her. Judging her. Or at least it seemed that way. She made sure her steps were measured so that she wouldn’t trip over herself bringing him his drink. He took the whisky and tossed it back. If it burned, he gave no indication. He placed the drink on a side table then reached for her, drawing her into the circle of his arms. He bent low to kiss the hollow of her neck. When the soft caress of his lips touched her, his mouth hot against her pulse point, she felt that heat radiate through her body right to her clitoris. He smelled so good.

  “You look stunning, beautiful Flower, like a lotus in bloom.” His voice was coated with ice, but she could feel his hardness pressed high against her abdomen. She wanted to press against him and assuage the ache he’d caused in her body. She willed herself to step back.

  “Thank you, you clean up pretty well yourself.” She liked how he always tried so hard not to smile. It made it that much more of a triumph when he did despite himself, like now.

  Stepping back, his eyes flicked to her hair, and she could see displeasure radiating from him.

  “What?” She stepped past him, moving toward the door, not really interested in tolerating any negativity about her hair. He was right behind her as they walked to the elevator. He stopped her when she would’ve bent down and dropped to his hunches and held her shoe up in order for her to slip her foot inside.

  “I like your hair down.” For some reason she gathered that he hated letting her know that.

  “I like your hair down too.” She slipped her foot inside the other proffered shoe. He stood again in one fluid motion, his eyes hot, his body hard. He made no attempt to hide how hard she made his dick; he wanted her to know what she did to him. He gripped her chin, making her look into the dark obsidian of his eyes.

  “You will wear it down for me later. Only me.”

  Flower knew that all the feminist goddesses everywhere died when she whispered, “Only you.”

  * * *

  “Is this some super-secret place that you all come to have orgies and sacrifice virgins?” Flower asked in hushed tones as they stood outside the doors of an ancient yet wonderfully preserved samurai mansion. Her studies of Japanese culture and history were proving to be amazingly handy. But still. Still, she had never dreamed of being the guest of a man invited to such a place and being able to see inside not as a tourist but as a guest. Eva and Bridget were going to be so jealous when she told them.

  “Orgies no.” She looked over to see he was giving her a sidelong glance, leaving out the virgin sacrifice part. For a minute she thought he knew of her technicality until he added, “I’m sure you have
nothing to fear.” She was about to give a pithy comeback when the doors opened and a man as ancient as the edifice they were about to enter bowed low and invited them to enter.

  Flower felt like she’d stepped into one of the dynastic ages of Japan brought smoothly into the present century with lighting and technology. The home was a seamless transition of old and new. There were two ancient vases almost as tall as she just beyond the entrance. The aesthetic was clean and sleek, nothing without a purpose within view. They were led through two doors. It was obvious they were the last to arrive. Following Akchiro’s lead, Flower bowed to all present then allowed him to escort her to her seat. She realized immediately that they were placed in the seats of the honored guests in the middle. To say she was taken aback by this was an understatement. Akchiro had brought her to an event where he was the guest of honor. He was a man who did what he wanted and dared anyone to challenge him, that much she already knew. Yet she didn’t know in what regard he held these people that he would bring a virtual stranger into their midst and not only that, a Westerner. A Black woman of color. Flower didn’t know what to make of the situation; she knew she could and would hold her own. She was often the only woman in a room full of men, and when she met with executives, she was almost always the only Black female there. There was nothing at this point she had not seen or experienced.

  Every woman there was dressed in high couture besides the two artisans who were dressed in the traditional kimonos that Flower knew were more expensive than what she and the other women wore combined. They held a vaulted place in Japanese society and deference was paid to them by everyone in the room. One of the artisans began to play the koto, Flower had never heard the harp played before and was captivated by the music. Being part of a family that made their living by music, she had been enmeshed in it her whole life. Her brothers both played several instruments which had led them to being able to amass a fortune creating their own music. Producing beats for other artists was only the beginning for FADE, and Ghadi had long since begin making music for movies, commercials, video games, and pretty much anything that needed sound. There was nothing that the company did not have its sound in, not even children’s toys. The resulting fortune was what her brother Ghadi termed “legacy shit” and she was proud to have helped them create it. Part of her job other than being the COO was also finding innovative avenues for them to tap into. She loved a new discovery.

  After the music drifted into the final strands, the food was brought in, and Flower prayed she didn’t embarrass herself or Akchiro by her stomach growling because she had been too busy to eat as she prepared for this dinner. As the appetizer arrived, Flower knew immediately that this was kaiseki, the highest form of haute cuisine. She wondered what famous chef was preparing the meal for them and knew she would have to wait until the end of the elaborate feast to see him. Each dish was a work of art. Every one of them a concoction to intrigue and leave you wanting more. There was very little talk among the women other than pleasantries.

  Flower listened intently as the men, who were all venture capitalists, were trying to get Akchiro to invest in American companies that were in need of cash infusions. Some were tech startups, others real estate and industrial. Akchiro—she had to admire his aplomb as he listened to the men’s pitches, he gave nothing away, not the slightest hint of what he was thinking could be ascertained by his visage. He asked the polite question here and there and then out of nowhere went in like a shark with cool, precise inquiries that told her he already knew everything he needed about their businesses, backgrounds, and the companies they wanted him to invest in. His intelligence and laser-sharp focus on detail was like nothing she had ever seen. She knew then why he took over his family’s business at such a young age. He was a genius. She loved smart men. Watching him was like having a master class in being a mogul. He was the real deal. And she found that incredibly sexy. Akchiro Takeda was a force to be reckoned and that realization came as he took apart each offer and revamped it into a more lucrative project for all involved but especially his company; he was definitely not to be trifled with on any level including in a relationship.

  Even as her body was primed and ready for his touch, trepidation bubbled up inside her thinking of his reaction when they slept together and he realized her technicality. She inwardly cringed thinking about if he were to ever find out who she really was before she told him. Making up her mind that she would just tell him about her technicality, identity, and get everything over with, Flower forced herself to swallow the last bit of dessert, though now the food was sticking in her throat at the possibility of the confrontation they would have.

  The thought of his cold anger at her deception made her want to fidget. She pressed the nail of her forefinger into the pad of her thumb hard to quell the reaction. She always did little things like that to keep her emotions in check when life threatened to overwhelm her. The chef came out and they all thanked and praised him for the wonderful feast. Soon, after many more thanks from the men present for being their honored guest, Akchiro led her out of the mansion to the Rolls Royce where Bao stood beside the door.

  Settling in beside Akchiro, Flower looked at him, following his gaze as he watched the other dinner guests file out then quickly huddle together, seeming to have a more animated conversation than the reserved one they had at dinner. “That seems intense.”

  He turned to fully look at her in frosty assessment. “As I’m sure you are aware. You seemed to follow along just fine.” He spoke in quiet Japanese, daring her to deny it. He reached over, rubbing the nape of her neck. “I’d assumed that you didn’t know my language well.”

  Flower allowed herself to sink into the caress of his hand. “I thought we could communicate better if I learned Japanese.” Her eyes closed against the firm kneeding of his fingers as they loosened the tension in her neck.

  “Unnecessary.”

  Her eyes flew back open at the clipped words. He’d also dropped his hand. “We could have spoken exclusively in English.” Distrust unspoken but loud nonetheless sank into the space between them. Flower asked herself if he thought she was a plant or a spy, but who would’ve known he’d be drawn to her? Of all the pictures she’d ever seen of him, he’d been out with only Asian women. No one would have expected him to seek her out. Yet for some reason she wanted to convince him that she had not been sent to compromise him.

  “I’m good with languages similar to the way you are with negotiating. Part of my wish list while I am here is to become fluent in Japanese. What better way to learn what drives people than through language and culture?”

  “And you wish to know what drives me?” His words were taunting as he scoffed at her, his mouth a cruel slash of disdain. As if the very notion that she would ever know him on that level or that he would ever allow it was absurd. She just looked at him mutinously because she wasn’t going to argue when he was being an asshole about something as simple as her wanting to know him. After a beat, he grabbed her and dragged her into his lap.

  “Let me be clear about what drives me.” He flashed a feral smile at her that was both delicious and frightening in its cruel slant. “In business, power drives me. Making deals, creating opportunity, driving markets, ensuring prosperity for my family and employees—that’s what motivates me.”

  He positioned her so that the hard ridge of his dick was pressed firmly against her bottom. “I still have not forgotten how you tasted on my fingers. Having your hot little pussy wrapped around me and your mouth taking me is what drives me.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and tilted her head back. “Open your mouth,” he demanded.

  His lips were almost savage as she opened for him. She moaned deep against the hot, firm pressure of his lips. Sucking his tongue as he demanded. Their lips were fused in a heated battle. He sought to conquer her in that kiss. Flower gave as good as she got. She took him deep into her mouth, tangled with him, followed his retreat, and plunged her own into his. He tasted like the last vestiges of the whisky
he’d been served after dessert and a spice that was all his own. He was delicious.

  He growled against her lips, angling her head to take him again. He took her with his tongue then, fucking her mouth as his hand moved lower, rubbing her, molding her ass with his hands. He leaned back, shifting her until she was lying fully on him. He never broke their kiss, just slowed it down like he wanted to savor her. Flower sighed as he rubbed her lower back, which had started to ache from the seated position she’d been in. She loved it when he moved from her bottom to her lower back. Her body quaked in response. She could feel the hardness of him thrumming against her. She moved deliberately to make him groan. He deserved a little torture as well, hell, she shouldn’t be the only one made to suffer.

  He rubbed her the whole ride while kissing her. Slowly, leisurely, as if she were an extremely decadent dessert. She relished the feel of him, the barely leashed power and ferocity of him. He would be relentless when he took her. Flower’s nipples tightened at the thought of him being the one whom she would gift with her body.

  Chapter 8

  “Fuck me,” Flower hissed but not in the tone that she’d been hoping to finally utter those words. Nope, that wouldn’t be happening tonight, this week—hell maybe ever if Akchiro was as pissed as she assumed he would be when she went in the bedroom where he was probably sprawled on the bed long, strong, and hard as steel to tell him that her cycle had started. Maybe he wouldn’t care, but that was not the way she wanted her first time with him—looking like a Carrie reject was a hard no for her.

  “Damn.” She shook her head, looking down at the tissue that was stained crimson. At least her dress hadn’t gotten ruined. She’d been sitting and half lying in his lap the entire ride back to the flat, and she thanked all that was holy that she didn’t ruin his clothes. How dreadful would that be? Closing her eyes in silent thanks, she tried to calm herself. She wanted to lie on the floor and kick and scream like a three-year-old in full-blown tantrum mode. Unbelievable.