1 HANA
I walk into the penthouse, kicking off my heels with a groan of relief.
It’s been a long day, and my mind spins with the endless details of the land development deal I’ve been finessing for Mori Holdings. This project is going to be huge in terms of looping in the other legit business I’ve been folding under the corporate umbrella: construction firms, commercial and residential real estate, and so much more.
I smirk to myself as I drop my purse on the counter. It would also be a fantastic opportunity for cleaning a lot of money.
Except, I won’t be doing that now, or ever. The old me might’ve jumped on this as a chance for some laundering. But I’ve left those shadows behind.
The Kitsune has officially hung up her mask.
Damian, on the other hand? He thrives in the darkness, embracing it like a second skin.
It’s a balance, we tell ourselves. The perfect balance.
I start to head to the fridge to open some wine. But then I frown as I really take in my surroundings. It’s…dark in here. And the penthouse is way too quiet and still.
“Damian?” I call out, my voice cutting through the silence. There’s no response. My chest tightens, an old, unwelcome anxiety creeping in. He’s usually home by now. And when he’s not, the worst memories come rushing back.
Kolya Ishida’s name is etched into my mind like a scar. The image of Damian being take, and tied up, and tortured, his blood leaking down his body as that motherfucker tortured him—it’s still something I can’t seem to shake from my mind. Not even now, months later. My fingers tighten around the counter’s edge as I shove the thought away.
He’s fine. Damian is fine.
Still, the tension lingers, and it pulls my thoughts in another direction. Everyone’s still calling it a “Cold War”. But the tension between the Mori-kai and the Ishida-kai is mounting by the day, teetering on the edge of an all-out actual war. I hear whispers about Takeshi’s secret “plan,” but every time I ask, my twin dodges the question or just tells me “soon,” which I fucking hate, and he knows it.
I hate waiting. I hate not knowing.
I shake my head, forcing the worry to the back of my mind. My eyes catch on something draped over the back of one of the kitchen counter chairs—a red yarn, vivid against the sleek modern furniture. There’s a note attached to it.
Follow me.
My pulse quickens, and a smile tugs at my lips.
I pick up the yarn and trail it through the penthouse, each step building anticipation. It leads me through the living room area, winding down the hallway toward the bedroom. The shadows seem to deepen as I follow the thread, my breath hitching when I find another note waiting for me in the bedroom.
Undress. Put me on. Kneel here.
Beside it, a black satin blindfold lies in wait. My fingers tremble as I pick it up, a delicious shiver racing down my spine.
Damian loves control, loves to strip me of mine until there’s nothing left but surrender. And I love him for it.
I undress slowly, piece by piece, until the cool air kisses my skin.
I’m already wet.
The blindfold slides over my eyes, plunging me into darkness. Kneeling on the plush rug, I can feel my heartbeat echoing in my ears. The world outside disappears, leaving me suspended in a quiet anticipation that feels electric.
Then I feel him.
The air shifts, the faintest sound of his footsteps reaching me. But it’s his presence, more than anything, that makes my breath catch. The warmth of him radiates as he moves closer, his scent wrapping around me—citrus, clean linen, bergamot, and something uniquely Damian.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “And mine.”
His hands brush over my skin, light as a whisper yet leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Then come the ropes, binding me with a precision that feels as intimate as any caress.
The first loops around my wrist, tugging that arm to the small of my back. The second slips over my other wrist, pulling that one back to criss-cross over the first. I feel my pulse spike as the rope tightens across my skin, pining my arms where they are.
Slowly, the ropes coil and twist around me, slipping over my ribs, around my waist, up between my breasts. I moan softly when I feel him loop the rope around each breast, tightening just enough to send a throbbing, tingling sensation rippling over my skin, tightening my nipples to aching points.
Every knot, every pull, draws me deeper into him, into us.
I don’t fight it.
For so long, my life was about control—holding on so tightly to my independence, my choices, my freedom. But with Damian, I don’t need to hold on. I can let go, knowing he’ll catch me every time.
A firm hand pushes me down until my cheek rests on the plush rug. I moan when his hand teases over my ass. Then it cracks down in a sharp spank, making me cry out in pleasure and pain as the fire roars through me.
Damian spanks me again, then a third and fourth time before his hand slips between my thighs. I coo softly when he cups my eager pussy, dragging a finger through my arousal.
“My my,” he growls quietly. “Exactly when did this greedy, horny little cunt get so fucking messy for me, Kitsune?”
I whimper.
“Was it when you put the blindfold on? When I bound your wrists?”
I cry out as he sinks two fingers into me, curling them deep as my back arches.
“No, no, no…” he murmurs almost to himself. “No, it would have been before that, wouldn’t it? Was it following the yarn? Finding the first note and knowing I’d have you on your knees like this soon? Or was it?—”
“The car…” I blurt, breathless. “It was in the car on the way back from the office. I started to think about you…”
“And you made a fucking mess of your panties.”
I nod, whimpering as I bite my lip. “Yes.”
“Naughty girl.”
I gasp as he roughly loops the rope around one ankle, pulling it tight before he captures the other one and binds the two together. He teases two fingers up and down my pussy again, though now, I’m even tighter with my thighs bound together like this.
“So fucking tight,” he murmurs.
He leans over me, and I whimper when I feel his teeth graze my shoulder, then my neck, then my earlobe.
“I’m going to have to force my cock into this little hole, aren’t I?”
My eyes roll back, and my throat tightens as his fingers sink into me again. I moan, pushing back against him, feeling the bite of the ropes as my movements cause them to tighten. Damian moves back behind me, and when I feel his breath against my slick lips, I shiver in anticipation.
“Fuck…!”
I cry out when his tongue drags through my pussy, sending a shudder down my spine. He growls as he slips his fingers under the ropes around my hips, yanking at them and suddenly tightening everything. I whine in pleasure and pain, utterly trapped, bound, and under his complete control. The ropes press into my skin, tightening around my breasts as my nipples throb with need. His tongue plunges into me, curling deep before he wraps his lips around my clit and starts to suck.
“Damian!”
My whole body tenses and clenches. My core ripples as a wave of heat suddenly slams through me. With a cry, I spasm—or at least, my body attempts to spasm. But I’m tied so tight, all it does it send the thrill of loss of control exploding through me. And all that does is push me to the fucking edge as I suddenly start to explode against his mouth.
The orgasm thunders through me, every muscle screaming, every inch of my skin on fire as I kneel there utterly helpless and at his mercy.
And he fucking knows it. He keeps tonging my clit until my entire reality is spinning and blurring at the edges. Until I swear I’m going to pass out.
It’s then that he slowly pulls away. My pulse skips as I feel him kneel behind me. As his fingers slip into the ropes and pull them tight across my skin.
He eases the swollen, throbbing, huge head of his big cock against my slick, eager pussy.
“Fuck,” he growls quietly, pausing.
I swallow, my brows knitting under the mask. “What?”
“You just look so fucking beautiful when you’re bound like this, so eager for my cock.”
He pushes in, and my eyes bulge under the blindfold.
Oh FUCK.
I will never—and I mean never—“get used to” the feeling of him sliding his size into me like this. And I won’t ever, ever get tired of it.
There’s a delicious ache for a second, when his thickness stretches me to my limit and sinks into me. But fuck, it’s so fucking good. My body strains at my binds, my breath choking in my throat as Damian buries his dick to the hilt inside of me, until his abs are pressed to me ass and he’s hissing lowly in dark pleasure as I clench around him.
“Good girl,” he groans. He grabs my hair in a fist, twisting it around his hand and pulling as he draws out. Instantly, he rams back into me, knocking the wind from my lungs and a cry of primal pleasure from my lips.
“Fuck me!” I gasp.
“With fucking pleasure.”
And he does.
Viciously.
Brutally.
Unceasingly.
All I can do is moan and drool into the plush rug, my body clenching and writhing and coming for him over and over as he fucks me into oblivion. I lose track of the orgasms and of the ways I beg him for more.
All I know is stars flashing past my eyes and thundering through my entire being as we both explode together, my legs shaking and bucking and straining against the ropes as my walls clench and ripple around him. Damian groans, ramming his cock to the hilt inside of me, letting me feel every inch of him throb and pulse as he spills his cum deep inside.
At some point, I’m vaguely aware of him untying me with a care that makes my heart ache. The blindfold falls away, and I blink, my eyes adjusting to the soft light of the bedroom. Damian’s face comes into focus, his dark eyes filled with something raw and unguarded.
But then I notice something else.
A red yarn tied to my pinky.
I frown, tugging on it gently. More yarn unravels, trailing into the shadows of the room. My curiosity grows with each pull, the thread leading me toward something unseen.
And then, just as I tug whatever it is into the light coming in from the neon outside and lift it up in front of me face, I see it.
At the end of the yarn is a ring.
My breath catches, the world narrowing to the delicate loop of gold in my hands. The band itself is smooth and unadorned. But sitting on the top of it is a tiny, ornate, golden origami-looking crane holding a purple stone in its wings.
I lose the ability to breathe as I stare at it, my eyes blinking slowly. My heart skipping.
“It’s my turn to kneel,” Damian growls.
He lowers himself to his knees in front of me, stealing the air from my lungs.
“I love you,” he growls quietly, his voice deep and steady. “You’re my light and my darkness, my chaos and my calm. You’re everything I never thought I deserved. And I will spend the rest of my life proving that I do.”
Tears blur my vision, my hands trembling as he holds the ring out to me.
“Marry me,” he murmurs. “For real. For forever.”
“Yes,” I choke out, the word tumbling from my lips as I nod frantically. “Yes, yes, yes.”
I fall into his arms, clinging to him as the tears flow freely. He kisses me, slow and deep, and in that moment, the world feels whole.
In his arms, I am home.
Forever.