Rage

The Viper and Chef

The Viper and Chef

Krie

“ T he fuck is your problem, wife?”

Dragging my gaze away from the landscape of the countryside just north of Osaka, I look at my mean-ass husband in utter disbelief.

“Nothing,” I mumble, swallowing the lump in my throat. Turning from back to the landscape we’re racing by in the sleek Rolls-Royce Phantom, flying like we’re on a cloud. A queasy cloud. With every sleek turn or swerve we take up the countryside my stomach heaves.

Silence drops between us so heavy and hurtful. I try to swallow it down, but it may as well be a huge wad of cotton clogging my throat.

How can someone who has a genius-level intellect be so fucking dense? I guess he’d have to care first. Which he doesn’t, as I am starting to realize more and more — at least not about me. His business, his connections to the vast Yakuza syndicate he’s forging with his brother and cousins, and whoever he keeps running back here to Japan to fuck is what he cares about, but it ain’t me. Definitely not me.

“You will look at me, Krie-chan.” The words are uttered with so much wrath that I do, in fact, find myself looking at him aghast. He hasn’t called me that in months. Try as I might, I can’t pinpoint what I could have done or rather what he could have found out that has left him acting this way. The truth is, it’s probably something to do with my family. The proverbial thorn in our sides or rather our marriage.

His gaze rakes me from my Uggs up the lines of my elegant jumpsuit to the high, loose, messy bun I’m wearing. The way his gaze flicks over me, you’d think I had on a dirty sack. No my couture YSL jumpsuit is not to his exacting standards. Not that I care. I’m tired — in fact, I’m exhausted. I’m bloated, and I worked my tail off at my restaurant, The Camellia, before entrusting it to my capable but still young sous chefs for the holiday season.

Coming to Japan to spend this precious time with my husband’s ruthless family was not on my list of things to do and definitely not a preferred activity during such a sacred time.

Yet when Flower extended her invitation, the first since she and Akchiro reconciled last year, Kiyoshi felt an obligation to accept for both of us. I love my cousin by marriage, I do, but I’d rather be caught in a Sun Down Town after dark than come back here. I’d probably fare better.

I face him still not believing he brought me back here.

“What?” Immediately, I realize my mistake snapping at him. His face grows colder if that is even possible.

“The fuck, you say?” Steely hands are snatching me into his lap, making my tender breasts smash into his hard chest. Eyes narrowing at my gasp and the wince I give from the contact, he assesses me silently for a long moment.

“You will not demand my face. Your behavior is unacceptable. We won’t even talk about your actions, your lies.” He bites at me through gritted teeth.

“I-I haven’t done anything.” I look him straight in the eye. The truth is I haven’t. I may have helped my cousins with various enterprises and escapes from their unhinged men, but I haven’t done anything to him. I’d never hurt him.

The cruelty of the smile he gives me wretches my heart. The tinge of sadness behind it, the disappointment is nearly unbearable.

I push down thoughts of my secret project. He couldn’t have possibly figured it out otherwise this trip would have been canceled.

Suddenly my chest heaves. I can’t bear that look. Acid eats up the back of my throat.

“Stop,” I gasp, lunging forward. “Make him stop the car.” I manage to get out, holding back the gorge rising as best I can.

Kiyoshi gives the command, and the car swerves, stopping seconds later.

I’m out of the car and on the side of the road, heaving up the meager contents of my tummy like a drunk sorority girl after a game night party.

After what feels like a lifetime and I’ve birthed a lung out of my mouth later, I rise weakly to stand to my full five-foot-two height.

I notice his huge shadow looming over my shoulder seconds before a monogrammed handkerchief comes to rest there. The scent of it reminds me of him and is soothes me despite us being at odds.

“Arigato,” I mumble, taking his offering.

More stony silence as he passes me a mini bottle of water to rinse my mouth.

I don’t say anything this time. Words are useless to a man like my husband. Action is all he knows and respects. It’s enough that I gave my thanks. Anything else is seen as weakness in a man who deals with sycophants on a daily basis. The last thing he wants from his wife is obsequiousness.

Silently, we make our way to the car. He helps me inside.

As soon as he settles, he pulls me into his arms almost as if he’s cuddling me.

I know better. He’s going to punish me. Tenderness always precedes his punishments, and aftercare always follows.

“You will tell me why you are sick,” he quietly demands after we have gotten back to the road leading to Takeda Manse.

My mind spirals. “Eating hastily yesterday as I was getting ready for the trip,” I shrug mumbling into the tendons of his neck. I can feel his gaze peeling the skin of my skull back in an attempt to figure me out. To see if I’m lying to him. I’m not. Everything has been so hectic. My nerves frayed from the tension that plagues our marriage these last couple of months.

Taking a chance, I snuggle closer. By the way his stiffens, I expect him to pitch me over to the other side of the car. Eventually, he relaxes. Probably in a far shorter time than my harried brain realizes. Still why is he stiffening? Holding himself rigid as if he can’t stand to touch me?

Strong arms circle me. I sigh. The cramps from the retching have subsided enough for me to relax.

I let exhaustion pull me under and dream about sweeter times…

Months earlier…

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” I murmur, smiling when my husband’s eyes peek at me through the thick fringe of his lashes.

“You beat me awake. Impossible,” he scoffs, rising to ease back against the headboard, letting the sheet fall to his waist. His wiry form is a mass of lean muscle, not an ounce of fat to spare. It takes everything in me not to fall into the invitation I see in his singularly focused gaze.

“I set my timer. I have something special for you,” I tell him.

His brow quirks, and a skeptical smile plays across his face. “For me?”

“Yes, silly.” I lean in, taking his mouth. Long, taper fingers spear into the curls at my nape.

Our tongues tangle. He never has morning breath, so I’m more than eager to let him linger on my lips, drawing out sighs that make my coochie clench with promise his mouth is making.

It takes everything in me not to lean in more when he tries to draw me down. “Uh-uh, babe. Come on.” I pull back with a cajoling smile, gently tugging on his arm.

“Are you serious?” he grumbles, looking meaningfully down at the tenting cover.

“Later, I promise.” Backing up because I know if he presses the issue, I will put my hands on him and he won’t stop until I’m ruined with no energy. Today is too special to let him distract me.

“I’m going to hold you to that, wife.” He growls, throwing off the covers, standing nude before me with a ragingly hard dick. The glistening tipped, heavy-veined appendage has my mouth watering.

“Go ahead and take care of your business. I’ll be right here.” Shooing him away, I pull my robe a little tighter to reduce some of the tension that kiss caused in my now-sensitive body.

“Ready?” I ask when he emerges moments later in the black silk loungewear he prefers. Per his tradition, not an inch of his body is revealed. I’m the only person who has ever seen him fully naked. Seems fair since he is the same for me. My first, my last, my everything.

“Sure.” He deadpans the obvious with a dry smirk on his face.

Rolling my eyes, I grab his hands, pulling him behind me.

My heart trips over itself as I take him through the grand expanse of the samurai mansion my husband had built in my small hometown of Shelby-Love, Alabama, when he was installed as the CEO of the Creative Chaos factory by his cousin, Akchiro, as punishment for trying to usurp his position.

The fact that he survived that and managed to marry me is a miracle, which is why I feel no small amount of trepidation about what I’ve done. Kiyoshi is not a man who likes secrets, and he also doesn’t like surprises, but if I can’t surprise him today of all days, then what are we doing?

“What’s this?” he asks when we step onto the garden terrace.

“Just a little something I threw together for your birthday. Happy birthday, babe.” I can feel how tremulous my smile is. I see him track it.

I see the confusion on his face then as the realization dawns. My heart aches as I come to a realization as well. He forgot his own birthday.

I watch as his onyx gaze falls on all his favorite dishes from home. Some he’s probably never had in the years he’s been the CEO of Creative Chaos, some he’s not indulged in since childhood.

Almost as if he’s afraid the food is going to attack him, he makes his way over to the spread and picks up a hanami dango. His eyes raise and meet mine in wonder. I give him a slight shake of my head.

“I made them all myself,” I say softly. “Sit, sit, eat while they are still warm.”I tell him in Japanese, knowing I rushed back to our bedroom as soon as I had everything ready. Waving for him to take the seat centered among the various treats.

I hold my breath watching as he does. As soon as his bottom touches the chair, I hurry over to serve him. Patiently, I wait, nerves frayed as hell, as he samples every dish from sweet to savory.

“Come sit with me, kirei.” He says with a solemnness that I’ve come to expect. Still, I preen just as I do every time he calls me beautiful.

When I sit, I more than feel his quiet appreciation. Smooth, firm lips press a kiss on the hollow of my neck.

“Taste,” he rumbles near my ear. My mind can’t help going back to a few years ago when he was my ultimate nemesis, making me taste all the food I served him before he’d dare touch it.

I meet his gaze just as I did back then when my lips close over the sweet rice ball of the hanami dango. His gaze fires, smolders, and consumes me, watching as I take the ball from the skewer. The flavor is light and delicate, with just a hint of sweetness.

“Good?” A small smile plays across his mouth, and he watches me.

“Um-hum,” I smile back. Cupping the nape of my neck, he draws me into the sweetest kiss.

“Not as good as you,” he says when he leaves me panting.

“Arigato, little chef.”

“Okay,” I say, looking over my shoulder to make sure he’s not peeking. “You can open your eyes.

Stepping out of his way so he can view his gift, I move to stand at his side.

I watch, and he looks at the portrait of his father I had commissioned.

“How?” He asks, stunned awe packed into the word. Quickly, he looks at me, then back at the portrait. I see him visibly swallow as he takes in the painting of his father standing out against what looks to be a matte black background, but as he steps closer, it becomes clear that there is a myriad of colors inlaid within. Closer still, you see messages inlaid in kanji with the portrait.

We uncovered many of his father’s writings after the death of his mother. Kiyoshi treasures them more than anything.

“Kana and Hisashi helped me pick the best ones,” I tell him in answer to his question about his gift. My Japanese is good but not that good to determine which of his father’s writings were the best to use. So, I enlisted his siblings for help. They were so excited, though Hisashi seemed to be in an intense debate with his Guardian, who wanted to be a little more bloodthirsty. Acquiescing to the fact that his father was not all sunshine and roses; they eventually came to family, art and beauty from Kana. Hisashi chose loyalty, work and sacrifice.

Taking his time to read them all, he moves gracefully from end to end of the portrait?”

“Who did the portrait?” He asks, never taking his eyes off the piece.

“Mai’s brother, Tsuyoshi. I saw one of his paintings when she had me over for lunch, and it was amazing. When I saw it, I knew he would be perfect… and discreet.” I add that last part knowing more than anyone how private my husband is about family matters.

His visible stiffness at the mention of his once-fiancée and my association with her eases when I go into more detail about the process of having the piece made for him. The Yakuza Prince, as he is known, is famous for his discretion as he is for his ruthlessness. What many don’t know about him is his virtuoso artistic talent.

Turning fully to me the first time since seeing the painting, he looks down with all the love he never believed he could have for me. “It’s perfect. Just like you.”

Tugging me into his strong arms. He whispers against my curls, “I don’t need gifts when I have you, but thank you. Thank you, Aishiteru yo.”

Now…

I look how I feel. Like a corpse. I could dead-ass be an extra on The Walking Dead with the way I’m looking. My messy bun is totally flopped to the side, hanging in a limp ponytail with a clip looking like it decided against jumping at the last minute and is hanging on by its fingernails.

My eyes are hollow, my cheeks sallow, and my lips look dry with the gloss chewed away by nerves. I’m starting to feel as frazzled as I did when I first got involved with Kiyoshi.

That time was maybe the most fraught time of my life aside from losing my parents a few years prior.

I nearly lost everything. The whole town and some of my family seemed so against me. At the time, I didn’t know Kiyoshi worked quietly in the shadows to support me — not until the very end. Somehow, we made it through. I hope that he stops icing me out and tells me what his deal is.

The urge to use the restroom interrupts my critical assessment of my current dishevelment screaming at me from the mirror.

At least I was given the small mercy of having no one but the most minimal of the Takeda staff present when we arrived. I still kind of miffed that Kiyoshi didn’t bother waking me until the car came to a stop at the entrance. Though it is only mid-afternoon, we were told Akchiro and Flower were indisposed at and could not personally greet us. Like I said, small mercies. It would not be good for the de facto head of the family to see me in such a state, and Flower would certainly have been worried. So much so that she’d reached out to Delightful, my cousin, and her sister-in-law, not to mention my other cousins in Shelby-Love. Then all hell would break loose if Oz thought for a moment that Kiyoshi was mistreating me. Knowing how intense my family is, I cringe at the thought. No, things are not that bad. And I know how to deal with Kiyoshi. He’s mine, and I know who I married.

Pushing the door of the water closet open, I hobble over to the toilet. I’m all but starting to tinkle when the door is shoved open.

“Here,” he snaps with a damning look, whipping out a pregnancy test strip, causing me to jump with a high-pitched “eep”.

Startled, I touch the place over my heart he made gallop with his popping up like a weirdo super villain out of nowhere to attack me with a pregnancy test.

Fuck.

“Stop and take the test, Krie,” he bites out.

Obeying his demand, I try — I really do, but now that I think of it on the plane I drank a lot of water and wine.

Heart racing, I finally manage to Kegel enough to stop the flow.

My hand trembles as I take the stick he’s holding out like an indictment.

Dropping his arm, he steps back and watches very much like the vipers he tattooed on his body.

His gaze is lasered between my legs as I let the stream flow. Just as I finish, he steps forward, grabbing a tissue.

“Open,” he grounds out.

Splaying my legs wider, I try to bite back the strangled squeak as he reaches between my thighs, brushing the tissue against my pussy before letting it drop.

“Give it to me.” Handing him the stick, I watch as he wraps it in another tissue before stepping out, leaving me there staring after him.

My heart is beating out of my chest.

Scrambling, I take more tissue to do a better job — because what was that little swipe going to do; and hurry after him.

He is staring at the stick when I reach his side. His breath is sawing in and out like he’s run a marathon.

It’s like slow motion when he turns his wrath-filled gaze on me. His jaw works like he’s grinding glass. His nostrils flare. He closes his eyes and shakes his head before allowing his gaze to rest on me again.

Pressing his lips closed in a hard line, he flings the test on the counter, making it clatter against the marble then stalks out of the bathroom.

My tummy is in knots like my period is starting while I stand watching after him for a few moments.

Picking up the test, I know that is an impossibility when I see the double lines.

Kiyoshi

This little motherfucker, I swear. I could ring her neck. I needed to leave before I did or said something that would further solidify me as the monster she likes to make me out to be.

We have been through this. She has been adamant about not having a child, especially mine, anytime soon. And now when I am in the midst of restructuring part of our organization to work with the Tatsumoto, Cruz, Love, and Savelle syndicates, she decides without any consultation to bring an innocent into the midst.

Rage pours through me like a gasoline fire. Having no place to put it. I go to my family’s dojo.

I waste no time stripping and getting work going, going through the motions to loosen my body.

Sufficiently warmed, I take my sword from its scabbard clearing my mind as I take my first kujutsu form.

Slowly building my momentum until I’m making smooth slashes and sharp, precise lunges, I lose myself to time, totally immersed in the graceful fluidity of movements drilled into me with more than three decades of training. Takedas begin training at the age of three formally, but really basic instruction starts as soon as we can stand and follow basic commands. This is all I’ve ever known, and for a long time before a certain little curvy chef came into my life, all I have ever felt comfortable with. Training, strategic thinking, and working to increase the vast holdings of the Takeda has been drilled into me from the time I was a child. The Takeda Legacy is all I have ever been taught to want — it wasn’t until my brothers’ misfortunes and later loving Krie that those dreams turned to ash. Our legacy, though storied in Japan’s history, is rife with psychotics, carnage, and despair, the bequeathment of the Takeda. I can’t allow it to continue. The devastation when Krie chose not to allow my seed to take root almost broke me, only then to discover it was helped along by my mother’s machinations. Knowing we would have no children resulting from our union gave way to relief, knowing the probability of creating a monster like my mother.

Those lines on that fucking stick — fuck. Her deception is even worse. All this bullshit about communication when she went behind my back and had her IUD removed.

Fluid movements slide into more. Ferocity holds me in its embrace as I practice one kill after another. We don’t battle our enemies like this anymore. My demons are my only adversary in the moment. I can’t allow the rage eating at me to further push Krie away. I didn’t miss her confusion and hurt at my reaction. Did she really not think I wouldn’t find out? Did she think I wanted this after everything we’ve been through?

“Do you want a real fight, cousin, or would you rather keep punching the air?” Words like ice draw my attention to Akchiro, lounging against the entrance of the dojo.

Narrowing my eyes as he moves gracefully into the room going over to the wall laden with weapons, I say nothing, only nod when he pulls a kanabō from the wall, swinging the bat-like spike mace. His eyes glint with malice as he regards me.

“Family issues?” His mouth hitches up in a cruel smirk.

“Whenever is there not with the women we’ve chosen?” I ask, reminding him none too gently about his own recent circumstances.

“Hai,” the motherfucker has the nerve to chuckle, not at all bothered. “Shall we?” He bows, and I return the salutation.

We clash in a stinging blow. Neither the katana nor the kanabō are blunted, so when he glances my shoulder with a particular devious move, I wince as the sharp spikes rip my skin.

“For her sympathy, old man.” Akchiro winks in a particularly mischievous way.

Dropping low, I swirl in a rapid circle, taking one leg beneath him. He flips, using the kanabō as a counterbalance.

I grunt in approval. My cousin’s moves have always been superlative.

Still, the rage purging through my veins gives me the advantage. Attack after relentless attack finally leaves a nick opening at the base of his throat. In a move that, if I held any real intention behind it, would have separated his head from his body, I slice into the divot right beside his jugular.

“Enough,” he grounds out, acquiescing to my win with a bow. Nodding grudgingly because I could’ve gone a couple more rounds.

“Good session.” I say, taking my sword to clean before retiring it to its place on the wall.

“So what is all this about?” Ripping off a square of muslin to stanch his wound, he eyes me shrewdly.

“Krie’s pregnant.” I tell him, not bothering to meet his gaze as I perform my cool-down routine. The sparring session has done nothing to relieve the tension in my body.

“I assume congratulations are not in order,” he murmurs, eyes steady but holding no judgement.

“We’d agreed to wait.” Sighing, I move into another position.

“I too thought Flower and I were aligned on the issue of more children.” He tells me, going through his own exercises. “Quite the opposite of what you seem to be going through, though. I wanted more kids, and she wanted to wait — indefinitely.”

I don’t miss the frown that attests to one of the core reasons he almost lost his wife a year ago.

“I’m in that same space. For many of the same reasons, probably.” I tell him, using none of the tatemae we are known for, no. I’m laying it out, plainly for him. Full honne. “Insanity runs deep in this family. Who knows what kind of monster we are going to bring into the world?”

“You mentioned monster brother?” The low drawl of amusement has me meeting the clear gaze of my brother.

Stopping the cringe before it registers, I face my brother, Hisashi, as he moves into the room dressed for exercise with a smooth, casualness that would mislead some to think he’s not the ruthless killer that he is. He did what I could never bring myself to do, and for that, he’s my hero.

“Brother, I misspoke.” Bowing to him in apology is wasted. He’s already waving it away like it doesn’t matter.

“I am who I am.” He comes to stand opposite me alongside Akchiro. “I assume congratulations are in order?” He pauses, taking me in. “Or rather, lamentations?” Chuckling, he shakes his head. “I felt the same until my little wife assured me. That when we are ready — which I can assure you would be any day if she were to have her way. Diluting the bloodline with fresh stock will probably offset some of the madness that we’ve been plagued with. Also, Kiyoshi,” he muses, his eyes flashing with the momentarily with the other entity that lies within. “Your brother was nurtured to become what we are. Your father did his best, but Hisashi nursed at the breast of a viper. You did as well.” The cold chill of my brother’s Monster-Guardian doesn’t negate the truth of his words.

“Your children will have you and Krie to safeguard them.” Akchiro agrees, giving me a sliver of hope.

“Now who’d like to spar with us?” Hisashi asks, pulling a spear down. Never to be called a coward, my cousin and I both pull down new weapons, knowing it will take both our prowess to tame my brother and the monster who lives in his mind.

Krie

Kiyoshi is angry with me, and I can’t even blame him. Hell, I’m mad at myself. It was never my intention to get pregnant, just as my restaurant is taking back off after the fire destroyed it a little over a year ago. Now is not the time to be a new mom.

Still, I want this baby. As much as I know I wasn’t ready last time. I know with everything in my being I am now.

I look up to the slide of the door as Kiyoshi enters. Very much like the last time we were here when his mother feigned her illness, he’s incensed. Color is riding high on his cheekbones, and I don’t for one moment delude myself into thinking it is because he’s just finished working out. Which is evident by the way the linen of this keikogi is clinging to him.

His gaze is like ice as he looks at me like I’ve betrayed him. Lost as to what to do, I simply look at him, not sure if I should start talking double-time or remain silent because there is nothing I can say at this point to get him to believe me.

I was the one to insist on taking charge of contraception once the mishap on the plane occurred, and I had to take the Plan B as a result. We only found out later what his mother had done, slipping herbs into my food so that I’d miscarry anyway.

The discomfort of the IUD became all too much, and in a fit of frustration, I had Mimi take it out while he was away. I got the birth control pills she gave me, and I really didn’t think about anything other than the relief I felt from not being in excruciating pain every month when I got my period.

His nostrils flare, then exhaling, his gaze slides to the side, then back at us, spearing me with an intensity that should have me fleeing.

I gird myself for the vivisection of words he’s about to unleash. His jaw works, shifting away from me, the heads toward the bathroom.

“You will attend me.” The words drift to me after he’s already passed out of the room.

My heart thuds while I remain rooted where I stand.

“Krie.” The whiplash of my name makes me jump into the moment. No thought, only movement as I follow my visibly angry husband into the bathroom.

When I enter the shower area he’s removed his belt. The top of the martial uniform hangs loose.

Stepping into his space, I take in the scents of sweet musk, nascent cologne, and him. I have to bite back the moan catching my lower lip between my teeth. My eyes dart up to his, and I immediately know he didn’t miss my response.

“Oh, none of that little chef,” he tsks, pulling my lip out of the cage I put it in. He rubs the indentation with his thumb, shaking his head at me.

Reaching inside the keikogi, I untie the innermost fastening. When it releases, lean muscle rippling with every breath captures my needy gaze. It’s been so long since he last made love to me. I realize that moment it was a punishment. He withheld himself from me.

My fingers tremble as I move behind him. I get on my tiptoes. Reaching as high as I can, I grab the edge of the material, dragging it over his broad shoulders.

He does nothing to help. Holding his body as rigid as the thousand-year-old statues that populate the gardens here, his gaze simply flicks over me as I move to put the top away.

A hard hand just short of painful grabs my upper arm, halting me.

He snatches the shirt. Tossing it onto a nearby bench.

“Continue.” He drags me to his front. His dick is pressed high against the pants. I pull the string, untying then loosening them. Dick springing up he steps free.

“Join me.” His voice is a cruel seduction. I know better than to believe this is anything other than discipline.

My hair is already up, so it’s nothing for me to pull off the chemise I’m wearing, letting it fall to the floor.

Moving in front of him, I lead the way into the shower that can more than accommodate five more people. The controls have already been set to my preference, and I don’t bother to change them for him. He can suffer a little if he’s so determined to be mean.

Smoothing my hair back more, I secure it as the spray cascades over our bodies.

Taking my net sponge, I begin to soap it. Facing away from the water, I face him and begin washing his torso.

“Did you think I didn’t know?” He asks, looking down at me. Water clings to his onyx lashes. His obsidian eyes bore into me. There is a vulnerability there I hadn’t seen before. His jaw works as he struggles not to let the vipers out to tear me asunder. But I can tell he wants to so bad.

“I didn’t know.” I dip my head down, feeling more than a little silly. “I should have thought to consider the possibility. I just assumed it was my body adjusting to the birth control pills. I guess they hadn’t kicked in before we got pregnant.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me that you removed the IUD?” Tipping my chin up, he makes me meet his gaze. His eyes search mine, waiting. Doubting.

“I didn’t think it would be a big deal?—”

“Everything about you is a big deal to me, Krie,” he scoffs, skewering me with the blaze of his regard. “You know this. So tell me fucking why?”

“You were busy, traveling?—”

Canting his head to the side he blinks, ferreting through what I’m not saying. Slicking his hair back from the water, his gaze hardens.

Unable to take him looking at me like he’s about to peel the flesh from my bones, in silence, I wash him, trying to find solace in the water hitting the tiles.

Smoothing circular strokes over his body, I make quick work of the task. Dropping low, I wash his lower half before standing again, taking his dick in my hands, thoroughly washing him the way he likes. I can’t hide the smirk when I reach his ass, and he tenses like he always does. Switching so he can rinse, I don’t bother telling him I already showered, knowing he won’t care.

He takes the soapy sponge from my hands. He takes particular care in his handling of me. Soon the entire front of my body is covered in luscious bubbles of scented jasmine and musk. It marries well with my signature vanilla-rose. I turn so he can cover my back. Gentle swirls across my tummy make my eyes sting. He turns me away from him, doing my shoulders, back, and bottom. The sponge drops with a sloppy splat on the wet tiles.

Pulling me flush with his hard body, his hand circles my neck massaging the soapiness making his fingers play over the tendons there in a delightful dance.

“You thought I was fucking around.” The surety of his words eats at me. I did.

He pushes my legs apart. My breath catches. I feel the head of his dick pressing into me. I couldn’t move if I wanted to. His arm is a vise around my waist, holding me still for his loving.

“You kept coming back here for business,” I scramble to answer. My words ring high as he pushes in — the last syllable almost on a scream. The heavy beat of the water hits my body as he arches me, making me take all of him in one ruthless drive.

“Fuccck this pussy’s so tight. Gushy too, see how my baby got you?” Dipping down, he nips my ear, fucking into me.

“You thought I wouldn’t immediately notice the difference in your body? Your nipples were the first sign.” Running, swirling little circles over the tips of my breasts with one deft hand, he makes my pussy clench so hard it almost hurts.

Long drives into me my aching pussy as he cups my mound follow driving me to my toes. Trying and failing to find purchase on the slick wall in front of me, I have no choice but to hold on to the arm holding me in place.

He hisses when I leave little crescents on his forearms.

The steady slapping of our bodies is its own erotic beat. His hips drive into me, making my bottom bounce on his dick.

“Why would I ever want another when you were fucking made for me, Krie-chan?” he grounds out. Bending over me, not missing a second of the driving rhythm of our bodies, he sucks hard on my neck. “When I own every part of you — your pussy, your heart, your very soul — is mine. Why would I fuck that up, little one?” He bites. I shatter. He doesn’t stop; only goes harder. Driving me to my toes so hard I have no choice but to hold on as he uses me like a toy.

“Never doubt my love for you.” Harsh words couple his maniacal fucking.

“Ki—” the words cut off as he drives even harder, cupping and grazing my clit over and over with his long fingers. I’m gone. My body pulls taunt as another orgasm shatters me. I screams name as I come undone.

“Never.” He all but shouts, following me over the precipice.

“Your pussy tastes sweeter, little wife. Open wider for me.” I whimper, doing as he demands.

Looking down, watching his head move between my legs. My body arches. He’s edging me. Punishing me. I should have known the shower earlier was only a precursor to what was to come. He’s taken me so many times I have lost count.

And I folded every time. I can deny him nothing. He’s fierce, unhinged, and mine.

“I should make your little ornery ass wait, but if you promise to be a good girl and take me down your throat, I’ll let your punishment end — for now.”

I’m already nodding like the good little sub he’s made me.

His mouth covers me with such delicious heat it causes my eyes to roll back. “Kiyoshi, babe, please.” I don’t even know what I’m asking for at this point. More? To stop? The way he loves on me is its own excruciating pleasure.

“Be a good little wife and thank your husband.” He growls, spearing his tongue along the edges of my pussy lips before delving inside with a decadent slide.

“Arigato, otto.” I cry, arching into his mouth as he ruins me.

Dragging me up to my knees, he grips my curls in a strong grip, guiding me to his thick length jutting from the dark thatch of curls.

“Good girl,” he groans, thrusting into my mouth as I cover him.

“So fucking good. Take me down your hot little throat, tsunami.” His guttural demand makes me clench and work harder for his release. With steady thrusts, he fucks my mouth, guiding me with one hand and stroking my nape.

“Krie-chan,” he groans, holding me tight as he floods my mouth. “Let me see.” Pulling away, I open my mouth, careful not to spill. “That’s my hot little wife. Now swallow for me.”

Holding his gaze, I do as he bids.

He covers me, kissing me deeply, tasting himself on my lips.

Exhaustion nearly takes me under, but not before he pulls me into his arms. I hear him whisper, “Rest for now, beautiful, but I’m far from done with you.”

Later…

“Why didn’t you say just coming here bothered you?” I scoot over to make room for him in behind me the soaking tub.

Another bath should be ridiculous, but after all the festivities my sore, aching muscles need it.

Kiyoshi’s long legs encase mine as he pulls me back to his chest.

“I didn’t think. Not until Taylor mentioned it, and you agreed with her.” He grumbles pressing against my ear.

Nodding, I let my fingers dance across the water. “I thought you should’ve known. It made me mad that you didn’t think about how I felt.”

His arms tighten around me. “Krie—” he stops, and I feel him shaking his head, carefully choosing his words. His body tenses with frustration. “We eliminated the threat, and I made the mistake of thinking we were past it. I would never allow danger to ever touch you, kirei.” He strokes me across my shoulders, turning me to face him.

“I breathe because you exist. Thank you for our baby.” He presses a kiss to my temple.

“You gave me a precious gift.” Bending, I kiss his fisted hand. He relaxes it, lacing his fingers through mine.

“What changed?” I tense, knowing it was going to eventually come up.

“I-I forgot to use a barrier method while the pills kicked in. But I want this baby with all my heart, Kiyoshi.” His hand slips to my tummy.

“I’m so fucking glad you said that. We have to be vigilant about their mental health.” I nod, already knowing his worries, though it was the least of my mine.

“Is that why you were so angry?” Turning, I catch his quickly shuttering gaze. Reaching up, I cup his cheek.

“It’s okay. Your feelings are valid.” Searching his gaze, I see the truth.

“We’re going to be okay, and our baby will be loved no matter what.” Pulling him down, I take his firm lips. In seconds, he’s consuming me like I’m air.

“Aishiteru, yo.” Releasing me, he stands, water cascading down his magnificent body. Scooping me into his strong arms, he wraps us both in towels.

“I love you, too.” I whisper into his neck as he takes me to bed.