Chapter 39 Red-Hot Desire #3
Kenji's tongue traced the thick vein running along the underside of Hiro's cock. Hiro's fingers digging crescents into the firm globes of Kenji's muscular ass, spreading him wide.
Red ink spiraled between their tangled bodies—Kenji's words written upside down near Hiro's thighs. "I want to taste you, brother, while you taste me. I want us to drown together."
And Hiro's response, right-side up, breathing against Kenji's skin. "We've shared everything else. Why not this?"
Flip.
Side by side. Stroking each other. Watching each other. Their free hands intertwined between them like lovers. Cum splattered across both their stomachs—fresh, glistening, mixing together in pearlescent streaks that Mami had rendered with devastating precision.
Their intertwined fingers were framed by words in matching red.
From Kenji, written near his closed eyes. "No one else will ever understand us."
From Hiro, scrawled beside their joined hands. "No one else was ever meant to."
Flip.
Kenji riding Hiro. His thighs flexed as he lifted himself up and slammed back down.
Hiro's hands wrapped around Kenji's cock, stroking in time with the brutal rhythm.
Both of them drenched in sweat. Both of them wrecked.
Both of them looking at each other like the rest of the world had ceased to exist.
Hiro's command was written in bold red strokes near his intense gaze. "Look at me, brother. Don't close your eyes. I want to see you fall apart."
And Kenji's surrender, inked along his arched throat. "Only for you. Only ever for you."
Flip.
Hiro pressed against a wall. Kenji's hand around his throat. Their cocks grinding together while Kenji's other hand worked between them—fast, rough, punishing.
Hiro's cum painted across Kenji's stomach in thick ropes while Kenji's release followed seconds later, adding to the mess.
The words clawed up from Hiro's throat where Kenji's hand gripped. "Choke me. Remind me I'm alive."
And Kenji's response burned red near his snarling lips. "You're more than alive. You're everything."
Flip.
Both of them collapsed on a bed.
Tangled together.
Covered in each other.
Kenji's head on Hiro's chest.
Hiro's fingers trailing lazily through the cum cooling on Kenji's abs.
Post-orgasmic.
Peaceful.
Intimate in a way that made my heart ache almost as much as my body throbbed.
The softest words.
The quietest confession.
Written in faded red near Kenji's sleeping face, pressed against Hiro's chest. "Stay. Don't leave me tonight."
And Hiro's answer, inscribed along the arm wrapped protectively around his brother. "I'll never leave you. Not in this life. Not in the next."
I slammed the sketchbook shut.
My hands were shaking.
My thighs were pressed together so tight it hurt.
My underwear was ruined—absolutely soaked through.
My voice cracked. I tried again. "She's got. . .quite the imagination."
I looked at him.
His jaw was tight. His eyes were dark. And for the first time since we'd started looking through this book, he didn't look casual at all.
He looked affected.
"She's been fantasizing about this," I whispered. "About both of you. Together."
"Apparently."
I slid the sketchbook back under the pillow, tucking it exactly where I'd found it.
For a long moment, I just stood there.
Breathing.
Trying to remember how to be a professional.
The images burned behind my eyelids—all that charcoal and red ink, all that forbidden want poured onto paper like a fever dream. Mami had taken two of the most dangerous men in Tokyo and stripped them down to something that made my chest ache and my body throb in ways I wasn't ready to examine.
Get it together, Nyomi.
I pressed my palms flat against my thighs, grounding myself.
You're here to find a spy. Not to combust over artwork.
I exhaled slowly, forcing the heat in my blood to cool, forcing my mind back into investigator mode.
Okay. Focus. What else is she hiding?
Something told me to check the other pillows. As I smoothed another cherry pillow, my hand pressed against the smaller decorative one—and met something hard inside.
Wait a minute. What is this?
It wasn’t pillow-hard.
It was phone-hard.
Holy shit. That can’t be right.
My pulse jumped.
“Wait a minute.” I pressed my fingers along the seam until I found the hidden zipper, neatly concealed in the stitching. "If this is what I think it is…"
I unzipped, reached in, and wrapped my fingers around a cold rectangle of plastic.
Next, I pulled out a cheap black burner phone.
No branding.
No case.
Anonymous by design.
“Her hiding around and watching people and now a hidden phone.” Hiro went still. "It’s Mami. Not Hina.”
“I think so.” I turned it over in my hand.
“Or maybe both.”
“Maybe.” Yet, doubt tugged at me. "If this is the spy’s phone. . .this is a predictable hiding spot for something so dangerous."
“Unless she doesn’t think it is truly dangerous.”
“Back to the idea of the Fox brainwashing her. . .making her think that what she is doing is protecting him.”
He nodded.
My thumb was already hovering over the side button.
I pressed it.
The screen lit.
Enter password glowed white.
My reflection looked back faintly in the glass. "Okay. What do you think the password is?”
“There’s the obvious one.”
“Yeah.” I tapped out K-E-N-J-I first.
The phone buzzed sharply.
Incorrect password.
Then came next, Attempts remaining: 2
My stomach dropped. "Two more. If I get it wrong twice, we're done."
“Kenji’s hackers will get it regardless.”
“True, but I want to see what’s on this phone now.”
I stared at the screen, and my mind raced. "Okay. Think. What would someone obsessed with Kenji use as a password?"
Not his name—too obvious.
But something connected to him.
Something that mattered.
"His title." I typed in D-R-A-G-O-N.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then the phone vibrated once—different from the error buzz.
Softer.
Unlocking.
Relief flooded through me. "Wow."
The home screen appeared—generic wallpaper with standard app icons.
No cute customization.
No selfies.
No hints at personality.
All anonymity.
I went straight to the messaging app.
There was one main thread at the top.
No contact name, just a number in an international format.
Hiro sneered. “My father’s line.”
“Fuck.” I opened the thread.
Messages filled the screen.
Short, clipped lines.
Updates.
Little reports.
I handed it to Hiro. “This is the spy’s phone.”
“And Mami is the spy.” He took the device and scrolled down to the most recent message. There were attachments—tiny paperclip icons along the thread.
He tapped one.
Photos opened.
The air left my lungs in a rush.
The image was of me walking down the hallway toward my office, seen through a partially open door.
Cold sweat broke out along my spine. “Fuck. It’s really her.”
“I’ll let Reo know.” He gave me the phone back and pulled out his own. Next, he typed into it.
I couldn't look away from the screen. Couldn't stop seeing myself through someone else's eyes—prey, marked, catalogued for slaughter. “What the hell did the Fox say to make her spy for him?”
"He could've turned her recently. Or been whispering in her ear for all her life. Planting doubts. Feeding resentments. Not everyone he uses is clever. They just need to be loyal to him."
“And she was most likely working with Kenji’s Eyes.” I took one last look around the red room—the canvases, the chaos, the perfect bed hiding terrible secrets.
Hiro gestured for us to leave. “And yet. . .there may be more snakes. We still have Hina to check too.”