Chapter Thirteen Fiona
Tasting today: Junmai Daiginjo sake, Yamaguchi, Japan.
Few things taste as good as a drink shared with a lover.
The first time I had ever been up to Satoshi’s apartment was the night Matt had left.
I had cried myself hoarse in his office, barely enough voice left to rasp my agreement when he said, Let me take you up to my place, okay?
He’d led me up the stairs, and even though my brain had been reduced to a primordial soup of terror and grief and humiliation, I’d noticed how his feet made almost no sound: how gently – how carefully – he stepped.
That was how he’d been with me almost every day since: gentle, careful, so tenderly restrained as he touched me. Satoshi Tsukamoto knew how to tread lightly, and it had been exactly what I needed.
But there was another Satoshi underneath.
The Satoshi I’d once seen in an alley, shoving his lover up against a wall, and had, without being able to admit it to myself, been searching for glimpses of ever since.
The Satoshi beneath the waistcoat and the glasses and the smile: the ravenous Satoshi, the voracious Satoshi, the Satoshi who wanted, burning with desire and zeal and passion.
He paused in front of the apartment door, key in one hand, the other in mine. He had not let go of it, this whole time. ‘Are you sure? If you’re not, I won’t hold it against you.’
I squeezed his fingers. ‘I would hold it against me.’
It was the truth. I was scared – petrified, even – but it was a dull murmur of a feeling compared to the strength of the one pulsing through me now. I wanted all of him – needed all of him – and I was sure, sure, sure.
I went up on my toes so I could brush my lips against his. ‘If you’re not, though,’ I whispered, ‘that’s all right – oh!’
My back hit the door with a thud. ‘I told you, Fiona,’ Satoshi growled, ‘you’re not asking anything of me that I don’t want to give.’
We almost fell into his apartment, stumbling backwards as he unlocked the door, his mouth hot and hungry against mine.
He dropped the keys onto the floor and pressed me into the wall in the entranceway as we both toed our shoes off, a chaotic pile compared to the neat rows on his shoe rack, then he hoisted me into his arms and carried me across the room.
Everything was fast and messy and hard, but the way he placed me down on the bed was delicate, like I was made of the finest porcelain.
‘Wait here,’ he said, thumbing some hair out of my eyes and kissing me quickly, ‘I just need to – yes, I’m talking about you.
’ He caught Yquem as she leapt at us. ‘This isn’t for your innocent eyes, princess. ’
No, it wasn’t. It really, really wasn’t.
There was a deep, cavernous hunger in me, the fire that had burned so hot and angry now darkly smouldering coals. I wanted to do filthy things to him. I wanted him to do filthy things to me.
I went up on my knees on the bed as Satoshi closed the bathroom door. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said, as Yquem yowled. ‘She’ll calm down in a second.’
‘Satoshi,’ I said, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him towards me, ‘don’t you dare apologise.’
The pins on his waistcoat clattered against the floorboards as I unbuttoned it and shoved it off his shoulders.
I pressed my lips to his Adam’s apple, the hollow of his throat, the line of his collarbone as I unbuttoned his shirt too.
His skin beneath was smooth, the lightest smattering of hair over the lean, wiry muscles I’d felt but never seen before.
‘Is this all from work?’ I traced the line of one pec with a fingertip. ‘Or do you have a secret gym routine?’
He made a sound deep in the back of his throat, somewhere between a growl and a gasp and a laugh. ‘I promise, no secret gym routine. The thought of trying to fit that into my day might give me a panic attack.’
He unbuttoned his cuffs with two deft flicks of the wrist that made something in me turn molten. He let me slide my hands up his chest as we kissed again, long and deep, before he took them in his and pulled them away. ‘Your turn.’
Self-consciousness penetrated the bubble of my surety, a bright, sharp shard of reality piercing through. ‘I don’t want you to get your hopes up,’ I said, Kieran’s perfect face and body blaring like a siren in my mind as Satoshi undid the sash of my wrap dress. ‘I’ve had three babies.’
‘I know.’ He undid the inner tie as well.
‘You might not know, though.’ I grabbed at his biceps before he spread the dress open. ‘What childbirth does to your body – it’s not pretty. I might not look like—’
‘Fiona,’ he said, ‘I have always, always thought you were beautiful. Nothing will change that. But if you don’t want me to look yet – will you let me touch?’
I paused, swallowing, and nodded.
Satoshi leaned his forehead against mine, glasses pressed against my brows, eyes never leaving mine as he reached between the loosely hanging sides of my dress.
His hands found my waist first, mapping the shape of it, thumbs stroking against the soft curves of my belly.
‘I love the way you feel,’ he said, the fingers of one hand sketching the line of my spine as the other curled hard around my hip.
My eyes drifted closed at the sensation.
‘No.’ He gripped my hip harder, fingertips digging in almost painfully. ‘If you won’t let me look at you, then you’re going to look at me.’
With no fuss or fumbling, eyes fixed on mine, he flicked the clasp of my bra open.
Swiftly, skilfully, with no wasted time or effort or motion, he slid his fingers under my right sleeve and tugged the strap out and over my wrist. He did the same with the left, before reaching between us, snagging the bra between the cups, pulling it away and throwing it across the room.
Oh my god. Oh my god. How had he made that – a manoeuvre I’d performed on myself countless times – so fucking sexy?
‘You’re going to have to let me look at you, Fiona.’ His nose slid against mine as his hands smoothed up my sides to cup my breasts. ‘Or else how will I be able to taste you here?’
His thumbs strummed across my nipples. I cried out. He did it again, brushing one nipple gently while pinching the other hard, and some dam inside me broke. ‘Yes,’ I gasped. ‘It’s okay. You can look.’
The fabric was a whisper against my skin as Satoshi pulled my dress off my shoulders, pooling behind me where I knelt on the bed. I was only in my underwear now – sensible black cotton – and it took all my willpower not to shy away as he stood there, studying me.
He didn’t say anything. But he made a sound – a deep, dark, primal sound, something like a groan and a moan and a sigh all at once, before he shrugged his unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders and stepped in close, the long line of his beautiful body pressed against mine.
‘I want to spread you out and have my way with you.’ He nipped at my bottom lip, catching it between his teeth, one hand cupping the back of my head. ‘Are you going to let me?’
My entire vocabulary had been reduced to a single word. ‘Yes.’
In an instant, Satoshi had me on my back – hard, forceful, but careful, one hand still cradling the back of my head. ‘Thank you,’ he said.
It was such a small phrase – two such simple, everyday words – but they made tears spring to my eyes anyway.
He kissed his way slowly down my body, pausing to lave one of my nipples and then the other with his tongue. ‘What are you going to let me do to you, I wonder?’
He kept going, nuzzling the stretch marks on my belly. ‘Are you going to let me touch you here again?’ He stroked my clit lightly through my underwear, and I almost screamed. ‘Yes?’
‘Yes.’ I was practically sobbing. ‘Yes.’
‘You’re going to let me take these off?’ He curled his fingers into the waistband of my underwear.
‘Yes, Satoshi, please – oh!’
He tore them, the worn elastic digging briefly into my skin then ripping, and knelt on the floor beside the bed, slinging my thighs over his shoulders. ‘And you’re going to let me taste you?’
I was so hot, so wet for him, but his breath was hotter still against me as he teased me apart with his thumbs. ‘Yes,’ I gasped. ‘Please.’
The first long, stroke of his tongue against me made me jump violently, expected and yet so entirely unexpected, familiar but so new, and so, so good. ‘Oh no you don’t,’ he growled, banding his left forearm across my hips. ‘You’re not running away from me, Fiona. Not this time.’
‘Sorry,’ I tried to say, but it came out as a scream as he bent his head to me again.
The first orgasm hit me quick and hard – had anyone ever been as good at this as him?
– but he ignored it, slowing only slightly to let me catch my breath before he kept going.
Two fingers teased at my entrance as he sucked at my clit, a question that didn’t need words, and when I moaned my assent, he slid them inside me.
‘Is this—’ an open-mouthed kiss against me, tongue licking at me in the same rhythm as his fingers ‘—what you wanted?’
I clutched at his arm, still banded hard against my hips. ‘Yes.’
‘Is this what you’ve been thinking about?’ He sucked at my clit again, then rubbed circles around it with his thumb. ‘When you touch yourself? When you use that vibrator you told me about?’
My whole body was taut as a bowstring. It was too much, the way he was touching me, too good, too intense, but if he stopped, I might die. ‘Yes.’
‘Who do you think about, Fiona?’ He pushed down harder with his forearm, and his eyes met mine.
‘You,’ I panted. ‘Always you.’
The word came out of him in almost a snarl. ‘Good.’
Then his mouth was back on my clit, his fingers stroking hard and fast inside me, and if he hadn’t been holding me down, I would have completely come apart.
The first orgasm had run me over, but this one split me open, a beam of white light shattering apart into a rainbow as I bucked against him and screamed his name.