BindingCherryBlossoms (2 page)

Again, she rose to her feet in a movement so fluid she
looked to have floated from the ground, her eyes betraying a range of emotions
he could not even hope to follow.

“Well done,
keisei
.” He reached out to take her elbow
when she wobbled as she tried to step back into her four-inch stiletto heels.

“
Keisei
?”

“Beautiful one,” he translated. “You do not speak Japanese?”

“Not much.” She shook her head, giving him a first glimpse
of the deep purple strands that surrounded her face. Despite his strict
adherence to tradition—and his disapproval of a woman altering her natural
looks in any way—he found he actually liked the unexpected hint of color…so
long as she did not intend to dye it further. And it gave him an edge. If she
was Sakura Nakao, he would know it the instant he laid eyes again on those unusual
streaks of plum.

“Let us test your knowledge. What does
hai
mean?” he
asked.

“Yes.”

“
Iie
?”

“No.”

“
Sakura
?”

She froze, her eyes locking with his. She opened her mouth.
Swallowed. Opened it again. Ian was pleased. He’d hit a major nerve.

“
Sakura
?” he demanded a second time.

“Cherry blossoms,” she whispered at last. “Why did you ask
me that?” Her lips were pale beneath her mask.

Ian lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “They are my favorite
flower. In Japan, the gift of cherry blossoms in the spring covers the island
from mountain to meadow.” He sniffed up the length of her hair. “Mmmm. You
smell as sweet as the first of their blooms. I will teach you the ceremony,” he
decided in anticipation, remembering the feel of her hair beneath his fingers.

* * * * *

Sakura straightened her shoulders and looked the man
straight in the eye, having had her fill of playing the demure and submissive
female. She was American born and raised, and while she had a healthy respect
for the traditions of her ancestors she had no desire to put on a kimono, paint
her face white and play geisha for any man’s silly fantasy.

“You? I want to learn the Tea Ceremony, not be tied up like
a sex toy.”

“You think I cannot be master of both?” His tone held an
edge of danger.

“But you don’t even sound Japanese. How can I be certain you
know what you’re doing?”

“You don’t sound Japanese either,” he shot back, his voice
growing bleaker by the minute. “As for being qualified to teach you, I moved to
Japan when I was a teenager and have lived there ever since. And you should
know better than to ask such a prejudicial question.”

She trembled when she saw the way his lips turned down.
She’d made him angry. Despite the rapid beating of her pulse Sakura forced
herself to remain completely placid, a trick she’d learned through her years of
dealing with her father’s unpredictable temper, as the
Bakushi’s
hands
fisted over the arms of the chair so tightly she thought he might actually
crush the metal. His eyes bored into hers until she felt compelled to bow her
head to keep from begging for his forgiveness.

“It was not my intent to show disrespect,” she whispered
humbly. It never hurt to err on the side of politeness, especially when dealing
with a man who obviously thought he was still living in Japan’s feudal past.
And she had made a mistake. “But I don’t see how being master of one art
compares to being master of the other. I mean…how do bondage and tea go
together?”

She thought she heard a rumble of amusement in his chest but
decided it was still safer to keep her eyes toward the floor.

“I can understand your confusion,
keisei
.” He reached
out again to trail his hand down her hair. “Both skills require patience,
intense practice and the ability to perform them in meticulous detail.”

“So for you it’s all about the self-discipline.”

“Not only of
self
.”

The implication caused her skin to overheat. Sakura had
gathered from his show that night he was probably into the whole BDSM scene,
but she was uncertain how far he actually took his practice. While she thought
it might be fun to be handcuffed or tied to the bedposts on occasion, she had
no desire to be bound as his models had been tonight, their lady parts
displayed for the entire world to see. Or be chained to her master’s side and
spanked if she tried to do anything without his express permission.

She was absolutely not going to remember how she’d relished
the feel of his hands in her hair, or how her body had reacted when he’d
ordered her to sit at his feet.

And she was beyond determined to forget the way her heart
had hammered when he’d called her beautiful and praised her for her obedience.

In an act of defiant self-respect Sakura raised her head and
glared at him, clenching her jaw against the need that continued to taunt her
despite her best efforts at control. She knew she’d failed when he twisted his
mouth into an arrogant grin.

“Your eyes betray you, even though you think you are hidden
behind that mask. What thought made you clamp your lips so tight together, I
could not manage to slip my tongue inside even if I pried your jaw apart?”

“I don’t want to be your slave. Or your sub. Or whatever
else it’s called these days. I just want to know if you would be willing to
teach me the Tea Ceremony, since you claim to be a master of the tradition.”

His face took on an expression that made her entire body
tremble. If she’d met him by happenstance, his mask alone would have been
enough to give her pause. It had eyes that were elongated to the point of
grotesqueness with brows that dipped so far in a frown they nearly touched the
bridge of the nose. It was painted in red, black and blue lines against a stark
white background. A jeering face meant to intimidate. When his jaw set to stone
beneath it and his mouth turned down in perfect imitation of the eye-slits, he
took on the appearance of a samurai of old, a heartless warrior whose only goal
was to slay the enemy or die an honorable death in the battle.

He was silent for so long Sakura felt certain she had
offended him to the point he would pull out his knife and threaten
hara-kiri
if she did not take back her words and restore his beleaguered honor.

Or cut her down for the insult.

But this was the modern world and such things just did not
happen these days—although he did look as if he would be more than willing to throw
her across his lap and punish her accordingly.

So why were her breasts suddenly knotted into peaks and her
panties grown damp with the proof of her arousal? Surely she did not want to
have any physical relationship with this man. Did she?

“Um…I don’t think this is a good idea after all,” she
mumbled, standing to leave. “Forget it. But thank you for your—”

She was brought up short when he grabbed her wrist and
pulled her onto his lap…just exactly as she’d anticipated! And while she
sputtered and protested and fought to break away, the man was strong enough to
plant her firmly on his thighs, the strain of his erection pressing hard
against her ass. “Coward,” he whispered rough against her neck. His free hand
took a hunk of hair, pulling her head back until it rested upon his shoulder.
“I smell your need,” he continued, grinding his hips beneath hers. “I could
make you come with a flick of my fingers and you would beg me for more.”

She tried to shake her head, but he held her so tightly she
could not move a muscle. “N-no. That’s n-not what I want.”

“Prove it.” His hand released her wrist and dropped to slide
up the length of her thigh. “Spread your legs and let me touch you. If you do
not call me
Bakushi
and beg me to fuck you, I will walk away and pretend
this never happened.” Now his hand pressed between her knees, forcing them
apart. “But if I am right and you shatter at my touch, you will become my
student—in both the Tea Ceremony, and in
kinbaku
.”

Kinbaku
. Bondage. Exactly what she’d sworn she would
never do.

But that was before she’d met this man, she argued with
herself. It had been too long since she’d had a lover. Her body was already
clamoring for his attention, her breasts swelling beneath her shirt, the ache
between her legs reaching desperation point. He was willing to teach her the
Tea Ceremony in exchange for his pleasure. What would it hurt to play the
submissive if that was what he wanted…especially if it got her what she wanted
in return?

And right this minute the only thing she wanted was him. His
mouth against her neck. His hand between her legs.

“Here?” she heard herself whisper. “Where anyone can see?”

His chuckle vibrated against her back. “Who can see us,
keisei
?
The room is big and others are more concerned with their needs than anything we
do here. But if you are concerned—” He swept her into his arms and carried her
to a corner, standing her on her feet as he pressed his body along the entire
length of hers. “Now no one will see you tremble or hear when you beg me to let
you find release.”

He was serious. Sakura’s heart pounded so hard she thought
it must shatter into pieces with the effort. Her knees shook and her breath
grew faint as he nudged one leg between hers and forced her thighs apart.

“Please,” she whimpered, but even she did not know whether
she was begging him to continue or begging him to stop as he thrust his hand
between her thighs and cupped his fingers around her mound.

“Wet. So wet.” He bent his head to run his teeth along her
neck. “And I haven’t properly touched you yet.”

“S-stop.” Sakura finally managed to gasp out the word as his
fingers curled beneath the flimsy fabric of her panties, his thumb circling the
overly sensitive knot of her clit.

He stilled instantly, but to her horror she continued to
move against his hand, unable to force her body to do what her brain had
ordered. She’d never been so turned on in her entire life, she realized in
shock. No other lover had aroused her to this level of hunger with the very
briefest of caresses.

Between the music thrumming in the background, the
impossibly erotic show she’d watched earlier in the evening and the feel of the
seductive stranger’s thumb still pressing against the swollen bud of her
pleasure, Sakura was unable to make any rational decision. Tugging aimlessly at
the hem of her shirt which had ridden nearly to the bottom of her breasts, she
struggled to regain some semblance of control before she crossed the line of
self-respect and found herself in the land of the lost.

“This is why you need a master.” The man pulled back to
study her face. “Your thoughts are like leaves tossed by a storm. They spin too
fast and fly beyond your reach. You question. Second-guess. How can you ever
feel true pleasure when your mind is filled with doubt and distrust?”

“You expect me to trust you? A stranger?” Her hands came up
to push his chest, already putting distance between them.

“I expect you to trust the way you feel in my arms,” he
replied simply. “We are in a public place with enough people to keep you safe.
Let go. Let me please you.” His tone had turned soft and seductive, calculated
to manipulate her into submission.

And it was working amazingly well.

“And then?” Sakura forced herself to take a breath and give
her brain the oxygen it needed to function. “I get to kneel at your feet and
you get to spank me whenever you think I need the humiliation? Not my idea of a
balanced relationship.”

“There is ultimate balance between submission and
domination. Balance is necessary in all things,” he reminded her, “except where
human choice is involved. The river knows only it seeks the ocean—the grass
knows only it seeks the sun. They do not question their place or their desire.
They obey the laws of their nature without question.”

“But I need to have a choice,” she protested weakly, wanting
nothing more than to let herself go, yield to his touch and end the need that
burned like fire between her legs.

“What are you so afraid of?” His thumb pressed more
insistently on her clit while he trailed his other hand lightly across her
breasts, sending her reeling from the sensuous contact. “That you are right…or
that I am?”

Without waiting for a reply he bent his head and took her
mouth with his, searing her with the contact. Despite his earlier statement his
tongue slid between her lips without a bit of effort, forcing her mouth open
even further with the invasion. Then he reached beneath her shirt to pluck one
aching nipple, the contact sending a bolt of electricity directly to where he
slipped his other hand beneath her panties and snugged one finger into the
opening of her cunt in the lightest of intrusions, not nearly deep enough to
slake her rising need.

He pulled his mouth away. “Tell me to stop now. This is the
last chance you get.” His lips hovered close to hers. “No? Going once.” His finger
nudged deeper into her sex. “Twice.” He pulled out and thrust inside once more,
his thumb torturing her clit until Sakura felt the first stirrings of release.
“Gone,” he ended on a satisfied note, returning his mouth to hers.

Sakura held on to the man’s shoulders for support as she
gave in to her body’s demands at last. Then he thrust a second finger into her
along with the first, causing a gasp of dismay to escape her throat as he
stretched her too far too fast.

“I never dreamed you would be so tight,” he murmured
apologetically in her ear, pulling his fingers free. “I can’t tell you how much
that turns me on. Spread your legs farther apart and tilt your hips forward.”

He grunted in satisfaction as she did what he’d commanded,
only to cause Sakura to jump in shock when he tore her panties free and let
them fall to the floor. “I will buy you another pair.” He licked along her neck
before scraping his teeth across her skin. This time he took greater care as he
slipped his fingers into place, twisting them back and forth as he drove them
into her with agonizing slowness.

“More,” she heard herself beg, jerking her hips in
frustration when he stopped midway and left her hanging.

“Ask me with respect.” He refused to move a millimeter more.
Even his thumb stopped circling her clit as he waited for her to answer.

“More, please,
B
-
Bakushi
,” she gritted out,
every muscle tensed in erotic expectation.

“Well done,” he praised her, returning at last to the task
at hand.

Sakura closed her eyes as he continued to fuck her with his
fingers, moving them in and out in a rhythm that left her breathless, unable to
utter a single sound as he drove them deeper with each successive thrust. Her
cunt ached in a way she had not felt for ages, her dormant sexuality roused to
full force by the
Bakushi’s
skillful hands. She ground her hips hard to
his, the length of his erection a solid mass against her stomach.

Suddenly, she wanted to slide her own hand between them,
take hold of his rigid flesh and circle it with her fingers. She reached for
the zipper of his jeans. “I want to touch you.”

“
Iie
. Move your hand. Now,” he added in a sharper
tone when she continued to fumble with his pants. To add emphasis, he clamped
his fingers so hard around her clit Sakura cried out and buried her face into
his shoulder.

To her chagrin she realized she loved the way he took
control. The way he touched her. Even the way he ordered her around. And the
more she let go, the more he took over. Now he lavished all his attention on
her swollen clit, rubbing and pinching and stroking the knob of flesh until it
grew so sensitive Sakura bit her lip to keep from crying out. Sensation after
sensation rolled up from the pit of her stomach. Her skin puckered and her
nipples grew hard as polished beads of glass. She rubbed her chest against his
to enhance her pleasure, loving the way she could feel his nipples had
tightened to match her own.

Her body coiled into a spring so tight she swore she could
feel every muscle fiber tense as the orgasm approached. Her legs buckled when
he thrust two fingers back into her cunt and flicked them against the front
wall of muscle, over and over until she was close, so close, ready to topple
over the edge, ready to give him anything he wanted if he would just push her
and allow her to fly.

“Come for me,
keisei
,” he finally commanded, rasping
his thumb so hard on her clit she could not stop the whimper of pleasure that
spilled from her throat as she did what he ordered, her hips bucking against
his hand, her cunt clamping tight around his fingers as she came, shattering
from the pleasure until at last she sagged in his arms sated and content.

“That was amazing,” she managed shyly, uncertainty taking
over once more as she returned to the real world—the music and the club and the
stranger who held her.

She could not read anything of his expression. He now seemed
as cold and distant as the mask he wore. “You will meet me here in three days’
time. I will teach you and in return you will do anything and everything I
demand. Good night,
keisei
.”

With that he stepped away, bowed and left her standing alone
in the corner, dazed, wondering what seductive demon she had just agreed to let
have control of her body and her mind.

* * * * *

Sakura’s father had been in a miserable temper all morning.
He’d called the cleaning service with a plethora of complaints about work that
had not been done to his satisfaction at the office. He’d spent nearly fifteen
minutes ranting at them in both Japanese and English that they had not scrubbed
the bathrooms to anywhere near an acceptable level. Then he ordered his
secretary to call them back and demand a refund, promptly firing the woman who
had spent twenty years in his employ when she refused to make the call.

By noon, Sakura had been summoned to try to convince Katashi
Nakao the bathroom floors were clean enough to eat from and that his secretary
would not only be rehired on the spot, but that she would receive a
five-hundred-dollar bonus to make up for his bad behavior.

But her father’s temper could only mean one thing—Ian Shoji
was making an appearance at last.

Her mother had let it slip that morning that the Shoji
heir—and her soon-to-be fiancé if their combined families had anything to do
about it—had already arrived in Charleston and would be stopping by Nakao
Enterprises that afternoon to introduce himself. With that, Sakura had promptly
refused to set a single foot into the office, until the panicked voicemail of
her father’s secretary persuaded her that things had blown completely out of
control.

Now she was stuck. She watched helplessly as the heir
apparent walked through the front door mere seconds before she’d managed to
escape out the back. And her father had worked himself into such a state she
feared he would have an aneurism if she abandoned him now. With her best forced
smile plastered on her face, she went to greet Ian Shoji, hoping she didn’t
look as harried as she felt.

Although she tried her best not to show it, Sakura was
impressed by her first sight of their honored guest. The man was nothing at all
as she expected. Nearing six feet tall, he was lean of build with sleek muscles
that rippled beneath his clothes when he moved to meet her. He wore casual
jeans and a light-blue shirt, the cuffs rolled up haphazardly.

She knew he wasn’t pure Japanese—her father had made a point
of dissing his American heritage every chance he could—and it showed in the jut
of his jaw and the more rounded shape of his eyes. A piercing black, she
thought in fascination, that went perfectly with sculpted cheekbones and the
golden skin of his Asian ancestry.

She bet he possessed Western mannerisms as well, and to test
her theory she held out her hand in a true American greeting as she crossed the
room. He took it with a smile, his fingers closing firmly around hers, not even
bending his head in a trace of a traditional bow. And he met and held her eyes
for so long she was the first to look away.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Nakao.” His voice was pleasant,
as relaxed as his posture, his mouth turned up into a luscious smile that gave
her a tingle all the way to her toes.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Shoji.” She dragged her hand away
with an effort. “I hope you are enjoying your visit to Charleston.”

“I am enjoying it immensely.” His face held an expression
she could not read, something between conquest and seduction, a dazzling
combination. “Your hair is an amazing color,” he stated unexpectedly, reaching
out to fondle one of the purple-colored strands, leaving Sakura too flustered
to think of a response.

Luckily she was saved any more embarrassment when her father
came to stand behind her. “Serve tea,” he ordered, waving his hand to dismiss
her. “And bring food.”

“Iced tea or hot?” she shot back, knowing her father thought
putting ice in tea was one of the greatest sins imaginable.

“Iced, for me,” Ian interjected. Again that brilliantly
decadent smile.

“Me too,” she whispered, turning her head so her father
wouldn’t see. “But Nakao-san will only drink his hot, as tradition dictates.
Isn’t that right, Papa?” she added so he could hear.

“Call Jiro’s Sushi. Order Chef’s choice. We will eat in my
office.”

“Of course.” The restaurant was just a couple of blocks from
the Nakao business offices, and her father ate there most every day. Sakura
wasn’t known for her cooking skills, and her mother had developed a taste for
fried chicken and mashed potatoes, much to her husband’s consternation.

Sakura took after her mother, however, and was determined to
have something that was actually
cooked
—
e
ven if her father killed
her—and watching Ian frown at the mention of sushi, decided he might be in the
mood for a change of pace.

“Mr. Shoji, can I interest you in something more homey?” She
used the American form of address, but he didn’t correct her so she assumed she
hadn’t done anything to insult him.

“Homey?” His brow practically disappeared beneath the fall
of bangs above his eyes. “Are you going to woo me with a freshly cooked meal,
Miss Nakao?”

She laughed. “Oh no, I don’t cook. But I do know a good
burger place just up the street. Papa tells me you haven’t been back to the
States in several years, and I bet you dream of ketchup and fries.”

“We have fast food in Japan,” he pointed out.

“But they don’t taste the same. You going to argue that, or
shall I order you raw fish and rice?”

His mouth tried to turn down at the corners making Sakura
wonder if she’d finally overstepped her bounds, but his voice was pleasant when
he answered. “A burger it is…with Nakao-san’s permission, of course.” He gave
her father a respectful bow of his head.

Her father had been plotting for weeks to find some way to
get her to share Ian’s company, and she was giving him a ripe opportunity now.
She had no intention of telling him she needed to get the man alone and make
certain he knew she had no interest in marriage—
at all
—even if he was
young and rich and amazingly handsome, she acknowledged, pursing her lips
together thoughtfully.

Marriage might be out but other adventures sprang to mind.

Then she remembered her
Bakushi
and the way he’d
seduced her at the Red Mask Club and decided it wouldn’t be wise to take on
another lover. She really wasn’t a woman who slept around, and just thinking
about the logistics terrified her. Last night had been her first sexual
encounter in more months than she could count and it had been so beyond her
expectation she couldn’t imagine being with any other man, especially since she
was seeing her mysterious new teacher again tomorrow.

She blushed to the roots of her plum-streaked hair as she
remembered the way he’d made her feel. His hands on her breasts. His fingers in
her—

“Hello?” Ian was studying her much too intently. “Are you
still here?”

Sakura’s cheeks grew even hotter. “Sorry.” She shook her
head to clear the want away and turned to her father. “I will have Jiro’s
deliver you lunch if you don’t mind that I sweep Mr. Shoji off his feet.”

“You wish this, Shoji-san?”

Ian smiled. “If you don’t think I mean any disrespect,
Nakao-san. Your daughter seems to know exactly what I need.”

Sakura shivered when he took her hand, his fingers trailing
over her palm in what was a decidedly sexual gesture, hoping her father had not
picked up on the innuendo. Ian might be a bigger challenge than she’d
anticipated.

All the more reason to have a private chat.

Still, her father hesitated before waving them out the door
with a frown. Even though he wanted them to be thrown together, she knew Papa
would have sent a chaperone with them if he thought he could get by with it,
although she was well over twenty-one and more than capable of taking care of
herself.

Twenty minutes later she and Ian were sitting in a booth,
biting into the best burgers Charleston had to offer. “Told you so.” She
smirked as her companion closed his eyes in bliss.

Throughout their meal Sakura had tried not to notice how
elegantly he’d held his burger or the supple length of his fingers as he worked
his way through an entire platter of fries. She blinked and finally looked away
as he wiped his fingers in his napkin before folding the paper into a perfect
square and placing it over his empty plate.

“I have missed American food,” he admitted. “And iced tea,”
he added, draining the last of his glass. “But I do appreciate Japanese
cuisine.”

“I appreciate Japanese food, too,” Sakura agreed, “but I
swear I cannot eat it at every meal. How did you survive the change in diet
when you moved there as a teenager?”

He gave her an odd look from across the table. “You seem to
know quite a bit about me. Should I be worried?”

“That depends.” She decided this was as good an opening as
any. “Papa has been in constant contact with your grandfather for weeks. My
guess is they want to merge more than the family businesses.”

“So you picked up on that, too?” Ian pushed his plate aside.
“I was meaning to talk to you about the situation. I hope you haven’t put any
serious consideration into the relationship. I don’t want to disappoint you or
lead you on in any way, so I will tell you now I have no intention of marrying
for duty.”

Disappoint her? Lead her on? And was he really giving her
that condescendingly apologetic look?

“Don’t worry on my account.” Sakura was more than ready to
burst his arrogant bubble. “I am already involved with someone.”
Where did
that come from?
But she wasn’t about to correct herself when she saw Ian’s
jaw snap shut in annoyance.

“I’m glad to hear it.” His expression settled into
indifference once more. “How long have you been dating this someone? I assume
you haven’t told your father, or he would not be begging Shoji Senior for the
match.”