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“What you want doesn’t matter. This is punishment not a courtship. I don’t need your petting, only your pussy.”
Mustering strength I didn’t know I’d need I do what I must and set to tying my lovely wife up for the edging she’s earned.
Chapter
Fourteen
Taylor
He’s verypensive looking out the window of the airplane. The way he’s acting one would think I was the one who kept him up all night edging him. My body is still experiencing the aftershocks from his vicious punishment. It went on for hours as he brought me close to orgasm with his mouth, fingers, hand, even knee at one point, no matter how much I begged he wouldn’t let me come. He was exacting binding me in the jute so that it hit all of my pressure points to elicit the highest arousal.
Afterward he praised and soothed me until my body calmed down. My body is still hyper-aroused and even the light breeze I felt as we got in the car as we left for his private jet was torture.
I went without panties because of the sensitivity. My nipples remain budded from all of his ruthless attention. Gripping my iPad, I try to focus on the novel that held me in a chokehold about a young man wrongly convicted coming to get revenge on the co-ed who had a hand in his incarceration.
My fascination with vengeance is not lost on me nor my interest in dark romance; basically, living one at the moment. Epic fantasy, another genre I love, has taken a backseat for now.
Still, I can’t concentrate because my very own villain is sulking. Giving up I turn off my device rising from my seat. Opting when I woke not to provoke him further, I acted unbothered. Not a spark of realism, no shock. It seemed like the hour we spent apart as he went to get ready in his own room, he used that time to harden his heart against me.
Shifting I feel pressure low in my belly made worse by the increased blood flow to my coochie. She’s mad because she’s been left on read, literally by the motherfucker who turned her out. I need to use the restroom and alleviate this pressure.
Rising I take my tablet. He’d only returned it for the trip after letting me download more books. He also made sure to disable the FaceTime app and other communication apps. Bastard.
“Where are you going?” His gaze slides over me languidly. Totally unbothered he turns back to his view of the clouds.
“I need to use the bathroom.” No response to my dry words. A hard hand grips my wrist. An unrelenting grip with intense pressure around the soft tissue just below the bone makes me wince, but I don’t let him see that.
“Don’t touch my pussy. No one touches her but me.” Pain shoots through me when I snatch my hand away.
“Too bad you couldn’t make her come.” Tossing the quip over my shoulder, I add an extra swish to my hips because I know he’s watching me walk away. I ignore the low menacing chuckle as I leave.
“Taylor,this is the second event you’ve been seen at with Mr. Takeda, are you an item?”
“Mr. Takeda, what is your relationship with Ms. Love? Is it serious?”
Ignoring the paparazzi, we smile benignly at the crowd gathered outside of the Theatre Royal Drury Lane Theatre. Lights flash all around us as barrage after barrage of questions and accusations bombard our every step on the red carpet.
It’s opening night ofRequiema play produced in partnership with my cousins Lovie-Belle Al-Rasheed and Flower Takeda along with her husband and the billionaire Shipmoore brothers, Porter and Bishop.
“Behave,” Hisashi says as we approach the group.
“What, you’re afraid they will put a stop to what you are doing to me?” I ask, smiling sweetly at him. He doesn’t miss the challenge.
A possessively deliciously feral smile breaks across his face. He leans close to whisper, “I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me. I have before. Never doubt it, little dove.”
Leaving me to process that information, he faces his cousin, Akchiro first giving him a bow in deference. “Cousin.” He turns to Flower taking her hand bowing over it and kissing the knuckles in all politeness. My brows hike as she gives him a brief hug afterward. Hisashi can’t hide the surprised pleasure on his face nor does his cousin hide his disapproval or the low growl of admonishment to which Flower flippantly responds, “Family supersedes protocol, silly.” Then she shrugs like she doesn’t care what anyone thinks. Despite his words he can’t seem to hide the pride and pleasure in his eyes as he looks at his wife.
“Taylor.” Lovie-Belle pulls me into a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming. If I did, I would have made room for you in our box — well, the Shipmoore’s box.”
“No worries, we have a box,” Hisashi smoothly interjects, stepping closer to me so there won’t be any confusion about our association. Someone from such strict cultural tradition would never stand this close to a woman unless they were intimate.
Lovie-Belle’s eyebrows arch with interest, along with Flower’s. The only person whose face is not a mask of curiosity is Akchiro. I can tell from the cool assessment in his gaze he knows our history.
“Let’s go in,” Bishop Shipmoore suggests in an authoritative voice.
“See you at the reception after?” Flower asks us as we get ready to diverge into our separate boxes.
“We’ve made other plans,” Hisashi says far too smoothly.
