The Undertow (The Kuroda Yakuza Series Book 2) Page 7

  I unzip my jeans and slide them down past my hips, stepping out of them. Kaito nips my earlobe with his teeth.

  I shudder, arousal making me wet.

  Kaito turns me around, putting a strong arm around my waist. He holds me close to him, and I feel the warmth of his hard body beneath the smooth fabric of his clothes.

  With his other hand, he traces a finger around the sensitive skin at the entrance to my pussy.

  "You're ready," he murmurs in approval.

  He teases the moist folds of my cunt, finding the throbbing nub of my clit. He starts to stroke me, softly at first, then faster and faster. I writhe against him in pleasure.

  He pushes his fingers deep inside me, and I move up and down, grinding against him. A powerful sensation builds in my core, taking over my body as I move, and I surrender to it, as his fingers move faster, harder.

  I gasp, as he clutches me tighter, pressing me into his body, his hand covering my pussy.

  He strokes me into a frenzy, and my arousal builds, causing me to lose control. I cry out, on the very edge of an orgasm, wound tight with pleasure and tension, just about to tip over into ecstasy.

  I can barely stand it.

  I want to come.

  He pauses, withdrawing his fingers from deep inside my pussy, letting them travel back to my throbbing clit. He plays with it slowly, keeping me just on the verge of climax, but not allowing me to come.

  I moan in frustration and pleasure. He's playing me like an instrument, exerting complete control over me.

  He keeps just the lightest touch on my clit as I teeter on the precipice between pleasure and mind numbing bliss.

  "Faster," I groan, the tension in me building, becoming almost unbearable. "Make me come."

  "What did you say?" He whispers in my ear, his voice soft, mesmserizing. He's fondling my clit, slowly, teasingly.

  "I said, make me come." I'm desperate, wanting, needing release.

  Still, he holds back. "Not yet." Dark amusement colors his voice.

  "Fuck you," I gasp.

  "Fuck me?"

  "Yes." I'm going nuts, not even knowing what I'm saying anymore.

  Abruptly, Kaito withdraws his hand, leaving me a quivering mess. I turn around, drinking him in. A hint of a smile plays across his hard features.

  The man is enjoying this. Toying with me.

  "Why aren't you naked?" I demand.

  "You only had to ask." He slips off the black jacket. The white shirt is next. I stare at his muscular arms, which are covered in a riot of intricate tattoos. A sinuous dragon twines amongst a cascade of cherry blossoms, dancing alongside vibrantly colored koi. Underscoring the beautiful motifs is a dark, fanlike pattern that winds around his upper chest and over his shoulders.

  Kaito's ink is unique, and terrifyingly sublime. The suit of body art continues down his back, where a demonic hannya mask stares out at me, with menacing horns and a leering mouth.

  From what I've read, it portrays the complexity of human emotion. Revenge, sorrow, jealousy, hatred, courage, passion.

  For Kaito, it's very fitting.

  Driven by desire, I dance up close to him and undo his belt, dropping his pants to the floor, revealing his massive, hard cock. Kaito presses his body into mine, his hot, wanting mouth finding my lips, his tongue insistent.

  I grind my hips into him, feeling his erection against me. We don't speak, caught up in each other's burning need.

  Kaito growls and pushes me back onto the low table, moving over me with the grace of a lion. I stare up at him, entranced. He's bathed in a wash of afternoon sunlight, which illuminates his features and lights up his dark eyes, turning them the color of burnt honey.

  He twines his fingers through my hair, his long fingers extending past my temples, forcing me to look at him.

  And as he captures me in his intense gaze, he enters me, slowly.

  I gasp, curling my legs around his body.

  And then we fuck, hard and deep. My back is pressed against the lacquered table, and Kaito's fingers work their way downwards, one hand wrapping around my throat and the back of my neck, applying just a little pressure, letting me know that he's in control.

  He places the other hand on my ass, pushing himself further into me, his erection filling me and sending waves of bliss through my core.

  I slide my fingers down his back, feeling the chiseled planes of toned muscle, digging my nails into his tattooed skin as he thrusts deeper, faster, bringing me back to that desperate edge, where I teeter on the brink of release.

  He keeps me there as we move together, and I'm moaning with need and he's going further inside me, his hard body pressed against me, his hand on my neck and we're both breathing heavily, frantic, hungry, wanting, as he fucks me savagely, on and on and on, and I don't want it to ever end.

  But that feeling inside me starts to build; intense, erotic pressure unfurling from my core, and I move my hips with his, settling into a primal rhythm that goes faster, and faster, as Kaito thrusts against me, inside me, and we're both crying out, louder and louder and then the orgasm rocks me, shuddering through me like a crashing wave, and I come. And come.

  And Kaito is inside me, with me, crying out my name as he climaxes. He comes hard, holding me close, his hand tight around my neck.

  Then, he looks down at me, brushing the hair away from my face, capturing my lips in a long, possessive kiss.

  "Now you're definitely not going anywhere," he growls, his voice low and hoarse.

  There's no way I can disagree.

  Adele

  After we wash in the huge, deep, traditional style bath, enjoying a long soak in the warm water, Kaito gets dressed and tells me he has to go out again.

  After all that amazing sex, I almost forgot he has a guy trapped in the trunk of his car.

  "Wait here until I get back." He fixes his tie and puts on his black jacket, looking immaculate. Then, he walks over to me. I'm wearing a light cotton summer kimono that Kaito has materialised from somewhere. He tells me it's called a yukata. It smells faintly of blossoms and crisp, woody pine.

  He unties the sash I've clumsily fixed around my waist.

  "No, no." He says, re-arranging the folds of the garment. "Left over right. Always do it like that." He ties the waist sash, managing it better than I ever could.

  "OCD much?" I ask dryly.

  "Nothing to do with that," Kaito growls, irritation leaking into his voice. I've noticed, from time to time, that he has an obsession with neatness. "Right over left is how we dress corpses at funerals."

  "Oh."

  A soft laugh escapes him then, completely surprising me. It's the last thing I expected to hear, given how angry he was with me just a short time ago. "Trust you to try and do it your own way, without asking." His expression turns serious. "I have to leave you for a while, but let me show you something." Kaito leads me into the kitchen, where a retro looking fridge rests against one wall. It’s unplugged; a hulking, rusted shell.

  He opens the freezer door. What I see causes me to go still, the reality of what and who I'm involved with hitting me at a deeper level.

  There's nothing inside but an arsenal of weapons.

  There's a dull black handgun and an assortment of knives.

  "I don't like that I have to show you this, but I'd rather you be prepared, just in case. You know how to use any of these?"

  "You're not serious." I blurt, in disbelief. "I can't believe you think I might have to shoot someone."

  Kaito shoots me a dark, flat look that tells me he's entirely serious. I sigh.

  "I'm American," I shrug. "Of course I know how to use a gun." In principle, anyway. My dad showed me once or twice when I was a kid. I've watched movies. I'm sure the rest isn't rocket science.

  "It's loaded," Kaito advises.

  I glare at him.

  "It's just so you know. Not saying you'll have to use it." His expression is somehow both defensive and fierce. "I just don't want you to be toothless, Adele. Just in
case something happens."

  "I'm far from toothless." I smile, putting on a brave face even though there are butterflies in my stomach. "But I'm counting on you to keep the bad guys away. That's what you do, right?"

  "I am one of the bad guys, Adele."

  "Yeah, I know. But you're my bad guy."

  "That I am." Kaito slams the freezer shut, hiding its deadly stash from my sight. He grabs my arm, pulling me towards him. "And I will do my best to keep you out of harm's way. But this is Tokyo, and a rat might slip through the cracks now and then. All I'm saying is be careful. And don't trust anyone except me. No matter how innocent they may seem."

  Kaito strokes the back of my neck, burying his nose in my hair. He plants a soft kiss at my temple. "Stay here, Adele, please. I'll be back soon."

  "You'd better be," I warn him, before hesitating, uneasy thoughts flitting through my mind. I gently untangle myself from Kaito's hands and look up into his black eyes. "That guy who was following us. You're not going to kill him, are you?"

  Kaito's face transforms, his expression turning cold and hard. Just like that, he's shut me out. "That's none of your business, Adele. If you want to stay with me, you really shouldn't ask me a question like that.”

  Kaito

  I take the kid back to my old place, a tiny one-bedroomed apartment in Ueno. On the drive over, I call Erika, and tell her to send some of her men to watch my house. I don't completely trust Erika either, but I'm fairly confident she's not the one who put a tail on Adele. There wouldn't be any point in it, while she needs my co-operation. Adele won't like the idea of bodyguards, but I'm not taking any chances with her safety.

  The apartment is located in a depressing, grey monolith of a building. No-one would think to look for me here. It's an ordinary place in an ordinary neighborhood, tucked away in a narrow street away from the temples and mueseums of Ueno. A few blocks down is Ueno Park. It’s quiet now, apart from the discreet camps of homeless people, hidden amongst the bushes and trees, with their characteristic blue tarp shelters and lines of drying clothes strung out, a reminder of forgotten humanity in this frantic place. In the cherry blossom season, the tourists come from all over to take photos amongst the impossibly picturesque spectacle of white and pink.

  Thankfully the place is quiet, now.

  I park on the empty street, not really caring if the locals see me. They know well enough to leave my sort alone. It's the middle of the day, anyway. Most people will be at work. The only witnesses would be the elderly, or unemployed.

  I pop the trunk and the kid looks up at me with desperate eyes. He moans behind the layer of duct tape covering his mouth. But he doesn't squirm or struggle much. It seems most of his fight has gone.

  I unbind his feet and tap the side of his head with my gun. "Get out."

  He struggles for a moment, shifting awkwardly to slide out of the trunk. With the point of my gun pressed discreetly to his back, he walks in front of me, entering a dark staircase.

  The place is empty.

  We take several flights of stairs up to the apartment on the third floor.

  I push him inside and flick on the lights.

  The blinds are drawn, and I turn on the TV, so the sound masks anything the neighbours might hear through the thin walls. It’s the usual middle of the day stuff; a mindless variety show.

  I rip the tape off the kid's mouth, and he gasps in pain. It leaves an angry, red welt around his lips.

  I leave his hands bound together, for now.

  "Sit." I gesture towards a small dining table. In a city hard-pressed for every square inch of space, this is an average sized apartment, with a combined living and dining area converging on a tiny kitchen. Actually, having a separate bedroom is a luxury. But by American standards, the place is tiny.

  I take a seat opposite from the kid, laying my gun on the table. He's quiet, staring at me with the intensity of a frightened animal.

  It seems leaving him to his own thoughts has done a lot of my work for me.

  "You hungry, kid?" I soften my voice. "Want me to heat up some katsudon?"

  The kid glares at me with all the venom I deserve. It's a lame joke. In Japanese police movies, they always serve katsudon, a crumbed pork and rice dish, to the villain during an interrogation.

  I don't know how my people come up with some of these fucking cliches.

  I sit there for a while longer, staring at him, contemplating, my hand never far from my gun. Finally, the kid cracks. "You just going to sit here and stare at me this whole time? Get it over with. I know I'm screwed. Stop fucking with me already."

  I sigh, leaning forward. To his credit, the kid doesn't flinch. "Tell me, kid. Did you mean to get caught?"

  "What?"

  "I mean, whoever sent you to tail me must know who I am. Otherwise, they wouldn't have bothered. And they also would have figured I'd mark you, sooner or later."

  The kid stays quiet, but I see a flicker of doubt cross his face. I note his hesitation with interest. The fact that he's having second thoughts is good. I can use that.

  "So what are you? A warning to me? A piece of trash to be discarded? If your boss sent you to follow me ,then he obviously doesn't value your life."

  "You don't know anything about me," he snaps, defensively. It seems I've hit a nerve.

  An unexpected twinge of sympathy flickers inside me. This chinpira is young and inexperienced. He's been used by someone who doesn't give a shit about his life.

  I could put myself in his shoes. Years ago, this might have been me.

  "What's your name, kid?"

  "What's it to you if you're gonna kill me anyway?"

  "I haven't decided that yet," I say mildly. "Would you rather I just called you 'kid'?"

  Silence.

  "Have it your way, kid. But I'm afraid whoever you're working for is fucking with you. And I don't think there's any point to interrogating you, because they would have made sure you don't know anything of use to me. You're a diversion, nothing more."

  I pick up my gun and make my way over to the fridge. "Don't move or I'll shoot you in the face." I retrieve a beer and lean against the kitchen bench, my eyes back on the kid. "So what do you want to do, kid? Because I can't let you go back to your boss with what you know now."

  The kid lets out a low, bitter laugh. "That bitch is important to you, huh? I don't blame you. With her legs and ass? And those tits. Those lips. I'll bet she sucks cock better than any Kabukicho slut."

  Before I realise what I'm doing, I've crossed the floor and pistol whipped the kid, leaving a nasty, bleeding gash across his cheek. "I said, you do not talk about her." Anger, hot and raw, courses through me.

  I pull his head back, yanking on his dark, greased hair. "You know what? I'm sick and tired of this bullshit." I hold the tip of the gun at his temple. "See you in hell, kid," I snarl, half meaning it.

  He must have seen death in my eyes, and realised how precious his life is, because he finally breaks. "Stop!" His voice cracks, just a little. "I'm fucking sorry, man. I was just saying stupid shit. I didn't even mean it. I'm just, you know, I'm just-"

  "I know, I know," I whisper in his ear, keeping the gun to his head. "You're angry. And you feel like a useless piece of shit. I understand. This life has a way of doing that to you. Last chance. You want to live?"

  He gives me a single, desperate nod, fear swirling in his brown eyes. I've got him where I want him.

  "Good. Now what's your name?"

  "Ryuji," he stutters.

  "Okay, Ryuji. Now I'm going to release your hands. No sudden moves, okay? You try anything stupid, you're dead." I let go of his hair and he slumps forward with a gasp of relief. With my free hand, I pull a small knife from my pocket and slice through the duct tape binding his wrists. Slight pressure with the gun reminds Ryuji not to do a thing.

  "Which family do you belong to, Ryuji?"

  Ryuji hesitates.

  "Which family?"

  Again, with the silence. I yank back his colla
r and peer down the back of his shirt. No tattoos.

  No affiliations.

  I shake my head. "You still a freelancer, Ryuji? Hoping to join a clan?"

  Ryuji pauses for a third time. I'm quickly losing patience. But before I can make a move, he speaks. "He said that if I did this for him, and found out anything interesting, I'd be initiated."

  "Which clan, Ryuji?"

  "Shibata-gumi," he replies, in a subdued voice. I swear under my breath. The Shibata-gumi are the main rivals of the Kuroda-kai, and since I left Japan, they seem to have mutlipled like cockroaches.

  In the past, the turf wars have been bloody and bitter.

  "Now why do you want to go and join a piece of shit organization like that?"

  Ryuji gives me a disdainful look. "Why'd you go and join a piece of shit organization like the Kuroda-kai?"

  "Are you asking me to hit you again?"

  The kid flinches, but I keep the gun steady. "Looks like you'll be able to finish your job after all."

  Ryuji stares at me blankly, not comprehending. I pat his jacket pocket with my other hand. The kid's small fry. I'm going to have to go higher up the food chain on this one.

  "You're going to take your phone out of your pocket and call your boss, and you're going to tell him that you've followed the me to this address. And then, we're going to wait."

  I'm pissed. I'm angry that I've been dragged back into this world because someone had the nerve to kill the head of the Kuroda-kai. I'm angry that Erika has her claws in me, angry that I can never leave the yakuza, because that's the nature of the beast. They will go after your loved ones, then they will go after you. It was easier when I had no ties. I knew what I was getting into, and I did it anyway. Fell for a girl, anyway. And of course, Erika knows about Adele.

  But most of all, I'm angry that some assholes thought they might use Adele against me. That is unforgivable. I knew it might happen. I warned her, but she followed me anyway. Because she wants to be with me. Maybe, if she's here much longer, she might change her mind.

  Right now, there's a dark part of me that needs to fight.

  I need to see who's behind this. And I need to send a message to the higher-ups in Shibata that they should not fuck with me.