by Amara Kent
“Look, what happened on the plane was amazing, and you got me off so much better than most guys, but it was a one-flight sexual experience. That’s it.”
“I did, did I?” he smirks.
“Get over yourself. Don’t play the ‘I didn’t know I was so good’ act. I’m not buying it, so don’t give it.”
But, Kerri, why are you being such a bitch? I’ll tell you why. Because this walking erection knows the effect he has on me and keeps shoving it in my face. I’ve never had a dick this persistent in getting inside of me in my life. I would be flattered, were it not annoying. This is not the time to break another one of my rules. Rules are what hold up society. If we throw them out, then what are we left with? Exactly… anarchy. And I am not about to go down the same road that leads me to Garrett ever again. He was my wake up call. The very thing I needed to finally understand that I can’t go around falling so quickly, all because I needed the validation? That I prayed to get the love from a man because the one person that was supposed to love me, stopped?
Is Ren the hottest male I’ve ever seen? Yes.
Is he the only guy to ever get me off so good I saw stars? Yes.
Am I willing to risk putting myself in a vulnerable situation again for the sake of getting more from him? Fuck to the no.
“I know we agreed that it would be a one-time thing, but you know we never got to the good stuff.” He lifts his brows. A way of enticing.
“You do remember our agreement. So you’re an arrogant tool, not a forgetful dumbass. Good to know.”
I walk off, still on the search for a place to eat. At this rate, it’ll be time for dinner.
“There’s a really good sushi place nearby if you want something to eat,” he advises, falling into step with me.
“No, thank you. I’m fine on my own,” I grumble.
“They sell the best ramen and takoyaki in all of Tokyo, and that’s not even their specialty,” he continues.
Oh, takoyaki. My stomach rumbles in response. I’ve never had it before and have always wanted to try. We have some very good Japanese restaurants and sushi places in New York, but I was saving this culinary experience for when I came to Japan. My friend, Aurora, once told me that I can try a cuisine anywhere here, but if it’s international—especially oriental—then the best place to try it is where it originated from. I could never comment because I had never really traveled outside of the States before, but I believed her. She’s a food genius, after all.
“Not your thing? Well, you can just have sushi. It’s also exceptionally good,” he continues.
I’m convinced he’s either a con-artist or the laziest and worst businessman in existence. I come to an abrupt stop and turn around to face him. My irate mood does nothing to stop the smooth smile on his perfectly chiseled tanned face, and the way his hair falls a little over his eyes and… stop it!
“Okay, FD—”
“FD?” he asks.
“Forgetful Dumbass—”
“I thought I was an arrogant tool. Wouldn’t that make me AT?” he says facetiously.
“Fine, if you would prefer, Arrogant Tool. What will it take to get you away from me?” I ask gruffly.
“Have lunch with me.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you to have lunch with me. Is that so hard to believe?” he asks with an innocent look on his face.
I eye him suspiciously. He has something up his sleeve and I don’t like it one bit. Does he think I’m so stupid to think that I would play along with it? “Pass.”
I walk off on him again. “It’s either you have lunch with me now and then if you still never want to see me again I’ll respect your wishes and leave you alone, or I continue bugging you like a sex-starved dog, permanently attached to your leg.”
What an image. A man of such class. But he has me at a dead end. I have no choice. It’s a trap, I know, but in the end, I’m hungry and my stomach is begging me for some takoyaki. With slumped shoulders, I say, “Yes.”
His hand claps lightly on my shoulders. “I knew you would come around. Come.”
Damn, she’s so fucking sexy when she’s annoyed. The moment I met her at JFK, I knew I wanted her. I had practically made it my mission to have her. Despite not being able to go all the way because of being majorly cockblocked by the staff, it was one of the best experiences I’ve ever had. No woman has ever been so vocal or responsive to me. I didn’t even need to play the right notes for her body to sing. I can still remember the way she tasted when she came on my tongue. The kind of thing you could go crazy with an obsession over. I never expected to see her again, let alone show up with the most famous model and comedian in Japan. Sara Minamoto is sexy, but she has nothing on this woman in front of me. Not only is she smoking hot with these big green eyes that you can sink into, but she also has this mouth on her that is so refreshing on a woman. The women I encounter are so damn eager to please that there is no way they would ever disrespect someone of my status by doing or saying the wrong thing. She, on the other hand, is happy to give it to me any way she wants. If only that way was sitting on top of me, riding my cock. When she had told me that our experience was a one-time thing and that she never goes back for seconds, I respected that. I pretty much have the same policy. Attachment only makes matters worse. So, for the sake of protecting the women I sleep with, they need to understand that they will only ever have one encounter with me. In the past, I had kept some women around on a casual basis, however, I stopped that years ago. This amazing woman is the first to have kept my interest, because having her barely even once is not enough.
I need more.
I want her writhing beneath me. Screaming out in pleasure, like how she wanted to on the plane.
I want her milking me until I’m empty.
I know she wants the same thing. I can feel it when her body erupts in goose bumps when I touch her. The way she moans lightly when she thinks she’s in control. The way her eyes flutter shut and she tilts her head back slightly to lean on me. There’s no denying what her body is telling her, yet she tries to. However strong she may be, I’m going to make her see that it’s dangerous denying yourself what you want.
We take our seats in the back in the busy restaurant. Amber, the waitress, smiles when she sees me, collecting a couple of menus and making her way over to us.
“Ren, it’s so nice to see you again! It’s been like, what, a whole day?” she teases with a light laugh.
“Hey, Amber. What can I say, I can’t let down my favorite waitress,” I say with a wink.
“Oh my God,” the feisty woman next to me mutters under her breath.
“Settle down, Casanova. Been there, done that, and wouldn’t go back again.” She lifts her eyebrows. A coughing laugh comes from next to me. “Piece of advice. Don’t let this one sweet talk you into anything. I’m Amber, by the way, and I’ll be your waitress.” She hands out the menus and extends her hand, which is taken and shaken.
“Hi. Kerri,” she responds, finally giving me the gift of her name. It suits her.
“American?”
Kerri nods. “From New York.”
“Nice. I’ve always wanted to go to America. One day,” she says wistfully.
“Well, if you ever do, hit me up.”
“I will hold you to that. I’ll give you two a few moments to look at our menu. I’ll be back soon to take your order.”
I watch Amber as she leaves. The way her hips naturally sway from side to side, and I find myself drawn to her firm ass.
“God damn, you’re so obvious. Why don’t you take her into the freezer and fuck her already,” she snarks.
“Because shrinkage is a thing that plagues all men. Are you jealous?”
“No jealousy here. Just a little disgusted by your obvious fuckboy behavior.”
“What’s a fuckboy?” I ask, confused. Americans have some interesting colloquialisms. Or maybe I’m too old and out of touch.
“A fuckboy is a guy who has the mind of
a perverted teenager, throwing his dick out to any pussy in its radar.”
I sit back in my seat. “Interesting. You Americans are interesting. Such fascinating colloquialisms. Tell me, what would the female equivalent be?”
“Town bike.”
“I take it that that’s a woman who fucks a lot of men.”
She nods. “Tell me what you want.”
“You know what I want,” I say seductively. Leaning in close to her. She hits me with a glare and I move back, with a chuckle. “I don’t want anything from you other than to have lunch.”
“If I were a valley girl, I would believe the smooth shit your vomiting out. Fortunately, for me, I’m not.”
“Are you always this defensive?” I ask.
“Are you always this evasive?” she counters.
“That time on the plane wasn’t enough. I want to propose a real one-night stand.”
“And you think paying for my lunch will help you?” Her eyes narrow into slits.
“Who says I’m paying for your lunch?”
“Nobody, I just know that’s what you’re going to do. That’s what you all do. Schmooze your way into a woman’s panties. And for the sake of feminism, I won’t allow you to do that. It’ll only give you a false impression.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” she asks, eyes me suspiciously.
“Okay.” I refuse to elaborate. I’ll have her in my bed by the end of the week, no doubt about that, but she doesn’t need to know that. Why ruin the surprise?
After a few minutes, she turns her head and looks through the menu, placing a beautifully manicured nail on the page and skimming through. She taps on a few items.
I already know what I want. I usually get the same thing every single time. I’m a man of comfort and familiarity. Amber returns to our table with a tablet in her hand.
“What will you be having today?”
“I’ll take my usual please, Amber, and Kerri will have the takoyaki, salmon nigiri, tonkatsu sushi, seared salmon nigiri, and tuna sushi. We’ll also get some table water.”
Kerri scoffs next to me.
“Great choice. I’ll be back soon with your order,” Amber says.
“How did you know what I wanted?” Kerri asks, annoyed.
“I watched you make your decision. You tapped on the ones you wanted.”
“Oh. Rather observant of you.”
“I’m a businessman. I’m supposed to be. I’m rather surprised you ordered so much.”
“Are you disturbed by a woman that has a healthy appetite? she asks.
“Disturbed, no. Impressed, yes; there aren’t many women out there that know how to eat, let alone any that are willing to eat in front of men. I’m also intrigued if food is the only thing you have a healthy appetite for.” A smirk lifts on the corner of my lips.
“What is it that you do?” she asks me, ignoring my obvious flirtation, taking me by surprise.
“You don’t know who I am?” I ask.
“I know,” she states flatly.
“Then why ask what I do?” I ask in confusion.
“There’s no way I’m entertaining your sad attempt at flirtation, and I don’t like silence.”
“How come?”
“That doesn’t concern you,” she responds darkly.
“Why not discuss something as mundane as the weather then?”
“Because the weather is boring, and if we discuss something I already know, then it avoids having to get to know you.”
“Ouch… harsh words there.”
She shrugs.
“Here you go,” Amber says, breaking the tension storming between us. She places the various dishes in front of us before bowing and pouring us both a glass of water. “Omeshi agari kudasai.” (Enjoy your meal.)
“Itadakimasu.” I hold my water glass. “Kanpai.” (Cheers.)
“Itadakimasu.” She clinks her glass with little enthusiasm, and takes a sip.
“Your Japanese pronunciation is pretty good. Are you fluent?” I ask, picking up a piece of the cut toro roll with my chopsticks and placing it in my mouth.
“A friend of mine is Japanese. I’m not fluent, but I know a few phrases and words to get by while I’m here.”
“Sara Minamoto?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“She’s gorgeous.”
“Don’t,” Kerri warns in a low tone, dropping her chopsticks on the table. “She’s got a boyfriend so don’t you even—”
“Calm down. I’m not going to go after her.”
“Good.”
“It’s not her I want anyway,” I say with a smirk, earning an eye roll.
She picks up the takoyaki and pops it into her mouth. Her eyes roll back into her head a little. She closes her eyes as the deliciousness takes over. She moans and it hits me straight in the dick. Her tongue sticks out invitingly, as she licks the sauce residue lingering on her lips and all I want to do is lick it off of them myself. A beautiful pink hue creeps up on her cheeks as she catches me staring at her.
She clears her throat. “Sorry. It’s really good,” she mumbles, excusing herself.
“Why do you think I come here every day?”
A couple of blinks and she’s back to eating her meal. A comfortable conversation falls between us. Nothing too philosophical. Mundane questions on life and Tokyo. Now and then she moans from the taste of the food and I groan inwardly. My dick now pressed hard against my slacks. If she continues making those little noises, I’m going to blow my load. Thinking about the least sexiest things in the world to get me through lunch, I relax when I hear the clink of her chopsticks on the plate.
“That was amazing. It’s an experience for the senses. Taste, sound, feel, and smell. A multi-orgasmic journey.”
“That’s a very interesting description of the food,” I say.
“I’ve learned to appreciate food over the years,” she drawls.
She pushes her seat back and stands up. “Why the rush?” I ask.
“Because lunch is all that you asked for. You never said it needed to involve after lunch conversation,” she explains.
“Touché.”
“That’ll be 7,140.42 yen,” the hostess advises when we reach the front.
I remove my wallet from my pocket, ready to pay my share.
“Thank you for lunch. Surprisingly, I don’t regret it. I wish you all the best, Mr. Hattori, in your future endeavors.”
“What happened to feminism?” I query, leaning against the counter. One foot crossed over the other.
She eats away the distance between us, leaning in. “Well, I figured, what is more feminist than having a guy pay for a meal in a high-class restaurant and not giving him what he wants?” She winks at me for emphasis, before walking off with confidence and satisfaction.
Oh, it’s going to be so fun breaking you.
Chapter Seven
Kerri
Let me get this straight, the guy who made you come like three times, is the Ren Hattori?”
I stare at the screen in shock. How the hell does Taylor even know who he is? I didn’t even know who he was just by his name. “How do you know who he is?” I ask her.
“Dean. They know each other. Not well, but they’ve met before over the years. You know, the Billionaires Club.”
“Of course,” I grumble.
“What are you going to do?” she asks me.
“What do you mean, what am I going to do? Nothing. You know my rule.”
“I know. But it would only be a casual thing. You’re only there for two and a half more weeks. What would be the harm? You said he’s the only one to ever make you come so hard, why not? I know you have a no returns policy, but he lives in a completely different country and you’re on holiday. Aren’t you curious to see what more he could do for you, or to you?”
“Of course I am,” I snap. “I’d be dumb, blind, and everything else if I hadn’t, but…”
“But what?” Taylor asks softly.
I sig
h. “You know the reason I have the policy in place. There are too many assholes out there in the world. And three-quarters of them have fucked us over. I don’t need that again,” I lie.
It’s one of two lies I’ve ever told Taylor. The first one being that Garrett and I ended things because he cheated on me. The second is that men are assholes being the reason I have my rule in place. Yes, men are assholes, but it’s not the only reason.
“I know, but you’re on holiday in Japan, not looking for a relationship, and an extremely hot guy wants to fuck you. Why not just ignore your proclivities for now and go for it? Plus, I don’t think he’s an asshole. You know what Dean’s like, he would never associate himself with pricks.”
“That’s because he is the prick,” I mock.
“I heard that!” Dean barks from somewhere in their house.
“You were meant to!” I shout back at him.
His face comes into view of the camera. “You’re lucky I like you so much,” he states.
“Or what? What would you do to me, Dean?” I tease.
With a grumble, he walks out of the room, and I laugh. Taylor shakes her head. “You two,” she says exasperatedly.
“Being here is not about scoring, Taylor,” I state, returning to the conversation at hand.
“Of course, it’s not, but who says you can’t get lucky anyway?” she asks.
“Because—”
“Six months, Kerri,” she puts it bluntly.
Six months. Six months without sex. Six months without any gratification from anyone but myself. Six months of burning out my vibrator because of how often I was using it. Six months of the itch being partially scratched but wanting more. Can I handle another however long it may take? When I return, it’ll be back to work and back to helping Taylor organize her wedding. It’ll be ensuring that she remains calm and taking a much heavier workload with the business so that Taylor doesn’t have to shoulder so much of the work. Who knows how much longer it will be until I get it again. It wouldn’t be so bad if I broke it, right? I am on holiday and like she said, it’s not like I’m ever going to see him again.