She’d twisted her hair up and secured it atop her head, leaving the back of her neck exposed. He longed to rub his mouth on the tiny, sensitive hairs there, where he could gauge how quickly they bristled against his lips, feeling her skin quiver from his touch.
Tonight the stillness in the atmosphere fit his mood, yet even without a breeze the sweet scent of cherry blossoms perfumed the air.
Before he approached her, he spread the blanket beneath the cherry tree in the garden. Then he knelt behind her and feathered a kiss at the base of her hairline.
Her answering sigh sounded like the sweetest music to him.
His breath remained hot on the nape of her neck as he traced the edge of the robe where it’d slipped, baring her shoulders. With deliberate slowness he slid the robe down, exposing her back and freeing her arms, allowing the silky material to pool next to her thighs and to cover the bottoms of her feet.
“You are beautiful,” he whispered, letting his fingertips trace her spine. “Please stand.”
Amery stood gracefully—her years of practicing yoga made the movement natural and fluid.
He picked up the robe and draped it over the papa-san chair. Then he untied the han obi and shrugged out of his gi top, layering it over Amery’s robe. When he glanced over at her, he caught her staring at the length of fabric before she lowered her gaze.
The silent pause between them lingered and when Amery didn’t ask any questions, he understood he’d earned her trust tonight. He never took that precious gift for granted.
First he moved in behind her and blocked her sight with the han obi.
The bundle of ropes made a softer thud landing on the tatami mat than it did on the mat in his practice room at home. Even the whisper of his gi pants was dampened by the outside elements.
He started out with her clasping her hands behind her back. Because the ropes compressed her rib cage, he focused on caressing her nipples on every pass as he finished the chest harness. He slipped a long bamboo stick diagonally across her back beneath the ropes, tying the top of the stick to the rope dangling from the rafters. This wasn’t a suspension pose so he didn’t need the rope tie strong enough to hold her, just to stabilize her when he began the binding process on her legs.
Moisture dotted his forehead and sweat snaked down his spine. Physical exertion during a kinbaku scene didn’t compare to the energy he expended during his martial arts training. It’d shocked him the first time Amery had asked him to press his damp body to hers, using her skin as his towel, because the intimacy of having his scent on her calmed her.
Now he couldn’t resist marking her in such a primal way. He nuzzled her neck, then dragged his damp forehead across her nipples. Easing back, he blew on the tips, watching her face as he did so.
Amery bit her lip to stifle the groan.
Just that one heated moment instantly made his dick hard.
Focus on the binding. How the rest of her skin will feel beneath your hands. How perfect her creamy flesh will look scored by your red ropes.
Ronin scooted another bundle of rope closer with his foot, forcing his attention to how he’d maneuver her limbs and torso to create the finished image.
Lowering to his knees, he added more rope, creating a modified diamond pattern down her thigh. He became so engrossed in the sound of the rougher rope sliding across the mat, and the frayed look to the rope wrapped around her skin, that he completed the tie on the back of her leg without moving behind her.
As he pulled the rope between her thighs, he kept the two sections separate as he nestled it in the crack of her ass. Once the ropes reached the pucker of her anus, he crossed them, creating a point of constant friction against the nerve-rich tissue there.
Amery made a soft gasp.
Ronin looked up, greedily studying her face as he tugged the rope up and tucked it against her pussy lips along both sides of the split in her sex. After he’d tied the rope off, he ran his thumb down her slit, resting it at the opening of her pussy. He bit back a snarl of satisfaction at the warm yielding of her body as he pushed his thumb in, coating the digit with her wetness. Immediately an intense need to sink his cock into her arose. To feel the jute abrading them as he fucked her past rope subspace into unsurpassed orgasmic bliss.
With renewed anticipation, he dragged his thumb up the pink flesh exposed by his ropes. He teased her swollen clit with a light touch, denying her an orgasm and denying himself even a quick taste of her sweetness.
Ronin snagged another coil of rope and tied it off, beginning the diamond pattern down her left leg. His fingers flew with confident strokes. After finishing, he scrutinized the work. Not his greatest results. It showed when he didn’t take care with the tying.
No, it shows that you haven’t been practicing as you need to. Keeping up with your rope work is muscle memory and as important as any martial arts training.
While he knew there was no such thing as perfection, striving for it had always been his goal. His cheeks heated as the flaws in his technique leapt out at him. Flaws not in the canvas but with the painter.
He further studied his design. His finger traced each wrap on the front side of her body. Then he moved in behind her. With the uneven rope spacing and the odd placement of the bamboo stick, this binding screamed “amateur.” Now he was relieved there wouldn’t be photographic evidence of his less-than-stellar rope work.
Is this session about you? Or about her? In your haste to complete the design have you forgotten the journey is as important as the end result?
As much as he hated having his rope master instructor’s voice in his head during these intimate moments, the truth was he needed the reminders about the true goal of kinbaku—especially lately.
Fix it. Focus on her.
Ronin placed a kiss below her jaw, encouraging her to bare her throat to him. He maneuvered her upper body into a curve, and caressed her while he tied the last dangling rope from the rafter to the left side of the chest harness. “Stretch to the right. That’s it. Let yourself go.”
As usual, Amery looked spectacular bound—a heady mix of innocence and sensuality. But his vision wasn’t complete. Something was missing.
The inside of his forearm brushed her neck as he reached around and pulled the chopsticks from her up-do.
Amery’s gorgeous, strawberry-blond hair tumbled down in soft waves.
That was it. The last piece of the puzzle.
Ronin admired her. With his hands. With his mouth. With his words. “Stunning visage, baby. Thank you for this gift. The name of this binding is ‘swaying cherry tree.’ The bamboo rod supports the spine—the trunk. This curved position of your body denotes the natural arc of branches.” Crushing a handful of her hair, he brought it to his lips before letting it fall. “The way your hair hangs symbolizes the long strands of blossoms on a weeping cherry tree.”
Her chest rose and fell slowly as he wove another spell with his words.
“And these?” Ronin thrummed her nipples, the rigid points poking out between the strands of rope. “They bring to mind the new red buds, eagerly waiting to flower.” He slid his palm down the center of her torso, loving how this angle accentuated her womanly curves. Gently stroking her clit, he dragged an openmouthed kiss from the hollow behind her ear down the slope of her neck. “And this”—he rubbed circles around that swollen flesh—“is the sweetest bud of all. Surrounded by soft pink petals. Emitting such a heavenly scent. And the sweet nectar that gathers here”—he dipped his finger into the cream—“draws me in like nothing else.”
“Ronin. Please. . . .”
He kissed her while he continued to caress her. Drawing out her pleasure. Her body quivered and he swallowed her escalating moans. He pulled back to whisper, “Come for me, baby,” against her mouth.
And she did. Immediately. Beautifully. Holding herself rigid as she climaxed. Even in the aftermath, she held the pose, looking gorgeously spent.
Ronin freed her from the binding. The bamboo pole hit the pat
io deck with a loud clatter, making Amery jump. “It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he murmured against her nape as he undid the last section of the chest harness. He lifted her into his arms and she curled into him, her trust absolute.
He walked the garden path and laid her on the blanket he’d spread out.
Resting on his knees next to her hip, Ronin gathered a handful of cherry blossoms and sprinkled them above her. The pink-edged flowers floated down, landing on her chest and the smooth expanse of her belly.
“That tickles,” she said with a smile.
He scattered another handful over her mound and between her thighs. “If you wiggle too much they’ll slide off. Which would be a shame because you look lovely like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like a lusty earth goddess covered in cherry blossoms.”
“Ronin. Take the blindfold off. Please. I want to see.”
Once the material cleared her forehead, she opened her eyes and pushed up onto her elbows.
She stared at the petals decorating her body and then glanced up to see they were beneath the cherry tree. A soft laugh tumbled from her.
“What?”
“And you tell me you’re not romantic. This is perfect. You’re perfect.” She held out her hand. “Come here. I want to share this with you.”
When he stood to take off his gi pants, he smacked his shoulder into the lowest tree branch, sending hundreds more petals floating down around her.
Ronin watched the scene play out in slow motion like an art-house film; snowy white petals highlighting the flush of passion on her skin, the satisfied tilt of her kiss-plumped lips, her hair spread out with moonlight glinting off it like rose gold.
But this wasn’t a movie, or a dream montage. This woman was his. This life was his.
Another soft laugh sounded and for the first time tonight, he felt silly. Maybe he had gone too far over the top in setting a romantic scene. His gaze collided with hers.
But in the depths of her eyes he saw love and passion and gratitude.
He levered himself over her until they were skin to skin. Even the cherry-blossom scent couldn’t compete with the sweet musk that was all Amery. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself.” She slipped her arms around his neck. “Thank you. I really love this.”
“What specifically do you really love?”
“This time away from our everyday lives. Just you and me. I didn’t realize how much we needed it until we’ve had it the last week.”
“Me too. But I want to warn you that the next three weeks won’t be like this.”
“So let’s make tonight count. Since you’ve gone to all this trouble to form me into a swaying tree, then showering me with heavenly scented flower petals, and I’m pretty sure you plan to make love to me outside in the moonlight beneath the cherry blossom tree.”
“You are right. But first, I need this.” Ronin pushed back onto his haunches and scooped her ass into his hands. He lowered his head at the same time he lifted her sex, opening his mouth wide over her succulent flesh.
He painted her clit with fast lashes of his wet tongue until he felt her clit swelling. He relentlessly pursued her orgasm until that moment she gave it up to him with a sexy cry. The way her back bowed off the blanket kicked in his primal hunger as he greedily sucked down her sweet nectar.
After she stopped writhing against his face, he shifted into the cradle of her thighs and fed his cock into her hot, snug walls. Gritting his teeth against his natural instinct to rut on her like a beast beneath a full moon, he tried to slow himself from the intense pace he desired.
Then Amery’s soft hands were running up his chest and she pulled him down on top of her. She threaded her fingers into his hair and held his face a breath away from hers. “I love you. Thank you for giving me the perfect night.” She brushed her parted lips across his. “Make this last, Master Black. Show me that stamina you’ll need in the next three weeks.”
Three times he built them up to the tipping point and backed off at the last second. Falling petals stuck to their sweat-soaked skin when he drove them to the edge and at last let them spiral into the void together.
As they indulged in kisses and caresses in the afterglow, Amery said, “What number was that?”
He laughed. “I lost track after twenty.”
Chapter Four
Amery missed her friends.
She missed going to the office every day.
She missed being able to drive wherever she wanted.
She missed junk food.
She even missed the dirty sweat-sock smell of the dojo.
But mostly she missed her husband. Which was ironic because of all the things she missed, he was the only thing that was close by.
They’d been in the village outside of Sapporo for two and a half weeks now. The house Ronin had rented for them was in a secluded spot. The people in the village were friendly enough she supposed—not that she could converse with any of them since the locals didn’t speak English and she didn’t speak Japanese.
The first day they’d arrived, Ronin had shown her around. Given her detailed instructions on where to go and not to go. The second day, she’d been on her own. As well as the third day. And every day after that.
Initially she’d hoped Ronin had exaggerated his training schedule, but if anything it was more demanding than she’d expected. On the first day of training, Ronin had returned a different man. And as the days rolled on, he pulled deeper inside himself and further away from her.
Part of his withdrawal, she knew, was from exhaustion. Even after being on medical restrictions for half a year, the man was still a specimen of physical perfection with his lean, muscular body because he challenged himself daily to remain in top condition. The fact he was so worn down every night that he could barely keep his eyes open through dinner indicated how rigorous this training regimen was.
It wasn’t like he didn’t warn you that it’d be like this.
Although she’d had a restless night of sleep, she got up when Ronin got up. He’d been gone an hour by now and she’d done nothing but drink a pot of coffee, and brood while gazing out the window at the mountain she could only admire from afar.
Tired of moping, Amery called her office in Denver. It took some time before the connection went through and the line began to ring.
“Hardwick Designs, this is Molly.”
“You sound chipper. Is it because your workday is almost over?”
“Amery! I was just thinking about you and missing you, you jerk.”
“Missing me? Sounds like you were cursing me.”
“Maybe a little.” Molly paused. “Good god, woman, what time is it there?”
“Seven in the morning. Tomorrow.”
“Why would you get up that early when you’re on vacation?”
“I’m not really on vacation.” She paused. “But Ronin has to get up . . . so then I’m up.”
“Sounds . . . challenging. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. No. Maybe.” She sighed. “I don’t know what I’m doing here right now, Mol.” Hearing the squeak of Molly’s office chair, she had a serious wave of homesickness.
“Hang on.” Footsteps, then, “Hey, Presley, you wanna get us some snacks? Great. Thanks.” Another pause. “Okay. Now I can talk. What’s going on?”
“I’m at loose ends. We’ve been in Japan for three and a half weeks. The first week was amazing. These last few weeks have sucked ass. So when I think about spending the next five weeks bouncing around, I want to jump on the next flight home.”
“Because you’re bored?”
“I don’t know if it’s boredom. Since I haven’t taken a break from working since I graduated from college, I don’t know what to do with myself when I don’t have a regimented schedule. I’ve exhausted all of my options already. I’ve taken a bazillion pictures. I’ve wandered around the village—which takes like four minutes. A tutor comes twice a week to teach me Japanese and I’ve mastered oh, maybe
ten more words. I’ve caught up on all the industry magazines and articles that I brought along for reading. I’ve even managed to finish a few books on my ereader. I practice yoga for an hour every day. I cook dinner for Ronin every night.”
“And?”
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