His Until Dawn (Kissing the Boss Book 3)

by Fionn Jameson

  My heart thudded against my chest as I watched him watching me from between my thighs.

  A corner of his lips twisted up. "Now to decide the manner in which to punish you."

  "Please," I whispered. "Don't…don't hurt me."

  A brow went up. "Hurt you? Oh, I don't intend on hurting you. Well, not too much."

  He blew against my heated core, that treacherous part of me that wanted everything he offered, the part that wanted him to hurt me even. My back arched, fingers clenching into the soft, silken bed sheets as he did it again.

  I heard him laugh as though he was somewhere far away. "Yes. Yes, I think I like that a lot."

  He used his tongue after that, laving my cunt in slow, masterful strokes that made me cry out in wild abandon as I fought to get away, fought to get closer, feeling that subtle, yet undeniable climax that was maddeningly just out of reach.

  So close.

  So…close!

  Just when I thought it would happen, when I thought the oblivion would take me, he pulled away, leaving me wet, confused, and cold, my cunt flexing in a vain attempt to bring about something that only he could give me.

  I levered myself up on my weak elbows, shaking, sweating. "Wha…what? Why did you stop?"

  He went back on his haunches, smiling widely at me. "I told you I'd punish you, didn't I?"

  I stared at him. "Seriously? This is it? You're going to punish me like this?"

  "Of course. I need to make sure this won't happen again," he said as he kicked off his pajama pants and slid onto the bed next to me. "Suck me off."

  And the sad thing was, I complied, levering myself up with joints almost too weak to obey.

  I took his hard, straining length into my mouth, feeling his hands in my hair, keeping it out of my face, as I used every trick I read about in magazines and books to bring him to satisfaction.

  It never occurred to me to "punish" him in the same way as he had done to me. That and he would have, no doubt, taken it not too kindly that I dared to turn the tables on what he thought was well-deserved justice.

  His hand tightened in my hair, bringing me up and off his pulsing cock, off that bitter, smoky taste of him so heavy on my tongue.

  "No, I think I have more in store for you," he whispered as he brought me up to his mouth, his tongue plundering mine, tasting himself and me. Then he rolled me under him, keeping me pinned under his weight, while he reached over and pulled something out of a drawer from the nightstand next to the bed.

  It looked like a long strip of silk, and I eyed it hanging from his hand as though it was a snake. "You're not…"

  His eyes glinted in the moonlight streaming through the vertical blinds, as he grabbed my wrists and pushed them over my head, tying the silk expertly around my wrists.

  With my wrists bound together, my breasts thrust up even higher, I felt breathless, offered up like some sacrifice to a vengeful god…or devil.

  "Is this…" My throat tightened up. "Is this necessary?"

  "Shh," he said as he pried my thighs apart, and I closed my eyes as the glorious sensation of his cock pushing through my wet folds brought back the faint strains of the release I had so wanted.

  "Don't stop," I whispered and he pinched my cheek hard, bringing forth a brilliant shade of pain that somehow made the pleasure even sharper.

  "Shut up," he said mildly, still pressing forward. "You don't get to tell me what to do."

  When I thought he couldn't go any further, when I was almost uncomfortably full, he started to move.

  Slow, measured thrusts into my wetness that made me turn my head into the pillows to stifle the cries tumbling forth.

  Every pump of his hips was calculated, as he looked down at me, his eyes narrowed, intent as he brought me close to that precipice of release.

  The moment I thought he would bring me to climax, his movements slowed and the pillow was wet with my tears as I begged him for that climax he kept so cruelly away from me.

  I moved my hips under his, tried to roll him deeper into me, but he kept himself aloft, clearly enjoying the sight of me writhing under him, begging like a sinner that couldn't possibly achieve redemption.

  I promised him everything, promised him I would never come late to his requests again, promised him I would listen and heed his every demand if he allowed me to come, but the smile only spread on his dark claret lips.

  He tsked his tongue as I tried to push against him, and he pulled back enough to hover over my grasping cunt. "Now, that wouldn't be much of a punishment if I let you come, would it?"

  Then as the waves of pleasure ebbed away, he fucked me again, slowly, and then fast, then slow again, until I turned into a sobbing mass of nerves, begging for a release I thought would never come.

  This must've been what hell was like.

  And he was the tormenting devil to torture me for all eternity, to never let me reach satisfaction.

  When I couldn't stand it anymore, when I thought I'd lose my mind, I felt his breath on my ear.

  "Have you learned your lesson?"

  My wrists twisted in their bonds as I nodded frantically, feeling his hands come up under my hips, pressing me against his throbbing member. "Yes, yes, yes. Please. I've learned my lesson!"

  "You're mine. To do with how I please. If I want to fuck you, you come. Nothing is more important, got it?"

  At that point, I would have promised him my soul to achieve release. "Yes! Please, Nobuki, fuck me."

  And fuck me, he did.

  I lost track of the number of times I came. They all blurred together into one long session of pure sensation and vaguely, I heard Nobuki groan, his head pressed into the pillow next to me, as he spent himself inside me, jerking, spurting, his hips pummeling against mine.

  I was exhausted, shaking, and he pulled the covers over us, in a surprising show of gentleness, even though we smelled like sex and sweat.

  Then his hands undid the silk rope around my wrist and finally, finally I could relax in that bed, pressed up against Nobuki, his arm over my shoulders.

  During the night, he slipped out, and I heard the shower start. Uncomfortably stiff and sticky, I wrestled out of the covers and joined him in that large, marbled bathroom, as he stood underneath the shower head, letting the water run over his slack face.

  I opened the door and stepped in next to him. There was more than enough room for the both of us and as though it was the most natural thing in the world, I put my arms around him.

  He turned around and kissed me under that almost too-hot spray of water and then washed me with a soapy sponge, his touch gentle, tender as I leaned against the wall, knees too weak to keep me standing for long.

  He drew me back under the hot spray again and kissed me and when his fingers slipped into my tender pussy, I drew in a quick breath, hands clenching into his shoulders.

  "It's okay," he said into my ear, as his fingers worked their way in and out of me. "Relax."

  He brought me to another climax like that, using his fingers and when the explosions of color and sound subsided, he carried me out of the shower and toweled me off before slipping me into bed, his body warm and hard next to mine.

  When I woke up next, it was three in the morning, and I inched out of bed, wincing with every move I made. Slowly, I dressed, but had to forgo my panties because I couldn't find them by touch. I wasn't going to turn on the light to wake Nobuki up, who was a heavy sleeper, if he still hadn't woken up after all my whispered curses as I bashed various limbs into furniture that seemed to be made up entirely of sharp corners.

  I waited out on his street corner for about ten minutes until a taxi, the driver blinking tiredly, stopped and took me back home, a relatively short fifteen-minute drive.

  The walk up to the fifth floor of my apartment left me shivering and sweaty and it was all I could do to kick off my sneakers and stumble to bed. I was already half-asleep when my face hit the pillows and before I knew it, the raucous beeping sound came from my chicken alarm clock tha
t I always set to six AM on the weekdays.

  I groaned and rolled over, still dressed in the clothes from the night before, my muscles aching as I tried to reach over to turn off the alarm before my next-door neighborhood could start pounding the wall in protest.

  I didn't quite hit the snooze button; actually, I knocked the clock off the table entirely and the battery rolled out, but that was okay. At least it wasn't beeping anymore, and I blinked at the white ceiling, listening to the distant sounds of traffic, a barking dog somewhere down the block.

  Just a start of another day for Rika Hasegawa.

  Right.

  I wobbled into the office at eight on the dot, still breathing hard from my dash here from the bus stop. Thanks to the work Nobuki had done to my body, I had been sluggish and ended up half an hour later than usual.

  Nobuki's door was open and as always, he was already hard at work. He had probably been sitting at his desk while I spent time blinking at the bedroom ceiling. His voice was low, confident as he talked to someone and meanwhile, I was trying not to keep yawns from splitting my face open every few minutes. Then again, he hadn't been the one to wake up at three AM.

  I drew in a deep, bracing breath and then turned on my computer, settling into the average day of being the Executive assistant to the Foreign Marketing Manager.

  Answering emails took up the majority of the morning, most of them banal, formulaic, the usual requests for information and clarification from other departments. My eyes glazed over as I sent off per diem info to HR.

  The next email was from Julian Lambert.

  Chest heavy, I opened it reluctantly, wondering if it was another plea for me to join him in LA. Julian was one of Shokogan's overseas publishing liaisons, and there had been something between us from the moment I first met him. I found him gentle, tender and amazingly attractive, and when he asked me to stay in America, I thought about it for a more than a second or two. It had been a tantalizing offer, but then I started this rather disastrous "arrangement" with Nobuki.

  Don't ask me why I chose a haughty, cold man over someone as wonderful and kind as Julian; I'm still trying to figure that out.

  Luckily, the email was friendly, asking if I'd send him the contact info to one of our science-fiction writers who had seen a surge of popularity in America after his book was turned into an anime series.

  I came upon the post script.

  I can't forget you.

  Those four words made my breath come up short, and I had to look away from the monitor as I concentrated on breathing.

  What was I supposed to say? Was I even supposed to reply to it at all?

  Well, I had to do something. Just not…now.

  Making a mental note to send Julian a personal email rather than shoving a note into his work email, I sent him the information he requested, and pushed back my chair.

  It was past noon and Ayaka was waiting for me. My stomach grumbled from the lack of breakfast and no amount of little snacks kept me from gazing longingly at the Tupperware in my bag.

  Yeah, it was kind of embarrassing to have my mom pack my lunch for me, but it was better than waking up early to make it myself. Besides, cooking was not one of my stronger points and my mother cooked like a Michelin chef. How could anyone not say yes to that? I could take a little shame if it meant I ate better than anyone one else in the entire building.

  Tupperware in my hand, I took the elevator down to the second floor and met Ayaka standing in the canteen line.

  Dark circles ringed her eyes and her wavy hair she usually left loose about her shoulders was tied back into a severe knot at the base of her neck. Her skin was almost too white, lipstick a little too red.

  "You look like hell," I remarked.

  She winced and brushed a stray lock of hair behind one pearly ear. "I feel like it. Sorry about last night. Did you get me home?"

  "Yep."

  She slipped the lunch lady her food ticket and got back a steaming bowl of kitsune udon on a black tray. And even though I had my packed food, my mouth still watered at the aroma of the hot, salty broth.

  We took seats across from each other at the end of a bench, close to the windows showing a light blue sky with little puffs of white clouds that looked like delicious cotton candy.

  I must've been starving if even the scenery was making me drool, and I opened the Tupperware and dug in enthusiastically.

  Meanwhile, Ayaka half-heartedly dipped her chopsticks into the noodles, taking a few sips of the broth before putting her spoon down.

  Mouth full, I looked at her. "Mmm?"

  She sighed and shook her head. "Thanks for getting me back home. Did you get home okay after that?"

  I turned my gaze back to my food and nodded. I couldn't tell her about Nobuki; I couldn't tell anyone about Nobuki.

  If they even believed me.

  "That's good," she said, swishing her chopsticks through the thick white noodles. "God, I haven't gotten that drunk since college. I didn't think Shuichiro would dump me like that."

  "He's an idiot," I replied.

  "Damn straight," she agreed. "I wish I hadn't wasted so much time on him."

  I reached over and patted her cold hands. "It's okay. You're way too good for him anyways. There's a million other guys out there who'd thank their lucky stars to have you. If Shuichiro wants to get married to a kindergarten teacher, let him. You need someone who'll treat you like a goddess."

  She sighed and took another sip of the broth. "I'll go for anyone who won't dump me because I don't want to get married right away. I mean, I'm twenty-eight years old. There's still so much I want to do, so much I want to see. You know what happens once you get married and have kids. Your life isn't your own anymore. You're basically living for your child, and I'm too selfish for that now."

  I understood the sentiment all too well. "My sister set up a meeting on Saturday for me. To meet her friend."

  Ayaka's eyes widened. I guess she remembered little of last night, considering I had told her this before. "Are you going? Have you met him before?"

  I shrugged, already scrapping the bottom of the lunch box. Damn. Maybe Ayaka would give me her udon if she didn't want it. "I barely remember him. I said I wasn't interested, but my parents told me to go."

  Her mouth thinned. "At least they're not bugging you about kids. That's all my folks talk about lately. Who's this friend of hers?"

  "Some classmate from high school."

  Ayaka blinked. "Didn't you go to the same school?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "But you don't know him?"

  I closed the lid of the now-empty Tupperware container with a sigh. "Honestly, I can hardly remember my classmates. How can I remember someone in my sister's class? Besides, the upperclassmen never mingled with the underclassmen. They might catch cooties or something."

  "Guess so." Ayaka slid over her tray. "Here. Still hungry, aren't you?"

  "You're a peach." I shot her a grateful grin, and she answered in kind.

  I was half way through the udon when a clatter of sharp stiletto heels drew close to our table.

  Ayaka's lips curled in disgust.

  "Ugh, bitch alert," she muttered. "Ignore them, Rika."

  Easier said than done, but I'd give it my best effort.

  "Oh my God, look at that giant," someone snickered. "She's so hungry, she has to eat other people's food too!"

  Haru laughed derisively as she and her circle of fangirls walked past us. "Well, she's gigantic, can you blame her?"

  Eyes flashing, Ayaka pushed her chair back. "That's it. I'm ending this now."

  Quickly, I put a hand on Ayaka's wrist, pinioning her in place. "Forget it. Besides, they're leaving. Are you going to chase them down? It's not worth the effort."

  She stared at me in frustration. "Don't you care? They're picking on you because you won't retaliate."

  I lifted the bowl up to my mouth and took a big swallow of the broth. "So what? Words can't hurt me. I'm used to hearing stuff like that."r />
  Her facial muscles flickered. "And you're okay with it?"

  I shrugged and hid a discreet little burp in the folds of my napkin. "Whatever. If people weren't making fun of my height, they'd find something else to make fun of," I said, patting my mouth primly as I moved the tray with the empty bowl aside.

  Ayaka stared at me. "What is that, the Tao of you?"

  I grinned. "It helps."

  She nodded. "Uh-huh. Incidentally, you have green onion in your teeth."

  While I checked my reflection in a metal water cup, Ayaka laughed. It was a pretty sound, almost bell-like in its clarity, no artifices whatsoever.

  "I'm glad you're laughing," I said, after removing the offending piece of food. "You look better too."

  The color had returned to her cheeks, and the dark circles had disappeared from her eyes. Her face had a youthful glow about her, and even though she wasn't wearing much makeup that day, I found I preferred it more.

  Judging from the surreptitious glances from the male coworkers around us, I thought Ayaka wouldn't be mourning her breakup with Shuichiro for long. With a quick goodbye and another pat on her shoulder, I grabbed her food tray—seeing as how I had been the one to empty it—and my Tupperware and took it to the dishwashing section.

  After arranging it somewhat precariously on a pile of other trays that looked like they would spill all over the floors if you so much as sneezed on them, I tucked the Tupperware under one arm and made a detour to the bathrooms.

  As I leaned over the sink, inspecting my pallid appearance, I heard a strident voice that sounded like Haru's fangirl. It was approaching, and I knew Haru wouldn't be far from it.

  And no matter what I told Ayaka about not caring about Haru said, that didn't mean I wanted to be caught in an empty room with just her and her friend.

  I looked around frantically, knowing there was no escape.

  Except for a bathroom stall.

  I sat down on the closed toilet set and drew my feet up, hugging them close to my chest while I watched Haru and one of her minions through the tiny slit between the door and the wall.