Chapter 17: Emperor of Wrath: Chapter 17

I’ve been on private jets before. Kir owns one that’s as stunning as his eight homes, and I’m not gonna lie, that thing is one sweet ride.

But flying on Sota’s massive 747 is next level. There are two floors, complete with a main cabin, individual bedrooms, an office and conference room, a dining area with a freaking sushi chef, a bar, and a gym.

Yes. On a plane.

A few hours into the flight, I’ve already watched Air Force One and Snakes On A Plane. Call me crazy, but it felt like appropriate viewing material for being taken to Japan on a jet against my will.

Eventually, my legs need stretching, and I take a little tour. I wind up at the sushi counter, where the chef greets me with a smile and begins to prepare the first course of an omakase tasting menu.

“I hope you don’t mind if I join you?”

Startled, I turn to see Sota.

“Not at all. I mean,” I smile wryly, “it’s your plane.”

The older man chuckles as he takes a seat at the counter next to me. The chef bows to his boss, quickly pours a carafe of sake, and slides it over.

“Sake?” Sota asks, turning to me.

“I’m actually taking a small break from drinking.”

He arches a brow, not looking away.

“I mean… Yeah, sure, why not,” I shrug.

Sota chuckles as the chef delivers two little sake cups before bowing again and going back to preparing the sushi.

“Jiro doesn’t know any English,” Sota says in his beautifully accented voice, nodding to the chef. “Feel free to speak freely.”

He pours the sake as Jiro slides a plate in front of each of us with a stunningly arranged slice of hamachi over a light seaweed salad with what looks like sliced yuzu.

“Kanpai,” the older Yakuza boss says gruffly, raising his glass.

“Kanpai.”

“To a fruitful marriage,” he says quietly. When he clocks the look I can’t quite hide quickly enough, he smiles. “It may not have love,” he continues. “But may it at least have peace, respect, and kindness.”

Well, that was beautiful.

I take a sip of sake and pick up the chopsticks to taste my delicious first course. When I glance over at Sota, I notice something I never have before. My gaze drags down his forearm, over the irezumi ink, until it lands on his right hand.

…and the pinky finger that’s missing the top half.

“When I was young,” Sota says, catching me looking, and holding his hand up with a wry smile, “I was a bit like Takeshi. Headstrong, impulsive, wild.” He chuckles. “Like Kenzo, too, although he at least keeps a level head.”

“What happened?” I ask, frowning at his finger.

“I disrespected my oyabun,” he says matter-of-factly. “In the Yakuza, respect is everything. Luckily, my oyabun was a wise man who saw potential in an otherwise headstrong youth. He could have asked for my heart. Instead, it was only yubitsume.”

I stare wide-eyed at his pinky again.

“He cut your finger off?”

Sota chuckles and shakes his head as he turns back to his hamachi.

“No.” He takes a sip of sake. “I did.”

Holy fuck.

I mean the Bratva is serious, and it frequently wanders deep into the hardcore part of the forest. But cutting off your own finger over a slight to your boss is way past that.

Sota sighs, glancing at me as we both finish our first plate. “Now you think the Yakuza is savage and merciless.”

I could lie to him, but something about Sota makes you want to speak honestly.

“It’s…a little extreme to me. Granted, that’s just my opinion, not being from that world…”

“True,” he nods. “But the Bratva is extreme in its own way, is it not?”

Good point.

“And though you were young and much of it may have been hidden from you, your father’s empire was fairly extreme in certain ways as well.”

I frown curiously. Sota smiles.

“I met him once. Your father.”

Shock spreads over my face. “Seriously?”

He nods. “Not for business. We were both in Monaco and played poker together at a table. He was good,” he chuckles ruefully. “He took a lot of money from me that night.”

I smile privately. I don’t think of my parents very often. But every once in a while I allow myself to, like a little treat.

“Yes, the Yakuza can be savage and extreme,” Sota says as Jiro puts another plate, uni this time, in front of us. “But it’s what saved me as a young man. I think it’s what saved Kenzo’s father Hideo, too. He was my best friend, you know. And I understand that at a certain point, he wanted out, for his family. But to me, the Yakuza is my family. It’s my greatest love,” he says fiercely, turning to me. “I believe it’s what saved Kenzo, too.”

“From?”

He shrugs. “Blandness. From wandering through life unsure of what he was and who he should be. He could easily have stayed in England with his mother, God rest her soul. He could have lived his life on the periphery of the aristocracy, never quite being accepted into their ranks. But blood speaks, and his blood brought him back to Japan. Back to the Yakuza. It’s through that savageness and extremism that he’s found himself. And now?” He turns to raise his glass to me, smiling. “It’s how he’s found you.”

I smile back as I touch my cup to his. “Kanpai, Sota-san.”

He grins. “Kanpai, Annika.”

After a lovely dinner with Sota, I meander toward the back of the plane, to the office and conference room area. It’s unclear how long I’m going to be in Kyoto. But I’ve been prepping for an acquisition for Kir, and we’re planning to make our move in the next three months. That means getting Kir’s army of corporate lawyers and finance nerds all on the same page.

Hey, this is the job.

I’m on a video call on my laptop, sitting at the desk facing the rest of the conference room. Suddenly, the door to the room opens, and my face flushes a little as Kenzo walks in. I drag my eyes back to the screen, nodding at something someone’s just said into my earbud. Then I’m aware of Kenzo walking right over to me.

“Excuse me one second,” I say politely. I tap a button, muting my mic and turning off my camera as Kenzo leans against the desk right next to my monitor. “Can I help you,” I mutter.

“Maybe,” he growls, a spark of something dangerous in his eyes.

My core flutters and my face heats. But I swallow it back as I glare at him. “I’m on a video call.”

He smirks. “Just what do you think I want that can’t be done on a video call?”

My cheeks throb. “If you don’t mind, some of us have work to do.” I push at his hip, nudging him off the edge of the desk until he’s out of view of the camera. “Excuse me,” I say brusquely, turning back to the monitor and pushing the button to turn the camera and the mic back on.

One of Kir’s lawyers is going over some contractual stuff. My focus is suddenly broken by movement past the monitor. I glance up, and my eyes bulge when I see Kenzo standing by the conference table, unbuttoning his black dress shirt and peeling it off his muscled, tattooed shoulders.

My lip catches between my teeth as I watch him drape it neatly over the back of a conference table chair.

His hands drop to his belt and start to undo it. That’s when I hit the mute and camera off button again.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He pulls off his pants, hanging them neatly over the chair next to his shirt. Then he turns to me, and I suck in a breath of air as I drink in his freaking insane body.

I mean, the man looks fucking photoshopped.

“Hello?” I hiss. “What the fuck?”

Kenzo shrugs. “It’s another good few hours to Japan. I’m getting comfortable.”

“Well, can you please do that somewhere else?”

Someone is calling my name in my ear.

Shit.

I quickly swing back to the monitor and unmute myself again, turning the camera back on.

“My apologies, the Wi-fi isn’t great. I’m actually flying to Japan at the moment⁠—”

I almost fall out of my chair when my eyes snap to the scene unfolding in front of me. Kenzo has walked right up to the desk, casually standing next to it just out of view of the camera, running a hand over his chiseled jaw.

He’s completely naked.

My mouth falls open. I can’t help it: my eyes drop straight to his dick. I mean for fuck’s sake, it’s right there. He’s not even hard, but the freaking thing is still huge, and thick, and looks heavy as it hangs between his thighs.

“Excuse me, don’t you have a video call to attend to?”

How can I? My full attention is embarrassingly fixated on Kenzo’s cock.

How the actual fuck did that fit inside me? Like, within the boundaries of biology? I want to reiterate that he’s not even hard right now.

“Annika?”

I rip my attention back to Kir’s lawyer on the screen, blushing furiously.

“I apologize, Sean. There’s a serious delay with this connection. Can you go ahead and email me the rest of the contract, so I can look it over? I’ll set up a follow-up call once I’ve landed and settled in, and we can circle back to these points. I want them set in stone before we walk into that conference room looking for blood.”

“Sounds good, Annika,” Sean smiles. “Enjoy the flight. We’ll talk later.”

I end the call and turn to glare daggers at Kenzo. He’s already walking away, giving me an eyeful of his—I hate to admit it—absurdly sculpted, perfect ass.

“I’m sorry, is there something wrong with you?”

He half turns, arching a brow as he smirks at me from across the room, pulling on gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt that fits snug around his biceps. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a ‘circle back to these points’ kind of girl.”

“Is there a legitimate reason you came in here? Or is it just fun for you to bother me?”

He smirks. “We should discuss our needs.”

My brow furrows. “Excuse me?”

“Our needs. Sexually, I mean.”

I roll my eyes, but my face pulses with heat as my every brain cell fixates on last night.

His hands on me. His possessive power and dominance over me.

The filthy way he talked to me, and touched me, and fucked me like I’ve never even imagined.

I swallow. “I don’t know why we need to⁠—”

“Every human has them,” Kenzo says evenly. “We’re married, so we should discuss them.” His lips curl up coyly. “What, for example, are your kinks.”

I stammer, flustered. “Kinks? I—I don’t…” I catch my breath. “I don’t have any.”

Kenzo snorts. “Everyone does. Do you enjoy sex?”

My face tingles.

“It would appear you do,” he purrs. “But I’d like to make sure.”

I mean, I do now. I didn’t, for the years I was under his control. After that, I just…didn’t have it. Ever.

Until I did, with this man standing in front of me.

I could guess,” Kenzo goes on. “And you could just tell me yes or no. Or even just give a thumbs up or thumbs down⁠—”

“Jesus, are we seriously doing this?” I blurt, standing and crossing to the far side of the conference room.

“We’re married, princess,” he growls quietly as he takes a seat at one of the conference table chairs. “We should know where the boundaries lie.” His lips turn up in a wicked smile. “Or indeed if there are any boundaries.”

I shiver as his dark eyes stab into me.

“You did mention something about not being able to rape the willing…”

My eyes widen as fire erupts across my face. “That⁠—”

“So maybe it’s a rape kink,” he growls.

Forbidden heat creeps up my spine and throbs in my core.

“Consensual non-consent, as they’re calling it these days.”

When I don’t answer—because I don’t trust myself to speak—he just smiles.

“I’ll take that as a maybe. How about bondage.”

“I don’t want to talk about⁠—”

“Ah, also a maybe,” he says calmly.

I glare at him. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t say no, either.”

My lips purse. “Okay, no. No bondage,” I mumble, completely unconvincingly.

“Final answer?”

I bite my lip. Kenzo smirks.

“Staying on the maybe list, then.”

“What about you?” I snap back. “What gets you going? Mommy issues?”

He looks amused. “Low blow, but no.”

“Fisting?” I blurt, going for the weirdest shit I can think of. “Pissing on people?”

Kenzo’s brows arch, an amused look on his face. “No, but if that’s your thing, I’m sure I can be convinced to give it a try.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Which one?”

My face throbs. “Both.”

“Are you sure about that?”

I roll my eyes. “Will you just tell me whatever weird thing you’re into so I can tell you it’s not happening and we can move on?”

He shrugs. “Gladly.” His eyes fix on me. “Bondage,” he growls.

Oh.

Yeah, that’s not a “maybe” for me.

…It might be a yes.

But like most things sexual, it’s been tainted for me. It’s been weaponized and used to control me by a man I loathe. Still, to say I’ve never fantasized about being tied down…or otherwise immobilized…and used would be a lie.

Kenzo stands and slowly crosses the room to the corner I’ve retreated to, until he’s standing right in front of me.

“Control,” he murmurs quietly.

He reaches up, and I shudder when the back of his finger lightly brushes my throat.

“Free use.”

My face blooms with forbidden heat as my thighs tighten. Kenzo smirks.

“I’ll take it from that you know what that is.”

“I…” I swallow, my breath coming faster. “Yes.”

“Anytime, anywhere,” he growls darkly. “I have control over you.”

“Just you over me?” I toss back, in a vain attempt to keep myself on some semblance of an equal footing.

“Or we can make it go both ways.”

I roll my eyes. “How generous. And if I say no?”

“Are you?” he murmurs, his finger slowly stroking up and down the side of my throat. “Saying no?”

I swallow hard, but say nothing.

“Hm…another maybe,” Kenzo purrs. “My, this is getting interesting.”

He drops his hand and turns, walking calmly to one of the chairs at the conference table behind him and sitting.

“Come here.”

It’s not just the soft but commanding tone. It’s not the stupidly hot British accent.

It’s the way he crooks his finger at me in that “come hither” way. It just…does something to me.

Before I can second guess myself, or put up any sort of defense against the traitorous feelings inside me, I’m moving toward him. I go to sit in the chair next to him, but Kenzo shakes his head.

“Here,” he murmurs, patting his lap.

“What?” I choke.

“Come. Here,” he growls softly, crooking his fingers again and pointing at his thighs.

My face erupts with heat as I sit on his lap. Then I shiver and gasp as he turns me around and boldly yanks me over his legs, face down.

“Kenzo!”

My eyes bulge and my breath chokes off as he grabs hold of the back of my yoga pants and yanks them down over my ass to mid-thigh with a strong jerk of his arm.

“What the fuck⁠—!”

I yelp as he grabs my panties, pulling them down as well. My whole world explodes, my face tingling and my body throbbing not only with shame but also a vicious need for something more.

Something dark.

I tremble, feeling intensely exposed and vulnerable.

I’ve felt like this before. But this time is different. This time, it’s not a weapon being used against me, to torture me and to keep me in place.

This time, there’s something weirdly freeing about what he’s doing. What he’s allowing to blossom inside me.

What he’s unlocking from deep in my psyche.

He-who-will-not-be-named was a monster. His intentions were vile and corrupt. Kenzo might be a dick, maybe even a little psychotic. We might be enemies.

But he’s not a monster.

So when his hand slides up the back of my thigh and over my ass, I don’t flinch or crawl in on myself. I don’t block it out or retreat.

I embrace it.

I breathe it in.

I let the heat of his touch and the scorch of his gaze melt into my skin and set me ablaze.

Kenzo’s big hand grabs one of my ass cheeks. My face throbs with embarrassment when he spreads me wide open, and I feel cool air against the slickness between my thighs.

“What…” My voice is shaky. “What are you⁠—”

“Whatever I want, princess,” he growls. “Don’t forget, you’re my wife. You’re mine—all of you. Including,” he murmurs, “this pretty little pussy.”

His hand slides between my thighs, and I bite back a moan when one of his fingers teasingly drags up my lips.

“Isn’t that right,” he says quietly.

“I—I⁠—”

“Say it.”

I defiantly shake my head.

“SAY it,” he growls.

I pause. “I-it’s yours,” I finally mumble, heat pulsing in my face.

Kenzo chuckles darkly. “What is.”

“My…” I swallow. “My…vagina.”

He sighs heavily. “Princess, princess. You can do better than that.”

I yelp as he casually swats my ass, making the skin erupt with fire and heat. He does it again to the other cheek, making me simmer and squirm with desire. I feel him reach for something in his pocket. Then his hand slips back between my slightly spread thighs, teasing over my wetness.

“What are you⁠—”

I whimper, biting my lip as I feel something hard and rubbery slide into me. My eyes roll back in pleasure as it sinks deep, and it’s only then that I realize that it’s U-shaped. One end rests inside against my g-spot, the other end of the U sitting against my clit.

My whole body begins to tremble.

I hear the click of a button being pushed.

Oh FUCK…

The toy starts sending vibrations radiating through my core like tidal waves. It’s almost too intense, but just shy of being unbearable. I try and bite back the moan, but there’s no stopping the audible cry of pleasure as the throbbing rumbling against my clit and my g-spot send me hurtling into an abyss.

“Now,” Kenzo murmurs darkly over the vibrating hum turning me into a puddle on his lap. “Let’s try that again, shall we?” His palm spanks my ass, hard, making me yelp as I sob in pleasure. “Say it.”

“It’s…yours!” I choke, clinging to his muscled thighs and squirming against them.

“What is? Try harder.”

My world melts as my mouth goes slack. “M-my…pussy!” I whimper.

“Is?”

“Yours!” I whine loudly as the waves crash over me.

I can’t believe I’m saying or doing this. I don’t “submit”. I never submit, to anyone. But right now, I’m craving it. Desperate for it.

The pulsing of the toy is my entire world. The pleasure is all I know. His thumb slips into my mouth, fucking my lips shallowly as I moan around it.

“So nice and wet, princess,” he growls.

His thumb slips out with a soft pop. Then I can feel him slowly moving his hand back…

His thumb teases against my ass.

Jesus…

“Kenzo, I’m not⁠—”

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion or permission, princess,” he murmurs.

I moan deeply as his wet thumb circles the rim of my tight hole, before suddenly he’s slipping it inside.

Holy fuck…

I feel something else push against my lips. For a minute, I think it’s his other thumb. But when I take it inside, I realize it’s another rubber toy, although it’s shaped differently from the one pulsing against my clit and g-spot.

“I’d get this really nice and wet, if I were you…”

I whimper, moaning as I tongue the toy, coating it in my spit. He slips it from my mouth as his thumb sinks deeper into my ass and then gently slips out.

The toy teases my back hole, and my eyes widen.

“Kenzo…”

Without warning, without asking, and without any preamble, he pushes the little toy into my ass.

FUCK.

I grunt, my legs shaking and my toes curling in the air. The butt plug sinks into me, widening to such a point that I choke on a whine before it suddenly narrows again to a flared base that rests against my ring.

It was just in my mouth. I know that it’s fairly small. But holy fuck, it feels huge back there.

“Interesting,” Kenzo murmurs.

A choked moan tumbles from my mouth. “Wh—what?”

“You’ve never had anyone here, have you.”

He’s right.

“No,” I whimper. I groan as he grabs both toys by the parts outside me, gently pushing them in and out as if fucking both my holes at the same time. My eyes roll back and my mouth goes slack. My nails dig into his firm, muscled thighs as I cling to him and moan in pleasure

“I’ll enjoy stretching this little hole some day,” Kenzo growls. “But first, on your knees.”

“Wh—what?”

He leans down, his lips near my ear.

“You’re going to get on your knees and swallow every inch of my cock like a good little whore.”

It’s like someone dumped ice water over my head and utterly doused the fire that was threatening to consume me.

You’re such a good little whore, Annika. MY little whore.

Instantly—and I do mean instantly—whatever fierce desire I had is extinguished as memories of the shame, the darkness, and the abuse surge to the forefront of my thoughts.

I lurch away from Kenzo, scrambling off his lap and yanking my panties and pants up quickly.

He frowns, and starts to speak. I beat him to it.

“I’m not a whore,” I snarl coldly. I step back from him, my arms reflexively crossing over my chest as I look away. “I’m not.”

He says nothing. Slowly, I glance back to him to see an impassive look on his face as he tilts his head and eyes me.

“I didn’t⁠—”

“You literally just did,” I hiss.

He studies me thoughtfully.

“We’re not done here,” he finally growls.

“Trust me, we are.”

I whirl, storming across the conference room and out the door. I march in a cold, angry haze back up to the main cabin and plop down in a seat next to Hana. She frowns, pulling out her earbuds and turning away from whatever she was watching to look at me with concern.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” I mumble. “I’m⁠—”

Then my eyes bulge, and I have to slam a hand over my own mouth to stop from gasping aloud.

In my haste to escape the memories that were crowding forward, I’ve managed to storm back here with Kenzo’s fucking toys still inside me.

…And they just started to rumble and move.

Both of them.

I squirm in my seat, clutching the armrest in one hand and twisting my head away to bite the heel of my other hand.

“Jesus, Annika,” Hana blurts. “Are you⁠—”

“I-I’m fine,” I choke. “I just have to⁠—”

Just as I’m about to get out of my chair and run to the bathroom to get these fucking things out of me, a firm, powerful hand lands heavily on my shoulder.

“Easy there, wife,” he growls evenly.

I stare at him with a mix of “fuck you” and “are you crazy” as he smirks right in my face, reaches down, and clips my seatbelt in place. He tightens it against my stomach as I squirm and fight back the urge to moan.

“The captain just told me we’re about to experience some turbulence.”

He shoots me a slight grin that only I can see.

Lying sack of⁠—

I gasp sharply as the plane jolts. Kenzo’s smirk turns downright smug as he sits in the seat facing me.

He buckles up as the plain lurches again. Then he pulls his phone out of his pocket and smiles coolly at me as he holds it up and cocks a brow significantly.

Oh you FUCKER…

He taps the screen, open to the app or whatever that controls the fucking toys inside me. The buzzing, throbbing, and pulsing all ramp up a notch as I cling to the seat, a horrified look on my face even as the pleasure intensifies.

My eyes lock with his as his mouth curls dangerously.

“Strap in, wife,” he grins. “It might be a very bumpy flight…”