Emperor of Lust: Chapter 12

The King Executive Suite at the Conrad Tokyo Hotel is nothing short of opulent. Modern, elegance personified, and, as the name suggests, fit for royalty, with panoramic views of Tokyo’s skyline.

It’s also home while we’re here laying the foundations for the Mori-Nikolayev expansion into Tokyo.

I let Hana step in first, watching her carefully as her gaze sweeps over the polished wood, silk drapes, and understated luxury that fills every inch of the place.

I wait silently as she scans the suite, her expression shifting subtly as she walks across the open-concept main room with massive floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. My lips curl at the corners as she gets to the double doors leading into the grand bedroom and bath.

The only bedroom.

Her shoulders tense and a flicker of outrage flashes across her features before she turns to me, her eyes blazing.

“There’s only one bed.”

I shrug. “People engaged to be married do tend to share a bed.”

“Not those who are waiting until marriage,” she throws back tersely, her cheeks reddening as she avoids my gaze.

I shrug. “Still just the one bed…”

I watch in amusement as her face flushes with frustration, her jaw tight, lips pressed into a line. She opens her mouth, then closes it again.

“But plenty of couches,” she finally mutters, her tone clipped. “So, bedroom’s all yours. I’m going to go take a shower before dinner…”

Her brows knit as she stalks across the open space into the kitchen area, glancing around.

I grin. “Just one bathroom, too.”

Hana’s mouth is pursed tightly as she opens a closet door, clearly still not believing me. “Who the fuck booked this suite?”

“I did.”

She shoots me a look. I lean back against the wall, crossing my arms as I watch her. She’s obviously rattled, and for some reason watching her struggle to keep her composure only fuels my satisfaction.

It’s like the idea of seeing how far I can push her before she snaps somehow gets me hard.

“So, the bedroom is all mine?”

“Yup,” she snaps, marching back across the room toward the double doors to the master suite.

I get there first, stepping casually in front of her.

“Since we’ve established that this is in fact my room, I think it’s only fair that you ask nicely for permission to enter it.”

Hana’s eyes narrow. “You’re joking.”

“Frequently, yes. But not right now.”

She rolls her eyes, turning away to shove her fingers through her platinum blonde hair.

“May I please take a fucking shower before our extremely important dinner,” she mutters through clenched teeth.

I smile. “Certainly.” I step aside and gesture magnanimously. “After you, princess.”

She huffs as she pushes past me into the master suite, making a beeline for the opulent bathroom. When I walk in right behind her, she whips her head around to glare daggers at me.

“Um, what the hell are you doing?”

I love the way her face heats when I unbutton my shirt, pull it off my shoulders and toss it aside.

“Showering before dinner.”

“Asshole!” she hisses, her face turning red as she stares at me. “Get out!”

Hana’s mouth falls into an “O” shape as I undo my belt and drop my pants. She quickly looks away, her arms folded over her chest.

“Fine, whatever. You shower first, then⁠—”

“We’re actually in a bit of a time crunch for dinner at Miyamoto’s house,” I say, casually dropping my boxer briefs and standing naked in front of her. “Now or never, princess.”

“I—”

Hana turns back to throw some other smart remark my way. That’s when she realizes I’m naked. I smirk as her eyes drop right to my cock, widening a little as her mouth opens.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

Her face turns crimson as she yanks her eyes up to glare at me. “I wasn’t⁠—”

“Sure you weren’t,” I grin, walking past her toward the huge glass walk-in shower. I reach inside and turn on the hot water before glancing back at her. “So… Are you joining me or not?”

Hana’s lips purse. “Not.”

I chuckle to myself as I turn my back and step into the shower. “Yeah, I figured.”

She manages to wait an entire fifteen seconds before responding.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

I grin as I push my fingers through my wet hair and turn back to face her.

“It’s further to what I said before. You’re the safe one. The one in charge of the legitimate business. Spreadsheets, board meetings, earnings reports.” I shrug. “That’s fine. It’s good to know where your comfort zone is. Some people are just…risk averse.”

My smirk widens as I turn my back on her, the hot water cascading down, steam curling up and fogging the glass. I can practically feel her bristling on the other side of the glass. She’s stubborn: every word I said was designed to get under her skin, and it’s working. I reach for the shampoo, letting the silence drag on.

Just when I’m beginning to think she’s going to let it go, I hear the door swing open and then shut again. The steam swirls as she steps inside, her back to me as she turns on the second showerhead and steps underneath it.

The corners of my mouth lift as I watch her. Neither of us speaks as the water rushes over her, and for a moment, the only sound is the steady rhythm of the shower. She’s quiet, composed, refusing to look my way.

But that’s fine. I’ve got a very nice view of her perfect, tight ass. And when she starts to push her fingers through her wet hair, her eyes closed, her body swivels just a bit, giving me a glimpse of the pert swell of her tits and a peek at a dark rosy nipple.

My dick swells to iron instantly.

I step back under the spray, my eyes only partly closed. A grin tugs the corners of my mouth when I catch Hana looking at me over her shoulder, her eyes dropping right to my throbbing hard cock as her mouth makes that cute little “O” again.

“It’s rude to stare.”

She jolts, whipping back away from me and abruptly shutting off the water. She shoots me a glare, blushing as she steps from the shower and wraps a towel around herself before marching out of the bathroom.

When I’m done, I towel off and then casually walk—naked—through the bedroom into the huge, walk-in dressing room. Our things were delivered here before we arrived, so there are full wardrobes—which I’ve added to at my discretion—already hung on either side.

Hana doesn’t hear me as I move to the doorway, watching as she slips into a charcoal gray business skirt and matching jacket.

Hana glances into the mirror in front of her and jumps when she spots me. Her face darkens and she looks away.

“Could you please put on some fucking clothes.”

I don’t. I lean against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow as I take in the severe cut of her attire, so at odds with the evening we’re about to have and its setting. She straightens, meticulously adjusting her cuffs, her expression serious as she meets my gaze in the mirror.

“For fuck’s sake, what,” she finally mutters.

I remain silent as I walk over to my side, pulling on boxers, black dress pants, crisp white shirt and dinner jacket.

“Well?” Hana says pointedly.

“Nothing. You look very serious, Madam Ambassador.”

She rolls her eyes. “We’re here to conduct business, Damian,” she says, her tone matter-of-fact.

“Not that kind of business.”

I walk past her, tapping my chin before I spot the violet cocktail dress I was looking for—one of my additions to her wardrobe. I pull it from the rack and turn to lift it up in front of her.

“This one.”

Hana arches a brow. For a glimmer of a second, I can see she likes it. I know for a fact she doesn’t always dress for boardrooms and earnings reports. I’ve seen her dressed to kill before. But her stubbornness and need to oppose me rears up. And, yep, there it is: the rolling eyeballs defense mechanism.

“I’m not wearing that. It’s inappropriate.”

I smirk as I glance at the bare back, the plunging neckline that delves like a spear between the breasts halfway to the navel. The severely angled hemline from ankle to almost hip, with the huge slit that reveals most of a thigh.

“I disagree.”

“You would,” she throws back. “I’m not here to indulge the male gaze.”

“No indeed,” I counter, my voice firm. “You’re here to steal the fucking air out of the room. And you’ll do it in this.”

She glances at the dress, raising an unamused eyebrow. “No. That’s not something I’d ever wear,” she says, crossing her arms defiantly. “I’m just not.”

I close the distance between us in a heartbeat. Hana’s throat bobs as I cage her against the shelves of the dressing room. When I reach for her blouse, her breath catches as I grip it firmly near her sternum and yank it out of her skirt.

“Yes,” I growl, leaning in close. “You are.”

She scoffs, struggling to get away, her voice a low, indignant hiss. “Let me go, you barbarian,” she snaps. Her defiance only fuels me, a fire that burns even hotter with every attempt she makes to break free.

Without a word, I grab her wrists and shove them over her head. Hana’s eyes go wide as I grab a random blouse from the rack next to her and bind her wrists together firmly without any ceremony.

“Damian!”

Her face blooms pink as I wrap the other sleeve of the blouse around one of the shelving posts, yanking her arms up tight before securing the whole thing with a thick knot.

“What the fuck⁠—”

“Stay still.”

She gasps sharply when I grab her skirt and pull it down, letting it fall to the floor.

“Damian!”

I ignore her protests as I yank the buttons open on her blouse and shove it and the jacket off her shoulders. They’re not going anywhere with her arms pinned and tied above her head.

…But luckily, I always carry my knife.

Hana stares at me like I’ve got three heads as I flick open the switchblade and deftly bring it to the fabric of her blouse.

“What the fucking hell are you— DAMIAN!”

She swears and bucks and twists as I slice her blouse away. The all-business jacket goes, too, until she’s standing there barefoot and bound in just a black bra and panties.

“Yeah, that’s not going to work with this dress,” I shrug, bringing the knife up and slipping it under the front of her bra. Hana’s eyes bulge when I slice that away too, leaving her almost naked and powerless in front of me.

Her breath hitches and she freezes, her eyes locked on mine, a flicker of darkness flashing in her gaze.

For a moment there’s silence, her chest heaving with each shallow breath, her nipples tight and erect, her skin textured with goosebumps, her stomach caving with each breath. Her expression is a mixture of anger and…excitement. I smirk, catching the hint of vulnerability in her gaze as I reach for the gown and pull it off the hanger.

I drop to a knee in front of her, nodding at her foot. “Lift.”

I watch her thigh muscles tense.

“Kicking me would not be recommended,” I growl.

Her muscles unclench. Slowly, she lifts one foot, then the other.

“Good girl.”

Hana is silent as I slide the dress up her legs, standing to slip it over her hips and then pull it up the top half of her tempting body.

“I’m going to undo your wrists,” I growl quietly, my eyes locked on hers. “Behave.”

She purses her lips, her face blooming with heat. But when I undo the blouse keeping her tied tight, she doesn’t fight. She just watches me with throbbing intensity as I slip the gown up over her breasts and adjust the strap around the back of her neck.

She glares at me as I adjust the dress. But I can see the flicker of excitement in her eyes despite her protests, the faint blush that stains her cheeks. She’s just as affected by this as I am.

I select a pair of strappy heels, kneeling down to slip them onto her feet, taking my time.

I was hard before. But my dick aches as I wind the black ribbon around her calves, as if binding her exquisitely, my own little work of art. Her breathing hitches, and though she looks away, I catch the way her pulse quickens and her cheeks flush.

“There,” she says, her voice tight as I stand. “Can we go now?”

Hana marches out of the dressing room, through the bedroom, and across the open living area to the suite door. Just as she gets there, I stop her with a firm hand on her arm. Without a word I spin her back firmly against the door, and she gasps.

“Almost,” I growl.

Her eyes bulge as I yank up her gown, slip my hand under, and slide my fingers into the gusset of her panties. There’s a pleading neediness all over her face as I peel the lacy thong down her legs, dropping to one knee again to slip it over her strappy heels. I stand, my eyes locked with hers as I slip her panties into my jacket pocket.

Her cheeks are crimson as she stares up at me, a mix of shock and barely concealed desire in her eyes. I smirk, trailing a finger along her jaw as I step back, leaving her with an unforgettable reminder of my control.

“Now we can go.”