I Indicted the Yakuza Heir, Then Married Him novel · Chapter 2 of 24
Chapter 2: Mine to Ask
In his penthouse she asks for the wedding night on her own terms, and he goes to his knees fully dressed; the oyabun's invitation arrives.
His apartment was one enormous room of glass and black stone, with the whole of Shinjuku laid out below the windows.
The floor was warm under Shiori's stockinged feet.
There was a kitchen the size of her old flat, a long sofa, and a staircase to a gallery.
Behind a screen stood a single bed, wide enough for four people.
"The bed is a problem," she said.
"It's the only one."
"I noticed."
Tatsuya took off his jacket and hung it on a hook, and Shiori watched the white shirt move over the width of his back.
The black ink showed through the cotton at his shoulders.
"The contract has no clause about the bed," he said. "I read it again on the way here. The wedding night is not in it."
"I know. I wrote the clauses."
"Then you also know that I want one." He turned, and his voice was perfectly courteous. "A real one. Not a duty. I'll sleep on the sofa tonight and every night until you ask me, and if you never ask, I'll keep my word for the whole year."
"That's very noble."
"No," Tatsuya said. "I'm waiting, and it's different."
The window behind him glowed red, and the red lay across the scar through his eyebrow.
Shiori had spent thirteen months studying that face in photographs.
She knew what it did when he lied, and it wasn't doing it now.
"Page 212," she said.
"Is yours to ask for."
"I'm asking."
"Nicely."
"Mr. Kuzunoki."
"Tatsuya."
"Not yet," she said.
He smiled for the first time that day, a small crooked smile that took ten years off him.
Shiori took off her jacket.
It was a good jacket, dark navy, with her badge pinned on the lapel.
She unpinned the badge and laid it on the glass table next to his keys.
She took out her hairpins one at a time and watched his eyes follow them.
Her hair came down to her shoulder blades.
"Here are my terms," she said. "Tonight, once. Because I want to, not because I owe it. And in the morning you tell me about page 212, and you tell me properly."
"Those are acceptable terms."
"You're not even going to haggle?"
"I'd haggle for a year of your time," said Tatsuya. "Not for one night."
Her mouth had gone dry.
Shiori crossed the floor to the bed, sat on the edge of it, and put her hands flat on her knees.
"Then come here."
He crossed the room.
She had to tip her head all the way back to look at him.
He stopped in front of her and did something she did not expect.
He went down on one knee, then the other, on the black stone floor, in his pressed white shirt and his good trousers.
His eyes were level with her collarbone.
Even kneeling, he was almost as tall as she was sitting.
"I'm taking off your shoes, Prosecutor."
"Don't call me that."
"Shiori."
Nobody had said her name in that voice before.
"Not yet," she said again, and her voice cracked on it.
"Then I will."
"Yes."
He lifted her foot in one hand.
It sat in his palm.
He took off her shoe, and then the other, and set them side by side with great care, and ran both thumbs up the arches of her feet.
Shiori shivered all the way up to her scalp.
"Skirt," he said.
"What about it?"
"I would like to see what's under it."
She lifted her hips and pushed it up.
The fabric went over her thighs and bunched at her waist, and he went still.
She was wearing the dark stockings she'd put on for the registry office, and underwear she had chosen out of pure hope.
His hands closed around her knees.
They went around them completely, thumb to fingertip, and he opened her legs.
"Tell me to stop," Tatsuya said quietly, "and watch me not."
"I won't."
"Good."
His mouth landed on the inside of her thigh above the stocking, hot, and she made a sound.
He kissed up it slowly, with a lot of mouth, and when he got to the damp patch on her underwear, he breathed in.
"You're soaked," he said, in a tone of faint wonder. "Through the cloth."
"That's the stockings."
"It isn't."
He hooked two fingers into the band at her hip.
Shiori raised herself off the mattress so he could drag the underwear down her legs and over her ankles.
He dropped it on the floor behind him.
Then he put his shoulders between her thighs, and she understood how big he really was.
They pushed her legs wider than they had ever gone.
Her knees were hooked over arms the thickness of her calves.
His dark head was between them, and one huge hand lay flat on her stomach holding her down.
His tongue slid up the whole length of her in one wet stroke.
She said something that wasn't a word.
"Mm," he said, against her. "There."
"Wait..."
He licked a slow circle around her clit and did not wait at all.
He ate her with long flat strokes and then the tip of his tongue, hard and fast, where she could not stand it.
Her hands went into his hair, which was soft and cut short at the nape.
She pulled.
He groaned, and the sound went through her whole body.
"More," she said. "Kuzunoki-san, more."
"Tatsuya."
His mouth closed around her clit and sucked, and she said it.
"Tatsuya. Tatsuya, please."
"That's right."
He slid one thick finger into her.
Her whole body clenched on it.
It was only one, and she felt it everywhere, because his hands were not made for small women.
Shiori thought for a wild second that if one finger felt this, she would not be able to take the rest of him at all.
The thought made her grind down on his mouth so hard that he laughed into her.
He added a second finger and curled both, and found a place inside her that made the room go white.
"Do you know what I thought about, for a year?" He lifted his face for one breath, wet to the chin. "Every night. This. You with your skirt up on a desk, and me on my knees."
"You're disgusting."
"I'm your husband."
He put his mouth back.
She came apart so fast that she couldn't warn him.
Her thighs closed around his head, and he let them.
She shuddered through it with her fists in his hair and her heels in the mattress and his name coming out of her in pieces.
He did not stop.
He kept his tongue moving, slow and wet, through every wave, until she was whimpering and twisting away.
Then he held her where she was with the one hand on her stomach, and brought her over again.
The second one was longer.
She came with her head thrown back and a sob in her throat.
When Shiori could see again, she was lying across the bed with her skirt around her ribs and her hair everywhere.
He was still kneeling on the floor between her legs, fully dressed, with his mouth shining.
His shirt was untouched except for one wet patch at the collar.
The front of his trousers was straining hard enough to make her stomach flip over.
She could see the shape of him, long and thick against his thigh.
She stared.
"Tonight," Tatsuya said, rough, "was yours."
"But you..."
"Once, you said. On your terms." He wiped his mouth with his thumb. "I'm a man of my word, Shiori."
He stood up.
He lifted her with one arm under her back and drew the cover over her.
His phone rang on the glass table.
He glanced at the screen, and Shiori watched the warmth go out of his face.
He answered with a single word.
"Father."
She could hear the thin, pleasant voice from where she lay.
"Bring your wife to Sunday dinner. I'd like to meet the woman who put my son in the dock."
← Chapter 1 · All chapters · Chapter 3 →
Want to keep talking to characters like these? Chat with AI romance characters: AI Boyfriend · AI Girlfriend · Dark Romance · Fantasy Romance · BL (Boys’ Love) · Billionaire Boyfriend · Mafia Boyfriend · Possessive Boyfriend · Hockey Boyfriend · Older Boyfriend · K-Drama Boyfriend · Anime Boyfriend · Vampire Boyfriend · Werewolf Boyfriend · Demon Boyfriend · Fae Romance · GL (Girls’ Love) · Anime Girlfriend · Goth & Alt Girlfriend · Gamer Girlfriend · Tsundere Girlfriend · Fantasy Girlfriend