Dahlia

He looks at me for a moment. I duck into the room avoiding his intense gaze. He almost convinced. He almost had me.

His large hands wrap around my waist, pulling me back, his lips against neck. Akira shuts the door leaning against it.

My eyes close, his hands gripping my waist. "Did you forget," he rasps, his hands slipping higher.

I shake my head. "I thought you did,"

I feel him harden behind me. He presses it against my ass. His hand is at my throat now, his lips against my jaw.

His hands free of tattoos. His chest, neck and back, arms are full of them.

"I could never forget," he swears in a whisper, his hands drifting down, lifting my Walmart gown I got for 16.49.

It feels more spacious than it is, the cotton feeling like lace when he touches me.

"You're gorgeous,"

He's reverential, he always is. I don't deserve it. Not to this level. He's confident in his movements, but his hands pause and tremble before he touches me. Akira rubs my clit, taking in the wetness he's made between my legs. A mess. He's always made a mess of me. Of my mind. My insides. My choices.

I can't help but let him. He's dangerous that way. The devil that way, beautiful, enticing and bad for me. My thighs clamp down on his hands, at his constant intense stimulation. My stomach flutters the anticipation rising as he pleasures me, whispering deeply in Japanese in my ears.

I don't know what he's saying but it sends shivers down my back, zings in my clit, resounds in my bones. A sigh escapes me. I'm almost there. My toes curls, my head leaning against the wall, my eyes closed.

"Akira?"

It's Ethan. He must think we still sleep in separate rooms.

Akira doesn't hesitate doesn't stop.

"You better not be talking about that damn deal," Akira growls. He takes his hand away. I frown, inhaling sharply.

He turns us around, getting to his knees. I frown shaking my head and silently asking what he was doing.

He just shrugs, lifting my dress.

"I just think it would be advantageous," Ethan tries carefully.

Akira licks a stripe down my entrance. My knees wearing. I slap my hands over my mouth desperately holding in the noises.

Akira leans back, his warm breath in my open. I shudder sliding down the door a bit. He holds me up.

"I think it would be advantageous if you stop asking me about that Ethan. You're going to get hurt," he advises, before diving in again.

Ethan starts listing all the reasons this partnership would be good. I keep willing him away. I'm about to explode if I can't get a good scream out.

Akira takes the time to frantically lap at my clit, finding the perfect pressure and speed, just the right rhythm, making my stomach tie into knots.

He winds me up, my eyes rolling back into my head as the pressure finally comes to a crescendo, unraveling, releasing.

He drinks me up greedily, standing, his hand pressing against the door, as he looks between my eyes.

"Ethan," Akira says sharply. His voice drops a decibel, as he switched over to Japanese, uttering what is very clearly a threat.

He smirks at me, one hand on the door the other keeping me upright.

"I understand," Ethan sighs. "Then can we discuss one more thing?"

Akira raised a brow. I notion wildly for him to say no. He picks me up, making my legs wrap around his waist.

"What is it?" He accepts gruffly, leaning over to the desk closest to us, opening the drawer. He tears it open carefully.

His sword is still on his hip in its sheath. He never rests does he? Always on high alert.

He puts it aside, setting it on the desk, rolling the condom down his length with stunning accuracy.

Is he...a slut? He didn't used to be.

I think he is now. I think I like it.

He drives me up the door, easing into me, the head of his dick catching my entrance, stretching me open.

He sighs softly.

"About Fugishiro...I'm here some...interesting reports about him from some of the others."

He stroked into me deeply, his head falling back.

"Hm...like what?" He grunts, driving me further up the wall, his head falling forward, pressing against my forehead, his hand next to my head.

He drags a moan from my depths.

"What was that?"

Akira covers my mouth, kissing my head. "Pay attention, Ethan. Fuck. Fugishiro?"

He silenced my moans, and cries, as he fucks me against the door, his best friend rattling on about some guy.

My mind is swimming, a haze over my eyes. He reaches deep, stretching me with every stroke.

"There's rumors he's in bed with Daiki."

Akira pants. "Like...in cahoots with?"

"No. Well...yes but also in bed with like having sex. The rumor is he's been sleeping with him since 2018."

Akira pauses.

"And?" He rumbles.

"And...I think he may have been the one to do it. Whatever happened that night. They did it together."

Akira chuckles, pulling back. "You wanna come baby girl?"

I forget about Ethan, frantically nodding.

"Akira? What do you want to do?"

"Come in peace," he mumbles. "I'll deal with it later,"

Akira redoubles his effort, finding a ruthless rhythm, rolling his hips into mine, stroking deeply into me. My hands pull at his hair.

"Let me hear you," he whispers. The familiar tenseness comes on, as it push against him, fucking him back, his lips tangling with mine, broken English and reverent Japanese falling from his lips between kisses.

Relief takes me, as I feel him twitch inside me releasing with a moan.