SEVENTEEN

Flower

The thump and whoosh of his heartbeat is the first thing I am aware of—steady, strong, him. I don't do anything. I'm scared to breathe — to move. What if he's awake and just holding me? What if he's asleep and gets angry like the last time when he fell asleep with me?

I slit my eyes open peeking enough to see the bright rays of sun spilling in from the windows.

The tint is timed so the full force of the sun doesn't greet me in the morning since I'm prone to migraines triggered by my astigmatism. I can tell it way past dawn, the time he normally rises. His breathing is steady. He holds me no different than he did when he finally gave in last night wrapping his arms around me.

It feels like heaven to me. I will myself not to cry from happiness.

It won't last. He didn't want to stay. The pragmatist tells me. But he did! He stayed, held you all night. Held you close to his heart. The romantic says.

I know they will never agree. Both things can be true just based on my husband's mercurial nature. Just as he held me, let me apologize allowing me to make love to him can switch in seconds allowing the sadist in him to take over and make me crawl. He can lock me away on this ship, only allowing me to see our son when he deems I've been a docile enough pet.

All of those things have been and are still true. I just take my wins when I get them. Like now, basking in the warmth of his arms. Reveling in the strength of him.

I start to drift off when I feel him shift. Not thinking maybe even out of reflex and recent trauma my hold tightens a fraction of a second. He stills. Immediately, my hold relaxes, I start to draw away before he shoves himself free.

My heart stops when his hold tightens instead. "I wasn't leaving." He lets that fall between us. "I only wanted to make sure you were comfortable when you started drifting off and I heard you snore."

"I don't snore," I murmur snuggling against his chest.

"You'll have to speak louder. Your snoring still has my ears ringing." His dry humor, something so rare even in our best days has me giggling.

I swat his chest. He's quick to grab it and kiss my knuckles.

"Let's get up, I'm hungry."

We shower again just out of habit. It's not as silent as last night as he whispers sweet things like calling me beautiful, and I tell him the same. It's true. I whisper in hushed tones not wanting to do anything that would make him want to leave. I'm careful not to push. "You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

Standing on my tiptoes, I sweep his hair away from his right shoulder pressing a kiss as close to his nape as I can. I wash and condition his hair.

When we are done wrapped in the soft robes, I comb and braid his hair before he moisturizes and re-braids mine. Today seems like those lazy days when we'd go to the Takeda Manse to visit his mom and take care of estate business.

All tension has fled from me. I dare not ask what is happening between us or where we stand.

"Flower," he says turning me to face him. His face is hard, and I steel my myself for the crushing disappointment to come.

"I want to spend the day with you and Asa. Is that something you'd like to do?"

I almost take too long to answer. Is he really asking me? Is he saying he wants to spend his whole day with me? Because I know he spends his own time with Asa.

I am humbled he's including me. I'm delighted he wants us all together and he cares about my wishes.

"I'd loved that," I say tentatively. I see frustration flash in his eyes for a tense moment before he slides his gaze predictably to the side before returning with a close expression.

"Hai. Good." It's like we are frozen as if we are strangers on an awkward first date.

Taking a chance, I step into his space causing our bodies to touch. I can feel heat radiating from him through the layers of plushness. I know I shouldn't but even if he sets me straight, he'll keep his word. I look up into his hard, onyx gaze, reaching up to stroke his hard, chiseled face, letting all of the feeling I dare not say infuse my gaze. "Thank you for this."

I reach up on tip toes, pressing my lips against his firm hard ones. To my surprise he doesn't hesitate. Though I initiated our embrace and kiss, his firm lips claim mine. He cups the back of my head. Hot, lush lips press mine open. I dart my tongue into his mouth. He tastes of mint. I lose myself in the beauty of it. There's no agenda — not to punish or prove anything. It's just us —Akchiro and Flower. Two people who've made a lot of mistakes and hurt each other. I hope this is the first step of finding our way back.

He pulls back with a soft caress of a smile as he looks down at me, his eyes soft. "Let's go spend the day with our son."

"This is the dress for tonight." With a flourish the Aussie girl lies a sheer, webbed, onyx sparking masterpiece before me on my bed. I look at her in askance. She just shrugs halfheartedly.

"Why were helicopters here? I heard like three of them."

I watch her smirk as if she has a secret.

"When I was in Mr. Takeda's office earlier our conversation was interrupted by guests. I believe they were his brothers."

"Ryu and Takashi are here?" Strangled words somehow make it past my lips. I must look visibly upset. She gives me a nasty-nice smile and another flippant shrug.

Two weeks. That's how long Akchiro has been gone. Disappeared from my life like ether. Not a word since the day we shared as a family. Satoh-chan finally took mercy on me, giving in after seeing my distress, saying he had an emergency requiring his personal attention, so he flew out the day after our family day.

The fact that he didn't bother to leave me a message or come to see me once he got back—he'd had Asa taken to him as soon as he returned yesterday. Just Asa.

I don't know why I'd allowed myself to think we've made progress. I spent a lot of time wondering and waiting yesterday; finally giving up and falling into my chosen self-destruction. Embarrassment claws at me. I feel so stupid.

I snatch the garment up from the bed tossing it back at her face. When she attempts to lay it down again, I grab her wrist. She freezes. Stopping, I search her eyes wondering what's going on with her. I glance down and that's when I see the thin scars in perfect rows from where her wrist begins until they disappear up the sleeve of the uniform she's wearing.

Dropping my hand, I step back realizing she knows why I was scrounging around for the pins. This woman who wants to take my husband or at least wants to be his concubine knows the deepest, ugliest secret I've ever had. She brought you pins knowing exactly why you wanted them.

A cold chill lances through me. I'm not a coward but I know evil. She knows my suffering and instead of trying to get help, she aided in my self-destruction, so she'd be able to get my husband.

"A lot of people get the scars removed." I nod toward her arm releasing my hold on her. Moving away from her, what she represents and my own destruction I focus on my breathing wanting her gone from my space.

"I kept them as a reminder, battle scars and all that." She shrugs carelessly.

Nodding, I look back at the dress. "You may tell my husband. I won't be able to attend his event tonight."

"You can tell him yourself." The cold clip tones have us both turning to the door we obviously didn't hear open.

"Thank you, Miranda. I'll handle it from here." The glowing smile he gives her feels like a slap in the face. I turn from them both wrapping my arms tightly around my waist. It seems innocuous enough but one thing I know for sure, Akchiro is never that casual with people who work for him. He is formal in all things. A penchant retained from the old school Japanese way his father trained him in business. Keeping distant keeps you safe and your business efficient. He never crosses those lines.

"Flower." His voice cuts across the room like a blade. I stiffen in a way I know he notices but remain obstinately turned away.

He takes his shoes off at the door as is our custom. Still, I can feel his presence coming forward. A dark shadow of rageful fury storming across the room in silent menace with each step he takes forward.

Hard hands grip my shoulders spinning me around. Not thinking, I don't know what comes over me until I hear the loud smack and watch in horror as crimson blooms on his left cheek.

Before I can blink or register what I've done a hand hard as steel circles my neck slamming me against the window.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Teeth clenched hard in fury. Then. "You would dare strike me?" He roars.

Something snaps. Months maybe years of holding back. Trying to be good, trying to be worthy. Trying. Trying. Trying. All I can think of is the way he smiled at that bitch.

"You," I scream in his face. "You are what's wrong with me." I start to swing wildly as he holds me out of his reach like a rag doll pinned to the window. I use my feet to kick, snap at his hand with my mouth. Scratch his arms.

The motherfucker in unfazed. Just holds me away from him until I'm spent.

"I can't fucking stand you." I heave, trying and failing to stop the raging sobs bursting up through my chest and out of my mouth like a volcano.

"You stupid ass, trifling ass bitch," I snarl. "Let me go. I don't care what you do. You two timing-ass, coward-ass, bitch."

All the posh elocution classes melt like ice on asphalt in my hometown of Birmingham, Alabama leaving nothing but my southern twang as I curse my severely conservative Japanese husband out. And it feels so dang good. I feel free.

It's quiet as I collapse into myself exhausted from my futile efforts to attack his strong ass.

Still pressed hard against the glass, I finally feel the pressure of his hand on my throat. He'd just been holding me, keeping me from hurting him moments ago. Now that I'm calm another realization comes to me. Like a super predator, he's been waiting no different than a jaguar for me to exhaust all fight before he pounces.

Cold onyx eyes spear me like daggers. His hand slowly tightens around my throat. He slowly lifts me, sliding me up the glass until my eyes meet his and my toes barely brush the ground.

"If you ever speak to me like that again. I will not only spank your ass like I will in a very short while, but I will also take it ruthlessly. Now, I realize it's something I should have already done to make you fully submit to me. Don't worry though, you'll like it." He looks almost feral when her says it.

"If you ever strike me again." He squeezes my throat closing his eyes trying to gain some semblance of control. When he opens them, all emotion is wiped from them. He is utterly devoid of emotion. For the first time I feel fear.

He leans in his breath brushing my ear as he whispers. "You will wish you were dead. You will beg for it. Know this, I will not heed your cries. I will revel in you sobs for release. Your misery, pain, and pleasure will be all mine. I will make you debase yourself before me again and again until you become a shell of yourself, and you will thank me for it. Never question my loyalty to you ever again." He pulls back his face a hard mask. Not a flicker of humanity to be found. "Do you understand me, Flower?"

I swallow against the hard hand pressed against my throat.

"Hai. Hai, Takeda-sensei." Sobs clouding my words. Tears streaming down my face.

He lifts me higher, pivots and throws me on the massive bed.

I bounce so hard the wind is knocked from my chest. I see a cascade of stars as I struggle to drag breath into my body.

He gives me no quarter. I barely inhale a decent breath before Akchiro is dragging me over his knee. I'd decided to get in a yoga work out in this morning rather than give into the call of the pins. He traps me between his thighs both my legs restrained, my pants pulled taunt. With a hard slap on my ass, he grabs the material. Hard fingers rend the material with loud ripping, screeching sound exposing my bottom to him. Squeezing me between his muscular thighs he murmurs, in Japanese to himself, "I failed by not doing this earlier."

"You are a very disrespectful sub. A heartless wife. You beg for my face, Flower-chan, but I will have yours," he says louder to me.

A hard smack steals my soul. It reverberates through my body, so jarring it shakes me to my core. My pussy floods. My essence slicks us both. Down my thighs on his slacks. My pussy is throbbing so hard.

"Akchiro," I scream his name already in the throes of an orgasm I can't control. I know I like the pain he makes me feel. I just didn't realize just how much.

"You dare scream my name yet doubt me?" He taunts. "Such a bad fucking wife." Hard smacks follow shoving me relentlessly into torturous bliss.

My hips undulate of their own accord, grinding, welcoming the stinging blows. There is nothing I wouldn't let him do. The problem is he knows it. His words earlier ring true. He could make me debase myself and I'd thank him for it. Harder and harder the pounding smacks on my ass bleed into one another. I'm sobbing, tears streaming down, loving it despite myself. All questions about why he's acting this way fade as I only seek the pleasure he gives me.

Words are lost as I promise and beg. Willing to be his subslut, his whore, his anything and long as I'm his.

Wrenching me around, spreading me on the bed like a feast, he demands, "Will you yield?"

"Yes," I gasp at the shock of the soft covers on my bruised bottom.

"What is your safe word, Hana?"

"L-Lotus" whimpering, I reach for him.

He grabs my hand in his ruthless grasp. "Never fucking doubt me again." His eyes are hot and black as death as he speaks in low, urgent tones.

His gaze drops to my exposed flesh. Gripping the edges of the material barely hanging on to my front he reaches into the ragged edges with long fingers pulling it hard making it tear, ripping it away from my body.

His mouth curls into a snarl as hie gaze eats up my wet, lush pussy. "What the fuck would I want with that or anything else, when all this is mine?"

Bending his head, he inhales my fragrance. "Nothing smells this fucking good." He covers my entire mound with his mouth sucking, swirling his tongue. His growl reverberates through me. I tremble, my muscles clenching in response to the way the lavishes attention on me.

He releases me, slowly tugging my lips until they pop free. "Nothing tastes this fucking good. Open your pussy for me."

Opening my legs as wide as I can I reach down doing as he instructs, spreading my pussy lips apart exposing my hard clit to him.

He falls on me I like he's starving.

Gasping as he spears his tongue inside of me, I arch to meet him stroke for stroke gripping the coarse inky strands of his hair. He pulls out, licking from my hole to clit in long nasty licks. Swirling, twirling with agonizing slowness only to speed up then fall off again.

"Akchiro." His name falling form my lips in a plea. He's breaking me. I'm climbing the fucking walls. Helpless to do anything other than beg him for release. "Please, babe."

He pauses for a second. His lashes flutter up, his eyes me mine. "I got you."

In seconds, two fingers are thrusting, fucking into me with relentless precision. I ride his hand, fingers, and tongue.

"Ohmygoodness." I scream when he finds my spot pressing, as his devours my pussy mound with feverish intent. Arching as hot spirals of bliss lash me with almost painful pleasure, I squeeze my eyes tight shattering into a million pieces.

My whole bottom half feels like it has a heartbeat as I curl up into myself coming down from my orgasm and the scene we did before. I look up to see him towering over me dick bulging but seeming otherwise unmoved.

He wipes my juices from his mouth in one vicious swipe.

"You will let me use you as I see fit tonight. You will give me your face. You will make me proud."

He waits I suppose for my acquiesce. I'm powerless to do anything other than rise to a sitting position, bury my face in the hard protrusion of his dick and kiss him in adoration.

"Hai." I whisper.

"Hai." He growls, placing a kiss at the crown of my head. "That's my good girl."