Naked Sushi (9 page)

According to Steve, raw freshness was key to good sushi.

Better yet, he said, was a live woman. How experiencing the fish eaten off the bare skin of a female heightened the taste of the food.

Next, it was show-and-tell time.

He pinched my nipples and then smeared spicy wasabi on my skin, his tongue gliding over my belly, licking it off. Next, he plucked tuna off my hard bud with his teeth, biting it as he did so.

I arched my back, gasping with delight, wanting more, flowing with his rhythm. Him eating, sucking, licking, biting. Me moaning and writhing in pleasure. I felt no fear, no danger in being tied up and defenseless, something I’d never experienced with anyone.

Little did I know what was coming next.

When I thought I couldn’t stand the deep burning in me another second, Steve unloosened the knots around my thighs and spread my legs.

“Ever heard of
wakame sake?
” he asked.

I shook my head. “I didn’t see it on the menu at The Mermaid’s Tale.”

“You could call it a Japanese body shot. It means drinking sake.” He pointed to my pubic area, all naked and pink and wanting, not to mention wet. “From
here
.”

My eyes widened. Was he kidding? I hoped not. I was filled with rising feelings of desire, approaching something new and, like I said, kinky. I was finding out this man knew no limits
.

He burned like incense. Slow and intoxicating. Knew no fatigue.

Oh, yeah
.

“I hope you’re thirsty,” I said, daring to push up my hips and expose my lower swollen lips for his approval. I swore I could see them glistening with my juices.

He smiled. “
Very
thirsty.”

Pouring sake into a small cup and setting it aside, Steve told me it was vital to stimulate me first to create the flow of my juices and mix it with the flavors of the sake.

Stimulate me? How?

I had no idea how aphrodisiac a pair of lips could be.

To demonstrate his prowess in the traditional sake art, he kissed the soft spot between my legs. Lightly at first, lapping up the moisture beading between my lower lips. Then, more demanding, opening me up to his insistent probing and making me twitch uncontrollably against his mouth.

Not letting up, he pushed inside me with his tongue, flicking and rolling it over my hard clit. Exploring me, tasting me, teasing me without mercy, his tongue thrusting in and out. Deeper and deeper.

I thrashed about wildly, pleading with him not to stop. Reveling in the rising, burning ache weaving a serpentine dance of pleasure in my lower body, making my need for his cock more intense—

He stopped.

Was he mad?

I struggled against the ropes binding me, frustrated. I wanted to grab his dick, sit on it, let it carry me to the brink of orgasm, ride it long and hard, but I couldn’t move. Exasperated, I let my head fall back and the room spun around me. Everything seemed to blur. I heard him breathe hard and then let out a low groan.

I forced myself to focus my eyes on him. I watched in unbearable anticipation as he trailed a finger over his lips and inhaled my aroma, and then he leaned down and licked my inner thighs, his tongue traveling over my bare skin.

He was avoiding my sweet spot, damn him.

Why, why?

Knowing I was watching him, he lay on his stomach, opting for a better view while he blew his hot, moist breath on my mound. Coaxing my lazy pubic hairs to flutter like daisy petals bowing to an insistent breeze as he brushed up the curly hair with his fingers.

Next, he put a black silk pillow under my head and shoulders, putting my body at a slight angle, and then he poured light and fragrant sake into my navel until it overflowed. Though the sake was room temperature, I let go with a slight shiver. The sake tickled me as the liquor flowed from my navel downward and through my pubic hair, making it sway to and fro like seaweed.

Lubricating me.

I wiggled my hips, waiting for his tongue to slither inside me and soothe my aching clit.

I didn’t have long to wait.

Steve put his head between my legs and lapped up the sake. Filling his mouth with the tepid rice wine mixing with my juices. His tongue left a trail of fire up and down my inner thighs, then along my nether lips, while a myriad of blissful spasms ripped through me. Bending toward him, I couldn’t help but expel a long, low moan of sublime pleasure.

He wasn’t finished.

I heard the flick of a condom wrapper and then saw him slipping it on his erection.

“I owe you one, remember?” he said, waiting for my reaction.

“How could I forget?”

What more could I say? The lovely fire in me hadn’t cooled, only intensified.

I sparked and tingled as my approaching orgasm escalated, though I lay here tied up with delicious knots and rope inhibiting my every movement. A rolling ball of fire coming at me with all the force of a creature out of the darkness, invading yet electrifying. The tension of not being able to move made me reach for it even harder, forcing me to arouse my own strength to grab on to it.

I realized then that was what Steve wanted to teach me. To become a special agent for the FBI required straining against the mental bonds that in the past had sabotaged my efforts. How I found excuses that kept me from going after my dream job because I was afraid of being rejected. How I blamed instead what I believed was the bum rap life threw at me. In reality, my own lack of self-confidence prevented me from achieving my goal.

I arched with desire, my breathing heavy, expectant, my legs spread, my buttocks quivering. This was no fantasy video game we were playing, though I was embarrassed to admit I’d found them arousing in the past. Spreading the thighs of my buxom avatar wide and allowing an equally sexy male avatar to slide into her three-dimensional image.

Not anymore.

I didn’t hold back when Steve came in me, sensing this was a magic moment, that pulse of excitement I’d longed for but never experienced. We were breathing as one, wrapped up in raw emotion that exposed my soul as well as my body.

Hot damn.

This was one orgasm I owned.

And
so
much better than any video game.

Epilogue

Pepper here.

That is, Special Agent Pepper O’Malley.

Smarter, with new insights into myself, some painful. My libido is satisfied and every inch of me is primed to be the best special agent I can be.

No more running through hotel lobbies, waving an expired credit card in the air and yelling, “
Stop
,
FBI!
” I graduated from the academy, and I got my own gold badge and creds.

And I got my guy, too.

Steve said he has to marry me to keep me out of trouble.

Me, in trouble?

Only when he’s around...

God, I love that man.

* * * * *

About the Author

Jina Bacarr wrote the award-winning
The Blonde Geisha
and
The Japanese Art of Sex.
She worked as the Japan consultant on KCBS-TV, MSNBC, TechTV’s
Wired for Sex
, Canada’s
Pleasure Zone
, British Sky Broadcasting’s
Saucy TV
, La Biennale, Venice, Italy,
Men’s Health Guide to the Best Sex in the World
,
Passport to Pleasure
, The Vision Board and Playboy TV. She is author of
Naughty Paris;
Spies
,
Lies
&
Naked Thighs;
Cleopatra’s Perfume
(an RT Reviewers’ Choice Award nominee); and
The Blonde Samurai
, an
RT Book Reviews
top pick.

Books
by
Jina
Bacarr

Spice

The Blonde Geisha
Naughty Paris
Spies, Lies & Naked Thighs
Cleopatra’s Perfume
The Blonde Samurai

Spice
Briefs

Tokyo Rendezvous

Sexy, contemporary romance stories for today’s fun, fearless female.

On sale November 12, 2013

Aftershock
by
New York Times
bestselling author Sylvia Day

On sale November 25, 2013

Ripped
by Sarah Morgan

Definitely Naughty
by Jo Leigh

Two Red-Hot Reads available in ebook format each month!
Visit
www.harlequin.com/Cosmo
today.

Cosmo Red-Hot Reads from Harlequin

ISBN-13: 9781459254817

NAKED SUSHI

Copyright © 2013 by Jina Bacarr

All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

COSMOPOLITAN and COSMO are registered trademarks of Hearst Communications, Inc.

® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

www.Harlequin.com