Schooled: The Mastered Series (4 page)

While Amery snapped pictures of whatever struck her fancy on the crowded street, Ronin ducked into one of Kyoto’s famous textile houses and picked up the
yukata
he’d ordered for her.

Throughout their last day exploring the city, he’d kept the sexual tension high—toeing that line between anticipation and frustration.

Things had changed between them since they’d come to Japan. He hadn’t realized how uptight he’d been in the months following his neurologist’s edict of no combat sports training. Amery had supported him unconditionally, which had been exactly what he’d needed, during those times when he wasn’t quite sure himself where his head was.

But his heart was with her. Always.

Ronin had foregone rope play during their stay in Kyoto because he had something special planned for their last night. He wasn’t sure how Amery would handle how things were about to change for them, when his focus would be entirely on his training. There were no days off. If Master Daichi had his way, Ronin would train for two weeks, take two weeks off, return and train for two more weeks, and repeat.

But he knew his body well enough that it’d take week one to reach his prime condition. Week two he’d push himself. Week three he’d begin to tire and need a mental and physical break. And a week alone with his wife on a private beach would rejuvenate him.

Ronin just hoped they both survived the three-week stint of intense training leading up to sand, sun, and surf.

She sat on a bench waiting for his return. She frowned at the package he carried. “I thought we were waiting to buy souvenirs?”

“We are.”

“So what’s that?”

“A gift.”

“For your sensei?”

“No. I brought a case of whiskey for him, remember?”

“Then who’s it for?”

“You.”

When she leapt up and attempted to get in his face, Ronin crowded her against the wall behind the bench. “Hold that sassy tongue, woman. This is the first goddamned thing I’ve bought you since we got here.”

“This is not fair. You wouldn’t let me buy you that funky geisha clock that would’ve looked awesomely obscene in your office at the dojo.”

He placed his mouth on her ear. “You want to give me something?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll take your complete submission to me tonight.”

“Oh.” She paused. “You’re binding me?”

“Yes. And it will be a formal binding.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Master Black. But I accept your terms.”

“Perfect.” Ronin kissed her temple and handed her the package. “No peeking. Let’s eat before we head back.”

Sometimes during this trip Amery had been so quiet he wasn’t sure what was on her mind. But as they shared plates of pan-fried noodles with veggies and skewers of spicy tempura-fried chicken, she chattered away. While she waited for him she’d checked in with Molly. Evidently her office manager and her new graphic artist were doing just fine without the boss lady there.

Ronin tuned out for a moment, wondering how his second-in-command, Knox, was faring, working in the dojo with Shiori. Since he traveled to Japan twice a year, he’d learned it was easier not to worry about things that were out of his control. But leaving this time was different because Knox and Shiori fought like two tomcats—neither willing to back down. He should check in. . . but he figured it’d be a good test for him, and them, to see if they were capable of handling some of the duties he intended to hand over after he returned.

“Ronin?”

He glanced up. “Sorry. I don’t suppose Molly mentioned what’s going on at Black Arts?”

“Nothing beyond Yondan Deacon being a sadistic asshole for claiming she needed to ‘toughen up’ in his Muay Thai class.”

“I’m surprised she’s still going to classes. His dropout rate for men is high because they can’t hack it.”

“Hah!” She pointed her chopsticks at him. “Deacon the Destroyer won’t
let
her drop out. Molly tried. After she skipped class he showed up at her apartment with a heavy bag and sparring equipment. Twice.”

Ronin froze. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope.”

“Why didn’t I know that?”

“Uh, because you’ve been mediating Knox and Shiori, you’ve been taskmaster for Katie the Kook, you’ve taken Ivan the Terrific under your wing, you’re strategizing training partnerships with Badass Blue, you’re running a dojo, building a fight promotion company, and dealing with health concerns.”

He lifted a brow. “Ivan the Terrific? Not Ivan the Terrible?”

“Ronin. The man is hot. Like seriously hot. There’s nothing terrible about him. Well, except for that mean face he makes when he loses during training. But when he smiles?” Amery sighed. “He’s back to being terrific.”

His wife fucking sighed. Over Ivan.

“Oh, don’t make that growling noise. You know I only have eyes for you.”

“Doesn’t sound like it. Sounds like someone has been breaking the ‘no observation’ rule again.”

“So punish me.” She smirked and scooped rice into her mouth.

“Oh, I intend to. Besides, you didn’t list the most distracting thing in my life.” Ronin ran the tips of his fingers up her arm, making sure to hit all the spots that made her tremble. “My beautiful wife.”

When their eyes met, a sense of urgency consumed him. He needed her. Needed to remind her how much stronger their connection grew every time he had her bound—which hadn’t been often recently.

Without breaking their eye contact, he shoved her plate aside and said, “You’re done.” He stood, threw a pile of bills on the table, and clasped her hand, towing her out of the restaurant.

They didn’t speak at all during the bus ride, but Ronin rested his palm at the base of her neck. He wanted his hold to impart the calming effect of his touch, and yet remind her that the heavy weight of his hand was as immobilizing as his rope.

As they made the fast walk back to the condo, he couldn’t help but notice the flush on her cheeks, the increased rate of her breathing, and the sheen of perspiration that teased him with her scent.

After he punched in the code and they were inside, Ronin cupped her face in his hands, forcing her attention only to him. “The binding tonight will take place outside on the patio.”

She hesitated a moment before saying, “Okay.”

“I’ll need half an hour to prepare.”

“Okay,” she said again.

“But first I want you to open your present.”

He was a little nervous as Amery delicately slipped the knotted ties down the plain brown paper. She folded the wrapper back to reveal the vibrant material.

Her gaze hooked his. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Open it and find out.”

She ripped into the package and gasped at the floral pattern created in brilliant hues. “It’s a kimono?”

“A
yukata
. A more casual kimono. I had it modified so it’s easier to put on than the traditional one.”

“And easier to take off,” she murmured, running her finger across the material.

“This fabric is sturdier than silk although it retains the look and feel of it.”

Amery looked up at him. “This is exquisite.”

“It’ll look even more exquisite on you.”

When she shook the garment out, another bundle of fabric tumbled free. “What’s this?”

“The matching robe.” He unfurled the pearlescent fabric that shimmered between pale pink and ivory. “I’ll have you wear the
yukata
another time. Tonight I want you in this because I want to try something new.”

She smiled at him. “I’m all in for trying something new.”

He hadn’t expected that response. “I promise no pictures.”

“You always want pictures. Which makes me wonder . . . should I be nervous about this new binding?”

“Probably.”

She laughed, as he’d hoped.

“Go on, beautiful, and get ready for me.”

***

Ronin adjusted the ropes dangling from the rafters, rechecking the tension.

He looked around the binding area one last time, compiling a mental checklist. Bamboo pole. Tatami mat. Cushion. Scissors. Water. Blanket. The paper lanterns stationed at various points on the rafters above the patio emitted a soft golden glow, but provided enough light to work by. Luckily the moon was full. He’d already double-checked his ropes and scattered them across the patio.

Once his preparations were complete, he returned inside to the reflection room. He’d grown up with a space like this in his childhood home: a room formed from four sliding walls, empty, save for the small altar. His mother used to send him or Shiori into the reflection room if they’d been fighting. Sometimes she used it when she needed a quiet place to gather her thoughts. With the addition of futons, it served as a guest room. So the space wasn’t solely for meditation or reinforcing a spiritual connection. But that was exactly what it felt like now.

Ronin removed his street clothes and slipped into a white gi. Instead of using one of his official belts proclaiming his jujitsu rank, he tied a
han obi
around his waist. The informal belt had been crafted from the same fabric as Amery’s
yukata
. It was a small thing to retain that thread of connection between them, but one he needed. And the bonus? The belt also doubled as a blindfold.

A few katas loosened his muscles. He pulled his hair back, bowed to the altar, and slipped out of the room.

As soon as Ronin stepped onto the patio, the buzz of power sizzled through him upon seeing Amery—his wife, his rope model, his everything—waiting for him on her knees, her head bowed, her hands folded, wearing the clothing he’d had created specifically for her.

She’d twisted her hair up and secured it atop her head, leaving the back of her neck exposed. He longed to rub his mouth on the tiny, sensitive hairs there, where he could gauge how quickly they bristled against his lips, feeling her skin quiver from his touch.

Tonight the stillness in the atmosphere fit his mood, yet even without a breeze the sweet scent of cherry blossoms perfumed the air.

Before he approached her, he spread the blanket beneath the cherry tree in the garden. Then he knelt behind her and feathered a kiss at the base of her hairline.

Her answering sigh sounded like the sweetest music to him.

His breath remained hot on the nape of her neck as he traced the edge of the robe where it’d slipped, baring her shoulders. With deliberate slowness he slid the robe down, exposing her back and freeing her arms, allowing the silky material to pool next to her thighs and to cover the bottoms of her feet.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered, letting his fingertips trace her spine. “Please stand.”

Amery stood gracefully—her years of practicing yoga made the movement natural and fluid.

He picked up the robe and draped it over the papa-san chair. Then he untied the
han obi
and shrugged out of his gi top, layering it over Amery’s robe. When he glanced over at her, he caught her staring at the length of fabric before she lowered her gaze.

The silent pause between them lingered and when Amery didn’t ask any questions, he understood he’d earned her trust tonight. He never took that precious gift for granted.

First he moved in behind her and blocked her sight with the
han obi
.

The bundle of ropes made a softer
thud
landing on the tatami mat than it did on the mat in his practice room at home. Even the whisper of his gi pants was dampened by the outside elements.

He started out with her clasping her hands behind her back. Because the ropes compressed her rib cage, he focused on caressing her nipples on every pass as he finished the chest harness. He slipped a long bamboo stick diagonally across her back beneath the ropes, tying the top of the stick to the rope dangling from the rafters. This wasn’t a suspension pose so he didn’t need the rope tie strong enough to hold her, just to stabilize her when he began the binding process on her legs.

Moisture dotted his forehead and sweat snaked down his spine. Physical exertion during a kinbaku scene didn’t compare to the energy he expended during his martial arts training. It’d shocked him the first time Amery had asked him to press his damp body to hers, using her skin as his towel, because the intimacy of having his scent on her calmed her.

Now he couldn’t resist marking her in such a primal way. He nuzzled her neck, then dragged his damp forehead across her nipples. Easing back, he blew on the tips, watching her face as he did so.

Amery bit her lip to stifle the groan.

Just that one heated moment instantly made his dick hard.

Focus on the binding. How the rest of her skin will feel beneath your hands. How perfect her creamy flesh will look scored by your red ropes.

Ronin scooted another bundle of rope closer with his foot, forcing his attention to how he’d maneuver her limbs and torso to create the finished image.

Lowering to his knees, he added more rope, creating a modified diamond pattern down her thigh. He became so engrossed in the sound of the rougher rope sliding across the mat, and the frayed look to the rope wrapped around her skin, that he completed the tie on the back of her leg without moving behind her.

As he pulled the rope between her thighs, he kept the two sections separate as he nestled it in the crack of her ass. Once the ropes reached the pucker of her anus, he crossed them, creating a point of constant friction against the nerve-rich tissue there.

Amery made a soft gasp.

Ronin looked up, greedily studying her face as he tugged the rope up and tucked it against her pussy lips along both sides of the split in her sex. After he’d tied the rope off, he ran his thumb down her slit, resting it at the opening of her pussy. He bit back a snarl of satisfaction at the warm yielding of her body as he pushed his thumb in, coating the digit with her wetness. Immediately an intense need to sink his cock into her arose. To feel the jute abrading them as he fucked her past rope subspace into unsurpassed orgasmic bliss.

With renewed anticipation, he dragged his thumb up the pink flesh exposed by his ropes. He teased her swollen clit with a light touch, denying her an orgasm and denying himself even a quick taste of her sweetness.