Page 2 of Brutal Unionn
I swallow it down, forcing my expression into something cool and controlled, but the heat in Sho's gaze tells me he caught it. He always catches everything.
Slowly, I lower myself, sinking onto the heels of my feet, my knees pressing into the cold concrete. The shift in position feels just as natural—just as right—as standing over him with a blade in hand, power thrumming through my veins. Except now, the energy between us changes, coils tighter, turns into something heavier. More intimate.
His legs are spread wide, his wrists still bound behind the chair, yet somehow, he doesn't look at all like a man at my mercy. No, he looks at me like I'm the one caught in a trap. Like I'm the one playing right into his hands.
I run my tongue over my bottom lip, watching the flicker of his gaze as it follows the movement. My fingers ghost over the inside of his knee, slow, deliberate, tracing lazy patterns against the rough fabric of his jeans. His breath shudders, a sound so subtle most people wouldn't have noticed. But I do.
Kneeling in front of him like this should feel like submission, but it doesn't. Not with the way his body tenses beneath my touch. Not with the way his chest rises and falls a little too fast.
I tilt my head, letting the edge of my blade glide down the center of his torso, slow enough to make him feel each practiced stroke. Barely breaking skin. "You like this, don't you?" I whisper, my voice dripping with amusement.
Sho lets out a low chuckle, dark and breathless. "Hime, you have no idea."
I lick my lips looking down at his straining cock. "I could take a bet."
"Too bad you're going to kill me before we get our taste."
"I don't know if I'm going to kill you," I pout. "You're too fun."
Sho shifts in his seat, his dark eyes glinting with something wicked as he tilts his head at me.
"How about a game?" His voice is smooth, teasing. "Since you're already on your knees for me."
I arch a brow, leaning up so I can drag my blade across the waistband of his boxers. "You're bold for a man tied to a chair."
"And yet, you're still listening," he murmurs, his smile deepening.
I press the tip of my knife into the muscle just above the spandex, not enough to cut, just enough to feel the way his abs tighten beneath it. "Speak carefully, Matsumoto."
Sho exhales, a sharp steady breath, before tilting his head toward my hip. "I get the key out of your pants without using my hands, and you let me walk out of here."
A laugh bursts from my lips, low and amused. "And if you fail?"
He grins. "Then I stay right here at your mercy. Isn't that what you want,Hime? Me at your mercy?"
I study him for a long moment, twirling the blade between my fingers. This should be ridiculous. A man in his position shouldn't be negotiating, shouldn't be teasing me like this. But Sho isn't most men and for some reason, I want to see him try.
"Fine," I shrug, sliding the blade back into its sheath. "Time starts now."
Sho leans forward, his bound wrists forcing him to rely on his balance, his body curving toward mine like he was meant to be there. His breath ghosts over my hip first, warm through the leather, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine. He's deliberate, slow, dragging this out like he wants me to feel every second of it.
His nose brushes against the key's outline beneath my pants, his lips parting as he angles his mouth around it. I feel the way his breath stutters, the way his jaw tightens in concentration. His tongue flicks out, testing, tasting, and a smirk tugs at my lips.
"Having trouble?" I taunt, fingers tracing the top of his ear.
Sho exhales sharply but doesn't pull away. Instead, he doubles down, his lips pressing harder, his teeth grazing over the leather. His face tilts slightly, and in the struggle, his nose brushes against my hip while his forehead grazes my stomach—then, unexpectedly, his lips slide along the curve of my ear. Instead of ignoring it, he breathes it in, letting it slide between his lips before releasing it, his tongue flicking out just slightly as if savoring the moment. He's thorough, determined, and fuck, he's good at this—too good. Heat coils low in my stomach, but I refuse to let it show.
He shifts, trying to trap the key, but the slick material makes it impossible. He growls softly, the sound vibrating against my skin, but I can tell—he's losing.
Minutes tick by, and then?—
He curses, resting his forehead against my stomach as his chest heaves. "You little?—"
I laugh, threading my fingers through his damp hair and tugging, forcing him to look up at me. "Time's up, Matsumoto."
His jaw tightens, frustration flickering in his dark gaze, but it's mixed with something else. Lust. Amusement.
I slide back, standing to my full height, and his eyes follow me, sharp and hungry. "Looks like you're still mine," I hum, reaching into my waistband to retrieve the key. I dangle it between two fingers, letting it glint under the dim warehouse light.
