Kia Ora...

The weather had finally turned cold with a dusting of white on the tips of the grass this morning, but with it already being the middle of May, it's actually still really warm. Normally I'd celebrate the colder months, well the frost tipped grass anyway - love it all crunchy under foot - however it is nice not having to worry about how I'm going to pay a high power bill.

Updates

Flex (Golden Decks Casino 1): Currently sitting at 41k words with about two maybe three chapters left to write. Had hoped that it might have been finished by today, but my week ended up being quite busy leaving me little time to write. But it'll definitely be finished next week. I've already begun promo for it, so you've possibly already seen the cover floating around on Faceboook.

I already have an idea for the second book in this series, involving a security guard from the casino and a high-roller, possibly a mahjong player.

Deadly Gifts (Tokyo Nights 3): Currently sitting at 24k. This has been put on the back burner recently so that I could concentrate on Flex. Still plan to get it out in June, but it might be closer to the end of the month as I still have about 60k to write.

Caught (Smoke and Shadows 1) - Chapter Eight

Takeshi stripped off his jacket and tie, the moment he’d stepped into his bedroom. His guards had tried to follow him into the room, but he’d quickly dismissed them, sending them to guard the perimeter of the property in case anymore unwanted visitors appeared. Takeshi didn’t think his unknown assailant would attack him here, at least not until the unknown enemy grew more desperate at being ignored. But Takeshi intended to discover who was behind his abduction and subsequent attacks before that ever happened.

Osaka was his city. These were his streets.

He’d have them awash in blood before ceding control.

But before he could do anything about an enemy who clung to the shadows, Takeshi needed to uncover the mole within his organisation. Someone had to be leaking information on his whereabouts for such brazen and cowardly attacks to happen. Yet the men surrounding him were supposed to be loyal to the Matsumoto name… loyal to him. They should be men he could trust without question, but it was quickly becoming clear that Takeshi couldn’t trust anyone… couldn’t believe in the oaths that had been given.

Except for one. There was one person Takeshi could trust. One he’d always been able to trust…

He spun around hands tangled in his hair as the door of his bedroom opened. A sharp rebuke sat on the tip of his tongue ready to fly at the idiot who’d chosen to defy his order to stay away, only for it dissolve as Yoshitake stepped into the room. Takeshi’s breath hitched as he caught sight of the Yoshitake’s furrowed brows and the heat darkening his eyes. It always signalled that Takeshi had done something to displease him, but what Takeshi had done to earn it, he wasn’t sure… couldn’t turn his mind to work it out when his anger at being attacked hummed in his veins.

“I heard what happened,” Yoshitake said, wielding his voice like a blunt instrument and it only conveyed his displeasure more.

“It was a fucking ambush… my guards never reached me…knocked cold within seconds of sending the ‘all safe’ message.” He stared Yoshitake down daring him to find fault in a situation that had not been on Takeshi’s making.

“I am aware… I already have men searching for clues as to who might be behind it. They won’t be able to hide for long and then we’ll repay them in spades,” Yoshitake growled, his voice growing more dangerous with each word he uttered. It sent a chill down Takeshi’s spine and not the kind that sent older men than him fearing for their lives, but the kind that was accompanied by a bolt of lust and the hardening of his cock. “But you aren’t injured, are you?”

“No… at least not that I can tell. Caught plenty of fists and feet to my torso which is now doubt littered with bruises. Unless my ribs are broken… But I think I injured them worse.”

Yoshitake smiled at him. Lips pressed dangerously thin as they curled up at the edges and goosebumps broke over Takeshi’s skin as fear swept over it like a winter storm. And yet it still wasn’t enough to cool the flames of arousal burning in the centre of him.

“Then why are you still dressed?” Yoshitake kept his gaze trained on Takeshi. He carefully removed his jacket, slipped his tie from around his neck and dropped them both onto the chair where Takeshi had placed his. “You do remember my rules, don’t you, Takeshi?” Unfastened his cuffs and rolled his shirt sleeves up to reveal muscular forearms covered in ink. “Or do I need to reacquaint you with them… punish you for forgetting.”

Takeshi’s gaze lingered on the ink etched on Yoshitake’s skin, tracing along the black lines as they wound their way up from his bodyguard’s wrist until the disappeared beneath his shirt sleeve. But what Takeshi couldn’t see, he could easily imagine having seen them many times in the past. Colours that swept across the man’s body guided by the hand of the Hiroshi who’d used it as a canvas…the same Hiroshi who’d driven ink into Takeshi’s skin.

He’d always stared at Yoshitake’s inked skin with longing. Envious at first, wanting to wear the marks of their world on his own body, but it quickly evolved into something else. Something more. Takeshi went from imagining the pain that came with every stab of the Hiroshi’s needle and the design that might one day be etched into his skin, to wanting trace along the lines covering Yoshitake’s skin with his fingers… his tongue. Wanted to follow the path they’d created and see where it led him. And if that saw him ultimately on his knees in front of Yoshitake, then so be it. Except it had been nothing more than a foolish teenage dream that should have faded… stupid emotions that were fruitless to hold onto.

Except they hadn’t.

And maybe knowing what he knew now, Takeshi should be once more running from the man in front of him….

“What are my rules, Keshi?” Yoshitake growled as he stalked toward him. He grabbed the edges of Takeshi’s shirt and yanked them apart sending the buttons holding it closed skittering across the floor. Slid his fingers beneath the fabric and shoved it from Takeshi’s shoulders.

He didn’t stop Yoshitake. Didn’t make any attempt to save his clothing from the man’s wrath by undressing himself either. Takeshi’s chest heaved and his breath came in soft ragged gasps. His gaze caught by the heat and anger that blazed from Yoshitake’s eyes. One not caused by the other and yet they weren’t mutually exclusive… and he’d forgotten again what Yoshitake had asked him.

“Rules, Keshi… I’m not hearing you say them,” Yoshitake growled, his voice rumbling past Takeshi’s ear while the man’s hands gripped the waistband of Takeshi’s pants, holding him in place. “The longer it takes…the worse your punishment will be.”

Not much of an enticement. Yoshitake’s punishments had never been difficult in the past to bear. An hour or two standing in the corner of a room arms stretched above his head or leaning over a desk legs stretched as far apart as he could manage. Always with noise cancelling headphones and a blindfold… but if Yoshitake had thought removing sensory inputs would disorientate and freak Takeshi out, then the man had been sorely mistaken. Unable to hear or see Yoshitake only left Takeshi to fantasise about the man instead… imagining all the ways Yoshitake could use his body.

Some days Takeshi even gone as far as to ensure he’d earned Yoshitake’s ire and the subsequent punishment. Slipping free of the man’s ever watchful gaze and heading into Osaka with friends, the prospect of what would happen when he was caught more thrilling than the actual disobedience that earned it.

But he was older now and his punishment might reflect that too.

And rules… Takeshi remembered Yoshitake’s rules.

“One: in this room clothes aren’t allowed… confidence isn’t found within clothing but what lies beneath your skin and in the strength of those who came before you.” He hurried to remove what was left his clothes, ashamed that he’d forgotten something that had been engrained into him from the time Takeshi had turned sixteen.

“Good… very good. But don’t think your sudden adherence to the rules will get you out of being punished,” Yoshitake said as the danger behind his smile grew.

“And it won’t be one you enjoy.”

Takeshi resisted the urge to snort at Yoshitake’s claim. Enjoyment came not from the punishment being inflicted upon him, but who was doing the inflicting. No one else could stir the heat in Takeshi’s blood quite like Yoshitake could simply by telling him to bend naked over a desk.

But then again, it wouldn’t be much of a punishment if Takeshi enjoyed it.

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Dipping into the Backlist

Rebellion

Historical Romance - Late Qing Dynasty - 1899 -1900

British Royal Marine x Chinese Military Officer

Set during the Boxer Rebellion

Culture Clash/Communication Issues

Multi-cultural/Interracial

Friends to Lovers/Enemies to Lovers

Sweet nothings whispered in Chinese

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