Sake Bomb (27 page)

Another blow, another number.

Kizzie took it, submitting to the pain,
meaning the words she’d been told to say. The last smack rocked
through her, the last line fell from her lips and she smiled at
having gotten through it.

Xander massaged her ass, stroked his other
hand across her back. A few adjustments later, Kizzie was on the
bed, knees bent and pointing toward the ceiling.

Gentle fingers brushed the long hair out of
her face. “How do you feel?”

Her bound wrists dug into the small of her
back, tilting her pelvis down and her bottom against the comforter.
Even that soft caress made her bruised skin scream. And she was
pretty certain she was dripping on the blanket.

“My ass hurts, if that’s what you’re
wondering,” Kizzie snarked. She took stock of her body, the way it
felt pliant and limber. The way she felt…present. Relaxed but at
the same time so on edge and ready to come her teeth hurt. “I feel
good, Sir. Thank you.”

Xander removed one of her boots, started
working on the other. “And what did you learn?”

The second boot pulled free, her panties
still tangled around her ankles. The belt was undone and Kizzie’s
knees dropped open, her pussy completely exposed to his view.
Xander’s heated gaze fixed to the spot; slowly dragged up to meet
hers, waiting for her answer.

A smirk. “You don’t like sharing your toys,
Sir.”

Xander’s lids lowered to half-mast, a ghost
of a smile on his sensual lips. “You can play with my toys all you
want—in fact, I plan to watch you do exactly that later—just not
without my permission.” The bed shifted as he climbed up, knees to
either side of her feet. He made quick work of his dress and tee
shirts, balled them up and tossed them away, and then pressed his
hands to the mattress on either side of her head. “I’m very proud
of you, Princess.”

Kizzie beamed at the praise. He nuzzled
below her ear, feathered kisses and nips down her neck and jaw and
she groaned. She needed to touch him, wanted to trace the contours
of his body as he drove into her. She wriggled her hands to get
them free of the tie but he trailed his tongue up her chin,
refocused her attention.

“Patience, baby. Let me handle this,” Xander
whispered, drawing back to look into her eyes. “You earned your
reward. Relax and take it.”

Then his lips were on hers, a firm, hot
crush that had Kizzie’s head swimming. His tongue eased into her
mouth, tangling with hers in slow, deep, drugging passes.

Hummed satisfaction morphed into a
whimper.

Without breaking away, Xander dipped lower,
his bare chest skimming her erect nipples as he tasted every inch
of her mouth, stole her breath. Kizzie gave as good as she got,
teasing his tongue and lips, savoring his rich flavor. Groaning,
Xander sucked her lower lip into his hot mouth, lightly scored it
with his teeth as he pulled away.

Kizzie gulped down air, her whole body
trembling with need. Xander kissed down over her chin, her neck,
pecking and licking and suckling his way to her breast. He filled
his mouth with the mound and mimicked the performance on her lips,
letting it slide out slowly until just the hardened tip remained. A
current blazed straight to her clit as Xander trapped the tip in
his teeth, alternating between sharp bites and flicking his tongue
across the point.

Yes
…

Kizzie mewled, rocking her hips beneath him.
Her breath was coming fast, blood pounded in her ears. She wanted
to scream for him to fuck her already, but if this was the pre-show
she might die with the full production. He blew cool breath over
the puffy, wet nipple and a delicious chill flooded her body.

“Oh,
god
, X
…
”

“X!”

War das ein echo?

Kizzie’s eyes flashed open, finding
chocolate orbs that mirrored her surprise.

Two more loud bangs sounded on the room’s
outermost door. Her gaze slid in that direction; Xander angled his
head the same way.

“X!” The knock came stronger, more insistent
and rapid-fire, like someone was trying to bring the door off its
hinges.

“Can you fly, sweetheart? I’m about to kill
the pilot.”

Kizzie breathed a nervous laugh through her
nose. Xander heaved a sigh, dropped an f-bomb, and got to his feet.
Brow knit, eyes scanning.

More banging sobered Kizzie right up,
clearing the euphoric fog from her head. Phil was out there
knocking like a madman, which meant trouble.

Xander located what he’d been searching
for—his shirt—and slipped his arms into the sleeves. “Don’t
move.”

Kizzie disobeyed immediately, tucking her
knees to her chest and stretching her limbs down and around her
ass; tucked a little tighter and stretched a bit more to get them
up and over her feet. Arms in front again, she hooked the undies at
her ankles and straightened her legs to get the lace as close to on
as possible.

“
Aaand
we’re back at twelve,” Xander
said, sighing. Kizzie couldn’t help the smile. Sometimes being an
agent had its advantages. “Why didn’t you do that from the
start?”

“‘Cause you trusted me not to. Guess you’ll
have to tie me tighter next time, Sir.”

He grinned. As he spun away, Kizzie reached
for the Beretta under her pillow. “Hey.”

Xander had to act fast to catch the weapon
she’d tossed to him. “I’m pretty sure it’s just Phil.”

“Shoot him for cockblocking,” she muttered,
hands under Xander’s pillow for his SIG.

He headed through the double doors of the
bedroom and cautiously approached the door to the suite, gun at his
side. Kizzie wiggled the girls back into her bra with her biceps—a
move that looked like an inverted funky chicken—as she followed
behind him, watching his back, her body still thrumming but weapon
at the ready. He checked the peek hole, yanked the door open a
second later.

“Something wrong with your phone?” Phil
asked gruffly. He pushed past his boss, a purse in his hand. He
took in Kizzie’s mussed look with a grin, then stepped aside.

A new character stood in the frame. Female.
Short. Slender build. Previously black hair now a garish shade of
blue. The round, bright eyes Kizzie remembered were worn and
tired.

“Master Duquesne. Please….”

That voice, that tiny little sound. All
cotton candy and unicorns.

Ice cold rage drowned out horny and for a
moment Kizzie was trapped in Sacha’s dungeon, strung up and left to
die. Her shoulder throbbed, ribs ached. The scar on her belly stung
with the same intensity it had when it first opened.

Adrenaline spiked, but the calm of a kill
stiffened her spine.

She’d made a promise—she
kept
her
promises.

The SIG lifted, aim true, finger lovingly
stroked the trigger.

“Please help…” Sumi whimpered, doe eyes
glistening with tears. Her gaze shifted to Kizzie. “Help, or she’s
going to kill me.”

* * * *

A
quick step shielded Sumi but left Xander
staring down the business end of his own gun and Kizzie’s silent
fury. The tandem were enough to make his cock go soft. He’d never
seen this particular look on her face, not even when she’d
threatened to shoot him on his yacht. Her expression had been
mocking then, almost joking about his impending demise.

Now was a different matter altogether.

Those laughing brown eyes, soft and sensual
just a minute ago, were now hard and unwavering. She’d done this
before, killed someone. If he didn’t act, she’d do it again.

“Put it down,” he said. Kizzie didn’t
flinch, sighting down the short barrel. The silk tie still secured
her wrists, copper tails stretched toward the floor. Sumi peeked
out from behind him, and Xander moved to block her again. “Gigi…”
he warned, mentally adding three more spankings to her new
tally.

“I made her a promise.” Kizzie took a step
closer, lasering in on Sumi. “Don’t make me a liar.”

Given her proficiency with a weapon, this
wasn’t the time to test that “would you kill me?” theory. And
didn’t they already have a rule about her pointing guns in his
direction? Three more spankings got tacked on.

“Give me the gun.”

“Move, X.”

He strode toward her, each step like walking
the Green Mile. The chill skating up his chest had nothing to do
with his open shirt. “First we let her talk,” he said, aware of
Phil shifting to cover him. “I don’t like what she has to say, you
can shoot her. Twice if it’ll make you happy.”

Still heavy on the frown, Kizzie lowered the
gun a hair, hesitated, then brought it down to her side. Xander’s
gut unclenched, breathing started up again. He held his hand out
for his SIG; Kizzie motioned for her Beretta.

Even trade.

He pushed her gun into his waistband, and
she twisted her head side to side slowly.

No deal.

Stock still gripped in both hands, she
untied one wrist with her teeth. Xander turned back toward the
door. Phil had closed it, keeping this little tête-à-tête as
private as possible and preventing Sumi’s escape.

Super short orange skirt, white sailor top
with a big blue bow, thigh high stocking and patent leather orange
heels. Sumi must have trailed them from CosKink. Xander had been
too consumed with thoughts of Kizzie to consider a tail, and for
the umpteenth time in his life he was thankful for Phil.

The big man tossed Xander the bag and
started in on an efficient frisking. Sumi didn’t argue, as though
expecting nothing less when walking into an enemy camp and asking
for help. Which was an interesting situation to begin with. All
this time tracking her and she just so happened to show up on their
doorstep?

Something’s rotten in Tokyo.

Xander handed the bag to Kizzie and she
dumped the contents onto the coffee table: a couple yen, the odd
papers, hard candy. Lint and crumbs. A box of strawberry Pocky
sticks, the pink container crushed on one side. No weapons.

Phil finished his pat down and Sumi stood in
the center of the room, wary gaze on Kizzie. Xander swept of his
arm toward the sofa, inviting her to sit. Phil dragged a chair from
the small table over to the door, and Kizzie went across the room
to perch on the arm of the love seat. She hopped up, her ass
probably still smarting, and Xander fought a grin.

Gun tucked into her waistband at the small
of her back, Kizzie smoothed the dreaded tutu down and gave sitting
another go. The hard edge to her gaze hadn’t left, and every muscle
in her body looked ready to pounce. If Sumi so much as breathed
wrong Kizzie might kill her.

Xander dropped into the love seat. Didn’t
want Kizzie having a reflex before they got the info they
needed.

Hunched on the couch, Sumi curled in on
herself to make her body as small as possible, as though trying to
disappear. Low sobs sounded in her throat and she rocked back and
forth.

A glance up at Kizzie, her gaze downright
murderous. He nudged her thigh with his shoulder and jerked his
head toward Sumi. A slow, annoyed inhale and Kizzie disappeared
into the bedroom; returned and tossed a box of tissue onto the
coffee table, resumed her glaring from her carefully settled perch
beside him.

“Thank you,” Sumi blubbered. She uncoiled
enough to take a square and discreetly blew her nose, wiped her
eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry to have shown up
uninvited, Sir, but…I…I didn’t know where else to turn. When I saw
you at the party…” Dark eyes brimmed with fresh tears, her chin
trembled. “You’re the only person who can help me.”

“Said the spider to the fly,” Kizzie
snarked.

Xander kept his gaze on Sumi. “Twenty-one.”
Kizzie mumbled under her breath and he added, “Twenty-five.”

“Twenty-
five
? You’re math is fu—”
Xander angled his head but didn’t look at her; Kizzie grit out,
“Twenty-eight, Sir.”

Phil snorted.

Sumi’s face was gaunt, nose and cheeks red.
No collar.

“Your Mistress took something from me. I
want it back.”

“Papa Nikolay’s bomb.”

“My bomb.”

Sumi blinked, wide eyes darting from him to
Kizzie and then to the ground. “I will tell you what I know, but I
must apologize to you first, Sir. For what I did to your Gigi at
the Kukol— Sacha’s. I…I will make it up to you, Gigi.”

Kizzie grunted, and Xander couldn’t blame
her. No chance they’d be shopping together. “Why’d you come
here?”

“Protection, Sir.”

“Master Duquesne,” he corrected. She bobbed
her head but didn’t look up. “Protection from?”

“
Her
. She…wants me dead. When I
returned from Helsinki, she cut my collar, said I was dead to Her…”
She swallowed hard and fresh tears crowded her lids. “I’ve spent
the last few months dodging Her, but I…” her voice lowered to a
whisper, “I haven’t been tied, or touched, our punished since… and
the pull…”

A long pause from Sumi as her eyes floated
closed. She dabbed at the corners with the tissue, inhaled a shaky
breath and spoke again. “I went to the party hoping to find a
temporary Master, but She saw me, threatened me—”

“She was
there
?” Kizzie cut in.

Xander held up his hand. “Her name?”

“Mistress,” Sumi answered plainly. Xander
pulled in a slow breath. “Mistress Shinari.”

He made the translation: Resistant to being
bent. The word that appeared on the shoulder of the two dead women,
and on the shoulder of this woman on the couch. First name? Real
name?

“She was born…Fay.” Sumi slapped her hand to
her mouth, as though surprised by her betrayal.

“Surname?” If Kizzie was right, it’d be
Ohayashi, and Xander hoped she was. It would make her that much
easier to find.

“I’ve never known.” Sumi shook her head.
“She plans…” More pausing, more trembling chin and cheeks.