No found himself having to put effort into not responding to her question, to her touch, which was…unusual. Normally he had no problem, whatsoever, keeping his thoughts neutral and most of all, to himself—especially where women were concerned. But this American woman was so confusing.

Running into the apartment late, and only seeming to momentarily register that she’d broken several cardinal rules before inquiring about his day. He hadn’t been prepared for the question, or for the look of concern that suddenly replaced the apology in her large brown eyes. And her touch…

It was like nothing he’d ever known, and it made him want to lean in to her hand, like a weak dog, panting for affection.

But he wasn’t weak. Nakamuras were not, could not be weak.

So eventually, he took her by the wrist, pulling her hand down as he informed her, “This is not why I came here.”

And now her concern was replaced with obvious embarrassment.

“Yeah—I mean yes, I know. I know this isn’t why you came here. You bought me all that pretty lingerie…” She seemed to be speaking to herself more than to him, as she straightened up to a stand from her former crouching position. “I should take a shower and change. Just give me a minute.”

Finally a good, proper response to her tardiness. But…

“Iie,” he answered, using a rather impolite form of the Japanese no, as his hand tightened around her wrist.

He didn’t want to be so weak as to need her touch, but nor did he want to completely go without it now. Especially not in the wake of his disastrous dinner with his father and brother.

“Iie,” he said again, before adding, “You have already kept me waiting. Now you must make it up to me.”

“Okay,” she said, staring down at her slender brown wrist, clasped tight in his hand. “But I’m not exactly sure how to please you without all the stuff you bought me.”

A strange confession. And he experienced the same sense he’d had during their first interview. That she was somehow an innocent, despite having been hired as an Osaka Charm girl.

“It pleases me to watch you,” he explained quietly. “The same way as before.”

And only then did he release her wrist.

Ana’s eyebrows raised, “Oh, you want me, to…?”

She touched the hem of her t-shirt, seemingly needing reassurance to continue from No, who felt like he was going crazy.

She hadn’t prepared properly for him. Had so far seemed more interested in asking him about his day than in making his sexual fantasies come true. In nearly a decade of mistresses, he’d never had one start off so badly.

And he’d never wanted one so badly, either. No already knew he wouldn’t be able to wait for her to get ready. To prepare herself for him per the instructions he was certain Miyuki had given her.

His earlier erection had vanished as soon as Riyu walked into his office to tell him his father, Kazuo, and his brother, Hayato, had come from Tokyo for the day and wished to have dinner with him.

But No pulsed inside his pants now. The flesh between his legs waking up at the mere suggestion of her hand along her t-shirt’s hem line.

And instead of sending her away, he gave her a single nod. “Keep going, please,” he told her.

So she did. Tentatively removing each item of clothing until she was naked beneath his intent gaze. He watched her bend over and pick up the shoes she’d discarded. “Should I put these away?”

“Hai,” he answered with a lift of one eyebrow. “When you came in, you should have taken them off. That is the proper way. But now…”

He called her forward with a simple hand motion. One she hesitated to obey. It took her a moment before she dropped the shoes and stepped closer, her gaze refusing to meet his. He soon discovered why.

This innocent-seeming American girl was already prepared for him in the most important way, her naked mound glistening in the room’s low light.

A beat passed as his cock once more pulsed with unadulterated lust. And then they both watched in mesmerized fascination as he raised his hand and…

The inward hissing sound of her breath when he touched her was as erotic as anything he’d ever heard. Her sex was warm to the touch, and so deliciously wet, he found his fingers instinctively moving deeper, probing as he asked, “Have you been like this since I left you?”

She clamped her mouth tightly, then nodded, confessing, “Yes, I think so…”

“You thought about touching yourself, didn’t you?”

Another moment of hesitation. Followed by another nod, “But I didn’t.” She moved into his hand, hips seeking more, even as her eyes stayed averted.

Iie, he realized, there would be no outfit changes. No time for her to place a sophisticated veneer over this base act. At least not tonight.

“Keep going,” he said to her, no longer bothering to politely frame his commands.

She did, moving into his hand with more and more urgency, her core becoming wetter and wetter.

But when her breath started to quicken, he took his hand away. Pulling it out of her wet space, forcing himself to sit back in the chair.

“Keep going,” he said again.

She hesitated. Her inexperience showing through, despite her nubile body. But then as if consulting some kind of inner manual, she leaned over, pushing off his jacket, and letting it fall to the ground as she began unbuttoning his shirt.

He let her undo his shirt, but when she tried to peel it off, he trapped her wrists and with a firm touch, pushed them away. “You cannot see me naked. Ever.”

Confusion dawned in her eyes. Confusion he answered with another, “Keep going.”

He hadn’t bothered to look at her transcripts, but he didn’t have to in order to tell she was a very clever girl. She figured out what he wanted, and a few seconds later, her hands were at his belt buckle, unclasping it and reaching in.

She gasped when she brought him out. Maybe because he was uncircumcised. Usually he pulled back his foreskin before receiving this kind of attention, but in this case, he’d been too caught up in the show of watching her remove him from his pants.

Or maybe she gasped because he was larger than expected—something he’d only discovered when his other Western mistresses expressed surprise at his size, many of them expecting much less from their Japanese lovers.

In any case… “Keep going,” he ground out.

Then he watched her do just that, and soon after, his cock swelled up even harder. Her hand began to move slowly up and down his shaft, the foreskin drawing back and pushing the hood of his penis, already dripping with pre-cum, forward. But when she bent forward and put her mouth on him… he nearly came undone. Something about the way she sucked at him, with more curiosity than knowing…it quickly became too much. Or not enough.

He wasn’t sure which notion he was fighting against when he rasped out, “Stop.”