In Deep Kimchi
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by Imari Jade
Category: Erotica/Multicultural-Interracial Erotica
Description: Erotic romance author Shaundra Morrison thought there was nothing in the world her handsome white boss Harper Kehoe could offer her to get her on a plane bound for Tokyo, including free use of his body for the duration of the trip. Becoming a member of the mile high club intrigued her but not enough to conquer her fear of flying. Harper Kehoe had money, power, and everything his heart desired except for the affections of his best selling author Shaundra Morrison. He jumped at the idea of forming a partnership with Japanese mogul Goro Niigata because to Harper business came before pleasure. And what a perfect way to have both than by inviting Shaundra and three of his other successful authors to accompany him to Tokyo to promote the opening of NIKII Publishing. So what if it meant having one of his doctor friends prescribe Shaundra a sedative to knock her sexy ass out for twenty-five hours. Shaundra wasn't too keen on the idea of being drugged just to fly halfway around the world to help Harper promote his new business, until her senior editor showed Shaundra a picture of Aomori, a group of four J-Pop singers who Mr. Niigata managed and planned to use to help promote his new business. All it took was one look at those beautiful faces, sexy young bodies, and all that long black hair to get her to reconsider. The worst thing that could happen to her would be she'd be turned into a junkie before she returned to New York. The dampening of the panties between her legs assured her that it would be well worth it.
eBook Publisher: Sugar and Spice Press, 2011
eBookwise Release Date: January 2011
4 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [339 KB]
Reading time: 217-304 min.
Having this conversation with him seemed so wrong. Why is so interested in Ichiro's love life?
"No, but I've never dated anyone young enough to be my son. And while I'm putting it out there, long distance romances never work."
"Ichiro would be perfect for you. He's young and virile."
"You sound like his father arranging a marriage."
"I'm just trying to look out for what's best for him."
"And it doesn't hurt if he gets a bit creative with the songs when I'm around him. I heard his latest, Romanticism. It was excellent." She frowned. He and Harper shared the same ideals. When it came to making money, nothing was out of bounds. Why did men assumed that she was stupid just because she was a woman?
"See, you're perfect for him."
Kenshin pulled up with the limousine just as they made it to the stairs.
"I'll go in and get the boys, but I want you to think about what we've discussed."
"I need Ichiro to speak to me for himself."
Masaaki laughed again. "You have a great sense of humor." He disappeared inside the door without looking back to catch her expression.
Aomori and Masaaki piled into the limousine after they locked up the place. Satoshi won the honors of being seated next to her, with Ichiro and Yori across from them. Takumijo and Masaaki sat in the rear discussing the upcoming concerts. From what she could make out, both nights were sold out and were being held at the Tokyo Dome the following weekend. Apparently, she and the others authors were going as their guests.
Kenshin drove them straight to the hotel. She never realized how late it was until she saw Masaaki use his pass key to let them into the building.
Yori caught her hand as soon as everyone else had gone inside. "I will escort you up."
"I'm perfectly capable of finding my own room."
He rubbed his fingertip over the back of her hand while he held it. "Join me for a drink before we go up."
It was on the tip of his tongue to say no. "I don't really drink alcohol."
"One drink," he insisted. He used his pass key to let them into the lobby.
Against her better judgment, she followed him to the lounge.
* * * *
* * * *
What was he thinking? Yori didn't know. He didn't even know why he was doing it. Things would have much simpler just to have allowed her to go up to her room. But she was looking kawaii, as John had put it, and he was jealous of all the attention she had received from the rest of the men at dinner earlier. Even Takumijo had softened up some toward her on the way back to the hotel and had talked to her about the concert.
It was still early by club standards. The disc jockey was spinning a melody of songs for lovers. I'll Keep Holding On filtered out through the speakers when they entered. It was the type of song not to be wasted. "Dance with me."
Shaundra did not resist him and wrapped her arms around his waist like American women preferred do when dancing slowly. He was not opposed to the closeness, even though he had been taught that a man should keep a proper distance. Now he understood why as one of Dido's slower songs replaced the previous song. Its haunting rhythm and synthesized sounds woke up something inside of him as Shaundra rocked against him. What an odd time to get an erection, he thought as she snuggled closer to him. She did not act repulsed or try to pull away from him. She just continued to move slowly until the song ended and he escorted her to a private booth. A waitress appeared.
The young woman came over, recognized him and rewarded him with an inviting smile. "What will it be?" she asked him in Japanese.
"Two Shochu on ice," he ordered.
Only then did she seem to notice Shaundra's presence at the table. "Are you drinking both of them? That might be too strong for the American."
"The American will be all right. Just bring us what I ordered."
The waitress left, but not before rolling her eyes at Shaundra.
"What is her problem?" Shaundra asked.
"Nothing," Yori lied. "How do you say it? Good workers are hard to find."
"She looks upset. Do you know her?"
The waitress returned with the drinks and placed them on the table in front of them, then walked away shaking her head.
Shaundra picked up her drink. "You sure you don't know her?" She sipped and her eyes widened. "Ooh, this has quite a kickback."
Yori sampled his drink, hoping the waitress hadn't poisoned both of them. "Sip it slowly to get used to the taste."
Shaundra tried the drink again. This time, she made a face but didn't comment.
"Do you want to date Ichiro?"
Shaundra put the glass down. "Why does everyone have that impression?"
"He likes you."
"I barely know him and there's that age thing."
"You're thinking like a mother."
"I am a mother, which is another reason why I shouldn't get involved with Ichiro."
"You said shouldn't, not can't."
She picked up the glass again. "Same thing."
"No it is not."
Shaundra smiled at him from behind the clear glass. "Either way I don't have an answer for you. Ichiro has not expressed his interest to me yet, so this conversation is senseless. I prefer a man to be direct with me. If he wants more, he has to ask me himself."
Yori, too, liked the direct approach. "I understand." Good, she had not said yes. That meant there was still hope...for him. He polished off his drink and signaled for another. The waitress returned, still in a funky mood. "Another round."
"Not for me," Shaundra replied. "This one already has me lightheaded."
"Would you care for something different? Beer or maybe champagne?"
"Champagne does weird things to me."
Yori chuckled. "Change my order. A bottle of champagne and two glasses."
Shaundra giggled. The Shochu had her giddy. "What the hell? How often do I come to Japan?"
The waitress raised an eyebrow at him.
"You heard it yourself. If the lady wants champagne, then bring her the best."
The waitress left and returned with the champagne bottled buried in ice inside a bucket and two frosted fluted glasses. Yori sent her off with his black charge card and a hefty tip to buy her silence. He lifted the champagne from the bucket, popped the cork and then filled both their glasses. He raised his. "A toast. To new friends and new relationships. Kanpai."
Shaundra raised her glass. "Maybe." She sipped and then emptied the glass.
Yori refilled it. The more she sipped, the more she giggled. He liked that. He polished off his drink.
"Ooh, I like this song," Shaundra said as she struggled to her feet.
He liked it, too, especially since he sang the lead. Where had she heard it? He finished the champagne, rose and then took her hand. She wasn't drunk, but she wasn't acting exactly like herself either. Moments later, they were pressed together on the dance floor with his conscience bugging the hell out of him.