“Interesting.” Hiro raised his eyebrows and studied me. “This is new territory for you.”
Hiro wasn’t wrong.
Thiswasnew territory.
He and I had shared many things over the years.
Secrets.
Enemies.
Scars.
Women.
So many women.
Some we traded off with a nod, others we passed between us in bed like a bottle of sake—wet, willing, and forgettable.
There was one I barely remember the name of—Aiko or something like that. Body like sin. Laugh like nails on glass. I had her first. Bent over the leather couch in the backroom of an underground illegal casino. Her knees dug into the cushions. Her spine arched.
When I was done, I whispered in her ear, “My brother wants you next.”
She moaned in pleasure.
Hiro moved in, cock in one hand and the other hand sliding along the curve of her hip. Once he plunged his cock inside Aiko, he was grabbing her throat.
In the shadows, I lounged in a chair, shirt undone, cock dirty, and a drink in hand, smiling. Her moans turned feral under him. The couch creaked in rhythm.
And I had no regrets.
Another night, we fucked a blonde Australian tourist together. Legs for days, mouth like a vacuum. I took her from behind while she sucked Hiro off at the edge of one of my soaplands’ private pools. Hiro was so rough, her tears mixed with the chlorine as she choked on his cock and begged for more of mine.
For years, we shared women the way most men shared smokes.
Without meaning.
Without memory.
Always, my bond with Hiro mattered more than any woman ever did. If she made him smile, she was already halfway mine. If she mademecome, he got her next.
It was never about the woman.
It was about loyalty.
It was about blood.
But Nyomi?
Darkness rose within my chest.
Nyomi was changing everything.
I couldn’t imagine her in our bed with Hiro.
Not even a little.
Not with his mouth on her full lips.
