His Gift 3(9)

“Wow,” I said. “Not like this.”

“Very good,” the chef said, smiling broadly as he emptied his glass. Jake poured him another.

“It’s…uh… interesting,” I said. Not bad, but I would stick to rum and cokes in the future. This stuff was strong.

The chef quickly sliced up paper-thin strips of ginger into a small bowl and plated it next to some wasabi. With his knife, he sliced into the thick cut of tuna.

It was incredible to watch. The chef’s knife was as quick and precise as a surgeon’s, and he deftly sliced up a plate of tuna, serving it with the ginger and wasabi.

“Sashimi,” he said brusquely, and stirred the rice.

I sipped my sake and mimicked Jake as he picked up a piece of fish with his fingers and ate.

“This is delicious,” I said, my mouth around the sashimi. The fatty cut of tuna tasted like butter melting onto my tongue. It was light and fresh and perfect.

The chef kept working, and once he saw that I was interested, he began to narrate his steps to Jake and me.

“This is nori,” he said, holding out a dark green sheet.

“Oh man, I always just referred to it as that seaweed stuff,” I said. “Sorry. We don’t get much sushi in Iowa.”

The chef placed the seaweed sheet—sorry, the nori sheet—on top of a bamboo mat. He dipped his hands under the faucet.

“Cold water,” he explained. “It makes it easier to handle the rice.”

“Hmm,” I said, scrutinizing the way his hands moved as he worked. He spread the rice over the nori sheet, leaving part of the last edge uncovered. Then he took a large strip of tuna and laid it across the whole sheet.

“Some fresh cucumber as well,” he said. His chef’s knife moved like lightning over the cucumber, cutting it into nearly transparent tiny strips.

“Then,” he said, his fingers rolling the mat away from him, “you roll it up.”

He pressed down on top of the rolled up mat and then unrolled it. With his knife, he cut up the sushi roll like it was a carrot, producing a half dozen perfect pieces of sushi which he plated with two swoops of his knife.

“See?” he said. “Easy as pie.”

“Holy cow,” I cried. “That’s incredible! It looks like a piece of art.” The rolls were pink and white and green arced over the plate, and he garnished it with a few green sprigs and some pink fish eggs to top it off.

“Lacey, would you like to start a career as a sushi chef?” Jake teased.

“I’ll stick to making art art. I’m much better at eating sushi art,” I teased back, and reached for a roll.





Chapter Six



After dinner, Jake held out his hand.

“Where are we going?” I asked innocently.

“You know exactly where we’re going,” he said.

At once a flare of heat streaked through my body. The soft curve at the corner of his mouth made me ache to kiss him. But how could I, if that wasn’t what he wanted?

His fingers clasped mine and I followed obediently as he led me down the hallway. I was wearing a dress—one of his dresses, but I was barefoot, and the carpet rose between my toes as I walked next to him.

“You’ve been such a good girl, Lacey,” he said. “I’m going to give you a little reward. Would you like that?”

He opened the door to the room I’d woken up in. I walked in. After having been here before, it seemed strangely familiar. The mirror taking up the whole wall behind the bed. The chains leading from the bedposts. The art—

“Is this Kage?” I asked. I’d seen lettering on the side of one of the walls that I hadn’t noticed before. It reminded me of the painting in his art gallery, the one by the famous street artist. I stepped closer to the wall, drifting my fingers along the lines. “It looks like his stuff. Did you get him to come—”

“On the bed,” Jake ordered.

I turned around.

“Oh, so you can’t answer a simple question.”

“There are no questions in here,” he said blankly. “And you’ll be spanked for that one.”

“Really?” I said, pulling away from the wall. A thrill ran through me at the memory of his hand coming down on my ass.

“That’s another question,” Jake warned.

“Well, if I’m already going to be spanked, I might as well ask—”

Jake was across the room in a split second. He yanked me by the arm, sat on the bed, and pulled me off of my feet. All of a sudden I was bending over his lap. My feet scrabbled for purchase, but he had me completely off-balance.

“Ahh!” I cried. “I’m sorry, okay? Okay?”

He didn’t listen. Or if he did listen, he didn’t care. In the mirror I saw him pull up the hem of my dress roughly, exposing my bare ass. He raised his hand and then I didn’t see anything more. My eyes were closed.