Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 115388 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115388 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Power.
Control.
And the woman bold enough to take it all.
Tokyo’s most dangerous mafia king, Kenji Sato, commands empires with silence, precision, and blood. But ever since Nyomi Palmer—a bold Black American author determined to expose Tokyo’s underworld—steps into his world, his obsession has turned feral.
One dream—her on a throne, his mouth between her thighs—and the Dragon shatters.
Jet planes. Private chefs. Decadent suites. He offers her the empire—but not freedom.
But beneath the luxury and lust, a war is building. With his father—the Fox—threatening his empire, and spies whispering at every border, Kenji must decide if Nyomi is his ultimate weakness. . .or the weapon he needs most.
As the ropes tighten, secrets unravel, and desire transforms into devotion, Nyomi will discover just how far a Dragon will go to possess the woman who dares to master him—and how much blood he’ll spill for her name.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Prologue
The Dragon Kneeling for Pussy
Nyomi
In my dream, I sat on a throne made of dark gold, slick with oil and time, and carved with dragons and tigers.
In front me, Kenji knelt, bare-chested and bound.
Rope coiled around his muscular arms like gold-tinted vines—firm and symmetrical—more pinned across the wide breadth of his rippling chest. Each knot was beautiful.
Desire paired with absolute submission.
His thighs were spread wide, knees bruised on the marble floor, his cock erect and weeping in the low light.
And I mean weeping.
Fat droplets of pre-cum slicked the ground, each one glistening like diamonds in the sun.
His shaft pulsed—gorged, desperate, flushed so deep it bordered on purple—and yet he didn’t beg.
At least not out loud.
Instead, he begged through hungry groans as he licked my clit, mouth open and greedy, lips coated in my slick heat.
“That’s right, Dragon,” I trembled. “Eat this pussy.”
The air was thick with the musky scent of sex.
Groaning even louder, his tongue licked my clit up and down like he was tasting salvation.
His hair clung to his face in wet strands.
So drunk on power, I reached over and fisted some of his silky strands. “Lick it all up, baby.”
He grunted.
I guided his head again and again between my thighs, pressing his mouth where I needed him most.
God.
It was heaven on fire.
He moaned again.
A broken, sacred sound.
Worship lived on his tongue and I was his altar.
Kenji Sato.
The fucking Dragon.
Mess with him and you're dead.
And your bloodline too.
Newspapers and documentaries claimed that he ruled Japan’s underworld as a conductor of carnage—every gunshot a note, every bribe a beat, every blood oath a drumline of death.
Assassins moved to his rhythm.
Empires bowed to his silence.
When he gave the signal, cities bled.
He was a man with claws sharp enough to skin legacies, fangs built for ruin, and a roar that cracked the spines of other mafia kings.
Yet here he was. . .on his knees, licking my pussy like a good little Dragon.
A man who had knelt for no one—not the government, not the police, not even his enemies—was now groaning against my pussy like I was the only god who had ever deserved his devotion.
At that moment, I was.
I knew my ancestors must have been smiling—no, cackling—in the background. Watching me take what had never been given to them.
A woman with my dark brown skin.
My thick, unapologetic curves.
My voice.
My bloodline.
We had always been expected to bow, serve, and tame ourselves into silence.
But not tonight.
In this moment, I was the thunder that cracked open the night sky.
He was all mine.
“Deeper,” I wrapped a thigh around his shoulder and dragged him closer. “Tongue-fuck me, Kenji.”
He growled low, his jaw shifting as he obeyed.
The moment his tongue plunged into me… I gasped. His hands—still tied behind him—tensed like he wanted to break free, grab my thighs, and crush me against his mouth but the rope kept him obedient.
Still. . .he dominated me from the bottom.
His submission wasn’t weakness.
It was control flipped inside out.
That made this all so goddamn erotically delicious.
Even bound.
Even silenced by my pussy, he was still a goddamn alpha.
Those ropes might’ve kept his arms pinned but nothing could tame the hunger in his mouth or the command in his eyes.
Each flick of his tongue was a challenge.
Every groan said you’re mine even if you’re sitting on the throne and I’m bound.
That was the part that wrecked me. Because it wasn’t just that I had him kneeling, it was that he wanted to be there.
Chose to be there.
Chose me.
Chose my pussy as his altar.
He was supposedly in the position of submission and yet he fucked me with his tongue like he owned my soul. Like he knew the exact rhythm to make my breath catch, the pressure to make my thighs tremble, the pattern that would bring me right to the edge—but never let me fall.
Even now, my hips rolled without my permission chasing his mouth, drunk off the way his groans vibrated straight into my clit.
My hand twisted tighter in his hair. “Fuck, Kenji. . .”
He looked up at me, eyes half-lidded, gaze feral and worshipful at the same time.
His lips were swollen.
Glazed with me.
That thick, pulsing cock twitched and spilled out a ribbon of pre-cum.
A spiritually erotic tribute to the queen he served.
I whispered. “Good boy.”
He groaned louder and I came hard.
My body arched and shook. My vision blurred as rainbow-colored stars exploded in front of me. My nerves buzzed and then detonated with pleasure.
He was mine.
But I was damned sure also his.
He pulled another orgasm out of me, this one violent and ragged. I bit down on my own moan, breath hissing through my teeth as my hips shook, thighs closing around his ears.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!”
Still, he licked.
Like he needed the taste of my pussy to breathe.
His eyes never left mine. That gaze was so intense, even as hot ripples of pleasure wrecked my body. Those dark orbs watched me, drinking in my shudders.