Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 66993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Not mock.
Not weaponize it.
I’d already said so much for us to not know each other well but my heart said it didn’t matter.
Nyomi’s gaze held curiosity yet was laced with desire.
Could I give her this? Should I?
I glanced away for a brief second, jaw flexing.
She probably should hear the story. It would help her better understand the offer I made. And if she was going to hold the rope—she probably should know about the last person who had.
I looked back at her.
Nyomi was still watching me. Waiting. Her body soft, open, lips parted just slightly as if she were already tasting the answer.
Something in my chest cracked open.
Fine.
She would hear it.
She would know.
I reached for my sake, lifted it and took another sip—slow and deliberate. Let the heat roll down my throat and anchor me in the now. “I’ll tell you the story.”
What will she think about it?
Chapter nineteen
Red Silk Confession
Kenji
Her eyes stayed locked on mine.
I set my sake down. “Her name was Lya.”
She didn’t blink. Just tilted her head slightly, waiting.
“I met her in Spain. I was only twenty-nine. Young and cocky. I was there for a weapons deal I shouldn’t have handled personally, but I was in a reckless season. My father had just handed me power. I needed to feel the edge.”
Nyomi didn’t speak but she shifted slightly in her seat.
“Lya wasn’t part of the negotiation. She was. . . an ornament. At least that’s how the host described her. A luxury. A status symbol.”
I let out a breath and met Nyomi’s gaze again. “But she wasn’t anyone’s anything.”
She bit her lip.
“Lya was older too. Much older,” I continued. “Fifty-two, maybe fifty-three. Elegant. Mean. Wore her age like it was weaponry. She had this voice—French, deep, honeyed but dry. Like she'd seen many mafia kingdoms rise and fall and had no patience for posturing from young guys like me.”
Nyomi’s mouth parted slightly.
“Still, Lya watched me during the negotiation like I was a puzzle she could solve in one glance. She was unimpressed and for that reason alone. . .I wanted her badly.”
Nyomi was breathing harder now. Her skin looked warmer. Her brown eyes darker.
“At the end of the negotiations and with all gone, Lya didn’t ask me to follow her that night,” I swirled my sake in my cup. “She just looked at me once, crooked her finger and walked into the villa’s master suite.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
“I followed.”
Nyomi swallowed. I saw the motion of her throat and knew that her legs crossed tighter beneath the table.
She widened her eyes. “What. . .happened next?”
“She told me to lie down, I did.”
Nyomi’s lips parted, the tip of her tongue slipping across the corner of her mouth before she whispered. “Damn.”
My cock was painfully hard.
“She pulled out a red silk rope—longer than the ones they used tonight. She slid it across my chest like she was measuring me. I didn’t ask her what she planned to do. I was so young and taken aback by this older woman. Then, she just. . .”
“What?”
“She looped the rope around my throat first. Not tight. Just enough to make me know it was there.” I inhaled slowly, remembering. “She said, ‘You don’t let anyone touch your neck, do you?’ I didn’t answer. She smiled and said, ‘Then I’ll be the first.’”
Nyomi squirmed in her seat.
I saw it—felt it.
Her thighs pressing tighter. Her chest rising more sharply. Her eyes shining like polished obsidian. “What. . .happened next?”
“She kept that rope around my throat and began to ride me slow. Tighter with every breath. She whispered in French, Spanish, English. Filthy things. Beautiful things. Sharp truths I didn’t know I needed to hear. She didn’t want the Dragon. She wanted the boy hiding under his ribs.”
I leaned forward slightly. “And she found him.”
Nyomi’s pulse fluttered at her neck.
“In the end, I didn’t cum from the friction of her pussy on my cock. . .I came from surrender. From being seen. From giving her that last bit of power I’d held onto my whole life.”
Nyomi exhaled, her hands trembling just slightly as she reached for her sake. She didn’t sip. Just held the cup like it might steady her.
“She loosened the rope afterwards. Traced my skin with her nails. Kissed my temple, and then. . .”
“What?”
“She said. . .‘Dragons do bleed.’”
Nyomi let out a sound—soft, stunned, and hot.
“Lya was gone before dawn. No note. No promise. And I never looked for her.”
“Why not?”
“She wasn’t mine to keep. She was only mine to remember.”
I let my voice drop even lower. “But you, Tora?”
Nyomi’s eyes widened just enough to make my chest burn.
“You will not be some memory. Some story to tell. I already know that you will not be a ghost.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’m never going to let you vanish.”
She went flush. Those full lips parted even more. Her chest rose and fell like she’d run ten stories in heels.