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)
Firm.
Unyielding.
Absolutely claiming.
I widened my eyes.
I’d tasted blood, war, and fire in this life. I'd slaughtered global mafia kings and knelt only to death. Yet, the heat between Nyomi’s thighs—so close, so forbidden—felt like the most dangerous battlefield I’d ever approached.
She tightened that grip on my head delivering a sting that made me groan. “Smell my pussy.”
I blinked.
The command hadn’t shocked me, but the way my soul responded did.
I trembled some more. “Yes, Queen.”
Then she shoved my face forward.
Hard.
Soon, my nose slammed into her slick heat, and I swore I saw stars. Her scent crashed through me—plum, black amber, salt, and raw female musk. Every note carved its name into my lungs.
God yes!
Moaning, I nuzzled my face against that wet pussy.
Finally I get to taste.
And just as I opened my mouth, tongue trembling for her, she yanked me back.
Violently.
No!
The air slapped my face.
Cold.
Empty.
Goddamn it! Enough with the teasing. I want you now!
A strangled noise left my throat—part ache, part devastation. My fists tightened on the marble. I looked up at her. “Queen. . .”
“Yes.”
“I want to eat your pussy.”
“But do you think you earned it?”
I spoke through clenched teeth, “Your pussy is mine.”
“Is it?”
I sneered. “Yes.”
She smiled. “Who told you that?”
“I’m not the type of man that needs to be told when something is his. I am the sort of man that takes it.”
“Aww. I see.” She released my head from that grip and lovingly ran her fingers through my hair.
I groaned. “I could break this throne you sit on. Snap the legs. Fuck you until your screams split the marble.”
“You can.”
I bared my fangs like a dangerous beast.
“But you won’t.” She slipped her hands to my face and slid her fingers along the sharp edge of my jaw, tracing the tension there. Next, she leaned forward. Her mouth hovered near mine. “You want to lick my pussy?”
“You know I do.”
“Mmm.” Her hands slipped lower, trailing down my neck, over my collarbone, and then down the front of my chest. Her fingertips painted over my tattoos.
The tips of her nails grazed over my pecs, then paused right above my heart. She pressed her palm there, firm and open, like she could feel the chaos pounding inside me.
Whatever the fuck Hiroko had taught her, Nyomi had learned and excelled at it.
She caressed my chest with both hands, palms wide, slowly molding over every inch of muscle. Up, then down. In small circles. Calming something inside me. Or preparing me for something greater.
And I turned to putty in her hands.
Her fingers brushed over my nipples, teasing the peaks.
I moaned.
Then her hands lowered to my abs and she moaned, telling me she was just as insane with lust as I was.
If you want it, my little Tiger Queen, you can have all of me.
She removed her hands and leaned back on her throne. “You’re such a good little Dragon. I want to see more of you.”
“More?”
“Open your pants and take out your cock.”
I exhaled a jagged breath.
Fuck yeah.
My hands obeyed before my mind could catch up. I undid my pants and unzipped.
The pressure was unbearable. The silk of my briefs peeled away sticky with all the pre-cum I had released in this room and on the date. My cock was so hard that my shaft kicked forward as I freed it, heavy and leaking, the rose piercing was already glistening at the tip with even more precum.
I hissed.
She inhaled.
Men didn’t talk publicly about it with each other, but we all had this unspoken knowledge of how much we loved showing our cocks to women—the ones we wanted, the ones who made our blood burn with deranged desire.
And it wasn’t just about sex.
It was about power, vulnerability, hunger, and worship all tangled together.
There was something primal about pulling out a thick, aching cock and watching a woman’s breath hitch, her pupils dilate, her lips part like she had seen a fucking god.
And Nyomi’s reaction fed something ancient inside me.
My pierced cock jutted her way.
I looked up at my Tiger Queen.
Panting, she licked her lips. “There it is. . .beautiful. Angry. Begging.”
“This cock is yours, Queen.”
“Mmm.” Still, she didn’t reach for it. Instead, she dragged her gaze from my leaking mushroomed head down the length of me and made another soft, pleased sound in her throat. “Stroke it.”
I quirked my brows. “Stroke. . .it?”
“Yes.”
I stared up at her, jaw tight, resisting the urge to come just from the command alone.
She continued, “And stroke that big cock, nice and slow. Show me what your devotion looks like.”
I almost collapsed forward.
Almost.
Instead, I wrapped a hand around my cock and began to stroke—long, slow pulls from base to tip, every movement a trembling act of obedience and need. My biceps flexed. I grunted from the friction of my hand on my cock.
Pleased, she sat back on her throne, legs still parted, watching me. Worshiping me as I worshiped her. Her scent hung heavy in the air, mixing with the musk of my arousal, until it felt like we were swimming in something forbidden.