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)
I turned to the waitresses. “Hey.”
As she finished, one of the waitresses glanced my way. “Sir?”
I leaned in and whispered, “Did she cook for me?”
The woman’s breath caught.
“Did she?”
The waitress trembled and then nodded.
Ahhh. I knew it!
A slow, wide, mad grin spread across my face.
She cooked for me! How did she know I needed that. . .right before war? Right before all of this?
As the waitresses scurried away and the scent of Nyomi’s cooking curled deeper into the space, I closed my eyes for half a second.
And I was a boy again—maybe nine or ten—sitting at a low wooden table while my mother hummed a lullaby in a language I no longer remembered. She wore a cotton apron stained with sesame oil, and her hands moved gently, over a pot that steamed with something rich and simple.
Tamago.
Rice.
Miso with extra seaweed because I hated it plain.
She smiled without turning. “You’ll need strength, Kenji. Always eat before the world gets cruel.”
I blinked it away and opened my eyes.
Now I was a man with blood on his hands and a war at his feet. But somehow, through the silence, through the jazz and the heat, a woman had cooked for me again, before the world got too cruel.
My Tiger.
The jazz band played, but a sound came from behind me. It was subtle, but I was too on guard to miss it. My Tiger’s scent came next—black amber and ripe plum.
There you go, Tora.
I turned and then stepped back just from the cock-hardening shock of it all.
Oh, Tora.
Candlelight caught her first—her dark brown skin glowed. Her gown was blood-red leather, molded to her body.
I loudly groaned.
The bodice was a corset, sleeveless and sculpted, pushing her breasts high and proud, the swell of them visible and luring me to take her.
On her side was this black boning laced in crisscross patterns, drawing attention to the narrowness of her waist.
From the hips down, the dress exploded into a sweeping train, rich and dramatic against the floor.
A savage slit carved high up one thigh, baring her leg. And that leg was sin on display. Long. Smooth. Flexed due to shimmering black stilettos laced up to the knee.
Her earrings were gold snakes that curled around her lobes and swayed as she moved, slowly toward me.
I nearly came in my fucking pants.
I nearly rushed to her and dropped to my fucking knees.
Yet, it was her eyes that made me stay right there because she didn’t blink.
Didn’t smile.
Didn’t rush.
She walked into that room like it belonged to her and like I did too.
My cock went rock hard, pressing against my pants.
As she came closer, her body moved in that red leather gown as if the fabric had been stitched by lust itself.
You are mine and nobody else’s.
My pulse beat in my throat.
When she got within arm’s reach, I didn’t wait for her to speak.
Fast, I seized her, gripping that waist and pulling her against me.
I was a starved man.
Her breasts pressed to my chest.
Our mouths collided.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was pure possession. I groaned into her mouth and she moaned into mine, her nails digging lightly into my jacket.
My tongue pressed between her lips, tasting her, claiming her.
The leather of her corset creaked as I drew her tighter.
She kissed me back like a woman ready to be fucked hard and right now.
Jazz played around us.
Groaning and tasting that sweet mouth, my hand slid lower.
I found the slit in her gown and slipped my fingers through the parting. The skin of her thigh was warm and smooth.
A growl rumbled from deep in my chest. "Fuck."
She tilted her hips, and just as I was about to shove all the plates off the table and put her on there to slam my cock into her wet pussy, a loud “AHEM!" cracked across the room like a whip.
What the fuck was that?
Nyomi pulled back.
Panting, I raised my eyebrows.
She got out of my grip with a subtle shift of her hips and a firm press of her palm to my chest.
I gritted my teeth. “Come back here, Tora.”
“No.” She twisted just enough to slide out of my grasp, a slow, sensual denial that felt like silk slipping through my fingers. Her eyes glimmered with heat. “Sit.”
What?
I didn’t move.
Couldn’t.
My cock throbbed against the constraint of my pants. I was hard enough to bruise. My pulse drummed in my ears. I needed her. Not later. Not after courses and conversation.
I needed her NOW!
“Tora,” I reached for her hand again. “I’ve waited too long. Let me at least taste you.”
Her brow arched.
I stepped in. “Let me eat your pussy for my pleasure and just for a few minutes. Licks here and there.”
That earned a moan from her.
Her lips parted, and those beautiful eyes went heavy with lust. For a moment, I thought she’d give in—let me fall to my knees, bury my tongue between her thighs, and devour her like the sacred feast she was.