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)
Then. . .that interruption came again.
“AHEM!” That fucking cough snapped through the room like a blade.
Hiroko.
In the room.
Silent.
Watching.
Nyomi smiled wickedly and slapped my hand away. “Please, sit.”
“After I lick your clit and make you moan—”
“I put a lot of effort into this date, let me feed you first.”
“But I want to eat your pussy, and then I will eat food.”
“First food, then maybe. . .pussy.”
“Maybe.” My smile turned cruel. “Tora, we are fucking whether you are ready for it or not.”
She grinned. “If you keep this up, then I will end this date.”
“And you will find yourself bound and headed to my mansion.”
She chuckled.
Unfortunately, for her. . .I was not joking.
Not at all.
She gave me a sweet smile. “I cooked for you.”
That softened me.
“And I’m nervous about it.” She gestured to the seat. “Everything is warm and at the perfect temperature. I want you to like it.”
That melted me, and I was not the sort of man to melt, yet here I was. . .turning liquid and warm right before her yes.
I cleared my throat. “I’m excited. I already think your food is delicious.”
“You haven’t even tried it.”
“No one has ever cooked for me. You’ve now put yourself in a dangerous position within my heart.”
She blinked but stood strong in her power. “Kenji. . .sit.”
I’ll sit now, but later you’ll be bouncing on my cock.
My fists clenched at my sides. I looked down at her—my Tiger standing tall in red leather and power.
Slowly, I dragged myself to the chair like a punished man with a hard-on. My cock throbbed painfully against the seam of my pants.
But I sat.
Because she’d asked and she’d proved that this night was truly hers.
I glanced to the right, and there I spotted Hiroko lingering within the shadows.
Now I understand your position in this. You two think you can uncrown me? We’ll see.
I grinned.
Nyomi lowered into her chair. “Are you ready to eat?”
“Yes, Tora.”
“Then, let’s begin.” She held up a delicate finger.
The staff entered and with them came dishes I’d never seen and scents that made my head spin.
Oh my. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. Does she?
Chapter twenty-seven
The First Course of Ruin
Kenji
Jazz hummed from the band behind us.
The waitresses placed four small lacquer trays onto the table. Heart-shaped. Black with gold trim. Laid out like something sacred.
They moved in perfect rhythm. Every tiny plate gleamed, and every scent that curled upward from those trays knocked something loose inside me.
Colors bloomed across the trays. Some sort of sun-gold bread was nestled on a cast iron spoon and drizzled with a dark red liquid.
A jeweled smear of aioli lay next to a pile of odd green pointed vegetables.
I did recognize a deviled egg wearing a shrimp crown.
And last, there was this brown and black sort of cake bathed in an amber glaze.
So many scents floated up. Smoke. Bourbon. Butter. Oil. Spice. A hint of vinegar. A breath of honey.
The waitresses bowed and left in silence.
I moved my gaze to Nyomi and lost some of my ability to breathe.
The light licked her skin like it wanted to fuck her. Her cheekbones gleamed like polished gold. Her curls swayed a little and they were sin caught in moonlight, and that scent, even from here. . .wrapped around my cock and squeezed.
If Aphrodite had ever fucked a war god, she would've worn this same red leather dress and had her hair in a similar way.
My gaze dragged over Nyomi’s mouth, her throat, the soft rise of her breasts under that tight red leather.
The way the corset cinched her waist made my hands ache to undo it—slowly.
No ripping.
No rushing.
Just me, on my knees, peeling her like fruit I’d been starving for.
I imagined her flat on this table.
The trays scattered. Jazz still curling in the air. My hand gripping her ankle, spreading her open.
Her curly hair fanned over the table.
Her lips parted.
I’d fuck her here.
Not hard at first.
I’d start slow—let the head of my cock drag along her soaked pussy’s slit until she arched and begged for more.
Until she was cursing me in languages she didn’t even know she spoke.
Her thighs would tremble. The table might creak. The gold trim might imprint into her spine.
I’d lean in, fuck her with my tongue between each thrust, kiss her like she was my altar.
Then I’d flip her.
Push her chest to the table.
Watch her ass arch and fuck her again.
Deeper.
Dirtier.
Until the wood below us soaked in her cries and my groans.
Until she clawed at lacquer and begged me to stop just so I could ignore her and keep going.
Because she wouldn’t mean it.
She would want all of my cock.
And I’d give it to her.
Every brutal inch.
Fuck.
I hadn’t touched her, but I was already full-body wrecked.
I sat there with jazz in my blood and fire in my veins, my cock heavy beneath the table, and my pulse stretched too tight across my neck.