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)
“So you would die before saying mercy?”
“Basically.”
She laughed—full, rich, and bright. “Fine. How about. . .exit.”
“I don’t like exit.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”
She blinked.
I took another sip of my drink.
“It could be a food you like or hate. Garlic, onion.”
“Hmmm.” I took another slow sip of the drink and her scent hit me again—black amber and ripe plum.
Then it came to me.
I set the glass down. “Ume.”
“That’s Japanese?”
I nodded slowly. “It means ‘plum.’”
“Aww.”
“It of course reminds me of your scent. Ripe. Sweet. But sharp beneath the skin. The kind of fruit that bruises beautifully.”
She held my gaze.
“And the word itself. . .ume. It’s delicate. Feminine. But old. Resilient. Plum blossoms bloom in the dead of winter—when everything else is too afraid to rise. That’s what you feel like when I kiss you, something sacred, soft, sweet, yet strong.”
Her lips parted just slightly and then she whispered. “Ume. That’s beautiful.”
“Could it be too beautiful for a safe word?”
“No. I think there’s beauty in telling someone to stop and knowing without a doubt that they will because they never want to hurt you.”
My heart ached. “Then, that is our safe word.”
She placed her hands on the table. “And in addition to ume, we’ll use the traffic light system too.”
“The what?”
“So. . .apparently this is simple, but effective—especially in scenes that may involve pain, power, or psychological edge play.”
I widened my eyes.
She said it like she was listing ingredients for chamomile tea—not ways to dismantle a man’s soul.
But I blinked and my mouth went dry as my cock pulsed under the table.
A scene? Pain? Power? Mind-fucking edge play?
She wasn’t preparing me for pleasure. She was preparing to burn me clean.
And then I saw it.
Her standing over me in some shadow-drenched room, dressed in black leather and gold rings, a riding crop dangling from her fingers.
I saw myself on my knees, bare, sweating, head bowed while she walked slow circles around me.
I imagined her whispering things I wasn’t ready to hear.
She’s going to shatter everything I thought I knew about myself.
I straightened in my seat. “Explain the. . .traffic system.”
“It’s just like regular traffic lights. During your. . .surprise, I will do a quick check with you. So, for example, if you say green that would mean keep going. Everything is good.”
What? How much time has Hiroko had with her?
I turned in my seat and glanced at Hiroko. She had been watching in the shadows and had the biggest smirk on her face.
Hmmm.
Surely, Hiroko was proud.
Nyomi owned this dinner like a seasoned queen.
I faced my Tiger.
She continued, “yellow means slow down or check in. Something might be off or need adjusting. And red means stop. Immediately. No questions. No arguments.”
I exhaled through my nose. “So even the Dragon needs to learn the color wheel now?”
“Yes. Because even the Dragon needs to be protected when he flies too close to the sun.”
Mmmm.
I wanted her badly. And not just sexually. I wanted her intellect. Her ruthlessness. Her care. Her command. I wanted to be better under her hands.
I nodded once. “Understood.”
The waitresses returned, clearing the plates and bowing as they swept away the last of the dirtied forks and empty crystal glasses.
The scent of smoke and sugar still lingered.
When they were gone, I looked at Nyomi, waiting for the rest of this incredible night.
What will happen next? Will it be the dessert along with a surprise? Or something else entirely? Something I am not prepared for.
Chapter thirty-nine
The Bowl and the Flame
Kenji
The bourbon was warm in my chest and she sat across from me like a goddess who didn’t know—or maybe absolutely knew—she had set me on fire.
I loosened my collar and leaned back in my seat. “What’s next?”
She just smiled that slow, dangerous smile and reached for her water glass. “Wait and see.”
I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “You may need to take me to the hospital.”
“Why?”
I tapped my thigh under the table trying not to wince. “My cock’s been hard the entire night. Surely that can’t be good for me.”
She tilted her head. “You want release?”
I stared right into her eyes with no shame. “I want my cock deep inside your wet pussy.”
She didn’t blink.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t melt.
She simply set her glass down with care and said, “but we’re taking it slow.”
“Say slow again,” I growled. “And I’ll flip this table over.”
She let out a wicked laugh that hit me in the chest and I smirked.
“Why don’t you like the word slow, Kenji?”
“Tonight, has been anything but slow, Tora. It’s been passionate torture.” I leaned in slightly. “You have outdone yourself. Thank you. I will never forget this. Not a second of it. Never.”
Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’m glad you enjoyed my food.”
“I more than enjoyed it. I’m moving you into my mansion this evening.”
She remained silent.
And her silence was power, held gently and completely. She knew exactly what kind of man I was—and still had the nerve to keep me waiting.