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 walked toward the throne and swayed my hips.
When I finally reached the throne, I turned.
Oh wow.
Kenji appeared absolutely helpless.
Utterly undone.
Like if I told him to bark, he would.
Keeping my gaze on him, I lowered myself onto the queening throne.
Fuck. It’s really about to go down. I’m finally going to feel him.
The seat carved perfectly for a goddess. Velvet red and trimmed in gold, the arms flared outward with leather loops, attached restraints. Elegant ones. Designed for wrists or thighs, depending on how filthy the game would get.
The back arched up but the real star was the opening between my thighs.
My pussy hovered right over it.
No protection.
No modesty.
Just my pussy—wet, exposed, and in command.
The slit in the bodysuit had already parted from the motion of sitting and now I could feel the air kiss the lips of my pussy.
It pulsed.
Hungry.
Slick.
I peeked down.
There was a plush black cushion set right beneath the throne’s opening. Perfect for a kneeling man to come over, lay on his back, rest his head directly under my pussy, and beg for release with his tongue.
God. I already know I’m going to be addicted to this.
I looked up.
Kenji was staring at the throne like it was a fucking altar. And my pussy? Like it was the Holy Grail.
I let him take it in.
Let him suffer.
Let him imagine the taste.
Then, I gave him my voice.
Low.
Regal.
Deadly sweet.
“Do you see my throne?”
His voice was wrecked, “yes. . .queen.”
I dragged one manicured nail over and pointed between my open thighs. “Your head is going to go right there.”
He groaned—hoarse and ruined. “Yes. . .queen.”
“Right under my pussy.”
“God, yes, queen.”
I gave him a wicked smile. “And I’ll be sitting on your face.”
He trembled.
“You will thank me for that with your tongue.”
His eyes fluttered. “I will.”
“And when and only when I cum,” my voice dripped with sin. “Then and only then. . .will I consider letting you cum.”
“Fuck.” His whole body shivered. “Yes, queen.”
I watched him. Watched the way power and lust battled in his body, like two dragons warring inside a temple of muscled flesh. I knew for damn sure there had been a few times when he’d almost gotten up and taken me.
Thank God he didn’t because I wouldn’t have been able to stop him. I was too wet and needy.
I licked my lips. “Are you ready?”
He didn’t blink. “Yes, queen.”
My breath hitched in satisfaction.
I spread my knees just slightly on the throne, the slit opening wider. My wetness glistened beneath the lights. My scent was filling the air now—ripe plum, black-amber, and slick heat.
“Crawl to me, little Dragon.”
Chapter forty-four
The Dragon Crawls
Kenji
Nyomi sat on that throne, radiating power the way other women wore perfume.
She was a crowned deity. Cape gone. Body wrapped in leather and sin.
Her thighs parted in erotic, mind-numbing prophecy.
Red light caressed her dark brown skin. Her pussy glistened above the throne’s open seat—wet and pulsing with need.
She was power incarnate.
A vision too dangerous to touch.
A flame too holy to survive.
And me?
I slowly crawled to her.
What would they say if they saw me now? What would they whisper when they thought I couldn't hear?
The Dragon on his knees. . .when the most psychotic killers wept and knelt before me, begging for mercy.
When Japan was my bloodied throne.
The last time I crawled was five years ago, in a Shinjuku bathhouse littered with dead bodies. Blood and guts on tile. Steam thick with screams.
I’d been shot in both legs, barely breathing, blood pooling behind me. Still, I crawled toward a gasping Yuma—my father’s rival. The last fool who thought the Dragon could be executed.
My fingers wrapped around a shard of broken tile. Jagged. Warm from blood.
I didn’t even think.
I just crawled.
I could barely breathe, yet when I had reached him, I drove that jagged tile into his chest and carved until his ribs cracked open. I dug through cartilage, muscle, and veins. I ripped his heart out with both hands while it was still fucking beating. Held it high like a relic. Let steam rise from it while his blood painted my skin.
Hiro appeared on my side and laughed with blood still drying on his face.
Reo arrived, wounded too. He helped me up without a word.
Together, my Fangs and Claws got me to the car. I still hadn’t let go of that heart. Not until we made it to the hospital. Not until I passed out.
That was the last time I crawled.
But now?
Now I was on my knees again—no gunshot wounds, no blood trail behind me, no hunger for death and vengeance on my tongue.
Just my cock, so hard it ached.
Just my breath, shallow and broken.
Just my Tiger Queen—legs parted, pussy wet, eyes blazing with sovereign power.
And this time, the heart I would rip out and offer wouldn’t come from a corpse.It would be mine—beating, willing, and hers to destroy.
Moment by moment, my knees pressed against the marble. My palms slid against the stone. My spine curled, head down, not in shame but in devotion. Every shift of my weight sent a bolt of pressure to my hard cock.