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 she leaned in and whispered. “That kneel he keeps dancing around? The devotion he’s offering you like a gift? It might be real, but it might also be the first step of your imprisonment. Be very careful. Sometimes a Dragon kneels not in surrender, but to lower your defenses before he strikes.”
My chest tightened.
“Take control. Can you do this?”
“This is a lot.”
“But can you do this?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” She adjusted the bodice of my corset slightly and looked at me like I was a soldier going back to war. “Then, make him beg to survive this night.”
“Alright.”
“Get through the entrée and to the dessert. We have dragged this out long enough.”
“You’re right.”
“And once we get him upstairs. Be prepared.”
“Fuck.”
“Fuck is right, Nyomi.” She walked off.
I followed.
We returned to the dining space, right as the waitresses glided out with silver trays balanced in elegant choreography.
Entrée time.
I strolled back over, watching Kenji. He hadn’t realized I had returned to the space. His gaze was on that food and his mouth was open in shock and his entire posture shifted with anticipation, like an eager boy waiting for a birthday gift.
I thought about Hiroko’s words.
You’re the feast he didn’t know he would starve for.
I held my head high.
But could I really do this?
Take control of a man like him. . .a man who didn’t bend, didn’t bow. A man who would only kneel when he’s plotting to devour you?
I can do it. I can get control.
I just prayed I was right.
Chapter thirty-five
Game On
Kenji
The jazz band played low and slow—horn breathing, bass humming, and the saxophone singing sorrowful, but sweet notes.
What is Hiroko telling my Tiger?
All I knew was that earlier I had been devouring Nyomi’s mouth and was close to having my hands between her thighs, finger fucking her pussy until she orgasmed. Next minute, Hiroko appeared, stopped it, and then dragged Nyomi away.
I watched the shadowed archway where they disappeared, the soft click of the door sealing them inside for some private counsel.
My jaw ticked.
My fingers tapped against the stem of my glass.
Careful, Hiroko. I will kneel for my Tiger, but she will never dominate me.
My pulse slowed to a deadly rhythm.
What the fuck is she saying in there? Is she coaching her? Plotting? Teaching her how to control me?
This was turning into a fucking serious game.
No.
A blood sport.
The only problem for them was that I never walked away from a challenge.
Whatever Hiroko whispered behind that door I would undo it.
No.
I would unmake it.
While I would be fine with kneeling for my Tiger every now and then, there would be limits.
If Hiroko thought Nyomi could dominate me, command me—tame me—I would bend Nyomi over this damned table, push these plates to the floor, and taste her until she sobbed my name.
Let Hiroko teach her tactics.
Let her lace Nyomi with confidence and scripts.
None of it would survive my tongue.
None of it would survive my cock.
Still. . .what is she saying?
My body ached for my Tiger.
What if. . .Hiroko does a good job of getting Nyomi to that place where. . .she did overpower me?
Against all logic, my cock jumped in my pants. Perhaps. . .part of me. . .wanted to see what Hiroko had awakened. Wanted to test her training. Then. . .break her rules. Strip that newly gifted power from Nyomi’s pussy with my tongue.
Yes. Let them plan. I’ve got my plans too.
I formed my lips into a devilish grin.
Let Nyomi return emboldened. I would meet her there with flame and fury.
Come on, Ladies.
Suddenly, these spicy scents hit me.
Then, the waitresses appeared with trays of dishes.
Oh. What is all of this?
Silver-domed trays floated down from the hands of the waitresses and landed in front of me like some ceremonial offering.
My mouth parted and lovely scents curled around me.
Oh, Tora. I am going to fire my chef.
I gazed down at the covered trays wondering what could be hidden under them.
I have no idea what I will be eating tonight.
That rarely happened.
I’d eaten my way through the finest restaurants in Tokyo, Paris, Milan, and cities one could only reach by jet and whispered password.
Still, I had no idea what was in front of me.
These scents were different.
The waitresses bowed and stepped away.
Heels clicked.
I turned in that direction, and Nyomi appeared. And it was like. . .I was seeing her for the first time. Everything inside me stilled.
Nyomi stepped into the dining hall like she had left her former self behind that closed door.
Hmmm.
Whatever Hiroko had said in her ear had not just gotten into her head—it had taken root.
And bloomed.
Her rhythm was slower now, as if she were a predator prowling within tall grass.
Lustily lethal.
Sexually sinister.
Confident in her erotic kill.
That red leather dress clung to her curves. The bottom sensuously flowed out, swaying with her stride and causing the slit to seductively reveal that thigh with each step.