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)
Each told a story of what it took to earn the title of Dragon.
Goddamn.
I didn’t know if I should run screaming out of that room or just start fucking him.
I swallowed hard.
Yeah. I’m not going back to New York.
Not in a week.
Not in a month.
Probably not ever.
The realization didn’t strike like lightning—it dripped in slow, molten certainty, thickening the air in my lungs until I could barely breathe around it.
It wasn’t fear exactly.
But it wasn’t comfort either.
It was surrender that I hadn’t agreed to out loud but my body already had.
My pussy already had.
My pride already had.
And the worst part?
I’d been the last to know.
Zo had hinted at it in his anxious, chaotic, way.
Hiroko hadn’t even bothered pretending. She’d just laughed. Full-throated. All-knowing. Like I was the wide-eyed lamb showing up to a dragon’s den with nothing but attitude and lip gloss, thinking I’d get out with my soul intact.
And Kenji?
He’d told me.
Over and over.
With gifts.
With stolen caresses.
With obsession thinly disguised as strategy.
He’d told me when he’d called me his. When he sent for my panties halfway across the world. When he placed his chef in my kitchen and his name in my mouth.
He told me in every rule he followed and every one he planned to break.
Holy shit.
Even if I made him kneel.
Even if I made him beg.
Even if tonight ended with his sweat on my thighs and his mouth wrecked from obedience.
It wouldn’t matter.
Because Kenji Sato wasn’t the kind of man you topped and left. He wasn’t a weekend experiment. He wasn’t a neat chapter I could close and file away. He was the kind of man who studied you down to your scent. Memorized the ache in your voice. Paid assassins to track your enemies and called it love.
He was the Dragon.
And Dragons did not release what they claimed.
A cold shiver of fear and lust rushed through me.
I took his shirt off, revealing even more.
I thought his arms had muscle but I had no idea how truly big they were.
My eyes widened.
My gaze traced the curve of his bicep—massive, inked with a screaming samurai entangled in thorned vines. There were waves crashing along his other bicep and Sakura blossoms falling down to his wrist.
My lips parted in awe.
I couldn’t even form a sentence. I just stared. How could someone be this beautiful? This terrifying? I let his shirt fall to the floor. Thank God I didn’t show the stress storming through me, but I damn sure was losing it on the inside.
What the fuck? I need Hiroko. I am going to make HIM beg? I don’t know about that.
Hiroko’s voice cut through me like a whispered gospel.
“Remember. Don’t let his presence knock you off your throne. A dragon’s fire is only as strong as the woman who dares to breathe through the smoke.”
I took a breath, reached out and touched his chest. The moment my fingertips made contact with that warm stretch of tattooed muscle; he inhaled like I’d just branded him.
Goddamn. Mmmhmm.
His skin felt like it had been trained to seduce. Satin over stone. Heat pulsing beneath the surface in violent restraint. I slid my hand across the dragon’s ink—over the fierce curve of a wing, down the rippling rise of his pec.
He is. . .everything and more.
His chest moved with each breath but it was barely controlled.
When my palm skimmed the length of his bicep, he growled low and deep. It was a sound caged in his throat that refused to stay silent.
Vibrating with lust, I dragged my nails lightly across his abs making him shudder. “Every inch of you belongs to me right now. Do you understand?”
“Yes, queen.”
I dragged my nails across his abs again but this time digging a little bit deeper so he could feel pleasure and pain.
He shivered. “Fuckkk.”
Doing exactly what Hiroko told me to; I stepped back just a few inches then flared my cape with a flick of my wrist. The fabric caught the air like smoke and flowed behind me in a train of shadow and power.
He didn’t move but his eyes ravenously tracked the motion.
Next, I slowly circled him.
The cape swirled around my legs.
As I moved around him, I dragged my nails across his body—over his chest, his shoulders, the curve of his biceps.
Every inch I touched tensed beneath me.
He didn’t flinch but he breathed harder like each graze of my nail etched a new vow into his skin. His throat bobbed. His fists tightened.
When I reached his back, I let my fingertips trail down his spine and I swore—his entire body shuddered.
Power lived in every inch of him. Not just in the muscles but in how still he could be. How he didn’t snatch me up even as his cock visibly throbbed through his pants.
I moved back to his front and reached for his belt. Black leather. Gold buckle. I flicked it open with one smooth pull.