Page 33 of The Dragon 1 (Tokyo Empire #1)

Prologue

The Dragon Kneeling for Pussy

Nyomi

In my dream, I sat on a throne made of dark gold, slick with oil and time, and carved with dragons and tigers.

In front me, Kenji knelt, bare-chested and bound.

Rope coiled around his muscular arms like gold-tinted vines—firm and symmetrical—more pinned across the wide breadth of his rippling chest. Each knot was beautiful.

Desire paired with absolute submission.

His thighs were spread wide, knees bruised on the marble floor, his cock erect and weeping in the low light.

And I mean weeping.

Fat droplets of pre-cum slicked the ground, each one glistening like diamonds in the sun.

His shaft pulsed—gorged, desperate, flushed so deep it bordered on purple—and yet he didn’t beg.

At least not out loud.

Instead, he begged through hungry groans as he licked my clit, mouth open and greedy, lips coated in my slick heat.

“That’s right, Dragon.” I trembled. “Eat this pussy.”

The air was thick with the musky scent of sex.

Groaning even louder, his tongue licked my clit up and down like he was tasting salvation.

His hair clung to his face in wet strands.

So drunk on power, I reached over and fisted some of his silky strands. “Lick it all up, baby.”

He grunted.

I guided his head again and again between my thighs, pressing his mouth where I needed him most.

God.

It was heaven on fire.

He moaned again.

A broken, sacred sound.

Worship lived on his tongue, and I was his altar.

Kenji Sato.

The fucking Dragon.

Mess with him and you're dead.

And your bloodline too.

Newspapers and documentaries claimed that he ruled Japan’s underworld as a conductor of carnage—every gunshot a note, every bribe a beat, every blood oath a drumline of death.

Assassins moved to his rhythm.

Empires bowed to his silence.

And when he gave the signal, cities bled.

He was a man with claws sharp enough to skin legacies, fangs built for ruin, and a roar that cracked the spines of other mafia kings.

And yet here he was. . .on his knees, licking my pussy like a good little Dragon.

A man who had knelt for no one—not the government, not the police, not even his enemies—was now groaning against my pussy like I was the only god who had ever deserved his devotion.

And at that moment, I was.

I knew my ancestors must have been smiling—no, cackling—in the background. Watching me take what had never been given to them.

A woman with my dark brown skin.

My thick, unapologetic curves.

My voice.

My bloodline.

We had always been expected to bow, serve, and tame ourselves into silence.

But not tonight.

In this moment, I was the thunder that cracked open the night sky.

And he was all mine.

“Deeper,” I wrapped a thigh around his shoulder and dragged him closer. “Tongue-fuck me, Kenji.”

He growled low, his jaw shifting as he obeyed.

The moment his tongue plunged into me, I gasped. His hands—still tied behind him—tensed like he wanted to break free, grab my thighs, and crush me against his mouth, but the rope kept him obedient.

Still. . .he dominated me from the bottom.

His submission wasn’t weakness.

It was control flipped inside out.

That made this all so goddamn erotically delicious.

Even bound.

Even silenced by my pussy, he was still a goddamn alpha.

Those ropes might’ve kept his arms pinned, but nothing could tame the hunger in his mouth or the command in his eyes.

Each flick of his tongue was a challenge.

Every groan said, You’re mine even if you’resitting on the throne and I’m bound.

And that was the part that wrecked me. Because it wasn’t just that I had him kneeling. It was that he wanted to be there.

Chose to be there.

Chose me.

Chose my pussy as his altar.

He was supposedly in the position of submission, and yet he fucked me with his tongue like he owned my soul. Like he knew the exact rhythm to make my breath catch, the pressure to make my thighs tremble, the pattern that would bring me right to the edge—but never let me fall.

Even now, my hips rolled without my permission, chasing his mouth, drunk off the way his groans vibrated straight into my clit.

My hand twisted tighter in his hair. “Fuck, Kenji. ..”

He looked up at me, eyes half-lidded, gaze feral and worshipful at the same time.

His lips were swollen.

Glazed with me.

That thick, pulsing cock twitched and spilled out a ribbon of pre-cum.

A spiritually erotic tribute to the queen he served.

I whispered, “Good boy.”

He groaned louder, and I came hard.

My body arched and shook. My vision blurred as rainbow-colored stars exploded in front of me. My nerves buzzed and then detonated with pleasure.

He was mine.

But I was damned sure also his.

He pulled another orgasm out of me, this one violent and ragged. I bit down on my own moan, breath hissing through my teeth as my hips shook, thighs closing around his ears.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!”

And still, he licked.

Like he needed the taste of my pussy to breathe.

His eyes never left mine. That gaze was so intense,even as hot ripples of pleasure wrecked my body. Those dark orbs watched me, drinking in my shudders.

Feeding on my surrender.

“Oh shit!” I managed to gasp out between pants, the sweet torture too much to bear, but he only growled low and flicked his tongue again over my over sensitive clit, completely dominating me and eliciting another whimper from my body.

His muscles strained against the bindings. His tattooed chest glistened with sweat, heaving with exertion and desire as he continued his pleasurable assault.

“Okay. Okay.” I pulled his head away and trembled.“Holy fuck!!”

Finally relenting, he pulled back slowly, leaving me gasping and dazed as his tongue traced a path up my inner thigh.

His eyes grew darker than ever before. The wild intensity in them stirred something primal within my soul.

"Untie me." His voice was a husky growl that vibrated through me. “Now.”

The thought of those strong hands on my body sent another jolt of electricity through me.

I looked down at him—sweaty, panting, glowing with the kind of hunger that only certain women understood—the hunger to be seen and worshipped.

To be fucked like royalty.

To be touched like we were the miracle.

He knelt there, chest heaving, hair wild.

A dragon undone.

“Tora. Untie me. Now.”

I steadied my breath. “And if I don’t.”

“Your pussy will pay for it eventually.”

“Are you threatening my pussy?”

He licked his lips.

“I should leave you here like this.” I lifted my foot and rubbed it along the curve of his cock.

Shivering, he moaned low.

“I should leave you hard, aching, and leaking all over the floor.”

He moaned low.

“But I won’t. . .Dragon. . .”

Leaning over, I reached down and fisted his cock in one hand, tight and slow.

He groaned like it hurt and healed him at the same time.

“You’ve been good,” I leaned in closer and kissed him. “And good boys deserve to cum.”

“Nyomi,” he moaned. “Please.”

I licked my lips and began to jack that big, thick cock. “Cum for me, Dragon.”

His response was immediate, a guttural groan that resonated in the air around us as his hips thrust into my hand.

Fucking my closed fist so hard I wished it was my pussy.

Mmmm.

I watched him, entranced by the sight of this underworld king coming undone for me.

He kept pumping that big cock into my closed hand. His eyes closed and his head tilted back, revealing the throbbing vein in his neck.

His voice came out strained. "Oh fuck."

“That's it,” I brushed my lips along his ear. “Let go.”

“Fuck,” he panted. Sweat trickled down his flushed skin. “Tora. . .”

Then, his body shuddered and stiffened, hit by an unseen force.

A primal growl tore through him, and he came with a force that made my hand slick with his release. His cum was thick and spilling across my palm like hot liquid silk.

“Yes, Dragon.” I continued to pump his cock.

Then. . .

I woke up on Zo’s living room futon with a quick jolt.

GASPING.

The sheets were twisted around my legs.

What the fuck?

My chest rose in ragged pants.

Sweat clung to my skin.

And between my trembling thighs?

Soaking wet arousal.

My clit throbbed, and that dream twisted along my skin.

I could hear Zo’s loud snoring from his bedroom.

"Fuck," I whispered, staring at the ceiling."What the hell was that?"

But I already knew.

Kenji Sato had ruined me.

Even in my sleep.

That felt so damn real.

I blinked, completely disoriented.

Fuck! I wish that was real!

Zo’s living room was still.

Quiet.

My mouth tasted like honey and smoke.

Sweet.

Dark.

Burnt sugar melting on my tongue, chased by the phantom of heat. Like I’d licked fire, and it had licked me back.

My core throbbed—deep and slow—the way it always did after I’d come hard.

I felt wrecked.

Stretched open.

My clit buzzed, swollen and over sensitive like it had been worshipped all night. Every inch of me tingled with afterglow, my skin flushed with a fever that had no cause.

And now I realized that the sheets beneath me were soaked, and not just damp with sweat. Wet with something slicker, sweeter, and utterly mine. The air smelled like sex—my sex—and the faint citrus-amber scent of the candle I’d blown out hours ago.

What kind of dream was that?

I dragged a shaky hand across my inner thigh, stunned to find more evidence of my climax still clinging there—warm and undeniable.

“Jesus,” I whispered, voice husky and raw. “I came ina fucking dream about him?”

Kenji Sato hadn’t even touched me yet, and my body was lit up like he had dragged his tongue across every nerve ending and kissed my soul through my pussy.

Can you even cum from a dream? And. . .while dreaming?

I lay there in the silence, chest heaving, heart racing.

Well. . .I just did. . .so. . .

My pulse still beat out one name—Kenji.

And the worst part?

My body didn’t feel satisfied.

It felt awakened.

Starved.

And desperate for more.

Sleep was out of the question.

No fucking way.

Not after that .

What time is it anyway?

I grabbed my phone off the night stand.

4:42 a.m.

Tokyo still slept.

But. . .was Kenji asleep?

Still holding my phone, I turned on my side and stared at the ceiling again, like the shadows up there might explain why my brain had summoned that dream—so vivid, so consuming, so damn sacred it felt like a memory I’d lived through instead of imagined.

I closed my eyes.

Tried to breathe.

Tried to reset.

But my body stayed wired. A flame had been lit between my thighs and no amount of logic or deep breaths would put it out.

God, I needed something. Anything.

A hit of him.

A taste.

Just one more thread to pull from the edge of that dream before it unraveled completely.

I opened my eyes, sat up, and pressed on my phone’s screen, bringing my contacts into view.

Should I?

My thumb hovered over the screen and his name.

I could hear his voice in my head already. That deep, commanding rumble laced in smoke and velvet.

I wanted to hear that voice.

Just for a second.

No. What the fuck are you doing?

This was dangerous.

I couldn’t be the girl who came in her sleep and called the man responsible for it five minutes later.

That wasn’t power.

That was obsession.

That was. . .

Fuck it.

I pressed on his name and placed the phone next to my ear.

Oh God. You are fucking crazy!

His line rang twice. And right as I was about to hangup. . .his voice came on the phone—velvet death, so smooth my body shivered. “Tora?”

Fuck. Now what?