Page 49 of The Dragon 2 (Tokyo Empire #2)

Chapter forty-five

Beneath Her Throne

Kenji

Her gaze held mine captive as her hand moved slowly, languidly down her body.

Oh, Tora.

Her fingers trailed across those hardened nipples on her breasts. Then, she reached her hand out toward me and to my utter shock, she gripped the back of my head.

Firm.

Unyielding.

Absolutely claiming.

I widened my eyes.

I’d tasted blood, war, and fire in this life. I'd slaughtered global mafia kings and knelt only to death. Yet, the heat between Nyomi’s thighs—so close, so forbidden—felt like the most dangerous battlefield I’d ever approached.

She tightened that grip on my head delivering a sting that made me groan. “Smell my pussy.”

I blinked.

The command hadn’t shocked me, but the way my soul responded did.

I trembled some more. “Yes, Queen.”

Then she shoved my face forward.

Hard.

Soon, my nose slammed into her slick heat, and I swore I saw stars. Her scent crashed through me—plum, black amber, salt, and raw female musk. Every note carved its name into my lungs.

God yes!

Moaning, I nuzzled my face against that wet pussy.

Finally I get to taste.

And just as I opened my mouth, tongue trembling for her, she yanked me back.

Violently.

No!

The air slapped my face.

Cold.

Empty.

Goddamn it! Enough with the teasing. I want you now!

A strangled noise left my throat—part ache, part devastation. My fists tightened on the marble. I looked up at her. “Queen. . .”

“Yes.”

“I want to eat your pussy.”

“But do you think you earned it?”

I spoke through clenched teeth, “Your pussy is mine.”

“Is it?”

I sneered. “Yes.”

She smiled. “Who told you that?”

“I’m not the type of man that needs to be told when something is his. I am the sort of man that takes it.”

“Aww. I see.” She released my head from that grip and lovingly ran her fingers through my hair.

I groaned. “I could break this throne you sit on. Snap the legs. Fuck you until your screams split the marble.”

“You can.”

I bared my fangs like a dangerous beast.

“But you won’t.” She slipped her hands to my face and slid her fingers along the sharp edge of my jaw, tracing the tension there. Next, she leaned forward. Her mouth hovered near mine. “You want to lick my pussy?”

“You know I do.”

“Mmm.” Her hands slipped lower, trailing down my neck, over my collarbone, and then down the front of my chest. Her fingertips painted over my tattoos.

The tips of her nails grazed over my pecs, then paused right above my heart. She pressed her palm there, firm and open, like she could feel the chaos pounding inside me.

Whatever the fuck Hiroko had taught her, Nyomi had learned and excelled at it.

She caressed my chest with both hands, palms wide, slowly molding over every inch of muscle. Up, then down. In small circles. Calming something inside me. Or preparing me for something greater.

And I turned to putty in her hands.

Her fingers brushed over my nipples, teasing the peaks.

I moaned.

Then her hands lowered to my abs and she moaned, telling me she was just as insane with lust as I was.

If you want it, my little Tiger Queen, you can have all of me.

She removed her hands and leaned back on her throne. “You’re such a good little Dragon. I want to see more of you.”

“More?”

“Open your pants and take out your cock.”

I exhaled a jagged breath.

Fuck yeah.

My hands obeyed before my mind could catch up. I undid my pants and unzipped.

The pressure was unbearable. The silk of my briefs peeled away sticky with all the pre-cum I had released in this room and on the date. My cock was so hard that my shaft kicked forward as I freed it, heavy and leaking, the rose piercing was already glistening at the tip with even more precum.

I hissed.

She inhaled.

Men didn’t talk publicly about it with each other, but we all had this unspoken knowledge of how much we loved showing our cocks to women—the ones we wanted, the ones who made our blood burn with deranged desire.

And it wasn’t just about sex.

It was about power, vulnerability, hunger, and worship all tangled together.

There was something primal about pulling out a thick, aching cock and watching a woman’s breath hitch, her pupils dilate, her lips part like she had seen a fucking god.

And Nyomi’s reaction fed something ancient inside me.

My pierced cock jutted her way.

I looked up at my Tiger Queen.

Panting, she licked her lips. “There it is. . .beautiful. Angry. Begging.”

“This cock is yours, Queen.”

“Mmm.” Still, she didn’t reach for it. Instead, she dragged her gaze from my leaking mushroomed head down the length of me and made another soft, pleased sound in her throat. “Stroke it.”

I quirked my brows. “Stroke. . .it?”

“Yes.”

I stared up at her, jaw tight, resisting the urge to come just from the command alone.

She continued, “And stroke that big cock, nice and slow. Show me what your devotion looks like.”

I almost collapsed forward.

Almost.

Instead, I wrapped a hand around my cock and began to stroke—long, slow pulls from base to tip, every movement a trembling act of obedience and need. My biceps flexed. I grunted from the friction of my hand on my cock.

Pleased, she sat back on her throne, legs still parted, watching me. Worshiping me as I worshiped her. Her scent hung heavy in the air, mixing with the musk of my arousal, until it felt like we were swimming in something forbidden.

My breath hitched.

I stroked again. “Q-queen. . .please. . .”

My thighs shook beneath me.

Still, she didn’t touch me.

Still, she didn’t give me permission to touch her.

She simply leaned forward again, and whispered, “Now stop.”

My hand froze in place, my grip was still tight around my shaft. The denial was a hot knife in my gut, but I complied. In the hazy fog of lust, there was a semblance of clarity. This woman had enraptured me completely—her power over me was absolute.

The way she wielded her sexuality was like a weapon.

Dangerous.

Intoxicating.

Somehow. . .I removed my hand from my cock, and the absence of touch immediately made me yearn for more. “Queen. . .please. . .”

“Please what?”

“I want to eat your pussy, fuck you, then eat your pussy some more, then stuff my cock in your mouth, make you choke on my cum, and then take it out and fuck you hard in your ass, make you unable to walk tomorrow.”

She blinked in shock.

Yeah. Hiroko didn’t give you a lesson for how to deal with that. Did she?

And then I saw it—that flicker. The tremble in her thighs. The way her breath hitched for just a moment, barely perceptible, but enough for a man like me to feel it like a seismic shift.

Her nipples, already stiff, now strained harder against the air. Her chest rose, faster and shallower.

Yeah. You want that too. Don’t you?

Her fingers twitched slightly on the armrest again, not in control—but in bare restraint. I understood more than I needed from seeing all those signs. She was just as close to falling as I was.

My Queen.

My sensual tormentor.

My flame.

She was hanging by a thread too. And fuck if that didn’t make me smirk. Even here—cock out, knees bruised, heart in her hands—I still had her.

My submission was still power.

My restraint, her seduction.

And my arousal?

Her undoing.

She cleared her throat and studied me. “Have you ever heard of a Queening Throne?”

“No, Queen.”

“This is it.” She pointed to the throne she sat on. “In middle ages, many women of wealth had male tongue slaves that would serve them whenever their husbands were away.”

“Mmmm.”

“The idea of only sitting on a man's face would allow them to experience some pleasure but remain faithful to their husbands.”

As she spoke, the image crashed through my mind like a fever dream I hadn’t known I needed. A wealthy woman—middle-aged, bored, aching—trapped in some cold castle. Her husband gone to war or tucked in someone else’s bed.

And beneath the lonely wealthy woman, a man’s face and her cunt descending onto his mouth, burying his breath in her warmth.

His tongue serving.

Her moans echoing through stone halls.

Fuck yeah.

Right now. . .I ached to be that man for Nyomi.

“Lay down.” She pointed to the hole between her thighs. “Right there.”

My cock twitched with renewed hunger.

I smirked. “Lay down, Queen?”

“On your back, Dragon.” Her eyes dragged over my body. “And slide your head beneath my throne.”

Damn right I will.

She continued, “You see. . .my king is gone and I am very bored, so. . .I expect you to serve me.”

And that was when it hit me.

She was role-playing .

My Tiger Queen was slipping into an erotic fantasy—casting me as some tongue-thirsty servant while she played the bored duchess on her queening throne, abandoned by her king.

I should’ve easily respected the game, but blood pounded behind my eyes, thick with possession.

I looked up at her, still kneeling, cock heavy and jutting. “Queen.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”

“I will do as you please. . .but understand this. When your king returns, I will kill him.”

She widened her eyes in fear. “W-what?”

I let the weight of my words settle between us. “Because this is my pussy. And I am the only one who will ever serve you. Not even in role play can I stomach the idea of another man between your thighs.”

She blinked and then looked close to laughing, but did a good job of hiding it. “Well. . .understood.”

Then, I was already moving, as if my bones belonged to her now. I lowered, sliding to the cold marble floor. My cock bobbed with every shift. The ache in my thighs barely registered. All that mattered was obeying her order.

Once I got on the floor, I turned around, inched back, and positioned my head on the cushion.

And the sight!

Her pussy glistened right above me, lips still flushed from arousal. The view was heavenly obscene. Divine. I almost wept. Even more, I was paralyzed in absolute erotic obedience.

I exhaled like a dying man finding air again. “Queen. . .”

From above, she peered down at me with a wicked smile curving those lips. “Good little Dragon.”

Fuck yeah. I’m a good little Dragon. Wait until you meet my tongue. I’ll show you and your pussy.

Right when I thought she was going to tell me to lick her pussy, she moved to grab something from the side of the throne.

What is she doing?

Seconds later, I saw it.

She held a long, black rod in her hands and at its tip, three thick ostrich feathers bloomed—one black, one crimson, one gold. Each one soft, luxurious, and strange in its elegance.

What is she going to do with that?

My cock jerked.

My lips parted.

I couldn't breathe.

Is she going to tease my cock with it? Strike me? Drag those feathers along my cock’s tip while I lick?

I didn’t know.

And the not-knowing undid me.

I’m helpless under your pussy and you love it. Don’t you?

Beneath her throne, head cradled in velvet, gaze pinned between her thighs, I waited.

Panting.

Eyes wide.

A beast in invisible chains.

Willing.

Worshipful.

My heart in her hands.

My soul all hers.

And above me. . .Nyomi sat sexy and composed—but her hips shifted just a fraction, and I caught the smallest shiver in her hands.

Mmmm. Yeah. I’m getting to her too. Even gods tremble.