Page 70 of The Oyabun's Boy

"Please," I repeated, louder this time, pride forgotten in the face of overwhelming need. "I need more. I need you."

His hand left my cock, and I whimpered at the loss of contact. The sound of a drawer opening, followed by the distinctive click of a bottle cap, sent another rush of anticipation through me.

"Three months," Kenji said conversationally, as if we were discussing the weather rather than him about to fuck me over his desk. "Three months of watching you, wanting you, holding back because of these." His fingers traced the fading scars on his ribs. "Three months of thinking about all the ways I would reclaim you when I was healed."

Cold, slick fingers pressed against my entrance, circling teasingly before one pushed inside with deliberate slowness. I gasped, the intrusion both familiar and new after weeks of gentler lovemaking.

"Is this what you were asking for, Princess?" Kenji twisted his finger, finding that spot inside me that made stars explode behind my eyes. "To be taken like this, bent over my desk like my personal toy?"

"Yes," I hissed as a second finger joined the first, stretching me with careful precision. "God, yes."

The hand in my hair tightened, forcing my head back until I could see Kenji's face, his eyes dark with a hunger that matched my own. "Then beg for it properly."

I swallowed my pride, too far gone to care about anything except the need consuming me. "Please, Kenji. Please fuck me. I need you inside me. I need you to make me feel it for days."

His smile was pure sin as he added a third finger, the stretch burning in the most delicious way. "Since you asked so nicely..."

His fingers withdrew, leaving me empty and aching for more. I heard the rustle of expensive fabric as Kenji unfastened his slacks behind me, the soft hiss of his zipper like a promise of what was to come.

One hand gripped my hip with bruising force while the other guided his cock to my entrance. The blunt pressure against me had me holding my breath in anticipation.

"Remember, you asked for this," Kenji murmured, his voice a dangerous caress against my ear as he began to push forward.

The stretch burned despite his preparation, his size always a challenge even when we took our time. But this wasn't about taking time—this was about claiming, about marking, about unleashing three months of carefully restrained desire.

I gasped as he breached me fully, the sensation overwhelming—too much and not enough all at once. He gave me no time to adjust, setting a punishing pace that had the edge of the desk digging painfully into my hips.

"Is this what you wanted, Princess?" he growled, one hand tangling in my hair to yank my head back. "To be fucked like you belong to me?"

"Yes," I managed between gasps, each thrust driving the air from my lungs. "God, yes."

His teeth found the sensitive junction between my neck and shoulder, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. The flash of pain only heightened my pleasure, making my cock throb where it rubbed against the cool wood of the desk.

"Everyone will see," Kenji said, his breath hot against my skin as he created a constellation of bite marks across my shoulders. "Everyone will know who you belong to."

The possessiveness in his voice sent a thrill through me that had nothing to do with physical sensation. This powerful, dangerous man—feared by criminals across the city—wanted me so badly he needed to mark his claim on my skin.

His pace increased, the sound of skin against skin echoing obscenely in the office. One of his hands snaked around to pinch my nipple, the sharp twist making me cry out as pleasure-pain radiated through my chest.

"Louder," Kenji demanded, twisting harder. "Let me hear how much you love this."

I abandoned any pretense of restraint, my moans growing louder with each punishing thrust. My fingers scrabbled for purchase on the polished desk, sending papers flying to the floor unheeded.

"Your cock feels so good," I gasped, shameless in my need. "So deep. So perfect."

Kenji's grip on my hip tightened further, sure to leave fingerprints that would last for days. The thought of carrying his marks hidden beneath my clothes sent another surge of heat through me.

"Touch yourself," he commanded, never breaking his rhythm. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

I reached beneath myself, wrapping my fingers around my aching shaft. I was already leaking pre-cum, the slick wetness making it easy to stroke myself in time with his thrusts.

"That's it," Kenji praised, his voice roughened with desire. "Show me how much you need this."

His hips shifted slightly, changing the angle until he hit that perfect spot inside me that made stars explode behind my eyelids. I cried out, my whole body tensing as pleasure like lightning shot up my spine.

"There," I begged, all dignity forgotten. "Right there, please don't stop."

Kenji responded by pounding into me harder, the precise angle making each thrust send shockwaves of pleasure through my nervous system.