Page 71 of The Oyabun's Boy
His hand left my nipple to wrap around my throat, applying just enough pressure to make my head swim, but never enough to truly restrict my breathing. The edge of danger only heightened every sensation.
"Mine," he growled, the word a declaration and a demand all at once. "Say it."
"Yours," I gasped, the word breaking on a particularly deep thrust. "Always yours."
His rhythm faltered slightly at my words, a tell I'd come to recognize as a sign he was close to his own release. His grip on my throat tightened fractionally as his other hand forced my head down, pressing my cheek against the cold wood of the desk in a display of dominance that had my balls tightening with impending orgasm.
"Come for me," Kenji demanded, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that seemed to bypass my ears and go straight to my cock. "Now."
As if my body was hardwired to obey his commands, I felt the tension coiling at the base of my spine snap. My orgasm crashed through me with stunning force, drawing a hoarse shout from my throat as I spilled over my hand and onto the polished wood beneath me.
My muscles contracted around Kenji's cock, milking him as wave after wave of pleasure washed through me.
Kenji's control finally shattered. His thrusts grew erratic, powerful enough to shove me against the desk with each forward motion. Then he stilled, buried deep inside me, his fingers digging into my skin hard enough to leave permanent impressions as he filled me with his release.
For several long moments, the only sounds in the office were our ragged breathing and the distant hum of the climate control system. Kenji's weight pressed me into the desk, his body covering mine protectively even in the aftermath of such intensity.
When he finally withdrew, I winced at the sudden emptiness and the twinge of soreness that confirmed I'd have trouble sitting comfortably tomorrow.
Gentle hands turned me around and I found myself facing a rare sight—Kenji Zisheng Hú with mussed hair, flushed cheeks, and satisfaction softening the hard lines of his face.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked, fingers gently tracing what I was sure were already-forming bruises on my hips.
I laughed breathlessly, leaning forward to rest my forehead against his chest. "Only in all the right ways."
His arms wrapped around me, drawing me against him in a protective embrace that contrasted sharply with the roughness of moments before. One hand stroked my hair with surprising tenderness.
"You'll be marked for days," he observed, satisfaction evident in his tone as his fingers found a tender spot on my neck that would surely bloom into an impressive hickey.
"Good," I murmured, nuzzling into his touch. "I want to feel you even when you're not there."
We stayed like that for several minutes, tangled together in the aftermath of passion, my body pleasantly sore and my heart full. Kenji's expensive suit was ruined, his normally perfect hair a disaster from my grasping fingers. I'd never seen anything more beautiful.
"Life takes interesting turns," I said eventually, pressing a kiss to his jaw where the scar tissue created a ridge beneath my lips. "A year ago I was worrying about ordering enough organic cat treats for the café. Now I'm bent over a crime lord's desk, covered in his marks, contemplating which mafia bosses to invite to my mother's grand reopening."
Kenji pulled back slightly to study my face, his dark eyes searching for something in my expression. "Regrets, Princess?" he asked, a rare vulnerability lurking beneath the question.
I reached up to cup his face, tracing the scar that had nearly taken him from me. "Not a single one," I said with absolutecertainty. "Every bruise, every dangerous moment, every weird mafia dinner party—I wouldn't trade any of it."
The smile that touched his lips then was the real one, the one only I got to see—soft and genuine and unguarded. He bent to kiss me, gentle now where he had been rough before, claiming me in a different but equally powerful way.
"Besides," I added when we parted, grinning up at him, "the benefits package is excellent."
His laugh, rare and precious, filled the office as he lifted me into his arms with that effortless strength that still made my knees weak. "Let's go, Princess. We have a perfectly good bed that hasn't been properly christened since my recovery."
As he carried me toward the door, still half-dressed and thoroughly debauched, I couldn't help but marvel at the strange path that had led me here—to this dangerous man, this complicated life, this unexpected happiness that had bloomed in the most unlikely soil.
And I wouldn't change a single step of the journey.
~ The End ~
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