How could I be trembling on the edge of panic while every nerve begged for his touch?
Kenji had clearly become insane. Danger coiled in every muscle. Violence stitched in his veins.
I should’ve wanted to run, to claw free, to escape before he broke me.
But instead. . .I wanted to ride his cock until my thighs gave out, until the bruises on my hips marked me as his. I wanted to be pinned, stripped, and used. I wanted the punishment only he could give, the kind that hurt so good it rewrote the fear into something holy, something filthy and divine.
My body didn’t care about reason or danger.
It knew only him.
His heat.
His hunger.
His dragon-shadow.
And I ached for all of it.
He began circling his thumb along my nipple in slow teasing movement. “Every step you took away from me. . .I’ll take back with my cock, one brutal thrust at a time.”
Mmmm.
Under his thumb’s attention, my nipple stood tight and aching.
Sweet pleasureful sparks shot through the center of my body.
“I’m going to spend some time with you, Tora. Bending and breaking you. Taking what’s mine.”
The dragon-shadow moved then, a black tide washing over the wall, and my pulse spiked.
“You don’t get gentle tonight. You get my cock’s rage.” He pinched my nipple between his fingers and squeezed.
Hard.
Merciless.
Punishment in sensual touch.
Pain shot through me sharp as a blade. My back arched before I could think, a shriek tearing from my throat, muffled against his palm. It hurt. It burned, yet almost instantly the pain twisted into molten pleasure.
Oh God.
A broken moan slipped from me.
His grip on my nipple didn’t ease. If anything, he squeezed harder, forcing my nipple into a peak of raw ache that hummed all the way down to my pussy.
Oh fuck.
The sharp sting spread through my chest, ricocheting into my belly, dripping heat between my thighs.
I couldn’t separate the agony from the pleasure anymore; it all blurred into the same fire.
Moaning, I writhed against him, but the cage of his body swallowed my movement whole. The sound that left me wasn’t just a moan—it was surrender, guttural and low, a sound that told him he could hurt me, he could keep me, he could do anything. . .and I would still beg for more.
The hand over my mouth stayed where it was, controlling not just my voice but the rhythm of my breathing. The sounds of bliss I made turned into hums caught between his skin and mine.
He shifted his hips. The thick heat of his cock nudged higher, sliding across the curve of my ass and settling at the small of my back.
