“You’ve had quite enough pussy today.”
“I am the Dragon.” Those words were a growl that vibrated against my back. “I decide how much of your pussy is enough.”
I rolled my eyes. “But I am the Tiger, and only I decide when the Dragon’s cock gets fed.”
“Mmmm.” He groaned low in his chest. The sound vibrated against my spine and was almost better than an orgasm because it told me that I owned the hunger of a man that controlled empires.
I slipped out of his arms and rolled around to face him.
The dim light cut across his face, and for a moment I forgot to breathe.
Kenji’s beauty was never soft. It was carved from sharpness—cheekbones cut high, a jaw that looked like it could crush stone, stubble shadowing the lower half of his face like dark smoke.
His mouth was full, indecently so, lips that should have belonged to a man who recited poetry, not one who ordered executions.
I’d seen men try to look dangerous before.
Kenji didn’t try.
His face was both threat and invitation.
Menace and hunger.
He could ruin me with one kiss.
He could tear me apart with one look.
His eyes—God, his eyes—fire with a glint that shifted too quickly, danger and desire blazing so close together it made medizzy. They could narrow into razors in a heartbeat, but just now they were heavy-lidded, molten, drinking me in like I was the only thing left for him to live for.
My gaze fell lower, and the breath I’d managed to catch left me again.
His body was ink coiled over muscle that strained against skin. Dragons snarled across his chest, scales glinting dark red as though slick with fresh kill. Their claws dug into his flesh, eternal conquerors marking their territory.
The hydra wound around his ribs, heads twisting like it wanted me for itself.
An oni demon writhed on his shoulder, teeth bared in a promise of violence.
And then—the katana. Black ink, blade pointed down toward his groin, sharp as a secret, daring me to test whether the threat ended in his tattoo or between his legs.
As always, it was too much.
Too much beauty.
Too much terror.
And the worst part?
He knew what he fucking did to me. I saw it in the slow curl of his mouth, the way his eyes narrowed just enough to tell me he could read my pulse without touching me.
I lifted my gaze back to those piercing eyes. “In the tub. . .during the breath play.”
He quirked his brows.
My voice fell to a whisper. “You were in subspace at the time but. . .you told me you loved me.”
“Because I do.”
A shiver ran through me. “That. . .scared me.”
