Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 101427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
My pierced tip flared with hypersensitive pleasure, the warm water and her slick heat combining into a maddening contrast that sent shudders up my spine.
Ohhhhh fucckkkk.
The burn in my lungs bloomed into something sharp, almost sweet, and my body trembled on the line between panic and surrender.
Ohhhhh. . . .
And there I was… suspended between pressure and heat, between control and surrender.
Not the Dragon.
Not the blade.
Not the murderous darkness that stalks Tokyo.
Just a body unarmed, unarmored.
Skin loosened from its own name.
Her grip was the axis of my world, one hand pinning me to the water, the other stroking me into the edge of oblivion. Every motion unspooled me further, every curl of her fingers taught my cock a new language of need.
I wasn’t anything that needed sharp teeth.
I was an offering.
A man unmade.
A body opening its hands and letting the world fall through, willing to lose it all if it meant her touch stayed.
Then. . .her palm lifted from my chest.
My body rose.
My face came back to the surface.
Air tore into me in a ragged gasp, burning down my throat. It was fire poured into empty lungs.
I coughed once, and the sound was low and wet before the relief hit—and it was too much. My vision flared white, not from oxygen, but from the way her other hand never stopped working my cock.
“O-Oh Toraaa!!”
My cock jerked hard in her slick fist, the sudden rush of air turning every nerve raw. The mushroomed tip swelled, tight as a clenched fist, and my balls pulled high against my body.
I was seconds from shooting cum everywhere.
A sound left me—half-growl, half-moan—as my hips tried to thrust against the restraints, chasing her rhythm. My chest heaved, pulling in lungful after lungful of air, but each breath only made the pleasure sharper, the heat more unbearable.
I could feel it—the edge, that thin, trembling place where surrender became eruption. One more stroke and I would spill everything into the water, milky ribbons unfurling between us.
Surrender made visible.
And then she pressed down on my chest again, lowering my face back under water, taking my oxygen away.
Oh fuck!! She really might kill me!
Chapter thirty-four
Breath and Surrender
Kenji
I was back in the water.
The bath accepted me a second time.
I let it.
The leather cuffs remained firm around my wrists.
My heart slowed to her count.
The ceiling broke into ripples.
Candles turned to comets.
Heated liquid braided around me.
Sound flattened, and the room lost its edges. But, even without hearing, I felt what she intended—the pause before her touch, the tilt in the water when she shifted closer, the warmth that gathered when she leaned.
Breathe when I lift you, the water seemed to say. Remember me in pleasure when I lower you.
I did.
The world narrowed to texture. Stone at my shoulder blades. Silk-slick ripples gliding over my ribs. The faint shiver that ran the length of my spine.
The dragon within folded in obedience and then curled its smoke. I had spent too many nights commanding chaos until it wore my face.
Here, chaos laid down its teeth.
Here, my Tiger was watching me closely. When I was typically used to being the watcher. Now, I was the one being observed with intent.
This flipped our usual power dynamic in a way that felt safe.
She saw everything, kept track of every move, and gave me an answer for each one.
In my world, my actions often went unchallenged and unquestioned. Here, my Tiger noticed, not to punish me, but to engage.
And I didn’t know why but that validation was intoxicating.
It didn’t make me feel small.
In fact, I was feeling more known.
I was a man who equated vulnerability with danger, so this sensation of giving her all my control and power. . .was a rare and almost addictive relief. It made me feel seen. It made me want to kneel before her every day for the rest of my life.
She skimmed one palm across my sternum, and my body sank deeper. Her other hand was against mine as if waiting for me to give the signal to let me back up.
But I would not.
I held still.
I would only rise when she wanted me to.
The need for oxygen clawed at my lungs, hot and primal. My body screamed to break the surface.
I denied it.
Her fingers tightened along my hand. Perhaps, she sensed my straining.
I was unsure.
I kept my eyes open beneath the blur of water and watched her in fragments—light on collarbone, the dark sweep of wet hair curling along her face, her breasts swaying and bobbing.
I yearned to touch her, but the cuffs would not let me.
Seconds turned into small knives, carving through my lungs. Each one slower than the last. This might have been the longest I’d ever been without oxygen in my life.
The only thing harder than my lungs was my cock, straining against the heat of the water and pleading with my Tiger to stroke it some more.