Page 22 of The Dragon 2
I stared at the picture, and my heart fluttered in my chest.
Every inch of that cock screamed powerful.
I thought back to our phone conversation. I could still hear his voice in my head—low, sinful, and smug as hell.
"Tell me, Tora. . .when you imagined my cock in your dream, did you happen to envision a piercing?"
“A piercing?”
And he—God help me—had purred. “Yes.”
I’d laughed. “No. . .do you. . .have one on your cock?”
“I do. And you’ll find your G-spot will like it very much.”
“I want to see it.”
Then he’d groaned. “Careful, Tora. You’ll have a hundred pictures of my cock sent to your phone before we even hang up.”
I’d laughed again.
And now, lying there with my phone still buzzing in my hand, Ichuckled for real—one of those belly-deep, oh-girl-you-asked-for-this laughs. Because damn it, I really had to be careful with Kenji from now on.
The man didn’t bluff.
He didn’t tease.
The Dragon delivered.
He hadn’t even sent a thirsty bathroom pic.
No cluttered background.
No shadowed angles.
He had taken this photo intentionally. Like a man who knew the image of his cock would take root in my mind and live there rent-free until I saw him again.
Fuck. This man is no joke.
The lighting glinted off the gold rose. A bead of pre-cum glistened at the tip—caught between the petals like dew on a flower just after rain.
Oh my God.
I dragged my fingers across the screen.
Not to zoom.
Just totouch.
I whispered, “Nyomi, you’ve officially lost your mind.”
But I didn’t stop.
My eyes dropped lower, tracing the thick shaft, the veins that pulsed with restrained hunger, the way his skin was flushed with arousal but not desperate. Even in this rawness, he was in control.
Almost.
And somehow, that was worse.
