Page 63 of The Dragon 2
Not just to cum.
But to remember and mark her scent on my body.
It hadn’t beenmasturbation.
It wasritual.
Still jacking my cock, I put those panties back into my mouth—wet with her and my precum—that was when I orgasmed, whispering her name.
Shooting cum in the air.
My moans soaked the cotton.
Her name spilled from my throat in fragments, muffled by the panties in my mouth.
Nyomi. Nyomi. My Nyomi.
Each syllable was a chokehold.
She hadn’t taken the suite but she had taken something far more dangerous from me—my fucking control.
How does one catch a Tiger?
Back in the current moment again, the question pulsed, low and sharp, as I stared into the darkness beyond the mirror’s reflection.
In my mind, I saw it.
A dragon.
Massive. Golden-scaled. Eyes burning like twin suns; wings furled tight in restraint. It crouched in the shadows, coiled with hunger, smoke threading from its jaws.
And across from it. . .a Tiger.
Striped gold and sable, she lay in a patch of moonlight, unbothered. Unmoved. Licking her paw with slow grace.
She didn’t run.
She didn’t growl.
She knew the dragon could burn her alive.
She also knew he wouldn’t.
Because he wanted her too fucking much.
So, the Tiger stretched, rolled to her side, and blinked at him with feminine knowing.
Oh.
That was when the answer struck me—not like a strategy but a sentence seared into the back of my skull.
How does one trap a Tiger? Perhaps. . .the Dragon must beg. . .
Chapter eleven
The Only Way a Dragon Could Kneel
Kenji
