Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 154368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 772(@200wpm)___ 617(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 772(@200wpm)___ 617(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
I choked and surged off the stone.
The restraints caught me.
I throbbed beneath the silk, and each throb pumped a fresh wave of blood into the shaft until I was so swollen, so full, so hard that the ache became its own heartbeat—separate from the one in my chest, louder, more demanding, pulsing in a rhythm that matched the flame's heat.
“Careful, Nyomi. He’s already so far gone. Don’t push him anymore or he’s going to be trouble.”
My Tiger pulled the flame away. "I like trouble."
Sweat dripped down my face.
“But I’ll be good.” Nyomi moved to my thighs.
I whimpered.
The flame came to my left thigh, and it was a long stroke over my quadricep.
This was different from the arms.
Different from the chest.
My thighs were closer to my cock. The nerves there ran on the same highways, traveled the same roads, reported to the same desperate, aching center between my legs.
When the heat sank into the tissue, it didn't stay in my thigh. It traveled. Crawled upward through the muscle, tendon, and the blood until it reached the base of my cock and fed the ache already living there.
I trembled so hard my teeth chattered.
“Hmmm.” She went back to my chest.
Over the dragon again.
But this time she didn't just trace the tattoo. She followed the dragon's body the way you'd run your hands over a lover in bed—learning the dips and rises, the soft places and the hard ones.
She traced the curve of the dragon's neck across my collarbone. Drew the flame down through the coils on my left pec, around the swell of the muscle, and underneath where the skin was thinner and more tender.
I gasped.
She heard that.
Noted it.
Came back to the same spot. The underside of my pec. The soft crescent of skin where muscle met rib. She dragged the flame across it again.
A sound left me that I would deny for the rest of my life.
High.
Thin.
The sound of a man who had discovered a nerve ending he didn't know he had and a woman who was already exploiting it.
And then I stopped tracking time.
Minutes.
Hours.
The candles might have burned down by inches.
The room existed outside of clocks.
The only measurement was her—where she stood, where the flame went, how long the pauses lasted.
And the pauses.
God, the pauses.
She stood beside the slab with the wand burning at her side and she didn't bring the flame back.
She just watched me.
“T-tora. . .” I writhed on the stone, rolled my hips against nothing, and strained my arms against the restraints until the leather bit into my wrists.
My chest heaved. My cock strained beneath the silk, leaking a steady stream that left the fabric dark and clinging to the head like a second skin.
She watched all of it.
For ten seconds.
Maybe thirty.
Or it could have been minutes.
“T-Tora!” My body screamed for the flame. Every nerve ending she'd touched was still alive, still vibrating, still reaching toward her like flowers turning toward the sun. “P-please. . .”
The air felt cold now.
Empty.
Wrong.
My skin ached for the heat the way a junkie's veins ached for the needle.
The garden was back, but now empty. The children were gone. The cherry blossoms had stopped falling. I stood alone by the koi pond, and the water was black, still, and cold. No fire. No warmth. Nothing.
She let me suffer. And when my breathing started to slow—when the desperation peaked and my body began to accept that the flame wasn't coming back—she brought the fire to my ribs.
Oh God!!!
The heat hit three times harder on sensitized skin.
I screamed through my teeth. My back bowed off the stone. My abs locked so hard they cramped. The sensation crashed through me in waves—each one taller than the last, each one pulling me further from the shore of anything I recognized as myself.
The garden returned and erupted. Every tree caught fire at once. The koi pond boiled gold. The children's laughter came back louder than before and the dragon shadow spread across the sky.
I was shivering and sweating at the same time. My heart pounded in my skull. My blood ran hot, carrying fire to every part of my body. Adrenaline surged in waves, making everything sharper, brighter, louder.
Higher than any drug could take me.
And she was the one doing it.
My Tiger. My Tora. Standing over me with flame in her hand, burning me alive, and I had never loved anyone more.
She traced the hydra on my ribs. The heat followed the creature's coils and I felt it in my lungs.
In my blood.
In my marrow.
I moaned, "Tora, please."
She tilted her head. "Please what?"
I didn't know.
More fire.
More touch.
Her mouth.
Her pussy.
Her hand on me.
Her name, next to mine.
Everything.
"Please," I said again. “Burn my cock next.”
She brought the flame to my stomach.
A long, slow pass. The heat bloomed and raced toward my hips. She stopped just above the silk. So close to my cock I could feel the warmth radiating through the fabric. So close I thought I might come from the anticipation alone.