Page 13 of The Dragon 2
God.
My cock pressed painfully against the fabric now.
Rock hard.
Swollen.
Salivating for her pussy.
She whispered, “You were so greedy. It felt so good. Not even like a dream.”
My mouth watered, and I wished I could taste her pussy right then.
She was feeding me this confession in pieces, and I was fucking choking on the intensity of it.
I felt her thighs on either side of my face.
Felt her hands in my hair.
Felt myself moaning like I needed her taste on my tongue.
Her voice trembled with just enough lusty wickedness. “I called you my good little Dragon.”
A dark growl left me.
“You moaned so loud when I came.”
I had my pants open in seconds.
“I didn’t want you to stop, so I buried your head in my pussy and I came again and. . .you just kept licking.”
“Fuck. . .Tora.” My fingers slid beneath my boxer briefs. I freed my cock and stared down at it. “You’ve got me so hard.”
She let out a moan.
Soft.
Barely audible.
But it slipped through the line like a secret not meant to be shared.
And fuck. . .that moan wrecked me.
I looked down at my cock—thick, weighty, flushed deep with blood. At the crown of my engorged cock, nestled in the swollen head, glinted the gold barbell of my piercing—shaped like a delicate rose.
The petals were smooth, sculpted by a Tokyo artist who owed me a life debt.
No thorns.
Just soft curved petals meant for pressure and pleasure.
The soft cabin light kissed the petals.
I grinned slowly, wickedly, as the ache within me deepened. “Tell me, Tora. . .when you imagined my cock in your dream, did you happen to envision a piercing?”
She hesitated. “A piercing?”
“Yes.”
