Page 212 of The Dragon 2
The high collar brushed the nape of my neck and the train fanned out behind me in royal waves.
Under the cape?
Mmmm.
It turned me on just thinking about it.
The leather bodysuit clung to me like a second skin, molded over my curves with black shine and gold-threaded seams. Boning wrapped around my waist, hugged my exposed hips wide, and lifted my breasts like an offering.
My nipples pushed through cutouts, exposed to the air and craving to be bitten.
Between my thighs, was a narrow slit.
I could feel the air kiss my pussy when I shifted, teasing me.
The slit didn’t gape wide when I stood.
But when I sat. . .the slit would open fully, exposing all of my pussy.
For now, that surprise was hidden from Kenji’s gaze. He would have to earn the right to see it.
Already he had been odd.
He’d peeked in once, saw just enough to close the door again like he was catching his breath.
What was he doing out there?
Preparing to kneel, I hoped. Because if he wanted the surprise waiting for him when I sat. . .he’d better remember exactly who commanded this room.
I had only one leg peeking out through the thigh-high slit, coated in a fuck-me-hard-red stocking, sheer and gleaming.
On my feet—six inches of sharpened want. Diamond stilettos. Red soles. Weapons that sparkled and kissed.
I hadn’t stood like this by accident.
Hiroko had taught me.
She made me stand in front of a mirror earlier today—shoulders back, leg forward, chin high, mouth soft but unreadable.
“A queen doesn’t reveal all at once,” she circled me like a panther. “A queen lets the mystery walk ahead of her. Let him chase shadow before he sees skin.”
The outfit beneath the cape was locked away like a secret weapon but that single exposed leg—rich with color, height, danger—thatwas the promise.
The whisper of something devastating.
Hiroko called itthe Tease of Control.
I thought back to minutes ago.
She adjusted the collar at my throat before leaving. “Every inch you show is adecision. Not his gift. Not your mistake. It is the bold declaration of a queen.”
“Got it.”
She stepped back, tilted her head, and looked me over like a sculptor deciding if her masterpiece needed just one more stroke. “Men like him. . .they don’t kneel easily.”
“Correct.”
“You must give him a reason to. But never beg for it and never ask. Make himearnthe right to serve you.”
