Page 239 of The Dragon 2
"You can lick," I whispered. "But you don’t come up from under this throne until I cum."
"Yes, Queen." The first brush of his tongue on my pussy wasn’t frantic.
It was so sensual and slow. The way a devout man might touch sacred ground and thank the Gods for the ability to do so. Slowly, he kissed my folds like he knew they held his future, his ruin, and his rebirth.
I gasped—not just from sensation, but from how it made me feel.
Worshipped.
Possessed.
Made whole.
And then he moved differently and became a sudden blur of movement. His lips found their way to my most intimate spot. The first touch of his tongue was hot and dangerously skilled like he had spent his life learning how to eat pussy.
That tongue was a slow, heavy stroke that sent shivers down my spine.
He drew his tongue with sensual perfection from the very base of my core, tracing a warm path upward until he reached the sensitive peak of my clit.
“Oh!” I breathed out in a sharp gasp, my back instinctively arching in response to the pleasure that surged through me.
Groaning, he continued with another tantalizing lick, and then another, each one building a symphony of sensation that resonated through every nerve.
Each stroke of his tongue erased my past lovers.
My rules.
My common sense.
He was rewriting my body’s memory with every circle, kiss, and suck.
And just when I thought he would take a break, his tongue danced expertly, swirling in teasing circles, flicking with playful intent, and bestowing gentle kisses upon my eager flesh.
“Oh, Kenji!!!”
That was when he stopped, licked his lips, and looked up at me. “No, Queen.”
Devastated, I stared down at him, panting. “N-no? What?”
“Please don’t call me Kenji. I’m your good little Dragon.”
I parted my lips in shock.
“Say it.”
I shivered. “You’re my good little Dragon.”
A loud growl left him and he devoured me.
Fuck. Hiroko was right. He is dominating me from the bottom.
His mouth opened wide as if he were starving. Moaning into me. Groaning like every taste cracked his spine. I could barely keep my eyes open.
The feather wand slipped from my fingers and landed in slow motion.
A silent surrender.
A white flag waving over the battlefield between my thighs.
