Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 101427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
I blinked. “Yes.”
“Taming a dragon is not done with pajamas." She checked her watch. "Zo. I need you in that closet. Find something that says. . .dominatrix meets business casual. And don’t get too outrageous. We don’t want her entire body on display and Kenji killing his men, but we do want the pressure in the space to shift when she enters. Everyone in this house must know who she is today and why they must bow to her."
“Got it.” Zo jumped to his feet and gave a perfect salute. "I already know what she needs."
“Perfect.” Hiroko put her view on me. “Now we will go over what you will do and you will follow it to a T.”
“Alright. Give it to me.”
Chapter twenty-one
Femme Fatale
Nyomi
An hour later, Hiroko smoothed the collar of my satin white blouse. “When you love a king who secretly craves submission, you must learn to weaponize every inch of yourself. Including your walk and especially what you decide to wear.”
“Got it.”
She stepped back, tilted her head, and gave me a wicked grin. “Stilettos on marble are a symphony of dominance. Each click says, ‘This is my world. You just crawl in it.’ Put a woman in six-inch heels and the whole room learns who’s prey and who’s predator.”
She circled me slowly, her own bare feet soundless against the tatami mat while mine, encased in red Christian Louboutin patent leather stilettos, stood rooted in quiet defiance. “Stilettos elevate a woman. They make you taller, more commanding. For men who crave submission—whether they admit it or not—that small height difference is everything. It triggers something primal. Smallness. Obedience. Worship.”
She paused, tilting my chin slightly so I looked her dead in the eyes. “And then there’s the fetish involved with stilettos.”
Hmmm.
For a moment, I thought back to last night and Kenji kneeling before me. The way he kissed each heel like it was sacred, then stroked my arches with worship so intense I almost lost my balance.
He had a foot fetish, no doubt about it, and the man didn’t even try to hide it from his men.
I could still hear his voice in my head, low and unapologetic.
“Don’t thank me. I enjoyed every second of that.”
God help me—I had too.
A wicked smile spread across my face. “Hiroko. . .tell me more about the fetish with stilettos.”
“The arch of the foot. The dagger-thin heel. The echoing sound that makes their cocks twitch before you’ve even spoken a word. Stilettos don’t just turn men on. They undo them.”
I swallowed.
She smiled again, soft and cruel. “You ever watch a man lick the sole of your heel while calling you goddess?”
A nervous chuckle left me. “Not yet.”
“Not yet is a perfect answer, Nyomi.” Hiroko nodded. “Because some men want to be crushed. They fantasize about your heel pressing into their chest. Their thigh. Sometimes their throat. They want to be trampled with it. Marked.”
My breath hitched, but not from fear.
A flash of Kenji surfaced in my mind—the Dragon, shirtless and golden-skinned, sprawled beneath me on the cool floor. His chest heaving. His muscles tense but offered. And my red heel, balanced on his chest.
Right over his heart.
He would stroke himself for me like that.
Slow.
Intentional.
Hand curled around that thick, gorgeous cock—pierced at the crown with that gold rose he never let anyone see but me.
I could almost hear his breath, the way it deepened just before he came, how his hips would lift as if trying to worship me with his release.
White semen spilling over the gold rose’s petals.
Him looking up at me—mouth parted, eyes blown wide with lust and devotion.
Hiroko stepped back, her gaze slicing over me and testing for softness. “You’re almost ready.”
“Not quite.” Zo got in front of me.
I eyed him. “What needs to be fixed?”
Zo moved in without a word. His eyes narrowed in full mission mode. His fingers went straight to my blouse, tugging it down with a sharp snap that made the fabric settle tighter against my body. The white satin was just sheer enough for the black lace of my bra to show through in the right light. Anyone could see the fullness of my breasts beneath it, the way they shifted ever so slightly with every breath, every move.
“I’ve got it.” He unfastened the top three buttons. “This blouse is dangerous. That little peek of lace? Men will be thinking about it for weeks. Especially when the girls jiggle like that. Make them bounce like you do.”
I smiled. “Like I do?”
He gave me a wink. “You know what I’m talking about. That was one of the ways you got me long ago. Do not pretend that you didn’t.”
I laughed.
He stepped back and studied me with a tilted head and a satisfied smirk. “There. That’s it. Just enough skin to make them risk sin. Not too much to make it easy.”