39. Teeth in Flesh
Chapter thirty-nine
Teeth in Flesh
Nyomi
The bite wasn’t gentle.
It wasn’t polite.
It was feral.
His teeth sank into the soft place that tender spot on my shoulder, sharp enough to sting, deep enough to brand. Hot water cascaded over us, sluicing down my back, but none of it could cool the fire that erupted in my skin.
Pain streaked my world white. My vision blanked, my breath caught against his palm, and then—oh God—pleasure came chasing after, faster, meaner, catching the pain by the throat and dragging it under.
My knees buckled. My thighs trembled. The bite anchored me, held me captive to a storm only he controlled. My body tried to collapse, but Kenji’s arm caged me upright, his palm sealing my mouth, his weight pinning me to his hunger.
And still he bit.
The pressure built, teeth digging deeper, pain climbing until it kissed the edge of unbearable. My scream tore from me, but his hand caught it, muffled it, turned it into a shameful hum against his skin.
Water poured over his tattoos, over the steel cage of his body, over me. It made everything slick—his grip, my thighs, the pulse of his cock grinding against my ass.
Oh fuck.
He rolled his hips as he bit harder, the pierced head of his cock rubbing slow and merciless between my cheeks, gliding along the seam of my ass, threatening my pussy with every pass. The metal caught, slid, sparked heat until I thought I’d combust right there under the spray.
The bite burned.
The cock teased.
The water drowned.
And I couldn’t escape any of it.
My body was his canvas. His teeth, his cock, his hunger—those were the tools painting me into something new, something ruined. Every nerve screamed alive—pain streaking down my neck, pleasure flooding my clit, heat coiling low in my belly until I was shaking in his grip.
Kenji groaned into the bite, low and guttural, the sound vibrating against my skin as if he meant to mark me not just with teeth but with sound, with vibration, with everything he was.
And I felt it—his cock hardening, thickening as he ground against me, the blunt crown dragging lower, lower, almost finding me.
My pussy clenched in betrayal, weeping for him, fluttering with frantic little spasms that only made the bite feel deeper.
I should’ve wanted to fight.
To wrench free.
To scream.
Instead, I melted into the pain, into the teeth, into the cock grinding against me. My body became one long pulse of surrender, a prisoner that didn’t want release.
Some stubborn part of me still wanted to write the ending myself—to prove I could hold a pen even as he broke me. But my body was already signing his story in blood and trembling.
Kenji lifted his mouth just enough to growl against my raw, bitten skin.
The bite throbbed. It was a firework lodged in my flesh, burning, pulsing, alive.
Kenji finally pulled back, his teeth leaving me raw and stinging, and the hot spray of the shower instantly kissed the wound.
The water wasn’t relief.
It was gasoline poured on flame.
I gasped against his palm, chest heaving, lungs searching for air.
My eyes flicked down, desperate to see what he had done. While I couldn’t see the bite, I did witness the dark ribbons of blood spiraling down my skin, mingling with the water, blooming red against clear before thinning, and washing away.
There was no doubt in my mind that he’d left teeth marks in my skin. The only question was if they would ever heal, or would the scar stay there forever—his bite painted into my flesh.
Did he just brand me?
The world tilted.
The black stone walls swayed in my vision.
Lust hit me, dizzy.
I was drifting, falling—not out of his arms, but out of myself. Something deeper pulled me under, dragging me past fear, past thought, into a quiet, trembling place where there was only his will.
I’d been in domspace earlier, but now I was submerged in subspace.
I shuddered, chest rising and falling too fast, the edges of my vision softened with heat, water, and blood.
And then Kenji’s mouth was back on me. . .only this time, he was not biting.
He was licking.
His tongue lapped at the wound, tasting what he’d taken. The drag of him over my torn flesh was obscene, sacrilegious—and yet it made my pussy spasm so hard I nearly collapsed again.
“Now you’re marked, Tora.” He groaned into my skin, drinking me down.
“Every man who walks by you will smell my scent on you. They’ll whisper that you’re mine.
They’ll even see the teeth marks in your skin and know better than to stare again.
Even their gossip will serve me—it will crown you as the Dragon’s Blood-bride. "
Oh. My. God.
It all undid me. His words. The wet drag of his tongue. The sting of the bite. The heat of his cock grinding at my ass. It was all too much and yet not nearly enough.
“That bite isn’t just flesh,” he kissed the wound. “It’s a blood contract. Your pussy, your heart, your breath. . .all fucking mine.”
I whimpered against his palm while every part of me screamed to record this moment, to catalogue it like evidence—muscles, blood, steam, pleasure, dragon-shadow, pierced-cock, teeth.
But no article, no book, no language on this earth could capture what it truly meant to surrender to a man crowned in guns and baptized in death.
To become his blood contract, his oath carved into flesh, his altar in a world where love was the most exquisite violence of all.
My body was light, floating, every sound far away and echoing.
All I could feel was his claim etched into me.
"Do you even understand, Tora?”
I trembled in his muscular hold.
“Men like me buy skylines. We collect gold and empires. But none of it—none of it—means a damn thing compared to this blood running down your skin right now. So beautiful. Scarlet ribbons over your lush brown skin, streaking you like calligraphy. You’re rarer than every fortune I own, and now you’re branded with me. "
Then, he closed his lips around the wound and sucked lightly, drinking my blood like some twisted horny vampire.
Dear God.
I nearly shattered.
He lifted his mouth and I couldn’t see him, but I knew there must have been blood all over his lips. “Every time you touch these marks. . .you’ll remember that your body is the Dragon’s altar.”
My thighs trembled.
My clit ached.
My soul shivered in his grasp, and yet—God help me—I wanted more.
“You’re mine in blood now.” His hand slid lower, fingers pressing into my pussy like punctuation. “Mine in pain. Mine in pleasure. The chains are inside you. Do you feel them?”
God. Yes.
He toyed with my clit.
And I knew with bone-deep certainty that I wasn’t just marked.
I was owned.
At last, his palm left my mouth.
I dragged in air, my lips parting—ready to speak, to curse him, to beg him, to say something .
But I never got the chance.
Kenji spun me fast, whipping me around like I weighed nothing. My back slammed into the slick black stone, the shower spray hitting me full force as his hands clamped down hard on my hips.
What is he going to do now?!