Chapter Fifteen

Ling Xin was filled with a desperate kind of recklessness. She had no business being in Zhi Hao's bedroom. Indeed, she had no business doing any of the things she was doing, but after this morning's discipline from her father, she was more resolved than ever to complete her training.

Her father had not hurt her. He had restricted her to one bowl of rice until the Feast of Fertility as punishment for being greedy with her eyes. He had seen her looking at Zhi Hao. Fortunately, he thought it was because she had been practicing her feminine wiles on the only available man she had seen in years. He had no idea that she knew Zhi Hao so intimately.

He didn't know that her real punishment was realizing that her future was set. That in a few weeks' time, she would enter the Forbidden City and never leave it again. She would be one of many women among eunuchs. Even if she became empress, she would serve only as bedmate to the emperor and only if she conceived a male child. Every other moment of her life would be restricted, watched, and completely proper.

If she was to ever truly live, ever to enjoy the thrills that Zhi Hao introduced to her, now was the time to do it. She didn't have the privilege of second guessing.

So she jumped down from the stone wall, letting him catch her so that she could feel the hardness of his body against hers, and then she went inside Master Gao's house.

She expected Zhi Hao to take her straight to his bedroom, but he stopped her in the main sitting room. His expression was grim, but one look at his pants told her he was as excited as she was. That was a good thing. So why did he seat himself on a couch and lean back, as if expecting her to entertain him?

"You promised to teach me," she said, her annoyance clear.

"You want to dance in a way that excites the emperor."

"Yes."

He gestured to her. "So dance."

She gaped at him. "There is no music, no costume."

"A courtesan needs none of those things." He grinned. "Hum if you must. And use your hands as if they were fans. I will get the idea."

"But how will I dance differently? You said I bored you before."

His smile turned rueful. "I do not think you will ever bore me, Song Ling Xin." His expression softened. His moods tonight were making her dizzy. "Remember how I made you feel on the wall? Remember how your breasts felt heavy and tight. How your yin cauldron…" He gestured at her belly. "It turned wet and hot."

She nodded, her body reflecting the very words he used.

"Now dance, but with that memory. Accentuate those parts of your body." Then he leaned forward. "Imagine my hands and my dragon in all those places."

"And what will that do?" she asked, not because she thought he would answer but because she needed a moment to think of these things. It was one thing to experience it in the shadows. The way his hands had moved over her breasts and between her thighs. It was quite another thing to dance while thinking of that.

He grinned. "It will make me think of it, too. And if I am thinking it, then I will want to bed you."

She knew he already wanted to bed her, and she wanted it too. But he was teaching her how to seduce the emperor, and so she set her body into the beginning steps of the fan dance.

This was a folk dance, not intended to be erotic. Traditionally, it told stories of heroism. But some fan dances were meant to evoke emotion, and she relied on that now. She began with the movements for happiness and fat contentment, then added the entrance of something frightening. A man who was large and scary.

When she made those movements, she looked straight at Zhi Hao, but instead of suggesting the storyteller was cowering in fear, she changed her expression to one of interest. She thought of how she had spied on Zhi Hao over the stone wall, watching his body in the moonlight and how it made her body swell just to watch.

She didn't know how to show her nipples getting tight or her mouth turning dry, but she used her hands over her breasts, opening and closing them as if they were large fans. She mimicked her heart beating faster as he approached. And she looked right into his eyes as she licked her lips.

It felt crude, but his eyes widened and he shifted in his seat. She couldn't tell if he was pleased or dismayed. She stopped dancing.

"This is awkward," she said. "The dance is supposed to be graceful."

"What would help you?" he asked.

She shook her head. That was the problem. She knew there were ways to entice from across a crowded room, but she didn't know them. She couldn't begin to imagine—

"Let me dance with you," he said. "Let me show you what men like."

She frowned. "Do you know the fan dance?"

"Not in the least," he said with a chuckle. "But I don't need to."

She thought he would stand in front of her, that he would adjust her body the way he wanted her to appear and then step back. That was how all her teachers had instructed her before. But this was a very different type of instruction.

Instead of standing in front of her, he stepped behind her, fitting his body to hers. He set his arms around her, his hands meeting hers. And he pressed his back tight against her.

So close. So intimate. She felt every part of her liquify at his nearness.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, his words a low murmur against her ear.

"About your exercises. How you fight enemies. How I love to watch you do it."

"Then maybe we should begin with that instead of the fan dance."

"But—"

"Shhh. I will go slow."

It was a strange thing to move her body in concert with another. Not just in concert, but as one being, flowing forward, shifting backwards, turning a slow circle. He was pressed against her back, pushing her into the movements and then supporting her as he pulled her back.

That alone set her feelings soaring. Forward and back, pressing here and cupping there. But when he began to turn her, encircling her and tugging her around, he pulled her off balance, and yet still supported her.

Such strength he had. Such power to move her body as if it were his own.

"Pretend you have fans now," he said against her temple. She felt the movement of his lips against her skin. "I will guide your body. Use your fans to show me where you are aroused."

She jolted in shock. "You want to see… You want to know…'

"Yes and yes." Then he took her hands and pressed them to her breasts. "Here?"

The sensation even of her own hands on her breasts made her body tighten with hunger.

"Tell me, Ling Xin. Where do you feel most alive right now?"

"My nipples," she said. They were tight enough to skate the edge of pain. And because his hands still pressed hers against her breasts, she moved her fingers in a way that she knew felt so good.

"Yes," he murmured. "You should do that with your fans."

"Open and close them?"

"Yes."

She set her hands to her breasts, opening and closing her fingers as if they were the fans. She felt every shift against her nipples and her body arched without her willing it. But how good it felt to press her bottom against his dragon. She felt it hot and hard just behind her buttocks.

When he pressed back into her, she knew she had done well.

And again, they began to move in that same forward and back motion, pushing and cupping, with the occasional off-balance twist.

"Where do you hunger now?" he asked.

She couldn't voice it aloud, so she arched her back and straightened such that her bottom stroked his dragon. He hissed in reaction, and she felt his hands tremble, but he didn't give way. Instead, he took one of her hands and put it to her lower belly.

"That is where I am aroused," he said. "Show me where you are."

"You know where," she said.

"I do, but this is a dance. You must show me with your hands."

And so she did as he bid, pressing her spread hand lower until she covered her mons.

"Does it throb?" he asked.

Not until he said the word. And so in answer, she opened and closed her hand as if it were a fan.

"This is not a dance," she protested. This was torture with him so close but not touching her the way she wanted.

"What you have done is a dance. Feel how your body moves against me. Remember what is to happen now, so you can imitate it in the future."

She twisted to look up at him while he still pressed into her back. She wanted to ask what he meant, but he did not give her the chance. Before she could do more than turn her head, he slid his hands up her arms and down her front. Within the space of a breath, he took hold of her breasts. His arms surrounded her while he squeezed her nipples hard enough that she gasped.

But, oh how good it felt! That sharp pain made her knees go weak, but she would not leave the circle of his arms. She wanted him around her. She wanted him on her. She wanted—

"Lean forward," he said. "Set your hands on the table."

She had no will to resist. What he was doing was thrilling. She felt so petite in his arms, delicate and feminine against his power. And with her leaning down, her breasts fell into his hands. Such things he did with them. It felt entirely different than it had when she was reclining against him in the tree.

How her body throbbed with each shift of his fingers.

And then she stopped thinking at all as his hands moved from her breasts to her thighs. She wore her usual light nightrobe, the silk flowing about her body. But with her pressed forward, he had room to slide down her back and gather the fabric in his own hands.

"Trust me," he said. "I will not take your virginity."

"I do—" she began, but her words were cut off as he flipped her clothing up over her back. Suddenly she was naked from the waist down.

"You are gorgeous," he said as his hands cupped her bottom. He squeezed the lobes, tightening around them before lifting them up. "I can smell your musk from here," he murmured.

She could smell his. And she could feel his dragon as he rubbed through his pants into the folds of her bottom. She tightened in reaction, pressing backwards, and he groaned in response.

"Yes," he murmured. "Yes, I could give you all my chi right now," he said as he thrust upward. "But not yet. You must share."

She wanted to share everything. Turning slightly, she looked at him from over her shoulder. She knew her expression was coy as she bit her lip and dared him to make her offer her chi. He growled in appreciation.

"You will make me forget to teach."

She shook her head. "I will remind you," she said. "What should I experience now? What must I remember?"

"This," he said. Then he wrapped his arm around her hip and plunged his fingers between her thighs.

She cried out at the invasion even as she spread her legs. He was so hard, so forceful, and she ought to hate it. But she didn't. She wanted his strength inside her. She wanted him to polish her pearl, to thrust his fingers inside her, and to press her down, down, down until she was pinned and he served her from above.

And so that was what they did.

She braced herself, arching her back as his fingers explored her intimate petals. He opened her and thrust inside. His breath was a hot rasp against her back as he plundered inside her. She tried to make sense of what his fingers were doing, but the movement was chaotic, his fingers going everywhere.

She moved her hips, trying to adjust, but he kept her pinned. His weight against her back felt lovely, and the power in his thrust against her bottom let her know that he was as wild as she.

And then he found her pearl. He did no more than push his thumb upward, but she knew what it was now. She ground against him. She felt impaled on his hand with his thumb pushing against her pearl. And she felt him behind her, holding her, surrounding her, and giving her exactly what she wanted.

Up and down, she moved against his hand.

Her back arched. Her pulse beat in her ears.

And then she exploded.

Her body went wild, the waves overwhelming her.

She cried out from ecstasy.

And she rode his hand as long as she could stand it.

Until it was done. Until her body slowed and the waves eased. Until she collapsed forward against the table, and he…

He…

What was he doing?

"There is another way," he whispered against her back. Then he pressed a kiss to her spine, and she felt the fabric of his pants fall away.

"What?" she asked.

"Trust me," he said. "Men like this, too."

Then she felt his dragon at the back of her body. She felt its wet head as it probed her anus.

She had never conceived of such a thing before. Never imagined that…

"You are already so wet," he said, and she felt him take moisture from her pearl and slide it back. Back and…

Inside!

In and out, but not at the entrance that would be checked. Not where her virginity was. But could this be possible? Could this…

He stretched her. He fingered her in the same way he had introduced her to the front entrance. One finger, in and out. Then two. Then more.

Then his dragon.

It was so large.

It would not…

She could not…

She gasped. Her cry filled the room though it was more like a whimper than a scream.

He was inside her. How she had longed for this, but had never imagined it would be like this. Pushing inside, stretching her open. It was uncomfortable, it was hot and hard. And as she adjusted, she began to feel new sensations.

A burn that was sweet.

A pulse that was too much and not enough.

He began to thrust harder now. Not just the tip inside, but more of his dragon. How much more?

He was speaking to her. He was asking how she was feeling, was this too much, did she want him to stop.

She didn't have words. Only feelings and these were new ones. These were unexpected sensations…desirable sensations.

This was living.

And so she arched her back to accommodate him more. And as he grabbed hold of her hips, she levered up on one elbow.

"Touch yourself, Ling Xin. I cannot reach, but I want to do this together."

Together? Yes.

She knew what he wanted, and she stretched her fingers below. She had done this to herself before. Once he had shown her how, she had experimented on her own. It was never as wonderful as when he stroked her, but it was still good.

And so she explored her own wetness. She found her pearl. And as he began to move inside her, she let his thrusts press her over her pearl.

He was gasping now. His breath stuttering with every thrust.

She was no better. Her whimpers had become cries.

She was so full. So penetrated.

He was so big, and she so alive.

"More," she rasped, barely recognizing her own voice.

"Yes," he echoed.

And then he pounded her.

And she flew.