Chapter 13
“You must undress,” he said.
Ji Yue recoiled in shock, her heart beating triple fast. It was one thing to be the woman caressing him, bringing him to a place where he had no control over his body. It was quite another to remove the attire that kept her safe. Except, of course, no cloth could keep her safe. The very idea was ridiculous, but she felt its protection nonetheless.
“If you wish to know how to seduce a man,” he said softly. “It begins with your body.”
“You will see my bruises.”
“Your body will always be beautiful to me,” he said. She saw honesty in his eyes, and her heart broke. How had she come to this?
But if her future was in a harem, many women to one man–or even no man when the Emperor died–she would take what memories she could. So she put her hands on her buttons and began to pull off her clothes.
“No. Not like you are at a dressmakers,” he said. “Slowly. Shyly. But with a hunger in your eyes.”
As a virgin, she should not know what he meant, but she felt an aching longing and a building excitement in what she did. And in what they risked together. She looked at him and let her thoughts pour into her face. She let him see her desire, her fears,and her desperate wish...
“My heaven...” he murmured. And if she doubted the desire in his voice, all she had to do was look down. His jade stem had stiffened again.
With shaking hands, he pulled the cushions from the couch behind her and laid them on the floor. There was little space in this tiny corner of a lesser palace, but he had it to himself. From what she understood of the Forbidden City, he must be valued indeed if he had a room of papers and books all for himself.
She smiled at the thought that one day he might have a whole palace of his own–a home and a library with emissaries from Peking coming and going. And in that wonderful fantasy, she was pulling off her blouse and undershirt for her husband.
“Mama said that men love breasts,” she said to him as she looked down at her chest. “Is that true?”
He nodded then gestured to her. “Come lie down, Ji Yue. I will show you what men do with breasts they like.”
She lowered herself to her knees. She had not yet pulled off her skirt, so he did it for her, unwrapping it as one would a jade statue: slowly and with great care.
He frowned as he tossed the fabric onto a stack of scrolls. “I do not like that they hurt you and I did not stop it.” He ran his hand slowly down her hip, touching the scratches and discolored bruises.
“Stop them when I am about to be killed,” she said. “Anything less, and I must endure. Or fight back.” She leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Ask the doctor when she next comes. Ask her how many girls have bruises worse than mine.”
He pressed his lips to her neck and swirled his tongue over a scratch there. “Brave warrior. How does the rest of you feel?” His hand brushed over her lower hair.
She gasped in response, her hips undulating without herwilling it.
“You need no cream, you know,” he said softly. “Your scent is sweet enough.” Then he lowered himself on her body until he pressed his face to her thighs. “I could get drunk on such a scent.”
She ached for him to touch her. She well remembered what he had done before, but this was too new for her to ask what she wanted.
“Do you want me to touch you here?” he murmured as his fingers played across her thighs. He looked up, and she saw a flash of hardness in his eyes. “I will tell you a secret, Ji Yue. The Emperor will quickly have his fill of shy virgins. It is the bold, the mischievous, and the unusual girls who will entrance him.”
She nodded and found a bravery she only had with him. “Very well, then,” she said firmly. “I want you to touch me like you did before. Between my legs.”
He grinned.“No.”
Her eyebrows rose in shock. “But–”
“You have already learned that. Today, I teach you something different.” And so saying, he pushed her down until she lay prone on the floor, her head pillowed by the cushions. He kneeled beside her hip. “I do not kiss your lips this time. Not with your make up still on your face. Kissed lips are too easily seen.”
She nodded. She had forgotten the white face paint she wore for her dance.
“There is much that a man likes to do with breasts,” he said as he idly lifted and shaped her breasts. His stroke alternated between firm and gentle, between light tugs and harsher squeezes of her nipples. And every caress was like breath to a flame making her pulse pound. She squirmed from the torment he built inside her. “This is what I like,” he said. “I like to watch how my touch affects you. I like to see your body shudder andyour lips darken. But my favorite is when you gasp.”
He accompanied his words with a sharp pinch, and she whimpered in delight.
“That sound is nice, too,” he said. But then he stopped short as footsteps and two men’s voices sounded in the corridor.
