Silk, Swords And Surrender. Jeannie Lin
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cheek, her lips, the tip of her chin. Each affectionate gesture seemed wholly innocent after the lightning storm she’d just experienced.
But while her limbs were waxen and languid, Baozhen remained taut beside her. She’d thought he’d joke now, and say something to lighten the mood, but his expression was strained.
She didn’t have any experience in the bedchamber, but she knew enough to understand that this was not the end of things. His tunic was open, exposing a patch of sun-warmed skin and lean muscle, solid from labor and riding. It was enough to show her that Baozhen was as beautiful beneath his clothes as he was on the outside.
Pushing all hesitation aside, Lian reached for his trousers. Baozhen moved to stop her, but she refused to be denied. The knot at his waist fell open. She slipped her hand inside, running it along the flat of his stomach and downward to find him. Baozhen tried to push her away, but all the while his hips shifted restlessly toward her.
“No,” he choked out. “Lian, wait. You’re very beautiful...it’s very difficult to stop when—”
He was nearly incoherent before falling silent. Her questing fingers had encircled the male part of him. The skin was heated and incredibly smooth. Another mystery uncovered—and not at all what she had expected. Now he changed, becoming as hard as jade when she touched him. She could barely breathe.
“Baozhen,” she implored as she pushed the trousers down around his hips. “Please.”
He made one last feeble attempt to remove her hands, but his body was insinuating itself into her grasp, begging for her.
“It was you I was waiting for tonight,” she confessed. “It was always you.”
She didn’t know if he’d heard her, but he lowered her back onto the bed with sudden resolve and pushed her robe up around her hips. She was exposed scandalously below the waist, but there was no time for embarrassment to set in before Baozhen covered her with the length and breadth of his body.
He took only a moment to center himself, his fingers touching her down below briefly, before she felt the blunt press of his member between her legs. She looked up at his dark expression as he cupped a hand to the back of her neck, gripping lightly. His breath fanned hot against her cheek as he pushed into her.
The air rushed out of her in one sharp exhalation. The sensation was indescribable. Overwhelming. A moment of fear gripped her as he continued to fill her. She didn’t know what to do other than drape her arms over his shoulders. Her limbs became weak as the feeling of being invaded and stretched increased, sending unknown shocks through every part of her. Above her, Baozhen’s brow furrowed sharply, but he didn’t stop. She dug her nails into his back.
“Lian—” He spoke her name brokenly as he finally settled deep within her.
They were hip to hip, as close as two people could be. He remained still for a string of heartbeats before his body lifted. She thought it might be over—until he slid back in, shuddering with the movement.
She whimpered softly as he continued to move, his thrusts increasing in speed and forming a rhythm. His fingers tangled into her hair, a rough reassurance, and his mouth touched against her throat. Her body began to open for him, to accept these new sensations.
Before she could decipher what it was she was feeling—pleasure or pain—Baozhen’s muscles suddenly constricted. With a groan that came from deep within his chest he sank down onto her and laid his head against her shoulder: an odd position, considering he was much larger than her. He buried his face into her hair.
The enormity of what had just happened began to sink into her. They were on her bed, their clothes hastily shoved aside. The boy she had always wanted, now a man, was there in her arms. Baozhen shifted some of his weight from her and she became aware of the soreness where their bodies had been joined. She didn’t know what to think. The experience had been both confusing and exhilarating. Now everything was so...strange.
Baozhen lifted himself onto one elbow so he could see her. “I didn’t expect any of this.”
His voice even sounded odd, and unlike him. Heavy and uncertain.
“What happens now?” she asked.
Absently, he brushed a strand of hair from her eyes and then sat up. His movements were slow and deliberate and his expression showed he was lost in deep thought. He smoothed her skirt carefully back down over her legs before righting his own clothes. The silence became oppressive, and Lian couldn’t think of anything to do but watch and wait.
He moved to the edge of the bed, then paused to turn back to her. “What do you want me to do, Lian?”
She was at a loss. Why would he be asking her? He was more experienced than she was.
Before she could think of an answer the sound of voices in the courtyard stopped her heart. Baozhen straightened, his shoulders tensing.
“My parents!” she gasped.
Baozhen shot to his feet. His eyes darted to the door, the window, then back to her.
“Hide,” she said frantically.
“Where?” There was no place in her tidy room for him to fit.
“Are you feeling better, daughter of mine?” Her mother’s sing-song call came from just outside the door.
Lian was still struggling out of the bed when the door opened and there stood her mother, staring at Baozhen.
“Chen Furen,” he addressed her formally, his voice rasping.
“Oh, dear heaven!” her mother wailed, rushing past him to the bed.
“Mother, Baozhen was only—”
Lian’s words caught in her throat. Only...what?
Mother threw her arms around Lian and called for her father.
Baozhen looked sick as her father entered. Her father was tall, the cut and color of his robe severe, and he had his piercing glare fixed upon Baozhen. Her father was well-known as a force in the East Market and he appeared particularly imposing tonight.
“Mister Chen.” Baozhen managed a small bow.
Lian tried to extract herself from her mother, who was fluttering worriedly about her and cooing little assurances and endearments that were supposed to be soothing. Her father had never been violent, but she was certain Baozhen was about to be dragged away and flogged.
“Mister Chen,” Baozhen repeated, and he swallowed. His infamous honeyed tongue was thick in his mouth. “I must say...please understand...I hold your daughter in the highest regard...”
Her father raised his hand, stopping Baozhen in his painful admission. Baozhen stiffened as her father approached, as if preparing for a strike, but her father only put his arm around him and turned him to face the door.
“How is your father, my son?”
“My fath—? He’s well...sir.”
Something really, really bad was about to happen. Her father never showed when he was angry. He just grew overly calm and controlled. He was very calm now.
“It has been a while since your parents have come for tea,” her father was saying as he and Baozhen disappeared into the courtyard. “I think we shall see them tomorrow. The earlier the better.”
Lian turned frantically to her mother. “Tell Father that Baozhen didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Shh.” Mother ran her fingers through Lian’s hair, smoothing it away from her face. “Mother and Father will take care of everything.”
It occurred to Lian that her parents were home at an almost discourteously early time from the registrar’s party, and that her mother didn’t seem nearly as distressed as she had appeared only moments earlier. A sly smile even appeared on her lips as she pressed them to Lian’s forehead affectionately.