Remarriage (1v1, H) - 15
She sat bolt upright beside Wang Chong, fingers restless.
Whenever nerves struck, she picked at things: three tassels already torn from her jade ring, now her thumb worrying the brocade lilies on her wide sleeve.
A sudden weight settled on her head.
She yelped, flailed, and the little book hidden in her inner pocket tumbled out, smacking her own temple before it landed on his lap.
Wang Chong withdrew his hand.
“Your hairpin was crooked,” he said, calm as winter, and picked up the book.
Crimson flooded her face.
He was already thumbing the pages.
She lunged without thinking, sprawling across his thighs.
Something thick and rigid jerked beneath the silk.
Even through layers of cloth she felt the heat of his c0ck.
He grunted, hips shifting away.
He flipped another page, lips curling.
“The Lu family certainly teaches refined arts.”
Her bl00d drained to her feet.
She scrambled upright, clutching the book to her chest.
Cui-shi and Luo-shi had been shameless, yes, but she had never taught Chong-ge’er to sneer.
One careless sentence from a duke could ruin a girl’s name forever.
Her golden boy, suddenly sharp-tongued.
She had pictured him and Yuexiang hand-in-hand, hearts entwined.
Cui-shi’s honeyed smiles today suddenly tasted false.
Three days in this skin and every certainty of thirty years had cracked open.
She was not stupid; she smelled secrets, yet had no one to confess them to.
Not Chong-ge’er.
Not missing Lanping.
The mansion was still a li away.
Wang Chong had drunk deep at the banquet; her accidental collision had lit a fuse.
Heat crawled under his collar.
The Lus had stuffed him with wine and flattery.
Every festival their gifts to the main branch outweighed the second by half.
The woman he mourned had never noticed the slight.
He loosened his robe at the throat.
“Come closer,” he said.
Lu Xiniang’s eyes flicked up, wary.
After a breath she inched toward him, silk rustling like a confession.
Wang Chong flicked up the hem of his robe.
With one tug the thick, purple-black c0ck sprang free, rigid and gleaming.
He jabbed a finger at it.
“Last night you squirmed away when I asked you to taste it.
Your family shoved a whole book of filth into your sleeve, looks like they’re the real experts.”
Lu Xiniang caught one glimpse and whipped her face aside, cheeks burning.
“The driver’s right outside!”
She lunged to clap a hand over his mouth.
He locked an arm around her waist and forced her gaze down.
His thumb swept the fat crown; a bead of cloudy seed welled up at once.
Her breath hitched.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
The blunt head nudged her cheek, warm, faintly musky.
Not rank, but unmistakable.
“Open,” he ordered, tapping her lips.
The instant her mouth parted he cupped her nape, hips rolled, and the slick crown slid over her tongue, lodging against the back of her throat.
She gagged, eyes watering.
His strength pinned her; she couldn’t pull away.
Her fingers scrabbled at his forearm (ready to pinch, to fight), yet they only fluttered, then patted once, a mute plea.
A soft, desperate whimper vibrated around his c0ck.