by Jade Lee
The hands that left her chest—one slid to the bed to support his weight; the other caressed downward, lifting slightly so that all she felt was a single digit—his thumb, she thought—tracing a path to her navel. It stopped there, holding in the indentation, and soon the rest of his fingers dropped down—one... two... three... four—and stopped. His lips took her right nipple. She abruptly realized that she had breathed deeply, expanding her chest toward him, anxious for this moment. Now that it was here, she let the air out in a happy sigh.
His thick, luscious queue of black hair slipped forward to land on her sleeve. It was a welcome weight, and she wanted to touch it. Ever since he'd come to work for her family, she'd longed to stroke the silken cord. At last she could. But when she raised her hand, he lifted himself abruptly off her. The pressure on her belly increased, and she had to tighten her stomach at the sudden weight.
"Don't move," he said, his words harsh.
She blinked. "But—"
"This is what you want, isn't it? You want to learn?"
She nodded, disconcerted by his hard tone. How different his words were from his touch.
"Then do nothing. I will direct all the movement I need from you."
Her hand fell back to the mattress. Ken Jin waited a moment, staring hard at her so she understood.
"But why?" she asked, her voice sounding childishly plaintive to her ears.
His expression softened, and she saw a flash of confusion on his face, but then it quickly disappeared. "This is the path of the Tigress, Miss Charlotte. It is not for the faint of heart."
"You don't really know," she accused. "You don't know what—"
Her words were cut off as he pressed a finger to her mouth. "I need your yin," he rasped. "You wish to learn. There is no more and no less than that. Do you now change your mind?"
"No." How quickly she spoke even though she knew she ought to refuse. Ken Jin felt dangerous to her now. Thrillingly, wonderfully, fascinatingly dangerous. "I want to learn."
He nodded and returned to his task, lowering his lips back to her nipple. How bizarre this felt, almost like a visit to a doctor. And yet, it was also very different, especially as he shifted his hold on her. His thumb lifted out of her navel, his fingers as well until only one last finger remained. In fact, all the pressure transferred to that tiny dot, halfway between her navel and her most intimate place.
What was he doing? Was this what he'd done to Sophie? To Marilyn? Was this why he was a favorite among all the girls in her set—because he did this without taking one's virginity? Charlotte felt her lips curve into a smile. Finally, she would know for herself.
Her legs trembled slightly. They had been pressed together, but as Ken Jin's tiniest finger took more of his weight, pressing deeper and deeper into her belly, she felt her muscles release. Her legs went lax, and her thighs rolled slightly open. His finger began massaging a tight, deep circle.
"How often have you felt the yin release?" he asked.
She blinked, struggling to focus on his words rather than his finger.
"What happened this afternoon," he clarified. "The contractions in your womb. How many times have you experienced it?"
She felt her face heat in embarrassment.
"How often?" His demand was harsh and cold.
"Often!" The word burst out of her. There had been stretches where it was a daily ritual, beginning with the time the experience was explained to her with the Migraine Relief machine—the day that her father had gone to his mistress, her mother to church, and even her brother had masturbated during his bath. From that day on, Charlotte had sought opportunities for a pleasurable moment of solitude.
Ken Jin nodded in total acceptance. "That explains why you retain such youthful beauty despite your age." She stared at him in confusion. "Yin fluids keep a woman's body supple. Correct stimulation will preserve your beauty and sweetness."
"I have been keeping myself young?" What odd things the Chinese believed!
He nodded in agreement and dipped his head again. Her nipples had grown cold, but now he heated them again. He took his time, exhaling a long, hot breath across her right peak. Then he took it in his mouth. Again came the swirl of the tongue, this time followed by a sudden sharp suck.
A flash fire expanded across her skin, an exploding circle that she felt all the way down to her toes and up to the crown of her head. But then it was gone, almost before she felt its presence. And he was lifting himself up again, drawing away from her nipple with the slow slide that made her clench the sheets in frustration.
"Ken Jin—" she ground out.
"Stay silent, Miss Charlotte." He directed his attention to her belly and slowly withdrew his finger. "Your yin is strong," he said, "but it is not yet pure enough to draw out. You need to be cleansed."
He reached for his razor and strop cloth. While Charlotte watched, he began to sharpen the blade with quick, fast strokes. She pushed up on the bed, wanting to sit up straight. She felt the strongest urge to cover herself with the cover, but she did not. She knew the moment she did anything to counter him, he would simply pack up and leave. Her lesson would end, and she would learn nothing more. She would feel nothing more.
So, she didn't cover herself. Instead, she shrugged out of her sleeves and tossed the torn garment away. He watched her, unmoving except for his rhythmic stroke of blade against leather. She tried to be silent. She wanted to be as stoic like him, but the pressure to speak was undeniable.
"How am I to be cleansed?"
She didn't think he would answer. He simply watched as if measuring her reaction. She tried not to fidget beneath his regard, but her insides felt as if they were bubbling. She couldn't contain it much longer.
"Ken Jin—" she began, but he interrupted her.
"Hair traps disease and vermin. It must be cut away. That will cleanse your outside."
She swallowed. "And the inside?" Her voice was a squeak.
"There are exercises. I will teach them to you."
She nodded, her belly relaxing now that she understood.
"And then I will take your yin. I will draw it from you until you are limp and empty, and your spirit is too dry to even weep for the loss."
She blanched. "Tonight?" She bit her lower lip. "All that tonight?"
He set down the strop cloth. "No, Miss Charlotte. It will take many, many nights."
She didn't know what to say. She knew what she ought to think, but what did she really want?
"Spread your legs."
She started. "What?"
He didn't answer, simply waited for her to obey. She stared at him, at the razor, and then at the juncture of her thighs. He was going to shave her there?
She nearly rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. Of course he meant there. After all, his other lovers hadn't been walking around bald-headed. By his own account—and her friends' gossip—he had been with every scandalous white woman in Shanghai and quite a few honorable ones. Which meant that all those other women... that they had walked around without...
"It's not cold, is it? I mean, doesn't hair keep things warm?"
"Do you feel cold?"
She shook her head. Truthfully, she felt like she'd swallowed an entire sun.
"Then open your thighs, Miss Charlotte."
"So you can shave me." It wasn't a question. It was nervous anxiety, and they both knew it. Migraine Relief was one thing, but shaving? What if her mother noticed? Charlotte could claim that she got hot, she supposed. Besides, no one—not even her mother—had seen her naked since she was a child.
Ken Jin didn't speak, simply stood there waiting. He wouldn't remain for long; she knew that eventually his patience would end and he would turn around and leave. Which would be for the best, right? No decent woman walked around shaved. Charlotte should let him leave. She was a good girl. She went to church. She prayed for her parents and her brother. She even prayed for the Chinese poor.
She should have screamed long ago. But since she hadn't, she oug
ht to just keep her legs closed. He would leave then, and they would both pretend that this little interlude had never happened. She would wake in the morning, finish her toilette, and help William with his. She and her brother would do daily lessons in the nursery, and maybe Joanna would return so they could talk about her adventures. Charlotte would sit on her knees and listen with breathless envy to her best friend's exciting life and never, ever have an adventure to tell of her own.
She looked Ken Jin in the eye, and slowly widened her legs.
He gave no indication of pleasure at the sight. In fact, he gave no sign of any emotion at all. He could have been a dark Chinese tree for all the reaction he gave. And she felt her irritation rise as the cold night air hit her most private parts.
She had assumed he would give her the blade. After all, she'd shaved her brother's face on a few occasions, and was skilled with a straight edge. But he was her servant. If he wanted to stand there looking like some towering god, then she was damn well going to put him in his place.
She lifted her chin and closed her eyes, just as she instructed William to do whenever she shaved him. Of course, Ken Jin wasn't going to scrape her face, was he? And she was never more aware of that fact—and of her vulnerability—than when she felt the bed shift beneath his weight.
She cracked open an eye. He was climbing onto the mattress to kneel between her legs. His expression remained impassive, but there was no disguising the enormous erection that strained his trousers. Especially as it was framed by her open thighs.
Charlotte swallowed and a moment of panic gripped her belly. What was she doing? She closed her eyes, too caught in indecision to watch. Should she scream? But how would she explain her position on the bed? Had she gone too far to stop? Of course not. And yet... Something cold and wet hit her belly, and she flinched, releasing a whimper of fear. Her irritation at his attitude fled. It was nothing more than pretense anyway. Anything to cover her fear.
A strange scent permeated the air: cloves, sandalwood, ginger, and other exotic scents. She had smelled them before and in this combination. Her eyes popped open. "That's the oil you use. Your cologne."
He shook his head as he continued to dribble the perfumed oil between her legs. "I do not use your English cologne."
"French, actually—"
"This will make the shaving process easier." His gaze flicked to her face. "And more stirring to your qi."
She blinked, not understanding what he meant. The oil was cold; the irregular drip annoying. She didn't like the feel of slick fluids coating her. It was... She blinked. It was heating. Wherever oil and skin connected, she felt a slow simmering of warmth expand and grow. The sensation was mildly pleasant at first, but soon it became like fire beneath her skin.
"I will burn up!" she gasped.
Ken Jin frowned and abruptly stopped pouring. "It is just mild stimulation," he said.
Charlotte shook her head. Indeed, her legs were beginning to shake. "No, it's not, Ken Jin. It's..." She swallowed. How to explain the pulsing inferno growing between her legs. She was beginning to sweat. Her thighs fell wider and wider open in an effort to cool herself off. She even began to pant. "It's so hot. Get it off! Get it off!"
He fumbled for a moment, obviously thrown by her reaction, but his hands soon steadied—a good thing, actually, as the only way to get the oil totally off her skin was to be shaved clean and to have any residue wiped off.
He quickly began scraping. The rough glide of the razor brought fresh sensation to the bonfire raging beneath her skin. Her buttocks tightened to lift her off the coverlet, but the increased air only intensified the reaction.
Her legs shook harder. Her breath had quickened to the point of dizziness, so she let her head drop backward. She felt her nipples tighten as they jiggled, and she found she liked the sensation. But that wasn't enough. She needed more pressure, more feeling above to counter the power below. Reaching up, she massaged her breasts. She grasped them, pulling at the nipples, drawing herself every which way in search of the best sensation, the most stimulation.
"Your yin is... it's boiling over!" Ken Jin said. She heard awe and shock in his voice, but she didn't care.
"Touch me," she ordered. "Touch me or I'll scream." She might scream anyway, but at least this way she could focus on something—on the glide of the razor, on the touch of his hands, on anything but the building pressure to cry out, to explode.
"Try to direct the energy," he coaxed.
"Where?" she gasped.
Then she felt him. A single finger found her core and pushed inside. She straightened up on a gasp, half shocked and half relieved. She needed to see what he was doing. Like before, when he put his finger in her mouth, he only pressed in to his first knuckle; but she felt the sensation all the way to her spine.
She tried to pull away. Nothing had ever invaded her like that. Nothing had ever expanded her like this. He pushed deeper. She moaned and arched her hips. But not away; she wanted him deeper. She wanted to know just how powerful he was, just how much he could make her feel.
"Draw your energy down, Miss Charlotte. Send it to me. I will catch it."
"How?" she gasped. "I don't understand."
"Move your hands in circles on your breasts."
Her whole body was shaking; her buttocks tightened and released against the bed. She recognized the build to climax, and yet... this was different. This was with him, and this was so much more than ever before.
"Circles, Miss Charlotte." When she didn't obey, he shifted slightly. "Mimic me, Miss Charlotte, do what I do."
She didn't understand. Her entire lower body was on fire, and he wanted her to...
She felt his finger. No, not his finger—his thumb—on her private parts. It slid forward, higher than where his finger was embedded deep within her. It flowed upward, slipping under and around her most sensitive spot.
"Your hands, Miss Charlotte. Move them around your nipples exactly as I am moving around the yin pearl." His thumb roved a long circle counterclockwise.
"No," she growled. "You're missing—"
"I am not missing anything, Miss Charlotte! Do what I say." Again came the long slow circle that sent shock waves of heat across her skin. And not just her skin; the heat—the energy—went deeper, through her belly and up her spine, every direction but inward, every place but where she most wanted it.
"Miss Charlotte!" His voice held an unsettling note of panic.
"Yes, yes." She tried to focus. Her hands lay on her breasts, so it took little effort for her to push them into motion. She couldn't manage a single direction, so she moved both hands together, toward her breastbone, then circled inward and up, over the tops before coming down again. But it wasn't what she wanted. "I need more, Ken Jin."
Her legs were spread wide. She was half sitting, half reclining, but her entire body was pushing toward him, toward his hand and the circles. His voice was like distant thunder in her ears—barely heard and yet still powerful.
"Your yin is chaotic. You must focus it, Miss Charlotte. You must—"
"I can't!" It was a wail.
"Hush! You will wake the entire household!"
She swallowed and nodded. But her breath was in gasps, her body usurped by this overwhelming heat.
"Focus!" he ordered, and she saw the sweat bead on his brow before his head dropped between her thighs. "I will draw out the yin, but you must send it to me." Then he dropped to lie flat on the mattress, his wide shoulders spreading her legs even farther.
His fingers withdrew, and she whimpered at the loss. But then she felt his hands cup her buttocks as he lifted her up. His fingers burrowed along the sides of her tailbone. Four pressure points on either side, digging down toward him in a rhythmic pull. Wonderful, but too little.
She began to whimper, not in desire but in frustration.
Her hands jerked off her breasts. She had to stabilize her position on the mattress or fall. Random eruptions of heat burned her skin—on her neck, around her left h
ip, down by her shin—but none of it made any sense and the whole experience served to confuse her even more.
"What are you doing?" she gasped. Would there never be an end to this heat?
Then she felt something. Wet and cool—yet another sensation her disordered thoughts could not comprehend. What was it? She forced her thoughts to organize. She needed to gain some measure of control, and she used the sensation as her focal point. It took a moment for her to realize Ken Jin was stroking her with his tongue. He used the same pattern his thumb: around and up. Circles. No, more like a figure eight.
The air, wetness, and knowledge of what he was doing combined to cool the flash fire, but not put it out. "Ken Jin, this cannot be right—" She ended on a gasp as he stopped his figure eight. The point of his tongue stayed just where she wanted it, spiraling into a glorious pressure point. One moment... One moment more... But then he stopped and lifted himself away.
"Send your yin to me now, Miss Charlotte."
She nearly growled in frustration. She didn't even understand what this "yin" was.
"The heat," he pressed. "Send the fire to me."
The fire? The pulsating waves of flame that rolled not only through her skin, but in her belly, neck, and fingertips.
"Put a pillow over your face."
She blinked and lifted her head. The sight was most alarming. She was wide open. Ken Jin lay between her legs. And though his entire demeanor seemed distant—almost casual—his face showed something different. His eyes were dark and calm, and in this light, his expression seemed to contain something more: a secret knowledge, a wisdom that pervaded his every action. And so she obeyed him without comment.
She grabbed a pillow, but could not stop looking at him. She did not want to break eye contact.
"I will open the gate now," he said, glancing meaningfully at the pillow. She felt his thumbs pulling her open. "When the yin rushes, you might scream. You do not wish to wake William, do you?"