Both Sect Heads Wanted Out of the Marriage, So They Tried to Ruin the Town Together novel · Chapter 4 of 24

Chapter 4: Open Hour

Luoyi had said no thirty-six times before lunch, on the porch, in front of half of Crooked Ferry.

The crowd had cheered every one.

"Refusals," Steward Ma had announced. "Head Jiang, zero. Mistress Tang, forty-one. I am rounding up, because I have waited ten years."

Now Ma sat on the porch behind the paper screen with the basket of answered petitions, reading each name aloud for the record.

Her husband sat at the desk in the old toll office, signing her thirty-six noes in his own beautiful hand.

His face went pinker at every one.

Luoyi was under the desk.

It was a big old customs desk with a front panel down to the floor.

There was plenty of room for a woman on her knees.

Zhuyuan had stopped writing the moment she crawled under it.

"Keep signing," she whispered.

His brush started moving again, a little crooked.

"The pickled plum seller," Ma read through the screen. "Petition for a second stall. Refused. Head Jiang?"

"Yes, Ma," said Zhuyuan. "Refused. I have it."

Luoyi put her hands on his knees and pushed them apart.

He let them fall open at once.

She untied his sash by feel and folded back the front of his grey robe.

His cock was already hard, rising thick and flushed against his belly.

She had not seen it in daylight before.

It was long and heavy, darker at the head, with a vein along the underside, and it twitched when her breath touched it.

She wrapped her hand around the base and squeezed.

Above the desk, the brush clattered onto the inkstone.

"Head Jiang?" said Ma.

"I dropped my brush," said Zhuyuan, in a very level voice. "It is a very good brush. I am picking it up."

Luoyi smiled against his thigh.

She licked him once, from her fist to the tip, slow and flat.

His thigh went hard as wood under her other hand.

She did it again and stopped just under the head, and kissed the sensitive spot there, softly, and did nothing else.

"The ferryman's widow," Ma read. "Petition for free rice. Granted ten sacks, the rest to be earned hauling. Head Jiang?"

"Yes," said Zhuyuan. "Yes. Ten. Very fair."

Luoyi took the head of his cock into her mouth.

He was hot and smooth and tasted of clean skin and salt, and she sucked, gently, once.

A breath went out of him so hard the papers on the desk lifted.

She took him deeper, inch by inch, her tongue pressed flat along the underside.

His hand came down under the desk and touched her hair, very lightly.

Then it cupped the back of her head without pushing at all.

"Oh," he said, almost too quietly to hear. "Oh, Luoyi. Look at you."

She could not see what he could see, but she could guess.

His wife on her knees between his legs, her braid over one shoulder, her lips stretched around his cock.

She pulled back, slowly, letting him slide out of her mouth wet, and held him in her hand.

"Talk," she whispered. "Quietly. Tell me how good I am."

He leaned back in the chair so his head was nearer the desk and his voice could go down to her.

"You're very good," he breathed. "You're the best thing in this office. Your mouth is so hot I can't feel my hands."

She sucked him back in, deeper, and bobbed, and he swallowed a groan.

"The way you take me," he whispered. "You take me so well. Your tongue's doing something under the head that's undoing me."

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