He Sold My Designs to the Chairman, So I Married the Chairman novel · Chapter 5 of 24

Chapter 5: The Fitting Room

The private fitting room on the fortieth floor had three mirrors and a velvet bench.

The door had a lock, and Weicheng turned it with his thumb.

Yichen was already pulling his shirt over his head.

"This is where you get measured?" he said, from inside the cloth.

"Where I got measured, when I was twenty-seven and the board wanted me to look like my father."

"Did it work?"

"It did not."

The shirt hit the floor.

Weicheng stood with his back to the door, still in the charcoal overcoat, and looked at him in the three angles of the glass.

He saw the front, the side and the long pale line of the back.

Yichen turned, slowly, and let him.

"Your cuffs," Weicheng said.

"What about them?"

"You cut them a centimetre short. On every shirt you own."

"That's on purpose. It keeps the ink off."

"Sixty-three to the wrist," Weicheng said. "You should wear sixty-four."

Yichen opened his mouth to ask how he could possibly know that.

Weicheng crossed the room and kissed the question away.

It was a deep, unhurried kiss, with a hand in the small of his back and a hand in his hair.

The overcoat fell.

Yichen got to work on the waistcoat buttons with fast fingers.

Weicheng let him, and dropped his mouth to the corner of his jaw.

"Two years," Yichen said, a little unsteadily. "Then a clean divorce. That was your offer."

"That was my floor."

"Your what?"

"A term is the least that I'll give you." Weicheng bit his earlobe. "Not the most."

Yichen laughed, short and breathless, and shoved the waistcoat from his shoulders.

By the time the white shirt was open he had stopped counting how many times they'd kissed.

The velvet bench was low and wide.

Weicheng sat Yichen on it and knelt in front of him, and took off his shoes one by one.

The cold dignified Chairman of Qiao Group, in his shirtsleeves, on his knees.

Yichen stared down at him.

"You're doing it wrong," he said. "That's my job."

"Tonight it's mine."

His hands slid up the inside of Yichen's calves, over the knees, and along both thighs, and Yichen's stomach clenched in a hard pleasant knot.

"I want to see you," Weicheng said. "Everything. In the glass."

"You're a pervert."

"Yes."

He peeled the trousers and the shorts down and away.

Yichen was naked on a velvet bench in a room full of mirrors, with a fully dressed man between his knees.

His cock stood up flushed and heavy against his stomach.

Weicheng put his mouth on it without a word.

Yichen's back arched off the cushion.

It was wet and hot and slow.

Weicheng took him in with a calm skill that was somehow worse than hunger.

His tongue pressed up along the vein.

His hand cupped Yichen's balls and rolled them, and Yichen's own hand went into that short black hair and held on.

"Chairman, I'm going to..."

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