The Concubine Who Was Supposed to Die in Chapter Three novel · Chapter 5 of 24

Chapter 5: Hot Spring

Steam hung under the paper roof of the Pavilion bath.

The spring was a basin of black stone sunk into the floor.

The water was the temperature of a held breath.

Zhiyao sat on the submerged step with the water at her collarbones.

Across the pool, the Emperor leaned against the ledge with his arms spread along the stone.

His chest was bare above the surface.

Droplets slid down his scars.

"You're staring," Ji Wuyan said.

"I'm admiring the architecture."

"Come here and admire it up close."

"No," Zhiyao said. "You come here."

He crossed the pool in three long strokes, and the water broke around his waist.

She put a hand on his chest and pushed.

He let her.

He sat on the stone ledge at the edge of the spring, with his feet in the water.

His thighs were spread, and one eyebrow was raised.

She had not asked him to.

She had not needed to.

"Last night," she said. "You made me come on a desk."

"I remember."

"I'd like to return the favor."

His breath caught.

"You don't have to."

"I know," she said. "I want to."

She slid forward along the step until she knelt between his knees with the warm water lapping at her ribs.

He was already hard.

His cock stood thick and flushed against his stomach, the head dark and wet.

A vein ran up the underside.

She wrapped one hand around the base and heard him inhale sharply.

"Nobody has ever done this," he said.

She looked up.

"Ever?"

"Not once. They were all afraid to." His voice was rough. "And I never asked."

"Are you asking now?"

His jaw worked.

"Zhiyao."

"Say it. Use words."

"Put your mouth on me," said the Emperor.

It was not a command.

It sounded like a prayer from a man who had never been taught how to pray.

She leaned in and licked a slow, wet stripe from the base to the tip.

He made a sound she hadn't heard from him before, a low broken grunt.

His hands closed into fists on the stone.

She closed her lips around the head and sucked.

He tasted clean and salty and warm, and she felt him twitch against her tongue.

"Fuck," he whispered.

It was the first curse she had heard from him.

She smiled around him and took him deeper.

She could take about half.

She stroked the rest with her fist, in time with her mouth.

Her tongue slid along the vein on every pull.

Above her, the Emperor's breathing turned ragged.

"Zhiyao... I..."

"Put your hand in my hair."

His fingers slid into her short hair and rested there, trembling.

"Hold on," she said, pulling off. "It's fine. You can hold on."

His grip tightened.

She went back down.

The weight of his hand on her head set off a slow heat low in her belly.

So did the sounds he was making.

She hollowed her cheeks, sucked on the upstroke, and swirled her tongue around the crown.

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