The Empress Dowager's Pulse Raced for the Palace Physician novel · Chapter 9 of 24

Chapter 9: Skin on Skin

Qinglan pushed Murong Yue down into the red silk of the phoenix bed and kissed her until neither of them could breathe.

The lamps were low.

Rain beat on the tiles over the bedchamber, soft and steady.

The long curtains had been drawn on all four sides so that the bed was a small red room with two women in it.

Both of them were naked.

Both of them had been naked for an hour, and neither had finished yet.

"Tonight," Qinglan said against her mouth, "I want to feel all of you."

"All of me is here."

"Then put your legs around me."

The Dowager's long white legs lifted, and wrapped around her hips.

Qinglan pressed down between them.

Their cunts met, wet to wet, and the shock of it went through both bodies at the same instant.

"Oh," said the Dowager.

"Oh," said Qinglan, in the same breath.

It was not the same as a hand, or a mouth.

It was soft, and slick, and hot, with the swollen lips of one woman sliding against the swollen lips of the other.

The little hard knots of their clits just brushing.

Qinglan rocked her hips.

The Dowager's head went back into the pillow.

"Again."

She did it again, slow and deep, dragging herself the whole length of the slick cleft and back.

"Qinglan. That is the strangest, the best."

"It's called grinding."

"It has a name?"

"Everything has a name." Qinglan kissed her throat. "Hold on to me."

The Dowager's arms came around her back, and her nails dug in, and Qinglan began to move in earnest.

She rolled her hips in slow rhythmic circles.

She pushed down hard, so that her clit pressed against the Dowager's, and ground them together, and felt the shudder run up both their spines.

The sound was wet, and obscene, and soft.

"I can feel you," whispered the Dowager. "Your heart, here, between my legs. It is beating."

"It's your heart too."

"It's all one." She was gasping. "I cannot tell which of us is which."

"I can." Qinglan lifted her head and looked down. "That one's you."

She slid her hand between their bodies and pressed two fingers against the Dowager's clit, in the little gap where their bodies met, and rubbed.

The Dowager cried out.

"That one's me," Qinglan said, and rolled her own clit over the Dowager's fingers.

They both moaned.

It was messy and slick, their thighs wet to the knee, and the red sheets were already soaked.

Qinglan lost count of the circles.

She found the Dowager's mouth and kissed it, and the Dowager kissed back with open hungry lips and caught her lower lip between her teeth.

"Faster," the Dowager breathed. "Faster, Doctor."

Qinglan sped up.

She braced her hands on either side of the Dowager's head and moved her hips.

Hard and fast, she pushed them together with each stroke.

The bed creaked.

The Dowager's breasts bounced under her, heavy and flushed.

Qinglan watched them, and watched her face, and watched the red mouth come open.

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