The Goddess Who Sealed Him Is His Maid Now novel · Chapter 3 of 24
Chapter 3: First Night
Luan told the Sovereign to take her to bed, and with his mouth, his hands and her own wanting she lost her virginity and said his name; at dawn he stepped over the Boundary line for the first time in nine hundred years.
She came before the Hai bell, and she shot the bolt on the inside of the door herself.
Cangjue stood by the bed with his robe already open and his hands hanging at his sides.
He didn't say a word.
He was waiting to be asked.
"I thought about it all day," Luan said. "I washed forty sheets and thought about it."
"And?"
"And I haven't changed my mind."
She untied her white sash and let it drop.
She unfastened the grey-green robe at the collar and let it slide off her shoulders and down her arms.
Nobody had ever seen her bare before, not even the other maids.
She stood in the red lamplight in her undershift, and then she took that off, too.
His eyes went over her slowly.
They moved from the mole under her eye to her full soft breasts, her waist, and the dark hair between her thighs.
The thread on his chest flared gold.
"Gods," he said, very low.
"Say what you see."
"A woman I'd kneel for."
"Then kneel."
He went down on one knee in front of her.
It wasn't an order and he knew it wasn't, and still he did it, with his crimson eyes lifted to her face.
His hands closed around her hips and he pressed his mouth to her belly.
She shivered.
His lips moved down, over the soft skin below her navel, and she put her fingers into his black hair and held on.
"On the bed," he said into her skin. "Please."
She lay back on the black silk.
He knelt between her thighs and spread her knees wide with his huge hands, and he looked at her for a long, slow moment.
"You're beautiful here," he said. "Pink and wet and swollen. Look how much you want me."
"Stop talking and put your mouth on me."
He laughed against her inner thigh.
Then he did.
His tongue dragged up the whole length of her, slow and flat and hot, and she cried out and arched off the bed.
He did it again.
He circled her clit with the tip of his tongue, and then he sucked, gently, and her heels dug into the mattress.
"Cangjue."
His hands slid under her ass and lifted her to his mouth.
He ate her.
She pulled his hair, and he groaned into her and the sound went through her whole body.
His tongue pushed inside her, then back to her clit, then inside again, a rhythm she couldn't follow, and she stopped trying.
The thread had wound itself around her ankle and her waist, glowing so brightly that the room was gold.
"Look at me," he said.
She looked down.
His mouth was wet and his eyes were burning, and he held her gaze while he licked her slowly, again and again.
"I'm going to come," she gasped.
"Come on my mouth."
She came with a shout, her thighs clamped around his head, her hands in his hair, her whole body shaking apart.
He didn't stop.
He licked her through it, softer and softer, until she pushed at his shoulders, laughing and breathless.
"Enough. I want you inside me."
He lifted his head.
His chin was shining.
"You're sure."
"I told you last night I'd be sure with my whole head. This is my whole head."
She sat up and pushed at the shoulders of his robe, and it slid down his arms and fell.
He was magnificent.
Broad chest, hard stomach, a dozen old scars, the gold thread glowing through the middle of him.
And his cock, thick and flushed, standing up hard from a thatch of black hair.
She wrapped her hand around it.
He hissed through his teeth, and his head dropped back.
"Luan."
"On your back."
He lay back across the black silk, and she climbed over him on her knees.
Her thighs were slick.
She held his cock upright in her hand and rubbed the wet head of it through her folds.
She watched his stomach tighten.
"Tell me when," he said, his voice cracking.
"Now."
She sank down onto him.
It stung.
It was a hot, stretched, sharp feeling, and she stopped halfway, breathing through her teeth.
His hands came to her hips and did not push.
"Don't move," she said.
"I won't."
"Don't you dare."
She took a breath, and another.
Then she pushed down the rest of the way.
The sting turned into a deep, full ache.
She sat on him with her thighs trembling and him buried all the way inside her.
They both groaned.
"Gods, you're tight," he said. "You feel like the sky."
She laughed, a short, wild sound.
"Don't say that," she said, and didn't know why.
"Why not?"
"Never mind."
She rolled her hips.
It was a small movement, and it dragged his cock over something inside her that made her whole body light up.
She did it again.
"Oh," she said.
"Like that?"
"Like that."
She began to ride him.
Slowly at first, learning him, her hands braced on his chest, her breasts swaying.
He watched her with a kind of awe, his hands sliding up her ribs and cupping her breasts, thumbs rubbing over her hard nipples.
"Faster?" he asked.
"Don't ask. Take your hands and hold my hips."
He held her.
She went faster, rising and dropping, and the slap of their bodies filled the room.
The thread burned brighter with every stroke.
It glowed on the ceiling and down the walls, and it pulsed.
She felt it in her own empty chest, a faint, far-off knock.
Like someone knocking on a door from the other side.
"Cangjue, I can feel it."
"Feel what?"
"I don't know."
His hips rose to meet her, and the next time she came down, he hit her so deep she saw stars.
"There," she said. "Right there. Don't stop."
"I've got you. Ride me. Take it."
Her second orgasm gathered quickly.
It rose up through her thighs and her belly.
She threw her head back and rode him harder, and he held her so tightly his fingers bruised.
"Come with me," she said. "I want to feel you."
"Luan."
"Now."
She came with a long, broken cry, clenching around him.
He groaned and thrust up into her, and she felt him pulse deep inside her.
She collapsed onto his chest.
His arms came around her.
They lay there, sweating and shaking, his heart pounding under her ear, the gold light fading slowly from the walls.
"You didn't hurt me," she said at last.
"I tried not to."
"You didn't try that hard."
He laughed, and she felt it in her belly where they were still joined.
She tipped her head up.
"Again," she said.
He stared.
"Luan, you're a virgin."
"I was a virgin an hour ago."
"You'll be sore."
"Then I'll be sore tomorrow."
He pulled out of her slowly, and she felt the loss of him at once.
"Turn over," he said. "If you want it again. On your knees."
She did, and she liked how it sounded when she did it.
She knelt on the black silk with her face in the pillow and her hips high, and the lamplight touched everything he had made wet.
He ran one hand down her spine.
"Look at you," he said, rough. "Pink from my mouth, and still open for me."
"Stop looking and fuck me."
He gripped her hips and pushed into her in one long stroke.
She cried out into the pillow.
It was deeper this way.
It filled her so completely that she felt it in her throat.
When he began to move, the slow hard drag of him made her sob his name.
"Harder."
"You'll be sore."
"I said harder."
He gave it to her.
His hips slammed against her ass, the bed knocked against the wall, and the nine iron chains overhead swung and rang.
One of his hands slid around her hip and between her legs and found her clit.
"Come for me again," he said. "Let me feel you."
"I can't."
"You can. You will."
His fingers circled her, quick and sure, and her whole body drew tight around him.
She came with a scream that she muffled in the silk, and her knees gave way.
He held her up by the hips and drove into her.
He groaned and spilled deep inside her, with his forehead against her back.
They fell onto the bed in a tangle.
For a long time neither could speak.
"You're mine," he said at last into her hair, and she could hear that he hadn't meant to say it aloud.
She should have fought that.
Instead she turned her head on the pillow.
"For now," she said. "For as long as I want."
"For as long as you want."
"Say it properly."
"Yours," he said hoarsely. "I'm yours, Luan. As long as you want me."
Afterward she lay curled against his side with his hand stroking her hair.
Neither of them slept.
At dawn he stood up and pulled on his robe.
"Come," he said.
He led her barefoot down the hundred and four steps and through the sleeping courtyards.
They came to the gate of the Palace of Nine Chains.
A white stone line ran across the threshold.
For nine hundred years, every time he had set a foot on it, the thread had dragged him back and left him on his knees.
He stopped in front of it.
Luan took his hand.
"It will pull you," she said.
"I know."
He stepped over the line.
Nothing happened.
The thread on his chest went slack.
A hand's width of gold slid out of his skin and lay in the snow, loose and warm.
He looked down at it.
He did not move.
"It let me," he said.
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