Two Jilted Tycoons Married at the Scene novel · Chapter 3 of 24
Chapter 3: Public Only
Alone in the penthouse, a rehearsal for his mother's breakfast turns into the first time their hands break clause seven, and Fang ends it with a taunt.
Lu Zhenyu's penthouse had a view of the whole river and almost no furniture.
Fang stood in the middle of the grey living room holding one duffel bag.
Wen's driver had fetched it from his flat, and he looked for somewhere to put it.
"Your room is the second on the left," said Lu. "It has a lock."
"Why would I need a lock?"
"Clause eight."
Lu's phone buzzed on the glass table, and he read the screen and handed it over.
The message read: Breakfast tomorrow, eight o'clock, the old house. Bring your husband. Look married. Mother.
"She hasn't met me," Fang said.
"She has read about you since seven this morning," said Lu. "She is not pleased."
"I'll bring her dumplings," Fang said.
"You will bring yourself, and you will not bring dumplings."
"Your mother, I can take. I've charmed port inspectors," Fang said.
He rubbed his neck.
"But if she sees me flinch when you touch me, we're done."
Lu set the phone down.
"I agree," he said. "We should practice."
"Practice what?"
"Looking like people who have done it before."
Fang laughed once, loud, and it died when Lu did not.
"Study," said Lu. "It has a door."
The study was dark, with the river's lights across one wall and a long desk with nothing on it.
Lu shut the door and leaned on it.
"You kissed me on the steps," he said. "I didn't have to do anything."
"I kissed you for the cameras," Fang said.
"Then kiss me for the cameras," said Lu.
"There's no camera."
"I have never needed one," said Lu.
Fang crossed the room, because if he had stopped to think he would have turned around.
He took hold of the black coat again and Lu's hands settled on his waist.
The first kiss was slow and exact and he hated that it worked.
The second had teeth in it.
Lu's mouth opened and Fang's tongue went in.
The dry controlled man made a low sound in his throat that was not controlled at all.
Fang walked him back against the door.
"You're shaking," Lu said against his mouth.
"I'm angry."
"Good."
"You're hard," Fang said.
"Yes."
"Since when?"
"Since I took the vase out of your hands," said Lu. "And you did not pull away."
Fang's whole body flushed.
Lu pushed him around by the hip until his back was to the door.
A knee slid between his legs, and Fang heard himself groan.
"Tell me to stop," said Lu, and his hand was already at Fang's belt. "I'll stop."
"Don't you dare."
The belt opened. The zip came down.
Lu's palm closed round Fang's cock, over his shorts and then under them, and it was big and warm and sure.
"Oh, fuck," said Fang.
"Loud," said Lu, almost fondly. "Keep it for later."
"I'm not loud."
"You are the loudest man I have ever met."
He stroked slow, from the root to the head.
Then he rolled his thumb through the wet at the tip, and Fang's head knocked back against the wood.
"Lu Zhenyu," Fang said.
"Yes."
"Do it properly," Fang gasped.
"This is what proper looks like," said Lu.
He twisted at the top, and slowed, and did it again.
Fang's hips snapped forward into his fist without asking his permission.
He was gasping now, noisily, with both hands flat on the door beside Lu's shoulders.
Lu watched his face with an absorbed dark attention that made every stroke worse.
"Look at me."
Fang looked.
The steel watch was cold against his belly and the hand around him was hot.
Lu's eyes did not leave his.
"Nobody has ever made you slow down," Lu said quietly.
"Shut up."
"Nobody has made you wait until you begged."
"I won't beg," Fang said, and his voice cracked.
"You will."
Lu's grip tightened, and he sped up, and then he stopped completely, with his thumb pressed under the head.
Fang cried out.
"Say it," said Lu.
"Fuck you."
"Close."
"Please," said Fang, furious. "Please, you bastard, move."
Lu moved.
He jerked him fast and hard, and Fang's thighs shook.
Fang got a hand into the front of Lu's coat for balance.
His knuckles found the hot solid length of Lu's cock through the black trousers.
"Take it out," Fang breathed.
"Ask nicely."
"Take it out, Zhenyu."
It was the first time he had said the name.
Lu's breath caught, audibly.
Lu got himself free with his other hand, and Fang closed his fist round him, heavy and hot and slick at the head.
They stood forehead to forehead, jerking each other off against the study door.
The river lights ran over their shoulders.
Fang was first, with a long wrecked shout, and his come hit Lu's shirt and wrist in hot stripes.
Lu followed a moment later, with his teeth set in Fang's lip.
His cock pulsed in Fang's palm, thick and wet.
They hung there, panting, in the dark.
Lu's hand was still on him, slick and slow.
Fang knocked it away and wiped his own hand on the black coat, deliberately.
He did up his belt.
His knees were not entirely reliable, and he made his voice carry anyway.
"Public only, Mr. Lu," he said. "Is there a camera in here?"
Lu leaned his head back against the door.
His hair was disordered and his mouth was red, and for a moment he looked twenty-five.
"Noted," he said.
Fang let himself out and locked the door of the second room on the left behind him.
He did not sleep.
At six he was still on his back, listening to the shower run in the other bathroom.
He wondered whether he could survive eleven months of it.
The apartment phone buzzed in the hall.
He opened the door and heard the doorman's voice come through the speaker, thin and nervous.
"Mr. Lu? Madam Lu is in the lobby. She says she's early."
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