Burning Tigress (30 page)

She leaned forward, but he held her hips still, so she settled for dropping a kiss on his nose. "You cannot steal what is given freely." Then, because he would not allow her to do more, she disentangled and moved away from him. Her legs still trembled, but they had enough strength to bear her up while she discarded her torn pants. Then she was gloriously naked. How freeing it was to stand without shame while the afternoon breeze whispered across her skin.

"You understand?" His tone held awe and confusion.

"Of course I do."

"But... aren't you angry?"

She shrugged. "I stole your yang. It's only fair I replenish you."

She heard him shift on the chair and twisted slightly to see him settle in the valley between the two mounds. "But what you did was unintentional. What I do—"

"I give it to you, Ken Jin. You have already given me so much." She didn't have the words to explain how she felt when she was with him: daring, vital, and so free. She extended her arms and threw back her head. Without even knowing why, she spun around in a circle, laughing as the world twisted about her. She moved faster and faster, loving the way her hair flew out behind her, how the air blew through the wet tendrils. She was alive. She was happy, and she felt fabulous. With Ken Jin beside her, her earlier fears seemed like nothing: a dark smoke cloud easily blown away by her Dragon lover. Her laughter spun out from her, on and on and on until she could no longer stand. She fell. Without grace, without beauty, she simply collapsed in an ungainly heap upon the floor; and still she laughed.

It took a while to catch her breath. A long while, because she still giggled. Her entire body shivered with sheer joy at being free. But eventually her heartbeat steadied, her breath slowed, and silence returned. In the street, she could hear the distant market: cries of hawkers, the chatter of Chinese women bargaining. She heard the laughter of a child, the sharp bark of a dog, and somewhere the low drone of the coolie
ah-ho
chant. But inside, there was silence and peace, until Ken Jin spoke.

"I was wrong."

She opened her eyes, then twisted around to find him. When she did, she stilled. His eyes were dark, his body tense, and a strange energy filled the air as he stared at her.

"Ken Jin?"

"You are not beautiful," he said. "You are...
celestial."
He said the last word in Chinese, and she had to struggle to remember its meaning.

"Ken Jin—"

"You are a goddess come to Earth. That is why you ascended so easily. That is why—"

Her laughter filled the room. It rolled out of her. She could not stop it; she couldn't even try. She looked away and held her sides. She tried to recover her breath, but whenever she opened her eyes and saw him staring at her with such bewilderment, she began to chortle again.

"Goddess..." he began again, then dropped to the floor beside her, his expression so earnest. "Goddess, please—"

"No, Ken Jin. Oh, stop, please." Her laughter rekindled, but this time she had better control of it. She bit her lip and kept the joy inside until she could breathe, until she could roll on her side and look at him. "Ken Jin, you are the only man I know who could look at a naked wanton on the floor and think she's a goddess." Then the meaning of what she'd just said sank in, and the joy faded.

Was she a slut? She knew the answer, and she shied away from it.

Ken Jin had captured her hand. "The Chinese believe in goddesses, Miss Charlotte. You might call them angels."

"I'm no angel."

"They come to Earth to bring enlightenment to mortal men—"

"I haven't brought anything to anyone—"

"And they must, of course, deny their identity for fear of capture."

"No one wants me, Ken Jin. Men come close, but then they disappear again. I let them go because of William. He needs me more than I need a husband, and besides, most of them are idiots anyway. But the truth is that no one has ever pursued me. Why else would I..." She stopped speaking, but her thoughts continued. Why else would she become a slut? True, she still had the idea of helping William. She still wanted to speak with his angelic soul. She still intended a lot of things, but deep down, she knew the truth.

She acted the slut because she was lonely, because no one other than a forced First Boy wanted her. And because she'd found she liked acting this way. She sighed, her joy completely gone, buried by shame. She knew she'd chosen this path. She had been aware every step of the way, and in truth, she didn't regret what she'd done.

And yet, shame still crept inside. Shame and guilt. After all, she wasn't at home teaching William, was she? She wasn't writing out menus or counting linens or even settling household accounts. She was here, in Ken Jin's apartments, indulging in her own pleasures while hoping—pretending?—that it would help her brother in the end.

Grimacing in distaste, she pushed herself upright and sat before Ken Jin. They were eye to eye, but her gaze sank lower to his thick, erect dragon. Here, at least, was something she could think about, something she
wanted
to think about.

"Do you have enough yang yet?" she asked. He didn't move, and she could sense his puzzlement. She rephrased her question. "Have we replenished your stores? Do you have enough to go to Heaven like I did?"

He shook his head slowly. "I spent many years purifying my qi. It does not come back in a single day."

She nodded. That made sense. "Which means," she said as she reached out to him. "That we had better get back to it."

He stopped her halfway, gripping her wrist with a firm hand, though his gaze was gentle. "What do you want, Miss Charlotte?"

"First of all? For you to call me Char."

He nodded. "What is it that you want, Char?"

She looked into his eyes. He still thought her a goddess, she realized with shock. He actually believed it. And in his confused Chinese mind, he was actually asking her what her mission was on Earth. She shook her head at his bizarre culture. Imagine, thinking angels could be on Earth! To believe that divine creatures would come down to have sex with mortals for some celestial purpose, that...

She smiled. Why not? Why couldn't it be true? Especially if sexual power was the fuel that launched one to Heaven, then how else would enlightenment come except through sex with a heavenly creature? Not that she believed she was an angel. Far from it. But that he could think it made her cherish him even more.

"I want to help you," she said. "But you must tell me how."

She watched him swallow as he thought. Then, with a slight nod to her, he released her wrist and stood. She followed him, gaining her feet as he stripped away the last of his clothing. Soon he stood before her completely naked.

She had seen William naked, of course. Her brother was often completely unaware of his state of dress when he dashed about the house. But Ken Jin was different. He knew she was looking at him. He knew she was filling her mind with the sight of his lean frame, his broad shoulders as they flowed into the smooth contours of a muscular chest. His waist was narrow, his hips jutting only slightly above corded thighs. And as she looked, his dragon flushed a darker red and pushed out of its sheath.

She extended her hand to brush the side of her index finger along the dragon's back—the tight skin closest to her. It was cooler than she'd expected, and the skin felt soft, moving slightly with her as she drew her finger up toward the dragon's mouth.

She glanced at Ken Jin's face, wanting to know what he thought when she touched him. How did it feel? Was his heart beating as fast as hers? Was his breath shallow with heat? There was no expression on his face, only a studied blankness though his gaze flickered when she met it.

"Tell me how this feels to you," she whispered.

She watched him nod. Then he spoke, his voice thick and low. "My dragon strains for you. It pulses with my blood." True to his words, his dragon surged upward, rearing toward her before dropping back against her finger. She raised her other hand and placed it on his chest. Closing her eyes, she felt the taut muscles beneath her fingers, but also the deeper rise and fall of his breath and the hard beat of his heart.

Farther down, she extended her finger to caress from the base of his dragon to the wrinkled pouch of skin below. She cupped the two round shapes inside, feeling their weight and size. Then she rolled them around a bit, ending with a slight squeeze just to see his reaction. He said nothing, but his heartbeat accelerated.

"Those are the dragon pearls," he said, his voice a low rumble by her ear.

She looked up at him, drawing back just enough to see his eyes. She could hear that his breath was shallow, but she wanted to know if his eyes still looked at her with awe. They did, but there was something else as well—an intense hunger that caught the breath in her lungs and quickened the beat of her own heart.

"You look like a Dragon," she said.

"And you are holding me as a Tigress."

She grinned at his statement and grew bolder. Opening her hand slightly, she abandoned his pearls with a caress. Then she drew upward, sliding her grip along his jade stem. She watched his nostrils flare, but she heard nothing over the roar of her own blood. She had not realized touching him would be so exciting.

Her hand flowed upward. Her palm skimmed the underside of his dragon, and she watched as he closed his eyes, his breath suffering its first hitch. "That is the dragon's belly," he murmured. "It is sensitive to the lightest touch."

She paused to play there a moment. Twisting her hand, she felt the ridges of his dragon's skin, even lifted it slightly and felt an answering pulse in his dragon.

"The yang grows stronger," he said. "Can you feel it?"

She closed her eyes, trying to focus on his dragon. Not just the shape, but the temperature, the texture, and his qi energy. "I feel your heat." It wasn't a physical thing. In truth, his skin was still cool. But there was a power that enveloped her hand—the back as well as the front—and seemed to surround all of Ken Jin, not just his dragon.

She pressed her lips to his neck without even realizing she had leaned in so close. The sensation against her mouth echoed what she felt with her hand: smooth skin, a trembling heartbeat, and the tingle of power against her lips. She smiled. With her face pressed against him, she could add two more delights: the musky scent of his body and the tangy taste of his skin.

She drew her hand up to the very top of his sex.

"That is my dragon's head," he said, and this time his voice trembled. "It has ridges, a crown, and a mouth that weeps with desire."

She felt it all. She traced the ridge, even pulled the sheath back to better explore. Then she followed the center line up to his dragon's mouth. "It's so smooth," she murmured, surprised by the silky feel of taut skin.

"That is so the attention centers on the mouth."

She had found it: the tip that she could open and close with the lightest of pressure. Moisture leaked out, and she smoothed it around. "I saw pictures in the scrolls," she said. "Of women—of Tigresses—tasting the dragon. It's what I wanted to learn from the very beginning."

He nodded. "There is a position on the dragon chair that would make it more comfortable for us both."

She straightened, intrigued. "Show me."

He moved slowly, almost stiffly, and she flashed on an image of a dragon moving awkwardly over land. His natural habitat was the air. The image fled as Ken Jin lay down on the chair, his head supported by the smaller mountain, his legs spread to either side of the larger, and in the middle, his dragon pushed high and proud. Charlotte went to his side, kneeling down beside him, but he extended his hand to stop her.

"The Tigress crouches above. The Dragon flies from below," he said.

She didn't understand, so he gestured to the area above his face.

"You must mount here, as if you were climbing upon a horse."

"There?" But that would mean her pleasure grotto would be just above his face. She gasped as she understood. "Of course. Then my hands are down there." By his hips and his dragon.

He said nothing, merely waited for her decision. There was no question. She wanted to do this, but the position seemed so very open. Then she envisioned how she would be crouching, and felt a surge of power. There was a dominance in the position, a kind of primitive strength.

"I am a Tigress," she said out loud.

"You are much, much more," he answered.

She didn't wait for him to explain. She quickly mounted. With her legs straight, even straddled as they were, she could stand well above his mouth. Then, when she leaned over, she felt almost as if she were flicking a tail in the air. It was exciting, this role as a Tigress. She felt invigorated.

He put his hands on her upper thighs to brace her. She trembled. He was a strong man; she knew he could easily support her weight. But she didn't want to press down on him, so she leaned forward. The very tip of her nipples flowed across his belly, and she gasped as the familiar sparks of yin fire warmed her blood.

Then she was directly in front of it: his dragon. It stretched out for her. There was a scent to it—male, musky—and a taste of smooth salt. She felt his hands quiver as she explored his tip with her tongue. There wasn't enough width to the mountain chair for her to rest her hands anywhere but on him. So as her back began to ache, she shaped his hips with her palms, then began to slide forward. She bent her elbows and let her breasts press into his heated flesh. Her hands slid to the base of his dragon, her forearms slipped across his thighs, opening them wider. And while she slid her tongue past his tip, around the dragon's head, her legs relaxed even more and he began to kiss her cinnabar cave.