Burning Tigress (28 page)

The man paused, a hand pressed to his side as he gasped for breath. Truly, he did not look so good, but he nodded. "Well enough," he grunted. Then his eyes slid past them to the dark room. "Little Pearl?"

Charlotte could feel Ken Jin stiffen. "She has a poisoned heart. I will not speak with her..." His voice trailed away as the captain pushed past them, obviously not listening as he rushed inside. Charlotte gasped as the man brushed her arm, sending sparks of reaction through her body.

"You should go," the man called from the interior. "It is not safe here."

"This way," Ken Jin said as he gently guided her away. She wanted to ask about the large captain. She noticed other things, too: White sailors slipped past upper-story windows, a little girl watched from behind an ornamental bush. Clearly something very strange was happening at the Tigress school. But Charlotte had no chance to ask as Ken Jin took an unexpected turn and rushed her out a side gate to where his horse waited.

He mounted first, then drew her up into his lap. She clenched her teeth as he adjusted her. It took all her strength to tolerate the brush of fabric across her skin, the press of his body, the rhythm of the horse as they moved through the streets. All those sensations contributed to a frightening hunger that ate at her control. She wanted to be naked. She wanted to be stroked. She wanted to move and scream and convulse all at once.

Ken Jin's arm wrapped around her belly, pulling her tight against him. It felt wonderful—the hard press of bone, the heated musk that filled her nostrils and fogged her mind—and yet it was too little and too much. She wanted to scream with frustration at her own body grown alien.

"Try to hold still," he said against her neck, and she arched back just to press harder against him.

"I can't control it," she confessed.

"I know," he answered. "Only a few streets more. Hold on until then."

"Then what?" she gasped. She had not thought these feelings could get worse. She had not thought the sensation of a hard pommel against her flesh could make her insane. She could not think, she could only grit her teeth and endure. And want. And ache.

"Then I will be able to help you."

* * *

June 21, 1893

Honored Sir, Wen Ken Jin:

We are pleased to entertain your suit for Wen Jan Wan. Indeed, upon hearing of your suit, she gifted me with one of her most rare smiles.

Alas, the mood did not last. So great is the purity of her heart and so tender her spirit that she weeps at the pitiful state of her family. How can she wear finery when her cousins wear rags? How can she dine on pork and thousand-year-old eggs, when her parents share one bowl of rice?

If such a state continues, I fear the goodness within her will force her to refuse your suit. Such a burden it is to raise a virtuous daughter.

In grave fear,

Wen Feng Jin

~

June 30, 1893

To the Wen patriarch, honored Wen Feng Jin:

Please accept this small token of my esteem. I have such happiness in my heart from my betrothal that I cannot resist sharing my bounty with others.

With much joy,

Wen Ken Jin

(Attached, three sacks of rice, three of flour, three bolts of silk, and three lacquered chests, each containing three ingots of gold.)

Heavenly Pond (PI):

Location: One thumb-width outside the nipple

Benefits: Holding this point nurtures the spirit in the heart, increases sexual intimacy and cultivates the expression of love.

Acupressure for Lovers

Michael Reed Gach, Ph.D.

Chapter 11

The first thing she would do was strip naked. The heat was unbearable. Her shift chafed, and her drawers were wet with... They were wet. Charlotte clamped her jaw shut rather than release a moan of frustration.

"Why did you go there?" Ken Jin's voice started a shiver in her belly—not strong enough to be satisfying, and yet delicious nonetheless. She closed her eyes to better appreciate the sensation.

"Charlotte," he repeated, louder this time. "Why did you go to the school?"

The low tremor continued, but she could tell Ken Jin would insist on an answer. She sighed. "I wanted to understand."

"What?"

She'd known he would ask that, but she was plying for time. She needed to understand herself before she tried to explain it to him. "Why does Little Pearl hate you so much?"

They arrived at a stable that served Ken Jin's nearby apartments. He dismounted and quickly tossed the reins and a coin to a stable boy. Then he turned and grabbed her waist to lift her down. She went willingly, anxious to get inside, happy to experience his large hands around her waist and the slide of his body against hers as she leaned into him.

"Keep your head down," he said.

She knew without being told. It was broad daylight, and she had no wish to be seen alone with him in such a manner. The gossip could be easily turned aside, of course; he was her family's First Boy and well known as her companion on a variety of shopping trips. Plus, they were in that rare area of Shanghai that housed both Chinese and white. But this was no marketplace, so the fewer people who saw her, the better.

He clearly understood the danger, because he grabbed a cloak off a nearby peg and surrounded her with it. The fabric was coarse and smelled of horse, but it covered her from head to toe. She held the hood close to her face for all that it made her sneeze and her skin itch, and soon they were walking quickly down the back alley and to a blocklike building.

"Third floor," he said as he pushed her inside.

She went quickly, her teeth clenched against the tingles that sparked all over her body as she moved. No one was about as they climbed the stairs, so she threw off her hood and began unfastening the cloak. He had the door open and pushed her inside before she had it completely off. Then she was finally able to strip off the heaviest of her clothing. Her hands were shaking, but no less efficient as she dropped cloak and tunic with desperate speed. Ken Jin shut and locked the door, then crossed to a nearby table. Tepid water splashed into two teacups as she released her sweaty hair from its pins and shook it out.

"Drink," he ordered.

Charlotte swallowed it without tasting, then waited impatiently as he passed her the second cup. When had she gotten so thirsty? And why was it still so hot?

He opened a window—the only one in the flat—and a soft breeze stirred the air. But it wasn't enough, so she set down her empty teacup and stripped off her shift. He had already seen everything; modesty now would be ridiculous.

She sighed in delight as a cool breeze caressed her skin. Her nipples puckered, and she barely restrained herself from stepping up to the window to feel its full effect. Instead, she distracted herself by looking about his apartment. It was smaller than she expected, given his position. Most First Boys had lavish homes separate from their employers. They lived like kings in huge mansions. Ken Jin lived in a tiny third-floor apartment.

It was extremely clean, sparse. The sitting room sported large cushions on the floor beside a washstand, and another table with a lamp. A very large and strange piece of art occupied the rest of the room. It looked like two rounded mountains, one much shorter than the other. The piece was only about a foot deep, and the top had a flat surface completely covered by a long silk cushion. Tilting her head, she decided the mountain image did not fit. It was more like a large letter B lying flat on its back, though the top mound was half the size of the bottom. She stared a moment longer, still puzzling, when she heard Ken Jin in the other room. It was his bedroom, she knew, his private place, but she could not resist following him into it to see.

It was as bare as the sitting room, with a bed and a wash area next to an open trunk. Inside the chest lay clothing, books, and letters. Personal letters, it looked like. Was that an imperial seal? She stepped closer, but Ken Jin was before her, kicking the lid closed with a quick snap of his foot.

Beyond those items and a few pairs of shoes, a large, low flat bed dominated the room. Clearly, this was where Ken Jin had spent his money. Stunning silk pillows were settled atop a silk-embroidered blanket. The fabric was green, the stitching quite detailed. It showed a mountain scene with waterfalls and mists and trees. Throughout the landscape, people wandered or reclined. She narrowed her eyes. No, they weren't reclining. They were...

Her eyes widened. They were coupling. In a great variety of ways. And the groups were not limited to couples. Charlotte leaned down. She even went to her knees to look closer. This was as educational as the sacred scrolls. Perhaps even more so.

She heard Ken Jin behind her. He was stripping off his own shirt and washing his upper body. She heard the splash of water and the muted violence in his movements. He was still very angry, and she was still very warm just thinking of his rescue. What would have happened if he hadn't come looking for her?

She closed her eyes and straightened from the bed. She didn't want to look at other couples right then. It was making her belly jump, and she felt agitated enough. Searching for some way to distract herself from her erotic thoughts, she returned to the one question that could hold her attention.

"Why does Little Pearl hate you?"

He was naked to the waist—just like her—and water glistened across his flat torso from his ablutions. She stared at a sparkling droplet that trembled on his nipple. She couldn't stop herself; she reached out and touched it, spreading it around in a circle across the hard pebble of his flesh. He didn't respond, didn't even move, but she felt a change in the air, a sudden tension that deepened the color of his eyes.

"I wasn't careful with her," he finally ground out, and it took a moment for Charlotte to remember they were talking about Little Pearl.

"She was your partner? In the practice?"

"Yes."

Charlotte had stepped closer to him. Now she grabbed his abandoned washcloth with one hand and wet it in the basin before returning it to his chest. He didn't flinch as the wet cotton dripped across his right shoulder, but he put a hand out to steady her hip. Or to steady himself. Either way, he made no objection as she trailed the cloth across his collarbone, then lower, across and around each hard nipple.