Chapter 286 — Reunion
Purple Streets of Chang'an · Page 2 of 4
Dou Yan was truly uncomfortable. She turned over, her back to Song Yan, exposing her left shoulder.
The silk quilt slipped away, revealing skin as delicate as if it might break at a breath, and the gracefully curved lines of her back.
The cold air rushed in all at once.
Dou Chi shuddered and hastily pulled the quilt up to her chin. Then, belatedly, it came back to her that she seemed to be lying there stark naked... The memories of the day before grew clearer and clearer.
The swollen fullness of Song Yan entering her body... the tingling numbness when he took her earlobe between his lips... the tender, lingering softness of his whispered words... all of it turned to hot breath against her face, making her cheeks burn hotter still. And so she never noticed how Song Yan froze for a moment when her snowy skin was revealed, nor how his eyes had darkened ever deeper. She felt only that Song's hands were very gentle, deft and strong, pressing her shoulders with just the right weight, so comfortable she nearly cried out—and so comfortable that Dou Yan, who had hardly slept a wink all night, was overcome by a heavy drowsiness.
Just as she was about to fall asleep, Song's hands slipped from her shoulders down to the peach-soft swell of her breasts...
Dou Chi gave a start and came fully awake.
"Don't!" She tried with some difficulty to push his hand away. "I'm a little tired..." But he took the chance to pull her back into his arms from behind.
Dou Yan felt a flicker of unease.
Last night... the relentless, exquisite intensity had left her body somewhat parched, and Song, still unsatisfied, was like a master musician, coaxing her body back to warmth and moisture... That sense of being utterly mastered, her every emotion under his control, that extremity of being borne from life to death and from death back to life—she had never known anything like it. Yet even so, she could sense his inexperience from the force he occasionally failed to rein in, and so she could not bring herself to reproach him for his recklessness. And besides, this was only the second time they had shared a bed since their wedding... Even now, thinking back on it, she felt a lingering trace of dread.
Song Yan plainly did not see it that way.
He loved the dazed look in Dou Yan's eyes when she was lost in pleasure, loved the way she clung tightly to him in the throes of passion, loved her sweet, low moans...
Song Yan could not resist taking Dou Yan's round earlobe between his teeth. "Shouyuan, did you miss me?" His hand traced downward along the exquisite, mountain-and-valley curves of her body. "I missed you terribly... The bed in the duty room is narrow and hard, and the bedding always carries a musty smell that no amount of sunning will drive out... I love the fragrance of your skin, faint and delicate—jasmine, and something like a hosta flower... and also..." His voice dropped low, and his hand deftly found the little red bean hidden in her flower's heart, rolling and kneading it now hard, now soft, "like layered ranges of green hills... it makes a man unable to keep from wondering what lies at the end of the mountain path..."
With a boom, Dou Yan felt herself catch fire from head to toe.
No wonder he always campaigned without cease.
"Song Yantang, you had better hold your tongue!" She felt sure she must look like a shrimp dropped into a pan of hot oil, red all over.
Song Yan looked at her flustered, mortified expression and felt his heart brim with delight. He laughed softly at her ear. "Shouyuan, you don't know—every time I touch you there, your whole body trembles... Even there, no exception..."
Was this the poised and dignified Song Yan?
Was this the cold and aloof Song Yan?
Who on earth would say such things aloud?
"You, you..." Dou Yan could not even find words.
Song Yan kissed her lips.
Soft as a feather.
Yet his body suddenly thrust into her from behind.