experience served to confuse her even more.
"What are you doing?" she gasped. Would there never be an end to this heat?
Then she felt something. Wet and cool—yet another sensation her disordered thoughts could not comprehend. What was it? She forced her thoughts to organize. She needed to gain some measure of control, and she used the sensation as her focal point. It took a moment for her to realize Ken Jin was stroking her with his tongue. He used the same pattern his thumb: around and up. Circles. No, more like a figure eight.
The air, wetness, and knowledge of what he was doing combined to cool the flash fire, but not put it out. "Ken Jin, this cannot be right—" She ended on a gasp as he stopped his figure eight. The point of his tongue stayed just where she wanted it, spiraling into a glorious pressure point. One moment... One moment more... But then he stopped and lifted himself away.
"Send your yin to me now, Miss Charlotte."
She nearly growled in frustration. She didn't even understand what this "yin" was.
"The heat," he pressed. "Send the fire to me."
The fire? The pulsating waves of flame that rolled not only through her skin, but in her belly, neck, and fingertips.
"Put a pillow over your face."
She blinked and lifted her head. The sight was most alarming. She was wide open. Ken Jin lay between her legs. And though his entire demeanor seemed distant—almost casual—his face showed something different. His eyes were dark and calm, and in this light, his expression seemed to contain something more: a secret knowledge, a wisdom that pervaded his every action. And so she obeyed him without comment.
She grabbed a pillow, but could not stop looking at him. She did not want to break eye contact.
"I will open the gate now," he said, glancing meaningfully at the pillow. She felt his thumbs pulling her open. "When the yin rushes, you might scream. You do not wish to wake William, do you?"
She shook her head.
"Then lie back and cover your mouth—and send your yin fire to me."
She did as she was told. She let her head drop back. The pillow smelled of lilac and starch, and the weight was hot upon her face. Ken Jin's tongue was circling around and around in the most amazing way. She tried to gather her thoughts. She mentally catalogued each little flame that seared her body. Was that yin? How was she supposed to send it to him?
It made no sense. In truth, she felt silly doing it. But his orders were too compelling to refuse, so she mentally commanded each little locus of heat to where he...
He began to suck, right at the top of his figure eight. His lips encircled all of the flesh and pulled. She felt a blockage there. She didn't understand any of it, and yet she knew there was something preventing the fire from crossing to the cool wetness of his tongue.
He pulled again. The heat was building exponentially behind the dam. Especially since she was trying to send all the other fires to it. Her neck tensed with steam. She ordered it to his mouth. Her shoulders burned. She sent it to his lips. Her belly caved to her spine as flames compressed her insides. She sent it to his tongue...
He sucked again. Harder this time. Charlotte clenched the sheets, drawing the cotton into crumpled knots that became torches in her fevered imagination. She sent the blazes down to him as well. She had to break through the barrier. She had to sear and burn and destroy all that separated her from him.
It worked! The barrier burst into flames and disappeared. Power flowed.
There was no warning trickle, no small flow that became large. The change was enormous: silent one moment, electrifying the next. A current pulled from the top of her hair, from the farthest reaches of her fingertips, her mouth, and her nipples—roaring through her. It sizzled and cracked through each restriction until there was nothing in its way.
Her belly contracted in orgasm, but it was more than just that. Her entire consciousness pulsed and pushed and
"What are you doing?" she gasped. Would there never be an end to this heat?
Then she felt something. Wet and cool—yet another sensation her disordered thoughts could not comprehend. What was it? She forced her thoughts to organize. She needed to gain some measure of control, and she used the sensation as her focal point. It took a moment for her to realize Ken Jin was stroking her with his tongue. He used the same pattern his thumb: around and up. Circles. No, more like a figure eight.
The air, wetness, and knowledge of what he was doing combined to cool the flash fire, but not put it out. "Ken Jin, this cannot be right—" She ended on a gasp as he stopped his figure eight. The point of his tongue stayed just where she wanted it, spiraling into a glorious pressure point. One moment... One moment more... But then he stopped and lifted himself away.
"Send your yin to me now, Miss Charlotte."
She nearly growled in frustration. She didn't even understand what this "yin" was.
"The heat," he pressed. "Send the fire to me."
The fire? The pulsating waves of flame that rolled not only through her skin, but in her belly, neck, and fingertips.
"Put a pillow over your face."
She blinked and lifted her head. The sight was most alarming. She was wide open. Ken Jin lay between her legs. And though his entire demeanor seemed distant—almost casual—his face showed something different. His eyes were dark and calm, and in this light, his expression seemed to contain something more: a secret knowledge, a wisdom that pervaded his every action. And so she obeyed him without comment.
She grabbed a pillow, but could not stop looking at him. She did not want to break eye contact.
"I will open the gate now," he said, glancing meaningfully at the pillow. She felt his thumbs pulling her open. "When the yin rushes, you might scream. You do not wish to wake William, do you?"
She shook her head.
"Then lie back and cover your mouth—and send your yin fire to me."
She did as she was told. She let her head drop back. The pillow smelled of lilac and starch, and the weight was hot upon her face. Ken Jin's tongue was circling around and around in the most amazing way. She tried to gather her thoughts. She mentally catalogued each little flame that seared her body. Was that yin? How was she supposed to send it to him?
It made no sense. In truth, she felt silly doing it. But his orders were too compelling to refuse, so she mentally commanded each little locus of heat to where he...
He began to suck, right at the top of his figure eight. His lips encircled all of the flesh and pulled. She felt a blockage there. She didn't understand any of it, and yet she knew there was something preventing the fire from crossing to the cool wetness of his tongue.
He pulled again. The heat was building exponentially behind the dam. Especially since she was trying to send all the other fires to it. Her neck tensed with steam. She ordered it to his mouth. Her shoulders burned. She sent it to his lips. Her belly caved to her spine as flames compressed her insides. She sent it to his tongue...
He sucked again. Harder this time. Charlotte clenched the sheets, drawing the cotton into crumpled knots that became torches in her fevered imagination. She sent the blazes down to him as well. She had to break through the barrier. She had to sear and burn and destroy all that separated her from him.
It worked! The barrier burst into flames and disappeared. Power flowed.
There was no warning trickle, no small flow that became large. The change was enormous: silent one moment, electrifying the next. A current pulled from the top of her hair, from the farthest reaches of her fingertips, her mouth, and her nipples—roaring through her. It sizzled and cracked through each restriction until there was nothing in its way.
Her belly contracted in orgasm, but it was more than just that. Her entire consciousness pulsed and pushed and
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