Page 80 of The Scholar's Improper Wife

The lightning came when she clenched around him with sudden violence, a half-sob tearing from her throat. even as his own release tore through him like the storm breaking overhead.

When he finally surfaced from the haze of pleasure, his limbs heavy and mind blissfully empty, it was to find tears tracking silently down Yun-si’s flushed cheeks. The sight sent a primal surge through him—he’d spent years bending the world to shield Shen Yun-si from sadness, yet here in their marriage bed, her tears only made him hard again.

He kissed them away with lips that still tingled from their joining, tasting salt and something sweeter beneath.

“Again,” he murmured against her damp cheek, voice rough with renewed hunger as his hand slid possessively down her trembling thigh.

“No... I’m tired...” Yun-si whined, her voice trembling. Her entire body felt boneless, her thighs still quivering from their lovemaking. She didn’t think she’d ever exerted herself like this before, not even when she had climbed all nine tiers of the White Pagoda in a single afternoon.

Ting-zhi shifted behind her wordlessly, pulling her back against his chest. His hands never stilled, tracing slow, possessive paths over her breasts before sliding lower, fingers teasing between her thighs lazily.

Then, almost absently, his gaze caught the open pages of the forgotten book splayed across the bed.

“Mmm. You can just sit,” he murmured, his breath hot against the shell of her ear. “Nothing simpler.”

Before she could protest, he sat up and pulled her onto his lap, until she was indeed, just sitting on him, back to his chest. He shifted her until she sat with her legs loosely crossed, the position forcing her intimate area to open wide in a way she had never experienced before. His right hand covered her breast, while his left spread possessively over her mound, fingers parting her slick folds. “Yourcave,” he breathed against her neck, teeth grazing her pulse point, “is drowning.”

The bite sent a jolt through her, and then—oh. His hardness was pressing against her entrance, thick and insistent. Yun-si gasped as he tilted her forward and filled her in one smooth stroke. She arched forward, instinctively seeking escape, only for his arms to lock her in his embrace. Anchored only by his hands and his rod deep within her, her heart pounded wildly between pleasure and panic. She squirmed, but the movementonly succeeded in sinking himdeeper. The angle was different like this, the stretch burning in a strange way, like it was going all the way to her heart.

“Just sit,” Ting-zhi repeated, holding her firmly. His hips rolled upward in a slow, deliberate grind.

Yun-si’s fingers dug into the forearms holding her. “You—nngh—you’re moving!”

His chuckle vibrated against her skin. His hands gripped her waist, guiding her in small, experimental circles. The friction sent sparks through her veins, her breath coming in sharp little pants. “Sit,” he murmured, lifting her slightly before letting her sink back down. The drag of him inside her was maddening, the wet sounds making her ears burn in the candlelit room.

Ting-zhi’s mouth found hers, swallowing every broken moan and whimper as he drove his hips upwards in sharp, relentless thrusts.

“Say you love me, Si-er,” he demanded against her lips, his fingers tilting her chin up to force her gaze to meet his. His eyes burned with an intensity that stole her breath. The words were rough, edged with a vulnerability that tore at her heart.

“Y—nghh—” She tried to answer, but he punctuated each syllable with another deep thrust, each thrust driving the question deeper into her soul, turning her words into incoherent moans.

“Do.” He thrusted for emphasis. “You.” Another hard thrust. “Love.” Each thrust was hitting an angle inside her that made her toes curl, her body arching helplessly. The pleasure coiled tighter, a relentless pressure building until her vision blurred at the edges. “Me?”

“Ye—” Another fierce thrust.

“Ye—YES,” she finally managed to gasp out, her voice breaking as another wave crashed over her. “I love y—yo—”

The admission shattered what little control he had left, as if he hadn’t truly believed them until that very moment. His grip turned almost bruising as her words sank in, and he buried himself deep into her with a guttural growl.

“You IDIOT!” she screamed as his release slammed into her, scorching her insides and sending her into a shuddering cataclysm of stars.

His lips crashed back against hers, swallowing her sobs and her curses.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing, the scent of musk and peach blossoms thick in the air. Yun-si collapsed against his chest, her limbs boneless, her heart still hammering, certain she’d dissolve into the very air around them.

Ting-zhi’s arms wrapped around her, one hand stroking her sweat-damp hair. He said huskily. “You are right,just sittingis not complicated.”

“You idiot,” Yun-si repeated again, too tired to even move a fingertip.

WHEN YUN-SI WOKE, PALEmorning light filtered through the latticed windows, and she found herself curled against Ting-zhi’s chest, his arm wrapped securely around her waist. The events of the night came flooding back—the wedding, the dreams, the revelations, and... the wedding night.

Her cheeks warmed at the memory, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she traced lazy patterns on his chest with her fingertip, marveling at the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palm.

“Good morning, wife,” Ting-zhi murmured, his voice rough with sleep. His fingers combed through her disheveled hair, tucking a strand behind her ear with infinite tenderness.

“Good morning, husband.” The word felt strange but right on her tongue. “And good morning to you too, Moonlit Brush.”

He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Good morning, Mistress Recluse in Clouds.”