Zi Feng and Ya Nuo are sparring.
From the seclusion of her perch in the loft above the Du Family’s home dojo, Zi Han watches her brother advance on his new wife. The loft is used for storage, but Zi Han has been taking advantage of its concealing shadows and open wall to secret herself away while watching her father and Zi Feng hone their martial arts skills ever since she was small. She must keep secret because Sister Feng has always insisted audiences must be welcomed and, more importantly, invited. Men, she says, prefer to strengthen their weaknesses while out from under the eyes of their women.
Zi Han understands. She would be mortified if a man she liked saw her in a state of less than absolute perfection. Even so, there is something about watching the men in her life practice and spar that exhilarates her. There’s so much strength and beauty in their movements. So much fire and passion.
So long as she is discreet, Zi Han sees no reason to deprive herself. What people didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Someone had told her that, once, but it wasn’t Sister Feng.
She watches Ya Nuo duck and dodge and dance clear of each punch and kick, her eyes locked with Zi Feng’s, her face a mask of concentration. Sweat runs from her brow and soaks her hair. Her wet shirt clings to her chest and accentuates her small, firm breasts. Her piqued nipples heave in time with her breathing.
Braless. How brazen. Zi Han smirks. Was that a tactical decision, Du Ya Nuo? Because it’s brilliant. I know I’m duly distracted, and I like men . . .
Ya Nuo is beautiful. But then, Ya Nuo has always been beautiful. Even as a man, Ya Nuo had been breathtaking, especially when he was engaged with an opponent. Zi Han had fallen in love with him at first sight, but she’d fallen harder and deeper right here in this spot. First, while watching him spar with her brother (Zi Han had never seen anyone other than their father take down Zi Feng, and then only while Zi Feng was still just a boy, but Ya Nuo had put him on his back with an elbow to his throat in under ten minutes, and it was the hottest thing Zi Han had ever seen), and then again while watching Ya Nuo and Zi Feng spar as a team against Qing Yang and three of their best men in preparation for the Clans’ Gathering.
In retrospect, Zi Han realizes she knew then, deep down, that Zi Feng and Ya Nuo could only ever belong to each other. Fighting as a team, they’d moved like two bodies sharing a single soul, effortlessly communicating with only touches and glances as if they could read each other’s minds. They defended not themselves, but each other, neither allowing the other to suffer the barest glance from an opponent’s fist or foot. When they advanced, they did so in tandem, spinning off from each other like twin dervishes, always reconnecting within seconds to protect and defend, back to back, shoulder to shoulder . . . and then Ya Nuo had leapt into Zi Feng’s arms. Their eyes had locked, and Zi Feng embraced Ya Nuo as one would a lover. Zi Han’s heart had caught in her throat, so sure she’d been they were about to kiss. Instead, Zi Feng held tightly to Ya Nuo and spun, and Ya Nuo’s legs had shot out in a rapid-fire sequence of debilitating kicks that left Qing Yang and his men laid out, groaning, on the floor.
Zi Han remembers how she’d felt watching them in their moment of victory, her heart full to bursting, yet strangely bereft. Zi Feng had set Ya Nuo on his feet, but he hadn’t let go of him. They’d stood holding each other, foreheads touching, breathing each other’s air . . . until Qing Yang pulled himself up off the mats and pointedly cleared his throat.
Watching them startle and pull away from each other had been painful. Yes. I should have known then.
Now, she watches Zi Feng advance on Ya Nuo mercilessly, his kicks so fast they blur, unlanded punches so close the wind in their wake riles Ya Nuo’s wet hair. Like Ya Nuo, sweat pours from his body. His clothes cling to him, and Zi Han can’t help but notice that her brother is enjoying this sparring match. Immensely.
Oh . . .OH MY GOD! I really shouldn’t be here . . .
Zi Han can’t look away.
Ya Nuo dances and darts and deflects. Despite her defensive stances, her body language begs Zi Feng into her space, but she doesn’t let him touch her . . . not even the barest graze. A smirk plays over her slightly parted lips, and the air between them crackles with energy.
She’s teasing him. Riling him. Foreplay . . . this is foreplay . . .
“Du Ya Nuo,” Zi Feng says, his voice so thick with desire it makes Zi Han’s toes curl.
Ya Nuo bites her lower lip, and then launches herself at him.
Zi Feng catches her in midair. Their mouths collide in a searing kiss, their bodies entwine and they seem to merge into one being for an ethereal moment, and then they crash onto the mats in a tangle of grappling arms and legs, moaning and writhing as they wrestle each other out of their wet clothes.
Okay. They’re going to . . . I really need to go, because they’re going to . . .
They’re wrestling naked, now, and neither of them have an ounce of fat anywhere, which hardly seems fair, because Lord knows Zi Feng can pack it away at the dinner table when he gets a notion. Just a week before his wedding, Zi Han watched him scarf down a family-sized bowl of noodles all by himself.
Du Zi Han! That is your brother you’re ogling. And his wife. Now get your pudgy ass out of here before they . . .
Ya Nuo slams Zi Feng to the mat on his back. She straddles over him, pins both of his arms above his head, kisses him roughly, and then leans down and licks a rivulet of perspiration from the column of his throat.
God, she’s so fierce. So gorgeous. So hot . . . Oh My God, I think I’m still in love with her . . .
Zi Feng’s whole body shudders. “Du Ya Nuo. I need you.”
You and me both, big brother, you lucky son of a . . .
“Du Zi Feng.” Ya Nuo’s voice tumbles over Zi Han’s spine, and her toes curl again. “I love you. I love you so much.”
“Ya Nuo . . . “ Zi Feng moans, bucking his hips beneath her. His thick erection nudges the cleft of her buttocks. “I need . . . “
“I know,” Ya Nuo breathes. She raises up on her knees, grips his straining cock like she owns it, and guides him inside.
With a guttural moan, Zi Feng grips Ya Nuo’s hips and controls her descent. “Careful, Love,” he breathes. “Slowly. I’m too . . .”
“Perfect.” Ya Nuo gasps, pushing through his restraint and seating herself fully. She throws her head back, and her abdominals ripple as she rides him. “God . . . God, Zi Feng . . .”
God, Ya Nuo. Never in my life have I wished I had a penis, until now . . .
Zi Feng’s back arches up off the mat. His face and neck flush, and he squeezes his eyes shut, biting down hard on his lower lip. His hands clench into fists against Ya Nuo’s hips.
I feel your pain, big brother. I’m about ready to pop, too, just watching her . . . oh, I’m so going to Hell . . .
“Zi Feng,” Ya Nuo calls, her head still thrown back. Every inch of her golden skin glistens over her lithe, sculpted torso. She looks like a goddess. “Zi Feng, where are you? I need . . .”
Thick blood vessels bulge at Zi Feng’s temples and line his throat as he pulls his shoulders up off the mat and sits upright. Gathering her into his arms, he thrusts up to meet her, matching her tempo. “I’m right here, Love. I’ve got you.”
Her arms loop around his shoulders. Raising her head, Ya Nuo opens her eyes and beams down at him, looking utterly and blissfully debauched. “You. Are. So . Beautiful.”
No. You are . . .
“No. You are,” Zi Feng growls. He chases Ya Nuo’s left breast and sucks her dark, engorged nipple into his mouth.
Oh . . . What I wouldn’t give to live in Zi Feng’s skin right now. Zi Han bites back a growl of her own. And here I am, watching my brother have sex while I covet his wife, like it’s just a normal Tuesday. There aren’t enough temple offerings in the universe to save you from this, Du Zi Han.
Zi Feng has obviously hit a hot button with the nipple play, because Ya Nuo slows her ride and settles firmly on his lap. She wraps her legs around his waist, tangles her fingers into his hair and clutches his head to her breast. “Zi Feng,” she moans. “ Zi Feng Zi Feng Zi Feng . . .”
Beneath her hands, Zi Feng’s dark head pulls from one breast to the other. His arms tighten around Ya Nuo possessively, and his hips rock up against her bottom in a slow, steady rhythm.
Ya Nuo rolls with him, her buttocks and abdomen clenching with each of his slow thrusts, relaxing each time he retreats, and Zi Han finds herself clenching and relaxing her own pelvic muscles in time with her.
Oh . . . Oh That feels . . . Ohmigod . . . How did I not know about this . . .
Below, Zi Han sees her brother coming undone. Muscles knot in his shoulders and he trembles, breathing heavily against Ya Nuo’s breast. His fingers claw into her back. “Babe . . . Ah . . . Ah Nuo . . . I’m . . .”
“Please . . . Zi Feng . . . need you,” Ya Nuo pants. “Look . . . at me.”
Zi Feng lifts his head. Their eyes lock, and Zi Han feels the world reduce to just the two of them and hold its breath.
Their bodies simultaneously tense. Ya Nuo’s legs clench around his waist and she cries out, while Zi Feng bucks them both up off the mats as he comes deep inside of her. And then again. And again. And then they’re both shuddering.
They hold each other through it, riding out the waves of the pleasure they created together while staring into each other’s souls and declaring their love and devotion to each other in breathy little gasps, and Zi Han would have never believed anything this sappy and blissfully perfect actually happened in real life if she wasn’t seeing it with her own eyes.
She guesses it doesn’t happen very often. Not for most people.
Watching Ya Nuo melt into her brother’s arms, and then watching Zi Feng hold her protectively close as he lays them down against the mats, Zi Han feels her heart swell to bursting, and yet she feels strangely bereft.
This isn’t about Ya Nuo. I’m not in love with Ya Nuo. I’m in love with them . . . with their connection. They’re soulmates. I want what they have . . . although I have to admit I do covet Ya Nuo’s tight ass and rock hard abs. Maybe I can convince her to teach me some martial arts?
A little voice inside Zi Han’s head not quite her own whispers, “ A Chao doesn’t care about your abs. He loves you just the way you are. Maybe you could have something close to what they have with A Chao, if you’d just get out of your own way.”
Maybe. Zi Han thinks it’s past time she found out.
“Zi Feng.” Ya Nuo lifts her head from Zi Feng’s chest and surveys their surroundings. “We just made love in a dojo.”
“Yes. And it was spectacular,” Zi Feng purrs and guides Ya Nuo’s head back to rest against his heart.
“Yes . . . but isn’t it . . . I don’t know . . . kind of blasphemous?” Ya Nuo sounds so contrite, Zi Han has to stifle a giggle.
Zi Feng doesn’t stifle his own chuckle. “Leave it to you to find something to worry about. We’re in the privacy of our own home, Love. We can make love whenever and wherever we’d like.”
“Well, that’s not exactly true.” Ya Nuo corrects, snuggling closer against him. “This is still your parents’ home. And Zi Han’s, too. What if they were to walk in here right now?”
“Then they’d get an eyeful, wouldn’t they? It’d serve them right, too, for busting through a locked door.”
“You locked the door?” Ya Nuo gasps and pinches him. Hard. “Du Zi Feng! You planned for this!”
“Ouch! Damn, you don’t know your own strength, woman!” Zi Feng sucks air through his gritted teeth and rubs at the raised, red spot on his side. “Yes, okay? I considered there was a high risk I’d be overcome with lust for my incredibly sexy wife, so I took precautions. Don’t hurt me.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Ya Nuo stretches over him, pushes his hand away, and tenderly kisses the spot she pinched. “Better?”
“That’s not the only place that hurts,” Zi Feng pouts.
Ya Nuo immediately looks him over, her expression concerned. “Where else?”
Zi Feng taps his lips.
Ya Nuo rolls her eyes and humphs, but then she kisses him. Gently, at first, and then deeper, and then she’s melting back into his arms with a low moan.
Oh boy. And we’re off to the races again . . .
Zi Han smiles and tears her eyes away from the lovers below. She doesn’t feel bereft anymore. Her heart swells with love for them, and she feels fiercely protective of their happiness.
A Chao . . . you don’t know it yet, but you’re definitely getting lucky tonight. I learned a few new tricks today, and I’m gonna rock your world.
Her smile broadens into a grin. Then, as stealthily as a cat who stole the cream, Zi Han slinks down the loft stairs and slips out of the dojo.