Page 92 of Starborn Husbands

“I will not be blamed for past mistakes. I learned from that disaster and have moved on.” I flash my wedding ring. “We have him covered. We don’t need your help. Go.”

“Nope.” Since Atlanta has spoken, he walks by me and into the old cottage, leaving a wake of gold dust as he goes. I hope it sticks to him forever.

“Ugh. Can’t you talk sense into him?” I say to Gem.

“You have met him before, yeah? He won’t budge on it, but I don’t disagree.”

This is ridiculous. What’s he going to do about Merrick? If Merrick finds out he’s here, Merrick will escort him to the Guild himself. But this is a rational argument that my brother will ignore in favor of our “protect family” motto.

“C’mon. Let’s go wash off,” Zhang says. “Gem will get the food started.”

We get to bathe together. The prospect drums up short-term excitement that’s magnanimous enough to distract me from our Merrick problem. Taking my hand, Zhang leads me off to a hot spring a few miles from the cottage. He sets about undressing me like he did when I was incapacitated. He doesn’t need to now, but I like it. It’s special in a way I didn’t anticipate. He saved particular things for his husband only. Now that’s me and I get all the special things.

“Zhang?”

“Yeah?” he says, unbuttoning my trousers.

“I know that being this close to you is a new happy place for me. Fuck my stupid brother and what he said.” That’s practically romantic from my lips.

Zhang glows. I wanna see more of it. I push at his open jacket. He lets me. I get to do that now. He’s wearing a black shirt underneath, a loose one, large enough to cover his wide chest, but I get to see more of his glowing neck. “Hold still, you’re going to smear more blood on my clothes and then I’m going to color your backside the same shade.”

I smile, inspired to behave for once. Though, maybe I wouldn’t mind that spanking. I want to feel the heat of his hand on my backside. I want to carry him with me.

I will never admit that out loud.

He slides the rest of the way out of his jacket, and I tug at the hem of his shirt, signaling that I want it gone. The removal is an unveiling of his beautiful body. I press my hand—the one coated in dried blood—against his bare flesh.

“Are you mine, Centaurus?”

“I’m yours, Orion. You’re mine too, whether you know it or not.”

But I do know. I can keep fighting it, but it’s not doing any good. Not only have we wound up married and bonded forever, but I don’t even want to leave him to run off on demon-hunting adventures with my brother. I’d rather do princely shit with him.

The words won’t leave my mouth no matter how much I want to say them. Irrationally, it feels like the whole world is gonna collapse in on me if I do.

He’s successfully removed my boots, trousers, and skivvies, which means I’m totally naked. He’s still in pants and boots, but his nipples are out, hard as Pleiadian platinum. I don’t remember him lifting me, I just know when my legs are wrapping around his torso and I’m kissing him—no, choking him—with my tongue. I can’t get it far enough inside.

A fat hand struggles with laces beneath my ass and his cock is quick to slide in. Hot spring water crawls up my back and meets a rock wall. “Ooaf.”

Bracing with a hand on each side of my head against the mountainside, my wrists lock around his neck, and he has the leverage he needs to slam into me. Gods, his cock. It might be the best I’ve had. It’s long and has the girth of Italian salami.

He's a rough, raw lover. Thank fuck. He doesn’t come across as inexperienced, though. More specifically, he’s not inexperienced with me. It’s like he knows my body. Insert cliché about him playing me like a damn violin, and I wouldn’t hate it.

Are we destiny?

Because of good sex, Treyu? Now I sound like the kind of unfeeling sort Atlanta is, but it’s really good sex, okay?

His movements know my body, every curve of it. He anticipates my shifts and bends. He knows when to hit my prostate and when to back off, keeping me on edge for a long time.

“Like that, huh?” he says.

“That smug grin …nuhugh… is not becoming, Centaur—aaahh!”

I’m not the only one losing my shit. He might be teasing me to fuck, but he’s just barely holding on. As much as he knows my body, instinctively, I know how to move with him. His breath is ragged. His eyelids flutter. Every muscle is taut.

With a wild moan, he releases into me and I’m officially dirtier than when we got here. Staying inside me, he plants me against the wall, and now that he’s not nailing me like a hammer, he’s able to brace with one hand and let the other jack my cock. I only need a few good strokes. It’s so good. Soooooo good that I tighten everywhere and then slacken on a heartbeat. Fucking into his hand, I let my head loll on his shoulder as I mumble incoherent words of pleasure and other more colorful curses, which can only be translated to mean, “good job, Centaurus”.

“How are you so good at that?”