“As if I could ever deny you anything, Aimee.”
He sank into her, and her mouth fell open in a silent cry as he filled her in a single, fluid thrust.
Within her, he rocked once, deep and slow. And her whole body stretched and opened around him as his weight came down, claiming her fully.
Then again.
And again.
“Kazuma!” She cried as the room dissolved around her.
And soon…floor, stars, breath, name—it all vanished, until there was nothing left but the rhythm of his hips, the burn of her body taking him in, and the ruin of her own voice as she broke apart beneath him.
Chapter eight
“MissAimee!”Thevoice,pitched high and insistent, came from somewhere outside the window. “Miss Aimee! You promised we’d do fox forms today!”
Kazuma groaned beneath her, shifting just enough to press his face deeper into the pillow. Aimee blinked groggily, nestled in the crook of his arm, her cheek resting against the warm slope of his chest.
“It’s barely dawn.” His voice was rough with sleep and irritation. “If I wanted shinobi training before sunrise, I’d have stayed in the damn Haven.”
She cracked one eye open just in time to see his hand stretch lazily toward the small table beside the bed. Fingers wrapped around the smooth wood of a carved pipe, and before she could register what hewas doing, he flicked his wrist and whipped the thing out the open window on the opposite wall.
Athwacksounded. Followed by an indignant grunt. Then. “Where—?!”
“Ha!” Another voice answered, younger, delighted. “You missed me, Uncle Kaz!”
Kazuma grumbled something unintelligible as Aimee buried her face into his neck, shoulders shaking in silent laughter.
“Uncle Kaz?” she echoed, lips pressing the skin just above his heart.
“Animals,” came the distant mumble of the man who’d been hit, his tall shadow passing by the window, backlit by the early light. “As if the constant moaning every night wasn’t enough. Now there’s projectiles.”
Aimee’s mouth dropped open slightly, then closed as her lips formed the word silently—moaning.Her cheeks flushed hot.
“Oh my fuck,” she whispered into his skin, mortified. “They can hear us?”
Kazuma chuckled, shifting his weight on top of her.
“Seems we’ve been providing free entertainment these last few weeks,” he purred, pressing down slowly, muscles flexing.
Dark hair slipped down around her face.
Blood thundered in her ears.
“Should we give them another show?” He pushed his hips forward, the thick length of him slipping between her bare legs, teasing against her entrance with infuriating precision.
A jolt of heat spiraled through her at the contact, boiling her insides as the flashes started—not hers. His thoughts. Or memories. Or something in between.
His mouth between her legs. The throbbing, wet heat of her pussy. The long, sinuous glide tongue lapping at her until she quaked beneathhim. The taste of her on his lips. His mind wrapped around the pleasure of devouring her.
Her body responded before she could think.
Her hips rose up to meet him, thighs falling open as her nipples peaked against his chest, taut and aching. Every nerve lit like struck flint. And a low moan slipped from her lips as she arched into him, the ache at her core blooming fast and fierce.
She reallyshouldhave been worried.
The mental drift—her thoughts bleeding into his, his hungers bleeding into hers—had been happening for weeks now. Longer, maybe. And that should have set off alarms. Alchemical ones. Psychic ones. Existential ones. It was familiar in a way that could…that would destroy her… if... if…
