Page 36 of Kotori
"Tanabata celebrates star-crossed lovers," he says, accepting a cup of sake from an attendant who seems to materialize from nowhere. "Separated by the heavens, allowed to meet only once a year when the stars align."
"I know the story," I say. "The weaver princess and the cowherd, punished for neglecting their duties because they were too consumed with each other."
"Ah, but you miss the most important part." His eyes hold mine over the rim of his cup. "Despite everything keeping them apart, despite the punishment, despite the cosmos itself—they never stopped wanting each other. Never stopped finding ways to meet, even if only for one night a year."
The weight of his words settles between us, heavy with meaning. Three weeks apart, and here we are again, the pull between us unchanged, undiminished—only intensified by last night's torment.
"Some separations are necessary," I say quietly.
His smile is slow, predatory. "And yet, kotori, some boundaries exist only to make the crossing more satisfying. As you learned last night, bound in my rope until dawn."
The first firework explodes overhead washing away his words before I can respond, a burst of gold and red that draws gasps from his daughters. More follow in quick succession, painting the night sky with ephemeral fire while traditional music plays somewhere in the distance.
As everyone's attention fixes on the display above, Kaito's hand finds my thigh, warm and heavy through the yukata. Not moving, not demanding—just claiming territory with quiet certainty.
"I've missed this," he murmurs, his words nearly lost beneath the fireworks. "Missed touching what's mine. I enjoyed watching you through the night, you know. The cameras in your room captured every moment of your struggle against the rope."
"Stop," I whisper, without conviction. "Your daughters."
"Are watching the fireworks," he completes, his hand sliding higher until his fingers brush the junction of my thighs.
"Just like everyone else. No one is looking at us, kotori.
No one but me sees how much you want this.
How much you've been aching for it since I left you bound and desperate last night. "
He's right. In the darkness, with all eyes on the sky, no one notices the way his hand disappears beneath the folds of my yukata. No one sees how my legs part slightly, betraying my desire even as I glare at him.
"I hate you," I breathe as his fingers find bare skin above my thigh-high stockings.
"I know." His smile is all satisfaction and dark promise. "And yet you're wet for me already. I can feel it. You've been wet since I left you tied in my rope, haven't you? All night, all day, just waiting for my touch."
His fingers trace the edge of my underwear, teasing but not yet invading.
"Three weeks, kotori. Three weeks thinking about your mouth, your taste, the sounds you make when you're coming apart.
Then last night, watching you struggle against my rope, seeing the marks it left on your perfect skin. I almost came back to you. Almost."
A particularly large firework bursts overhead, bathing everything in blue light, and I use the cover of appreciative gasps to shift, trying to dislodge his hand without drawing attention.
"Not here," I hiss. "Not with your daughters so close."
"Then come with me," he says, withdrawing his hand with reluctance. "Now."
He rises smoothly, addressing his daughters in Japanese too rapid for me to follow. Mizuki responds with a nod, her eyes flickering briefly to me with an expression I can't quite read.
"My daughters will be perfectly safe with my security team," Kaito says, extending his hand to help me up. "I've told them we're going to get a better view of the finale."
"And they believed that?" I can't keep the skepticism from my voice.
His smile is knowing. "Aya did. Kohana pretended to. And Mizuki..." He shrugs. "Mizuki understands more than she lets on."
The thought of his teenage daughter understanding what's happening between us makes my cheeks burn with shame, but before I can protest, he's guiding me away from the pavilion, down a path that leads deeper into the surrounding gardens.
"Where are we going?" I ask, acutely aware of his hand at my back, of the heat radiating from his body in the warm night.
"Somewhere private," he replies, guiding me around a bend in the path where the festival lights fade and the darkness deepens. "Somewhere I can finish what I started last night. What you've been desperate for since I left you bound and aching in my rope."
We emerge into a small clearing surrounded by maple trees, their summer foliage creating a natural screen from the main festival. A stone bench sits beneath the largest tree, barely visible in the darkness except when fireworks illuminate the sky overhead.
"Here." He turns me to face him, his hands settling on my waist with possessive certainty. "Where I can hear every sound you make."
His kiss, when it comes, is brutal in its intensity, weeks of separation concentrated into the crush of his lips against mine, the invasion of his tongue, the scrape of his teeth. I should fight it, should push him away and remind him that I'm not his to command.
"Matsumoto-sama," I whisper, my body betraying me as I press toward him despite my lingering pride.
He captures my mouth with his, rewarding my proper address with a kiss that steals my breath. I surrender to this madness, letting him lead as he always does, as he expects to.
When he backs me against the trunk of the maple tree, the rough bark scrapes against my silk-covered shoulders as he presses the full length of his body against mine.
"I've thought about this every night," he murmurs against my throat, teeth grazing sensitive skin.
"Thought about bending you over my desk the moment I returned.
About making you scream my name loud enough for the entire compound to hear.
Did you think of me all night, kotori? While you were bound in my rope, unable to move, unable to find relief? "
"You know I did," I whisper, unable to lie after what he'd done to me. "You made sure of it."
"Yes," he agrees, satisfaction evident in his tone. "That was precisely the point. To ensure that by the time we reached this moment, you'd be incapable of resistance."
His words send liquid heat pooling between my legs, making me press my thighs together in search of relief.
"But this is better," he continues, one hand sliding up to cup my breast through the silk. "Taking you during Tanabata, when even the stars are aligned for lovers who shouldn't be together."
"We're not lovers," I protest weakly, even as my head falls back, giving him better access to my throat. "This is just—"
"Just what?" His thumb brushes over my nipple, making me gasp. "Just fucking? Just obsession? Just the best thing either of us has ever felt?"
Before I can answer, he drops to his knees before me, hands sliding up under my yukata with deliberate slowness. The reversal of our usual positions—him kneeling before me instead of the other way around—makes my breath catch.
"What are you doing?" I whisper, even though it's perfectly obvious as he pushes the silk up to my waist, revealing the lace underwear I'd chosen in a moment of weakness, knowing he would see it tonight.
"Worshipping," he says simply, looking up at me with dark eyes that reflect the occasional burst of fireworks overhead. "I'm starving."
He hooks his fingers in the waistband of my underwear, dragging it down my legs with excruciating slowness. "Mine," he says, pressing a kiss to my inner thigh. "Every inch of you."
I should protest. Should remind him that I don't belong to anyone, that he doesn't own me.
But after a night spent bound in his rope, after hours of desperate need with no relief, after seeing the pattern of his shibari harness temporarily imprinted on my skin like a brand of ownership—I'm beyond resistance.
Instead, I tangle my fingers in his hair as his mouth moves higher, his breath hot against my pussy.
The first touch of his tongue makes my knees buckle. Only his hands gripping my thighs keep me upright as he licks into me with devastating precision, finding every spot that makes me whimper and shake.
"Kaito-sama," I gasp as he sucks my clit between his lips. "Someone could hear."
"Let them," he growls against me, the vibration making me cry out. "Let the whole world see who you belong to."
His tongue pushes inside me, then drags up to circle my clit in a rhythm that has me panting, my hands fisting in his hair as pleasure builds with frightening speed.
After a night spent bound in his rope, after hours of phantom sensation and denied release, after the torment of wanting him while being unable to satisfy myself, I'm already dangerously close to the edge.
"Please," I whimper, not even sure what I'm begging for. Release? More? For him to stop before I completely surrender?
He responds by sliding two fingers inside me. His mouth never leaves my clit, sucking and licking in counterpoint to the thrust of his fingers.
"Come for me," he commands against my flesh. "Now, kotori. Show me who you belong to."
I do. Pleasure crashes through me in waves that make me cry out his name, my body clenching around his fingers as he works me through the orgasm with relentless skill.
Before I can recover, before the aftershocks have even subsided, he's standing and turning me to face the tree, bending me forward with one hand between my shoulder blades.
"My turn," he growls, and I hear the rustle of fabric as he frees himself from his yukata. "I'm going to make you feel every inch."
I find myself widening my stance, arching my back to offer myself to him like the willing slave he's turning me into.
The head of his cock nudges against my entrance, thick and hot and demanding. "Say it," he orders, one hand tangling in my hair to pull my head back. "Say who you belong to."