Page 117 of Sigma

He pulls back, turns to address Tomás. “See that the young woman and the cooks are all exorbitantly compensated. And then have business return to normal, if possible. Or just give them the day off. I don’t know. Handle it.”

Tomás nods. “Sir.”

We board the jet, and I address Alexander. “Home, please. As quickly as possible.”

Alexander nods. “Of course, ma’am.” A hesitation. “When you say as quickly as possible…”

“Don’t break the sound barrier. That would be impolite.”

“Impolite, she says.” A snort from Alexander. “Understood, ma’am.” A grin. “I’d buckle the fuck up, in that case.”

I tighten my buckle as we lift off the ground, rotating horizontally as we reach the flight height, and then we’re pressed back in our seats as Alexander nails the throttle. Alexander displays his skill as a pilot, twisting and turning through the canyons of the city with consummate skill, ignoring the warnings from air traffic controllers. Feels like an eye blink, and then we’re touching down, and Alex is cracking his knuckles.

“How’s that, ma’am?”

I laugh. “Exciting. Hopefully we don’t get in trouble.”

“Nah. They know who owns this jet, and between you and your father, you employ half the city. It’s all good. I wouldn’t have done anything too risky.”

“Thank you, Alex.” I’m already pulling Apollo to the elevator which opens into my private foyer. “Take the rest of the day.”

“Ma’am.”

I hold his hand tightly on the ride down.

Apollo is smirking.

“What?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“Don’t you nothing me, Apollo Dimitriou.”

“Can I get one of those?” he asks, jerking his head at the ceiling. “I’ll pay any price.”

I grin. “That’s a one-of-one prototype,” I say. “But version two, which fixes some of the technical flaws Alexander has pointed out, is nearing completion, and will need a test client to work out the bugs.”

“I volunteer.”

“I’ll talk to Daddy. That’s still his pet company. He loves playing with the designs.” I squeeze his hand. “That’s not what you were laughing at, though.”

The elevator opens onto my foyer, a small space of marble and pale wood, with aged beams overhead, double doors standing open into my living room and kitchen.

I pull him into the kitchen. “Kitchen and living room.” I point at the hallway. “Bedroom, workout room, and office.” I lift my hands in a ta-da gesture. “You’ve gotten the tour. Now. What were you laughing about?”

He leans against the island and pulls me to him. “I was laughing at you.”

I bristle. “You were laughing at me?”

“I was.” He gazes at me with his face kissing distance from mine, and his fingers go to my hair, held up in a neat, smooth updo, and works it loose. “You had your pilot nearly break the sound barrier getting us here. You were playing it cool, back at the restaurant, I think.”

I can’t keep it in, anymore. I lift up and kiss him, the raging inferno of desire that’s been pent up within me for the past two years now boiling over like a steam engine without a release valve. I rip at his shirt, a pale blue button-down, and send buttons pinging off the counter and floor. Shove the ruined garment off his shoulders. Yank at his belt, tearing it open and whipping it free. His slacks are next, impatiently torn open, underwear shoved down with them. He toes off socks and shoes and then he’s naked, and I’m touching him.

“Does this answer your question?” I ask, kissing his neck, his jaw, his shoulder.

I kiss him everywhere as I make my way to the part of him I’ve dreamed about every night for years. I palm his ass and kiss his belly, rub his hips and clutch his cock—it’s hard for me, thick and throbbing. Pulsing.

Already leaking precum.