Page 2 of Sigma

“You were busy yesterday,” I grumble, “And I was horny all day.”

“You were?”

I laugh. “Yeah, I was. I tried to get your attention, but you were too focused on work.”

He sighs. “I’m sorry, my love. This sale has taken up too much of my attention.” His lips close over my nipple, suckling it until I gasp. “I shall rectify the lack of attention, posthaste.”

“You better, buster.” I knot my fingers in his hair as I anticipate his lips where I need them most—on my sex. “I had to take care of things myself. It was awful.”

“You did?” He looks up at me. “Bad girl. That’s for me.”

“Well, I was touching your hair and bending over in front of you, and you didn’t even look at me. I even very suggestively told you I was going to go take a bath. What was I supposed to do?”

“And I missed all of these hints, did I?”

“Every single one.”

He spends a moment on my breasts, kissing them, caressing and licking and nuzzling until I’m about to shove his face where I need it. But then, finally, he drops to his knees. His mouth grazes my inner thigh, and I hiss, opening my thighs, guiding him to me.

“Are you going to punish me?” he says, smirking up at me from between my legs.

“Yeah,” I breathe. “I’m going to make you eat me out until I come at least three times before I touch your cock.”

He rumbles wordlessly, something between a growl of arousal and a laugh. “Threaten me with a good time, why don’t you?”

I huff. “I don’t want to punish you, love, I just want you to fuck me six ways to Sunday.”

“Request granted.”

His tongue grazes up my seam, teasing, teasing. I hook my knees over his shoulders, lock my feet around each other on his back, brace my hands behind me on the countertop, and throw my head back as he begins ratcheting me up the mountain of climax. God, his mouth. Twenty years of discovering all the ways to make me scream has made him freakishly good at going down on me—he can get me to orgasm within seconds if he wants—mostly, though, he likes to draw it out. Bring me right to the edge and hold me there, about to come but not quite there. Screaming. Begging. Thrusting toward his mouth, seeking the edge.

He doesn’t let me, though. He keeps me wild with just his tongue, hands holding my hips.

“Val,please,” I gasp. “Please.”

I feel his smile, feel the curve of his lips against my sex. Feel it in the energy sizzling between us.

“What do you want, Key?”

“Let me come,” I whisper, sitting upright to cradle his head, pulling him closer. “Make me come, Val. Then give me your cock.”

He nuzzles my pussy, licks. Kisses. Suckles my clit into his mouth and teases me to the edge. But this time, he slides fingers into me and hooks them inside me just so, and his tongue thrashes side to side, and I fly over the peak and into orgasm, biting down on a scream and lifting my ass off the counter as I thrust against his mouth and fingers.

While I’m still caught up in the gnashing throes of climax, he pulls me down off the counter and sets me on my feet, facing the island. Pushes me forward so my ass is sticking out. I lie forward on the counter, breasts smashed against the cold marble, spread my thighs open and lift up on my toes, presenting my opening for him. I hear his belt jingle and hear his slacks drop to the kitchen floor with a thump. I feel him brush my ass with his cock, and then he notches himself against me, preparing to fill me—I whimper with anticipation.

“Fast or slow, baby?” he murmurs.

“Fast,” I gasp. “Hard.”

He caresses my ass with both hands as he ignores my request, slowly pushing into me, inch by inch, until his hips smash against my ass and I feel him fully within me, stretched and aching around him.

He pulls back just as slowly as he thrusted in, feathers a series of short, shallow thrusts, just the first few inches of him gliding through my slick sex; and then, with an unexpected crack of his hand against my ass cheek, he fucks into me.

Hard.

I scream.

Loudly.