Page 3 of Sigma
“Hush, love,” he growls. “The kitchen is open, and this is a small island.”
Our kitchen is open concept of a different kind: all four walls are doors which accordion open to each of the four corners, so the entirety of the kitchen can be open to the Caribbean breeze and the soft shush of waves in the distance.
I grit my teeth and scream more quietly the next time he fucks into me, spanking the other side. Each thrust is hard, but the pace is slow, withdrawing achingly slowly, occasionally pausing to thrust shallowly as he pets and soothes the reddened flesh of my buttocks where he’s spanked me.
I need to come again—I’m stuck just this side of climax.
I wedge my arm between my body and the counter and touch myself, fingering my clit to drive myself to the edge—if I come, he’ll come. And what I want more than anything, right now, is to come in unison with my husband. That’s the ultimate pleasure, for us both. We may not have two- or three-hour sex marathons anymore, or fuck four times before breakfast, but when we do, it’s fiercely intimate, wildly powerful, and when we orgasm together, it feels like the universe resonates at a frequency only we can feel, where our hearts and souls sing harmonizing arias, our bodies the instrument of the song.
As I circle my clit with increasing speed, I begin thrusting back against him, screams turning to soft hoarse grunts and whimpers as I near the edge, ass flexing back against him, lifting up on my toes and sinking down to take his thrusts. He forgets the spanking and the hard, measured thrusts, and begins chasing his own climax. He snarls and gasps, whispers my name, whispers his love for me. Whispers to me that I’m beautiful. That I’m so sexy when I come.
I can’t summon words, only try to keep my building howl of climax something like quiet.
Finally, my orgasm breaks through me like a detonating bomb, and I feel my sex clench him, and I cry out his name. “Valentine! Come with me, Val.”
He obeys.
With a soft, growling groan, he lets loose, pounding into me hard and fast until I feel him unleash, feel him explode inside me, filling me with his cum in burst after hot wet burst, and when he comes, he thrusts deep and pushes deeper with each spasm of ecstasy.
At that moment, we hear voices.
Young male voices, laughing, shouting, overlapping.
“Shit!” Valentine hisses, quickly withdrawing from me and bending to yank his pants up, fastening them around his still hard, still sex-slick cock. I’m gasping, still shaking with the quaking aftershocks of my orgasm, dripping with his seed, still naked. He snatches my robe off the counter and I hurriedly shove my arms in. I’m still belting it when Cal rounds the corner from the direction of the beach, Killian beside him, three of their friends from St. Croix trailing behind.
I’m facing my husband, and he’s embracing me, as if we’ve just kissed, hiding the bulging zipper.
“My god, you two,” Cal grumps as he sees us, half joking, “get a damn room.”
I snicker. “We have a room, Cal. We just don’t always use it.”
He reddens. “MOM!”
His friends groan, but Killian, I notice just laughs and shakes his head. Of course, his parents are Nick and Layla, and their sex life is every bit as…healthy, shall we say…as ours. So this is nothing new for him.
Cal yanks open the fridge and grabs the partially empty case of cola, tossing cans to each of his friends without looking at them. “But I mean, we eat in this room, you know?”
Valentine bends to kiss me. “Your friends’ parents don’t make out in the kitchen?”
Cal snorts. “If all you were doing is making out, then I’m freaking Santa Claus.”
One of his friends, a local native to the islands, speaks up with a laugh. “My parents get it on like teenagers, man. I accidentally walked in on them in the shower the other day. I’m still blind in one eye from it.”
“It’s the sign of a healthy marriage, Thomas,” Valentine says.
“Sure, I know,” Thomas shoots back, shaking his head. “And I respect that. Shit, I want it for myself, some day. I just don’t wanna see it, you know?”
I press my thighs together, stifling a face as I feel myself dripping. I lift up on my toes, press my lips to Valentine’s ear and whisper, “You made a mess of me.”
He snorts softly. “Something to remember me by while I’m gone,” he whispers back.
“I’ll probably still be leaking your cum when you get back.”
He smooths his hands over my ass. “Go get cleaned up and put some clothes on so you can see me off.”
“You’re gonna smell like me all day if you don’t clean up yourself,” I tell him.
He just nips my earlobe. “I know. That’s the plan.”