Page 49 of Sigma
I’m ready to snap when I get to the top and find the top door also unlocked. Yeah, there’s surveillance outside, but it’s also the gateway to the village, making her the most vulnerable to outsiders.
I’m not prepared for what I see when I open the door. Also not remotely ready for how it makes me feel.
It’s reminiscent of the dollhouse my father built my sister. But every inch of it smells like Cicely.
It’s ultra-feminine, as if a Barbie doll lives here. There are more throw cushions than a furniture store all over a sectional pink couch that takes up most of the living space. The little kitchen looks like it came out of a magazine from the fifties with a rounded fridge, antique stove, and purple countertop. Fucking purple. There’s a small diner-style studded table and chairs set done in pale pink. In the middle of it sits a flowering plant in a sparkled gold vase. The space is spotless. And full of colorful or sparkled accessories.
There’s a door open with a nightlight shining, and I make out a shower curtain the same color as her eyes, covered in smiling dolphins. I grab a towel from the hook and dry the rain from my body.
An oriental style room divider sections off where I know she now sleeps.
She’s on her side, sleeping in a nest of more damn pillows. Nude. Wearing an ankle bracelet, and nothing else. She’s freshly showered, smelling like berry-scented soap, and though she sleeps on top of the colorful quilt, it looks like she took the time to create a wall behind herself. A wall of pillows against her back, resting on her.
As I absorb this, the foundation of my existence is rocked even further. In her nest, she created a shadow of my form. Because I should be here, behind her, holding her, a wall at her back protecting her and making her feel safe.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, FUCK!
And my chest as well as my gut feels almost right for the first time in hours. Or maybe for the first time in a long while. Because something is abundantly clear. Knowledge of why I exist. They say an alpha’s mate is made for him. But the truth is that I’m made for her. I exist for her. To warm her body, to provide for her needs, to serve her every want and need. This strong, beautiful female owns me.
I undress other than the muzzle and pluck the pillows off her body, tossing them before shoving some others aside.
I climb in, slide one arm under her and use the other to pull her small, warm, perfect form close.
***
I wake up feeling unusual. Warm. And except for this fucking thing on my face,right. I feel right in a way I didn’t know was possible. Because I’ve woken underneath the perfect blanket. She’s directly on top of me.
I’m on my back now instead of spooning her. But she’s here, now with her head on my shoulder, her hand on my chest. Our legsare twined together. And her beautiful icy blue eyes are open. Both my arms are wrapped around her.
She’s blinking, biting her bottom lip. Her eyes change. She sees I’m awake. And the softness in her gaze just about undoes me.
My left hand, already on her sweet ass reflexively squeezes.
Fire lights in her eyes and her hand slides up my pec to my neck.
“You can’t kiss me with that thing on your face,” she whispers.
“Also means I can’t bite you,” I rasp.
She pouts. And for some reason, laughter bubbles up from my gut.
Now there’s surprise in her eyes. She moves quickly, straddling me, rubbing the slick heat of her wet pussy up my already hard length.
“I like that sound,” she says.
I groan at how good this feels.
“I like this sound, too,” she adds.
She glides her hips back down before tipping her pelvis, angling herself to make sure my dick slides where it belongs.
Fuck, that feels right.
I grasp her hips and hold on while she rides me. She rides me slowly, with intensity and purpose in her eyes and in her movements. It all feels incredible.
“I want you to kiss me,” she whispers, pressing her lips against my neck as her fingernails trail up the back of my head. She’s got one of the straps.
