Page 25 of Brutal Queen

The second he curls his fingers against my G-spot, I shatter, falling forwards against the headboard and pulling myself up enough to let him catch his breath.

“You taste divine,” he says with a deep timbre and feral tone, one I’ve never heard before, and it fills me with pride that I’m the cause of it.

I’m sliding down his body and tasting myself on his lips before he has a chance to say anything else. I need him. I need his cock in my cunt and his mouth on mine, stealing every breath I take.

I enjoy the tickle of his chest hair beneath my fingertips. I pause to tease each nipple and then again at his hips, loving how he responds to my touch. His cock bobbing between us as he tenses his abdomen.

I wrap my palm around his base and squeeze before positioning his crown at my entrance. I don’t wait, I don’t tease.We’ve both waited long enough. I sink down, impaling myself on his length.

“Fuck, Aurora. You feel so good,” he moans, his eyes fixed where we’re joined like he’s trying to memorise this moment. His hands grip my thighs and squeeze in time with each snake of my hips while my clit grinds against him as I ride him. Not only can I feel the glide of his cock inside me, but I can hear how wet he’s making me.

We lose ourselves in a hypnotic rhythm. As my orgasm approaches, his cock hardens inside me, and as his movements falter, I wrap my hand around his neck, squeezing. The throb of his heartbeat pulses underneath my fingers and it only brings me closer to the brink.

“Give me what’s mine, come for me,mio re,” I demand.

His body tenses as he comes hard, erupting in a roar that travels through every cell in my body, pushing me over the edge with him. My thighs tremble as rolling waves of pleasure radiate out from my core. I collapse against him and nuzzle my head on his good shoulder, kissing his neck where I held him moments before.

“Such a good fucking boy for me,” I say in a husky tone I don’t recognise. He’s feverishly mumbling words of praise and adoration as he fights to stay awake. “Sleep now,mio re,” I whisper. “I’ll be here when you wake. Always.”

After taking a shower,I head downstairs to rustle up some lunch. After a few trips, I’ve got enough supplies that we don’t have to leave his room for hours. I love the idea of being holed up in our own little world together.

It’s hard not to stare at Enzo. He’s handsome in a way that shouldn’t be allowed. He’s all hard lines and chiselled jaw.Broad chested with a perfect smattering of hair highlighting every cut of muscle. The last two months have taken their toll on him, and although he’s lost weight, that’s not the most noticeable change.

He’s always shouldered more burdens than anyone should have to, but from what I know of Max, I have to assume he took Enzo to his limit. I know Max took me to mine. Enzo survived, but it’s obvious that he’s haunted. I can see it in his eyes and now it’s my turn to be there for him.

Enzo stirs in his sleep, tossing his head from side to side. To soothe his restlessness, I get under the covers and slide my arm across his chest, letting my fingertips roam across his skin in featherlight circles. I stay clear of the scar just below his ribs. While it’s healed well, I don’t know if it’s still tender and I don’t want to startle him. He settles under my touch and it makes me happy to know that, even when he’s asleep, my presence comforts him.

I grab the remote and I’m two episodes into a rewatch of an old favourite when Enzo presses a kiss to my forehead.

“Afternoon, sleepyhead,” I tease.

“In my defence, you’re the one who wore me out,” he says with the same contented smile from earlier. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make sure I see that smile every day for the rest of my life.

“Go and have a shower, then I’ll check your stitches and we can eat while we catch up onBridgerton. I've waited long enough for this season. Scoot,” I say, pulling the sheets off him and nudging him out of bed.

By the time he gets back, I’ve made the bed, set down a blanket on top, and laid out lunch like a picnic. We’ve got sandwiches, chips and dips, and a selection of junk food.

Before we settle in, I help him out of his towel and into a pair of dark grey sweats before picking up the bandages andgauze from the sideboard and taking him back to the bathroom. Grabbing some scissors from the cabinet, I start checking and covering his wounds.

“These are healing well. Doc Em says she’ll visit and check the stitches are dissolving properly in a few days, then you won’t have to go back to the hospital until your next set of X-rays. They’re due in a few weeks.”

He doesn’t reply, but I see him nodding in my peripheral vision. I look up and find him studying the angry red lines that cross his bicep and shoulder. With the first surgery, they tried to stabilise the breaks with a less aggressive approach, using smaller pins, but it didn’t take. The second time, they went in with much more significant hardware and put multiple plates in his arm. The scar on his shoulder is longer than we expected because he ended up needing what Doc Em explained was a partial shoulder reconstruction.

When I’m done with the last dressing, I reach behind him on the vanity and retrieve the sling he conveniently left at the hospital. Doc Em had it delivered while he was asleep with a note.

Zo,

If you don’t wear this until your next hospital appointment, you may end up with one less arm to wring Max’s neck with. Your call,

Doc Em

I show him the note and he raises an eyebrow, in a ‘make me’ sort of way.

“If you don’t do as she says you’re risking your recovery, Enzo,” I tell him with a deadly serious tone in my voice.

“Are you going to punish me,mia guerrierotta?”

“Maybe. Do you like the idea of a little punishment, Zo?” I say, letting a smirk flutter over my face before I grip his jaw firmly and turn my expression to one of complete authority. “Or maybe I’ll bench you until you’re fit to help us take Max down.” I drag his face down to mine and soften my features a little before adding, “Do as you’re fucking told, Enzo.”

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