Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BENEDICT
FOUR WEEKS LATER…
I t’s well past midnight and I’m pacing the living room. Sinclair and Nico have been out all night chasing some leads that Gabriella’s team uncovered. There’s been an increase in the number of people overdosing and her sources tracked it back to dealers who are getting their product from suppliers now under De Luca control.
It’s the last fucking thing we need, especially since the problem isn’t isolated to Max’s clubs. Drug addicts rarely give a shit where they get their drugs from, as long as it’s cheaper than the other guy’s. And the fuckers will take it anywhere. We’ve had raids at three of our clubs in the last two weeks now that the dead bodies are becoming a problem for the local police .
Nothing will mobilise the police quicker than a mayor promising to clean up the streets around election time.
Yet more bullshit to distract us from what needs to be done. But I guess that’s the point. Max is making us chase our tails cleaning up his mess, while he buys himself time to bolster his ranks.
It’s fucking infuriating.
“You’re going to wear a hole in the carpet, Benny,” Aurora says from the kitchen as cupboard doors are opened and closed with heavy thuds. “I can hear you fretting from here. They’re big boys. They’ll be fine.”
I can’t help but snigger at her choice of words. I don’t spend an enormous amount of time checking out Sin’s cock when we’re in bed together, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t noticed it. It’s kind of hard to miss. It’s not got quite the same presence as Nico’s with its metal accessories, but still. It’s a pleasing aesthetic.
“I’m not fretting, mia reginetta, ” I say as I wander back toward the clattering in the kitchen. “Besides, at least I was quiet. What the fuck are you up to in here?”
As I enter, I find that she’s pulled out every pot and pan we own and is coming out of the larder, arms overloaded with produce. She dumps what looks like every fresh vegetable she could find onto the counter before grabbing two chopping boards and handing me one of the knives from the chopping block.
“Enzo comes home today, and he’s eaten nothing but hospital food for the last four weeks. I want to cook for him.”
It took Enzo two weeks to convince her to leave the hospital. We were essentially living there and while the hospital staff were accommodating, the better Enzo got, the less they tolerated having a crime boss and her army constantly under their feet. The last straw was when one of them walked in on Nico and I fucking in one of the medical supply closets.
In our defence, Grey’s Anatomy makes it appear far hotter than it was. Those shelves are flimsy as fuck. How were we supposed to know they wouldn’t hold my weight?
Enzo’s surgeries went well enough for them to remove the external hardware, which meant Doc Em approved for us to bring him home.
It doesn’t feel real. And the guilt of knowing he would never have gone through what he did if I hadn’t blown the building is something that weighs heavily on me. No matter how many times he says he doesn’t blame me.
‘That would mean that I blame you in some way, and that’s just not true, Benedict,’ were his exact words. It’s so fucking like him. Ever the magnanimous leader, but also a part of me wants to punch him in the face until he damn well accepts my apology.
I know I’m not alone in the guilt I’m feeling. The evidence of that is laid out in front of me on the countertop. Aurora’s eyes are fixed on the tomatoes, slicing and dicing on repeat, before transferring them to an oversized bowl. We both need a distraction, and this is as good as any.
I move and take my position at her side. “What are we making then?” I ask.
“My mother’s tomato sauce. It’s a good base for everything and we can store it in jars, so it’ll keep. My sister taught me how to make it when I was little.”
I reach down and take the knife, twirling the handle between my fingers, trying to get a feel for the weight and balance of it.
“It’s a paring knife, Benny, not a throwing knife,” she says, lifting her free hand to my wrist and encouraging it down to the counter .
“Yes, my little queen,” I reply with a smile and a cheeky flourish, kissing the tip of her nose. “Where do you want me to start?”
“First, I need you to peel and crush the garlic for me,” she says, rolling her eyes and pushing me away.
“Garlic. Gotcha.”
We continue like this for the next half an hour, peeling and chopping. The soft thud of our knives as they hit the wood calming my racing mind much better than the pacing I’d been doing.
“Okay, then. What now?”
“Now we sauté the garlic. Or well, I do. You can get us a glass of wine from the larder. You can’t cook Italian food without wine.”
It doesn’t take me long to find a nice Montepulciano. I open it first under the pretence that the time it will take to find some wine glasses in the dishwasher is enough time for it to breathe. While I may have been brought up to know proper wine etiquette, nobody’s got time for that kind of shit. Any sort of refined palette my father tried to instil in me has long been replaced by a love of eating and drinking whatever I like.
And dicking whoever I like, come to think of it. Although I would argue my taste in men and women is impeccable. There, my palette is unquestionable.
I would love nothing more than to bend my little queen over this counter and bury my cock in her, but that’s not what she needs right now. The look on her face reminds me of Enzo’s the night we washed her hair when she first came home to us. She needs to do something for him, and until he walks through that door, this is it.
I bimble around the kitchen in the periphery, tidying up after her, washing and drying the dishes, leaving her to zone out as she tinkers with her sauce. She’s adorable, standing behind the massive stainless-steel pot. I can barely see her over the top of it. I head back to the larder and get the little steps we keep in there to reach the top shelves. She doesn’t notice as I place it down beside her, so I lift her onto it.
The shocked squeak that bursts out from her is equally adorable.
“There, now you can see what you’re doing,” I say as I stand behind her, keeping one arm coiled around her waist while I use the other to pull her long dark tresses away from her neck so I can nip and nuzzle at her nape. “You carry on, ignore me.”
“That’s kind of difficult when you're biting my neck like a horny vampire.”
“Are you complaining, Aurora?” I purr, before I scrape my teeth along her pulse point, waiting for her answer. I’m rewarded with a soft moan as she shakes her head, while a quiet “nuh-uh” escapes her.
I have an idea. A way to help soothe her.
Sliding my hand under the waistband of what I assume are my sweats she’s wearing, I find her bare and can’t stop the moan that rumbles in my throat. She whimpers as the sound vibrates against her neck. I always love how sensitive she is here; it’s like having an orgasm shortcut.
We’ve learned that one of the most enjoyable ways to get her to come without our cocks is with three strategically placed tongues. One feasting on her pussy, one lavishing her tits, and one right here, sucking and pulling where the slope of her neck meets her collarbone. The way she falls apart for us when we ravish her like that is heaven. Sometimes I think her cries of ecstasy and the taste of her pretty cunt could sustain me forever.
I move without thinking. One hand burrows under her shirt, palming her breasts, the other now toying with her slick folds. Keeping a steady pressure on her throat, I move my fingers in time with the roll of my tongue. Circling her clit in a figure-eight, careful to tease the bundle of nerves in slow sweeping passes, bringing her to the brink but not allowing her to come.
Not yet.
“In a minute, you’re going to give me what I want.”
“What do you want, Benedict?” she croons.
“I want your cum soaking my hand, and your cries wringing in my ears. But not until I give you permission, mia reginetta. ”
“I can get on board with that,” she says with a giggle before I move my hand to her throat to replace my mouth.
“Then I’m going to bend you over the counter, fuck you hard, and fill you up,” I rasp, pressing my rigid length against her ass and appreciating the added height from the little stool, as my cock is cushioned between her cheeks. “Do you want that, Aurora? Me taking what I want from you and your eager little pussy?”
“Oh fuck, yes,” she pleads, her tone and compliance confirming how easily she’s slipping into a submissive head space.
“I’ve been thinking recently about how often I’m overcome with the desire to strip you naked, bend you over the nearest piece of furniture, and fill you to the fucking brim.” Her legs buckle at my words. “Would you like that? Have me take what I want, whenever I want it? Use you like my fucktoy on demand?”
I release her neck, returning my attention to her breasts. Her nipples peak as I take my time rolling each bud between my thumb and forefinger, tugging and pinching just to make her moan the way I like. I love her noises, every single one of them. They make my cock leak and my balls tighten in anticipation.
I stop toying with her clit and thrust two fingers inside her, her walls tightening around them.
“Your pussy never lies,” I growl. “Do you like the idea of me taking you whenever I want?”
I can’t help but chuckle as her pussy clenches in response. “Just what I thought. That’s definitely something we’re going to explore, mia reginetta . But right now I want you begging for my permission to come.”
“Please, Benny, please let me come. I need it. Please,” she whines.
My fingers glide up to her swollen clit and pinch and roll in time with the gentle tugs and squeezes on her firm tits. As soon as I bite down on her nape, she shatters. Loudly. Her arms fall to her sides as she goes limp and the wooden spoon falls to the floor.
With her orgasm still rolling through her, I hoist her off the stool and lay her face down on the kitchen island. Her legs dangle, making it easier for me to wrench down her sweatpants and cast them aside.
I stroke her plump, round ass and smile when I look down and see the slipper socks still covering her feet. They’re equal parts ridiculous and cute.
Fuck it, the socks stay on.
Aurora is a mess of contented whimpers, interspersed with great gasps as she tries to catch her breath after her orgasm. My entire body thrums with satisfaction, knowing I’ve reduced her to this puddle of need and bliss. She’s resting her head on her forearms, but as I unfasten my belt, she turns to the side as if she’s trying to catch a peek at what’s in store. I shuck my jeans down and widen my stance, stopping their descent to the floor .
“No peeking, Aurora,” I order, as I slide my fingers into her hair, and grip hard, forcing her to look away. I hold her hips firm with my free hand and line myself up at her entrance. I don’t give her time to adjust before thrusting hard and filling her fully.
“Benny, fuck yes,” she screams. It’s the last coherent word I get out of her as I set a brutal pace, pistoning into her, consumed by the feeling of her tight, hot little hole around my cock. I lose myself in her, completely cunt drunk right now.
I pull her hair tighter, forcing her to arch off the worktop. Her hair drapes down the curve of her spine, drawing my attention to the way her ass ripples with every thrust of my hips. The sight has my balls tightening and forces me to slow my tempo to stave off my orgasm. I drag myself almost all the way out of her and revel in the sight of how wet she is by how drenched in her cum my cock is.
I can’t suppress my croaky hum of satisfaction, knowing I do this to her. My body, my hands, my dick bring her this much pleasure. I push back inside and alter my thrusts, changing the angle to drag the head of my cock against her G-spot.
It’s her undoing and I can feel the moment she comes. Her muscles tense and lock around me, drawing my orgasm closer. I pull back and it takes everything in me to hold still, keeping just the crown of my cock inside her, losing nearly all my control as her release drenches the most sensitive part of my dick. As her arousal floods me, my balls tighten, sending a familiar pulse of pleasure along my shaft.
“That’s right, my beautiful fucktoy, come for me and take every…” thrust, “fucking…” thrust, “drop.”
Squeezing my eyes tight shut, white hot lights dance across my darkened vision as I come with a roar and release my grip on her hair, allowing her to collapse on her front, laying flat against the cool marble, completely ruined. I lean forward, placing my palms on the counter either side of her hips and do my best to catch my breath, but trying to stay buried in her heat for as long as possible, keeping her full of our cum.
We both look up with a start at the sound of a throat clearing from the other side of the kitchen.
“Well, I don’t know about Sin, but I for one think that was a thing of beauty to watch,” comes Nico’s gravelly voice.
I try to respond, but I can’t catch my breath. I’m completely depleted.
“Looks like they both need looking after,” declares Sinclair walking up to the other side of the counter and leaning forward on his elbows, before stroking Aurora’s tresses from her forehead. “I think someone needs some sleep before we pick up Enzo.”
I know he’s talking to Aurora, but we both nod, too tired to talk, and wanting nothing more than to collapse in a heap in our bed.
Nico’s arms envelop me and I shudder and groan as he pulls me out of Aurora. The feeling is an exquisite form of torture as I long to stay buried in her, but I can’t deny the part of me that preens with pride, watching my cum trickle down her thighs. I’m about to run my fingers through it and shove it back into her swollen pussy when Nico beats me to it. He finger fucks her in long languid strokes before bringing his hand to his mouth and licking his cum covered fingers clean.
The noise that starts in my chest and escapes from my lips is the most feral sound I think I’ve ever made, and I’m not the only one making it. Aurora is up on her elbows again, staring over her shoulder, transfixed by how eagerly Nico is feasting on us.
Sinclair lifts my little queen into his arms, bridal style. “Bed, you two.”
“Go with Sin. I’ll batch up all the food and put it away. I’ll be right behind you, Bambi,” Nico instructs with what I swear is a chuckle. I think he’s amused by how spaced out I am, but I’m honestly not with it enough to be able to read behavioural cues right now.
“Bring up some water for these two space cadets when you come up,” Sinclair shouts over his shoulder.
As much as there’s nothing romantic about my feelings for Sinclair, I do love the way he looks after us all. It’s a relationship that I wasn’t expecting when this started, but I revel in the closeness we get to share now. We have a connection that’s meaningful, without the complication of a sexual attraction. It’s a different type of love to what I feel for Nico or Aurora, but it’s still a love I cherish.
I pull up my jeans before following him dutifully, and when we get to our room, I try hard to stay awake, but I’m dead to the world as soon as my head hits the pillow.