Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
AURORA
T here's an aura of contentedness that appears to engulf Enzo when the words leave his mouth. His features soften and his eyes close. His whole body seems to unwind as I watch the final traces of his rigidity evaporate like clouds being burned away by the heat of the sun.
“Yours, Don Bianchi.”
My body responds like it’s being called into action. Shivers of excitement flurry inside me at the idea of having this beautiful soul belong to me. My connection to him in this moment feels almost primal and demands to be celebrated.
“We’ll play with these more in the future, but right now, I need to release you. This is an extensive tie, and I can’t keep you in it for too long, especially with your shoulder still recovering,” I say in a hushed tone.
I swear I hear a soft mewl of disappointment, but I ignore it and push off the desk to kneel beside him. I release the last knot and slowly start the process of unfurling the chest harness. When I’d tied his wrists together, I’d started with a simple capture, but as I’d weaved the rope around his chest, I’d had some fun creating a diamond-based harness. Neither were perfect, but I only recently asked Sinclair to teach me some of what he knows.
After seeing the way Enzo reacted to my hand at his throat, I had a feeling this was something he would appreciate. It looks like I need to learn more if this brings him peace.
As the last knot falls away from his wrist, he turns and pulls me up into his lap and I reflexively wrap my arms around his shoulders. As my core presses against the ridges of his abdomen, the heat radiates between us. Watching him on his knees, submitting to me, has my pussy aching for him. Holding me as he stands I wrap my legs around him before he marches me back towards the sofa and I yelp as he drops me without warning.
Enzo’s chest is heaving. One hand fumbles at his belt, yanking the buckle open before unbuttoning his fly and pushing his jeans down. I bite my lip when his cock springs free. He’s rock-hard and weeping for me. I want to reach out and run my fingers along the length of him, tease him, trace along the thick vein that runs along the underside of his dick, and run my tongue along the slit where his pre-cum is beading for me.
My hand is about to wrap around the base of his hard-on when he bats me away.
“I’ve been hard since the second you walked through that door. I need more than your mouth right now,” he says, sounding half-wild. For a moment I think the submissive part of this program is over, but then I watch in awe and he kicks his jeans off to the side and drops to his knees before me. Enzo reaches for the fly of mine, and wrestles with the skin tight denim for a moment before tugging the waistband down .
I’m reduced to a mixture of involuntary mewls that escape with each new touch. I plant my feet on the floor and push my hips up so he can pull my legs free of both my jeans and my panties. Just as I’m wondering how to get this corset off quickly, Enzo kneels and grips me by the back of the knees, pulling me forcefully off the sofa cushions and seating me on his thighs.
“Lean back,” he demands.
I lean back on my elbows while he moves my feet so they’re planted firmly on either side of his hips. I squeal as he slides one hand behind my lower back and lifts me into position, the other running the tip of his dick along my seam. I cry out as he circles my clit then returns to notch himself at my entrance.
“I want you to take every inch of my cock in your tight little cunt and ride me hard. Think you can do that for me, boss,” he growls out with a playful smirk.
“I think I can manage that,” I reply, before I slide down on to him in slow increments, fucking myself on to his cock until he bottoms out and cries out my name. In this position I can lean back and arch over the sofa, taking a lot of my weight on my elbows as I push off from the floor with my feet. Then I drop back down, fucking myself hard, tilting my hips to make sure every bounce on his cock hits my G-spot.
It doesn’t take long for my rhythm to start to falter as my pleasure builds. The flare of his crown stretches my walls, prompting my eager pussy to tense and spasm, desperate to keep him buried deep inside me. He brings one hand to my hip and grasps me tightly, steadying my tempo, before bringing the other to rest on my lower abdomen. He splays his fingers out wide leaving his thumb hovering over my clit.
Throwing my head back, I’m overwhelmed with pleasure as I reach the pinnacle of orgasm. Tingles race along my spine causing my clit to throb and my chest to heave against the bodice of the corset.
“Look at me.” Enzo's tone is strained, half begging, half demanding. I drop my chin to my chest and find myself trapped by his beautiful blue eyes. His tousled hair flops forward on his forehead and it offers me a side of him I never see. A side that’s not perfectly presented, not ordered, not immaculate. Sweat beads on his forehead and runs down to his collarbone pooling in the dip there before rolling enticingly down his chest. He looks wild, like he’s been unleashed. For me. By me.
“Come on my cock, Don Bianchi. Now.” As he speaks, the hand resting on my belly pushes down, applying an exquisite pressure that makes me feel every glide of his cock against my G-spot more intensely. Just when I think I can’t take anymore his thumb brushes my clit and sets off a chain reaction in my core.
“Fuck, yes. Enzo, yes,” I scream, I lose the ability to support my weight as pleasure tears through me and my thighs quiver. The hand at my hip moves round to my lower back and Enzo takes my weight and rises off his haunches to fuck me through my orgasm.
Any hope I had of gently coming down from that pleasure is extinguished as the change in angle triggers what feels like a cascade failure in my brain, because it simply does not compute. His pace doesn’t falter and I’m pushed straight back into another orgasm only this time Enzo comes with me, filling me in hot pulses that overflow and coat my thighs as he slows himself to long punishing thrusts.
I smile, savouring the sound of our combined releases slipping from my aching pussy while he continues to glide into me. “Look how well you take me, Aurora. And how greedy your cunt is for my cock. ”
I look down and whimper when I see his glistening cock spear ruthlessly into my pussy. “Holy fucking God, I can’t take anymore. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
“I think I can give you one more, Don Bianchi. Do you want me to destroy you, little warrior? Leave you spent and sated?” Every word out of his mouth is oozing with power and strength yet I know he’s waiting for my permission. Demanding I command him.
“Fuck… do it, make me come, Enzo,” I whine.
He pulls out of me and lifts me back on the sofa, my head falls over the back of the couch while my ass perches on the edge of the cushion. He spreads my legs wide and wastes no time in burying his head between them.
Palm facing up, he slides his two middle fingers deep into my swollen core and fucks me in slow even strokes, taking only moments to coax cries of pleasure from me again.
“This simply won’t do, I can do better than this,” he practically croons.
“I’d like to see you try,” I reply, unable to fathom how he could make me come again.
I don’t know when I closed my eyes but they shoot open when his tongue laps at my entrance before moving up to my clit and swirling in small circles. I scream his name when his lips seal around the swollen bundle of nerves and suck hard. Any barrier my head believes exists between me and my next orgasm breaks like a weak damn and I don’t just come for him. I gush for him.
As I come back down to earth his thick fingers move, still buried inside me. Reaching one hand down, I clutch his wrist, and slowly drag them out of me, bringing his hand to his lips.
“Such a good fucking boy for me. Now you can lick them clean.” For a moment I don’t know if I’ve gone too far. I only know that when Nico says things like that to me I fucking melt inside and the idea of watching him lick our cum off his fingers has me panting like an overexcited puppy.
“As you wish, Don Bianchi,” he says with a smile so broad it lights me up from inside. When he’s happy he’s savoured every drop he presents his hand back to me and I can’t help but mirror his broad grin.
Sitting up straight, I reach out and cradle his face in my hand, bringing his forehead gently to mine. “I love you, Enzo. Now and for always.”
“Now and for always.”
“I brought you lunch,” Sin says as he places a plate down in front of me and tugs my laptop away, before flipping down the screen.
“I was reading that.”
“You were reading the same thing for the last hour. It can wait until you’ve eaten,” he instructs, raising an eyebrow in a way that declares ‘I dare you to disobey me’.
“Has anyone ever told you, you’re bossy, Sinclair?” I fold my arms across my chest and lean back in my chair.
He mirrors me, folding his arms too, and we end up in a stand-off. Over a sandwich. One that I want, but I’ll be damned if I’ll be told what to do in the middle of my working day. He can order me the fuck around from sundown to sunup. But I’m the fucking boss now.
He doesn’t back down, instead, he steps forward, bending at the hip and placing his hands on the armrests of my chair, stopping when his eyes are level with mine and close enough for his irritated huffs to skitter across my skin.
“You, Aurora Bianchi, may be the boss of me, but when it comes to taking care of you, I’m in fucking charge. That’s my fucking job to make sure you don’t run yourself into the ground.” His tone is cool and even, unwavering. He picks up the plate and hands it to me. “Eat.”
I take it from him and blow out an exasperated breath. “Fine.” I look at the sandwich dubiously for a moment before adding, “You better not have put pickles in this.”
“You’ll eat what I make you and like it, you stubborn woman,” he says, a smile finally breaking the frown he was forcing.
“Yes, sir,” I concede, placing the plate down and taking an overdramatic bite out of the sandwich.
It’s infuriatingly good. It’s a club sandwich, swimming in mayo. Sinclair’s low rumbling chuckle makes me look up at him quizzically. With my mouth half full I let out a garbled, “What?”
Just as I swallow, he reaches out and uses his thumb to wipe away a large smear of mayonnaise at the corner of my mouth, and shows me before licking it clean.
“So you want to talk about what’s got you holed up in your office? I thought we were all set for the meeting with Gabriella?” Sinclair says, taking his regular spot at the table. It’s always set up with one of his laptops these days. When he’s not running anything that requires his full fleet of technology he prefers to work in my office.
“We are,” I say sheepishly. I’m nervous to share what I’ve been looking into. Firstly, I don’t want it to look like it bothers me, but equally, I’m keen to find out how the fuck we didn’t know that Nico was Salvatore’s son.
“Come on, hummingbird. You might as well tell me.”
I stare at him for a few moments before finally giving in. “I’m worried about Nico.”
Sinclair nods. You’d have to be blind not to see how Nico’s behaviour has changed since he found out. While initially he took it well, over the last few weeks he’s been getting more and more withdrawn. When he tried to contact the couple that took him in—calling them his parents gives them way too much credit for the man he’s become—they ghosted him.
They refused to see him. They sent him a message saying their agreement was with Mateo and Nico was told what was safe for him to know. They had the gall to say they tried their best but they couldn’t be involved anymore.
I suggested we take them to the chop shop and ask again. The fact that they’re in any way connected to my organisation makes me sick to my stomach. Weasley, spineless fucks. How you can raise a child for sixteen years and then cut them out of your life enrages me.
“He says he’s fine, but he’s disappearing off, taking the most violent jobs we’ve got on the books,” I say, pausing for a moment and dropping the sandwich to the plate to rub my temples before adding, “Benny’s worried too.”
Sinclair tips his head to the side and looks like he’s trying to think about how to say what he wants to say. Always the considerate caretaker.
“You think he’s struggling with it.”
“Yes.” Our gazes lock and I finally give words to my biggest worry. “I think the longer he sits with the knowledge of who his father is, the angrier he’s getting. And if we don’t help him, it’s going to end up breaking him.”
“We’re his family, we’ll get him through this. We brought him back from the brink before. We can do it again. It’s why Mateo brought him to us in the first place,” Sinclair declares, trying to reassure me.
“That’s exactly the problem, Sin. Don’t you see? My father—the man who saved him from himself, who found him his family—also lied to him his whole life. That can’t be easy,” I say, and he takes it in, saying nothing in response, seemingly at a loss for words.
We sit in silence, letting the weight of that knowledge settle on us and knowing that however that makes us feel, it’s a fraction of what Nico must be going through. After a while, I begrudgingly finish my lunch. As I push the empty plate off to the side of my desk, Sinclair clears his throat.
“So what’s had you glued to your screen? What are you doing to help him?” he asks.
“I’ve had Stefano looking into some things, approaching some of the old boys to find out if they know anything. My father told him Nico was an unwanted pregnancy. Born to an underage daughter of one of his men who wanted to keep it quiet.”
“You want to track down his mother?”
“Yes. If Salvatore had Nico delivered to my father, what happened to her? How did he get hold of Nico? There’s too many fucking questions.” I drop forward, resting my elbows on my desk and blowing out a frustrated breath.
“You know your father had to keep his lineage secret, don’t you, colibrì ? Back then, he would have been slaughtered if anyone knew Nico was the son of Salvatore De Luca.”
“I know that. I’m not trying to uncover some great mystery for my own amusement. I just want to get answers for Nico. Maybe it will help him because I’ll be damned if I let a De Luca hurt another person I love.”
“You’re a good woman, Aurora.” His words don’t reassure me like they usually do.
I don’t feel like a good woman right now. I feel like a failure. Nico won’t talk to me about this, and I feel like I’m betraying him in some way by looking into it. He asked me to drop it, but I can’t when I can see how much it’s affecting him.
I move the conversation on to the topic of this afternoon's meeting with Gabriella. We need to get her to assign a team to focus on The Knights and track what Max has them working on for him. They’re the lynchpin to unravelling his organisation. We put together everything we have, knowing Gabriella is the right woman for the job. Her work for me so far has been impeccable. Every bit of intel she’s given me has allowed me to almost surgically excise Max’s revenue streams. If her information hasn’t been used to help steal his shipments, it’s been used to thin out his numbers. We’ve eliminated multiple smaller gangs that were under his influence, either by sending Luc and Leandro after them, or by anonymously tipping off the local police.
Sinclair identified a rather eager young rookie who’s eager to make a name for himself cleaning up the streets. So far, he’s been very useful in keeping Max’s new recruits busy with arraignments or perpetual questioning.
It could be seen as a waste of my time since I plan on killing Max anyway, but I need to know that the day I kill my husband is the day the De Luca legacy dies. It’s not enough just to kill him. I need the organisation dead and buried too.