Page 21 of Queen of Ruin

I’m close.

I’m so fucking close.

She’s so fucking hot.

“Amber!” Moaning her name, I finally give in to my desire to touch and sink my hand into her silky-soft hair. The touch makes her glance up at me with sparkling eyes. I caress through her hair, careful not to aggravate her head wound⁠—

Wait.

There is no wound. There’s no gauze or anything on her forehead.

What the hell?

My eyes snap open and I lurch up from my kitchen table with a soft, pained yelp as the muscles of my lower back protest sharply at the sudden movement. Sunlight streams in through the kitchen window, illuminating the room far better than the single overhead bulb still buzzing away.

My stomach knots and hot sweat flushes down my back as a pull of tight pleasure warms my core.

It’s morning. Maybe.

I’m hard as a rock in my jeans with a tired body eager to return to sleep, to the sexy dream that’s fading like mist between my fingers.

Just a dream.

Of course it was.

I smack my dry lips together and work my dry tongue around my mouth, chasing what little moisture remains, and sink back into my seat with a soft groan. What a dream. That was amazing. No part of me would ever complain to Amber on her knees in front of me as long as that’s where she wanted to be.

That’s also the first sleep I’ve gotten since she arrived, since I don’t count the quick five-minute naps I’ve snatched here and there when exhaustion has gotten the better of me. Yawning, I push away from the table and retreat to the bathroom to take care of my aching cock, but my orgasm isn’t as satisfying as I crave. My hand barely compares to the memory of dream-Amber’s mouth.

After a quick shower, tracking down my phone takes a few minutes, but finding it makes me freeze for a moment. There are countless missed calls and texts, all from my staff.

Shit.

Falling asleep meant I missed my shift last night and with it already being the late afternoon, I’m late for my next one. I quickly reply to a couple of the texts, feigning an abrupt illness that kept me away from my phone, then I assure them that I’m on my way.

“Amber?” Texts sent, I knock gently on my bedroom door and, as always, there’s a moment I fear she’s died due to her injuries.

A soft grunt rises from inside so I let myself in.

“Diego?” Amber blearily lifts her head from where she’s wrapped around my pillow. “What time is it?”

“Little after three.”

“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sleep for so long.”

I wave one hand at her, brushing off her apology. “Don’t. You need the rest. Are you okay? I have to head to work, but if there’s anything you need before I go?”

“You’re leaving?” Amber can’t hide the spark of worry that ignites in her sleepy voice and something strong pulls at my chest, like a yearning to go and comfort her.

“I will be back,” I assure her. “I need to head into work because I skipped my shift last night. Just need to make sure no one else drops round without invitation, y’know?”

She nods slowly but with her half-closed eyes and slow movement, she’s clearly still half asleep. “Makes sense,” she murmurs.

“There’s food in the kitchen. Take your medicine and you have my number if anything happens, okay? Don’t answer the door, stay away from the windows, and just rest, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Okay,” Amber murmurs.

“Rest,” I say softly. She murmurs an incoherent reply and sinks back down against the pillow.