Semua Bab QUEEN SURGEON OF RUIN: Bab 71 - Bab 80

The exile beginnings were written in blood, rain, and the first cries of a child who would never know his father’s arms. I stayed straddling Justin’s lap, his throbbing cock buried deep inside me, the neutral sensitizer keeping every sensation raw and overwhelming. Dawn had fully broken, flooding the room with bright golden light that illuminated every tremor in his exhausted body. His thighs shook violently. Sweat rolled down his chest in heavy rivulets. His cock pulsed helplessly inside me, leaking steadily, denied release even as I took my pleasure. I rocked against him slowly, deliberately, grinding down in deep possessive circles while the memories of my exile washed over me like the rain that had fallen that night. “Exile beginnings,” I whispered against his ear, clenching around him rhythmically. “That is what I built while you celebrated your new mate.” The night I fled the palace, the storm had been merciless. Rain lashed my face as I rode a stolen horse through thr

The forbidden knowledge had been my greatest weapon during exile — and my most dangerous secret now. I kept Justin on his knees as the morning sun climbed higher, the neutral sensitizer maintaining its merciless rhythm in his veins. His body trembled with exhaustion and amplified torment. Sweat traced heavy paths down his chest and abdomen. His cock hung heavy and flushed between his spread thighs, leaking in thick, rhythmic drops that fell onto the sheets with soft, obscene sounds. Every nerve sang under the drug’s influence, turning even the brush of air into exquisite suffering. I straddled his lap and sank down onto his throbbing length in one slow, claiming glide until he filled me completely. I stayed buried deep, clenching around him in rhythmic pulses while I let the forbidden knowledge surface between us. “Forbidden knowledge,” I whispered against his ear, beginning to ride him with luxurious, unhurried rolls of my hips. “That is what I stole while you lived in luxury

The rebuilding of ideals had been the quiet war I fought in the shadows of exile. I kept Justin on his knees as the morning sun climbed higher, flooding the treatment room with bright golden light. The neutral sensitizer continued its steady, merciless pulse through his veins, sharpening every sensation until even the weight of his own body felt like torment. His thighs shook violently with the effort of holding the position. Sweat rolled down the hard planes of his chest and abdomen in heavy rivulets. His cock hung heavy and flushed between his spread thighs, the head swollen and glistening, leaking in thick, rhythmic drops that fell onto the sheets with soft, obscene sounds. I straddled his lap and sank down onto his throbbing length in one slow, claiming glide until he filled me completely. I stayed buried deep, letting my walls clench around him in rhythmic pulses while I let the story of my rebuilding rise between us. “Rebuilding ideals,” I whispered against his ear, begi

The instinctive rejection was the one wound I could never fully heal — not in myself, and certainly not in the small Alpha who carried Justin’s blood. I kept him on his knees as midday light poured through the high windows, turning the treatment room into a blazing golden crucible. The neutral sensitizer pulsed steadily through his veins, sharpening every nerve until the air itself felt like a thousand tiny blades. His thighs shook violently with the effort of holding the position. Sweat rolled down the hard planes of his chest and abdomen in heavy rivulets. His cock hung heavy and flushed between his spread thighs, the head swollen and glistening, leaking in thick, rhythmic drops that fell onto the sheets with soft, obscene sounds. I straddled his lap and sank down onto his throbbing length in one slow, claiming glide until he filled me completely. I stayed buried deep, letting my walls clench around him in rhythmic pulses while the image of our son rose like a living flame bet

The bond still spoke. Even after everything — the public rejection, the blood and escape, the years of exile, the neutral sensitizer pulsing through his veins — the scarred mate bond between us refused to die completely. I kept Justin on his knees as the midday sun burned high, flooding the treatment room with merciless golden light. The neutral sensitizer thrummed through his body in perfect waves, sharpening every nerve until the air felt like fire on wet skin. His thighs shook violently. Sweat carved glistening rivers down the hard contours of his chest and abdomen. His cock hung heavy and flushed between his spread thighs, the head swollen and glistening, leaking in thick, rhythmic drops that fell onto the sheets with soft, obscene sounds. I straddled his lap and sank down onto his throbbing length in one slow, claiming glide until he filled me completely. I stayed buried deep, letting my walls clench around him in rhythmic pulses while the bond — faint, scarred, but still