Page 56 of Fierce Protector

I had a call with the hospital administration this morning, and I’m still reeling from it. It’s not like I intended to resign, but the minute they started talking about how I was integral to the smooth running of my department and a key part of their vision for the future of the hospital, I understood that the pencil pushers on the screen viewed me as a commodity and not a person. The more they waffled on, the less I wanted to be the Head of General Surgery at St Joseph’s Hospital.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. I wouldn’t trade being a doctor for the world. Not only am I fucking good at it, but I worked damn hard for it. It’s just that the more time I spend surrounded by the people who truly care about me, the more I know that being Doc Em to the Bianchis means far more to me than being Doctor Katerina Mancini for everyone else.

The more I think about my decision, the happier I am.

I just need to figure out what I want to do now.

I spentthe afternoon brainstorming ideas for what the hell I was going to do if I wasn’t going back to St Joseph’s while also streaming the pilot episode of every show I’d missed in the last decade and deciding that, barring a few notable exceptions, I wasn’t missing much.

Doodling on my note pad I don’t notice Stefano coming into the room until he leans over the back of the sofa and kisses the top of my head, scaring me half to death and making me jump enough for the notebook to clatter to the floor.

“Sorry, baby girl. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, picking it up and handing it back. His smile is warm and lights something up inside me. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of seeing that dimple pop every evening when he comes home to me.

“Missed you,vecchietto,” I practically purr as I reach up and grip the buttons of his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Missed you too.” He beams, crouching beside me and resting on his heels. “Give me a minute to get changed and I’ll order us some dinner. I’ve been looking forward to curling up with you all day.”

“Rough day?” I ask as I cup his face and stroke my thumb over his cheek.

“Yes, and no. Long, but it always feels longer when I’m away from you.”

“Hurry back,” I call after him, but as soon as I hear the shower start above me, I kick off my blanket and sneak upstairs.

I know I’m still recovering, but I’ve waited long enough, and a girl has needs. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times either my doctor or I tell him it’s perfectly safe to have sex, he still won’t fuck me. I even got a doctor’s note saying that as long as we avoid positions where I’d bear weight on my arms or chest, we’d be fine. Still nothing.

So now I’m taking the matter into my own hands.

As I enter our bedroom, I strip off. Carefully. Shucking down my sweatpants and underwear and kicking them off before—somewhat more gingerly—removing my hoodie. While I’m healing well it’s still a little tender. I plan to exist in a sports bra or no bra universe for the foreseeable future.

I hurry to my bedside table when the shower shuts off, grabbing my favourite little toy, and climbing onto the mattress, walking on my knees to the end of the bed.

I smile when I push the button and the toy bursts to life, humming out its familiar little pulsations. Of all the toys I have, the one that gets me off the hardest and fastest is this little suction device. There’s a reason it’s the number one best-selling clitoral vibrator.

Bringing the ring of soft silicone to my body, I trail it down to the apex of my thighs, moaning as the halo seals around my clit and the pressure of the suction starts to fluctuate. I don’t know why it works sofreaking well, I just know that every other clitoral toy I own only gets dug out of the drawer if the batteries in this one die.

The smile on my face broadens as a towel-clad Stefano emerges from the walk-in closet, stopping mid hair tousle to rake his eyes over my body.

“What do you think you’re doing,micetta?” Any authority he’s managed to inject into his words is completely undermined when he clenches his jaw as if he’s fighting to stifle a groan.

“If you won’t play with me, then a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. You’re welcome to join me. Give me a good seeing to.”

“You’re racking up the mother of all spankings as soon as you’ve healed enough to go over my knee. You know that, don’t you?” His promises only amplify the pleasure currently being demanded by my battery-operated assistant, sending shivers rolling up my spine to tickle the hairs at the back of my neck.

“Promises, promises,vecchietto,” I purr. “I’ve waited long enough to feel your tongue between my legs. Are you really going to deny me the pleasure of coming on your face?”

He stalks forwards and stops in front of me, dropping the towel in his hand and unfurling the one around his waist, letting it fall in a heap. I’m so distracted by his half hard cock bobbing in front of me as it starts to stand to attention that I miss the hand moving to wrap around mine. He grips it tightly and pushes the toy more firmly against my swollen clit, wringing a strangled moan from my lips.

“Are you going to be good for me, baby girl?”

I nod enthusiastically because I can’t form words while he’s flexing his wrist, creating waves of alternating pressures against my oversensitive clit.

“I’m going to lay down in this bed and you’re going to ride my face.”

“I am so on board with this plan,” I say eagerly.

“But…”

“No, no buts. Unless it’s my butt and you’re fucking it,” I plead, unable to hide the pout that plasters itself across my face. “I need this. I need you.”

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