Page 57 of Cutter

Emily’s shadow moved past one of the windows, and Cutter blew out a breath. To keep her waiting without sending a call or a text was mean. But she’d asked to know about his family and life growing up. He needed time to gather his thoughts and prepare for the trip down memory lane. Emily had told him about her experiences in the foster care system. That put the ball in Cutter’s court. The truth had to come out.

Yeah, looking at that ugly past filled him with shame and pain. Nevertheless, he wanted to bond with Emily, build an unbreakable connection. Opening up to her couldn’t be skipped over. After all, surviving those years had made him the man he was today. Might as well show Emily everything, warts and all. And there were some ugly warts to show.

Out of the shadows, his mother’s trembling voice returned…

“No! Stay out, Luka. Please, honey. Run next door. Play with Robert.”

“Get over here, boy,” his father had growled. “Stop hiding, you little shit. Your whipping’s a-waitin’.”

Fuck! Despite the passage of time, the cruelty in his father’s thundering voice still gave him the creeps. Nothing could erase that sound and what always came after: the clinking of his belt buckle, the whack of leather against his mother’s abused flesh, and her soft yelps rang in Cutter’s ears so vividly that he shuddered with the same impotent fury of old. The pent-up anger of a young boy who’d often thrown himself in the middle to protect his mother against the mountain who dared call himself father.

Like frames in a reel, a different scene flashed before his eyes…

Two days after the latest beating, Luka, as he was known then, had stopped at his best friend’s house. “My God!” Mrs. Ella Johnston, young Blade’s mother, had seen Luka’s bruisesand recoiled in shock. “That man’s a monster. Call the police, Bradley. This minute…”

And they had. Bless their hearts, the couple had complained to the authorities.

Repeatedly.

Ella and Bradley Johnston were caring neighbors who couldn’t ignore the situation next door. Eventually, life gave the Johnstons the opportunity to do more. In keeping with their character, kindhearted Ella and her husband accepted their new charge with open arms…

Dropping his face into his palms, Cutter exhaled as his eyes filled with scalding tears he’d never shed.

Enough. Once and for all, deal with it. Pull off the bandage. Tell Emily the disaster that used to be your life.

Decision made, he squared his shoulders and slid out of the truck. Moving quickly, he picked up the bags from the backseat and ran up the stairs.

Emily must have been waiting by the door. He’d barely knocked when she yanked it open.

“Hi, Daddy.”

Her greeting was magical. Dressed in a blue romper with tiny stars, she was luminous. Whether by instinct or intuition, she pulled him out of the abyss. The darkness in his past couldn’t resist Emily’s inner light, and his soul soared with delight. Now, he needed her as close as he could get her. Draped all over him would be ideal.

“Hold on to me.” Shifting the bags to one hand, he slipped his free arm under her butt and lifted her. Laughing, Emily looped her arms behind his neck, then anchored her legs around his waist.

Here was joy. She’d brought it, offered it freely, and he was too vulnerable and too full of ache to resist anymore.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, walking toward the kitchen.

“Missed you too.”

“Where are you, baby?”

She leaned her forehead on his shoulder. “I’m spicy. So spicy I could scream.”

“I need you. I have to take you, bury myself in you.”

“Please,” she whispered.

He dropped the bags on the kitchen counter and searched one-handed until he found the box of condoms. Taking out a pack, he shoved it into his pocket and walked out. Amazingly enough, he’d hesitated before buying them. As he entered the bedroom, he demanded, “Give me your mouth.”

Gasping, she arched her torso, offering herself. Cutter dove into her mouth. Holding her head steady, his tongue searched through the warm depths, seeking her secrets as he impregnated himself with her delicious taste. A flavor he’d want the rest of his days. Deepening her arch, Emily relaxed her mouth and breathed into him. The dizzying exchange weakened his legs, and he pressed her against the wall.

“Daddy?”

“You make me crazy, sweet girl. Don’t worry. I have you.” He spoke against her neck. But Emily, driven by the same need, tangled her fingers in his hair and forced his head back.

Releasing a guttural sound, she clamped down on his neck, suckling as if she could draw his life force into her. Emily’s pulls went straight to his erect cock, making it even harder. And he let her. He had to. The experience was physical and visual. He saw himself moving within her. The mental image was so unique and powerful that he couldn’t refuse it.

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