Page 85 of The First Cut
My hands fist the sheets as I force myself to stay still as he asked me. If I move, he might stop. If that happens, I might just murder him.
“If I died right now, I’d die a happy man with your sweet pussy wrapped around me so tightly.”
I feel the pressure building inside me like a balloon inflating. Any minute now, I’ll explode, and nothing he says or does will stop me. I’m too close to the edge already. Every thrust and pull sends me closer to the point of no return.
I whimper, which makes him grin maniacally.
“You need to come, don’t you, doll?”
I moan in response, tilting my hips, wanting, noneedingmore.
Pulling his cock from my pussy, he fucks his fist with the tip pressed just inside me. Feeling horribly empty, frustrated tears prick my eyes. At the sight of them, he moans and comes. The first shot releases inside me before he slides his cock over my clit, coating me.
When he’s spent, he replaces his cock with his fingers, stroking me deftly with one hand as he presses his cum-covered fingers inside me.
“Come for me, doll.”
As if his permission unlocks some secret code, I come hard. So hard, I forget to breathe for a second, and everything around me fades away. Nothing matters at this moment but pleasure. My release is that much more exquisite for giving myself over to the man so completely that I feel like my orgasm lasts forever.
When I finally come back to myself, I realize Hannibal's lying beside me with his arms wrapped tightly around me. Tears run down my cheeks, soaking us both as he tilts my head back and tugs the lace panties from my mouth.
I open my mouth to say something, anything. Instead, a sob slips free.
“Shit. Was it too much?”
I shake my head, unable to put into words quite what I’m feeling right now. There was fear—I won’t pretend otherwise—but the whole experience was cathartic, too. I got to let go and feel whatever I wanted with no expectation. Maybe I knew in the back of my head that Hannibal would stop if I really needed him to. The man has an uncanny way of reading me that most people don’t.
“Let it out, doll. I’ve got you,” he tells me softly, which makes me cry harder. This, right here, is what I need. Hiscloseness soothes my lonely parts and makes me feel like part of something again. After being disconnected from the world for so long, I’m struggling to process what it feels like to be needed and wanted by someone—someone who has slowly started to heal parts of me I thought were decaying.
I don’t dwell on the reasons I liked what he did. Even now, I can feel the sting of the cuts left on my skin. Five years ago, I’d have run a mile. But Hannibal’s right. I’m not the starry-eyed girl I once was. And I don’t need to be. The pressure to be perfect nearly destroyed me. Now, I get to just be me— broken, flawed, and more than a little battered. But each crack in the perfect facade lets a little more light into the darkness.
“Thank you,” I whisper, finally finding my voice.
“No. Thank you. Thank you for trusting me. For giving me you. I’ve never had someone break so beautifully before.”
He kisses me softly—a complete contrast to the man from before. His arms stay locked around me until my tears run dry and I can breathe without it hitching in my chest.
“What even was that?”
“That’s who I am.” He leans up on his forearm and rolls me gently onto my back. “I like knives, as you know.” He grins. “But the scalpel is an extension of me. I like cutting. I like watching blood well like tiny rubies.” He stares down at my chest.
“Does it get darker than that?” I need to know what I’m dealing with. After having my naivety beaten out of me, I’ll never take my safety for granted again.
“Yeah. But I don’t need anything more than this from you.”
My eyes fly to his. I mean, logically, I knew he’d get his needs met somewhere else—this is an arrangement, not a love match. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt, even if I know I probably couldn’t handle much more than this.
“No, doll. My dick won’t be inside anyone but you. When I said this was enough, I meant it. I like a little blood play, but I’vegot zero fucking desire to watch you bleed out. The thought of doing you any real harm makes my dick shrivel.
“I won’t deny that violence turns me on. There’ll be times I do shit that would haunt a lesser man, things I’ll never tell you about. But when I need release, I’ll come home to you. Then it will be me covered in blood, not you. Can you handle that?”
“As long as it’s not your blood, yeah. Though I should point out the dangers?—”
“No,” he cuts me off. “I get tested regularly, and I’ll keep doing it. The only blood that’ll ever make its way inside you will be mine. I’m dripping with it when I come to you—my cock stays pure.”
“Not surecockandpurebelong in the same sentence,” I tease, though the whole my blood inside you thing kind of freaks me out. I let that go for now. Turns out I can be pretty adaptable when I need to be.
The sound of Hannibal’s phone chiming breaks the spell. He reaches over, grabs the phone off the nightstand, and reads the message.
