Page 68 of The First Cut
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lola
Iswallow my nerves and smooth my dress down over my bump. A little foot nudges my hand, possibly sensing my anxiety.
“Mama’s being silly, huh? Why does it even matter what they think?”
“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Hannibal agrees, walking into the room and making me jump.
He steps up behind me, his hands sliding around my bump as he kisses my neck.
My son kicks Hannibal, making him laugh. “Gotta learn to share, Bubba.” Another kick tells Hannibal exactly what he thinks about that.
“You look beautiful, doll.”
“You sure? Because I feel?—”
He spins me around and lets his eyes move over my body, which feels more like a caress than a look.
Unlike my usual biker chick attire, I’ve opted for a long cream maxi dress in gauzy material that’s soft against my skin. It’s fitted at the bust, with one shoulder strap. The rest flows gentlyover my growing bump and skates my ankles, showing a pair of simple gold ballet pumps. I’ve left my hair down in loose waves but added a gold hair band that matches the shoes, keeping all but a few tendrils of hair from my face.
Makeup-wise, I’ve gone far lighter than I’m used to. For once, I don’t have to worry about hiding bruises. I stick to the basics, adding a little warmth with some bronzer and a shimmer of sparkle up my exposed arms and upper chest with a glitter moisturizer. A touch of gold on my eyelids, a coat of mascara, and a slick of clear gloss on my lips finish off the look. I’ll admit, I feel pretty, even given my ever-expanding belly. I’m just not sure I feel like me. Heck, I’m not sure what that even means anymore.
In high school, I followed the then-current trends, and then I came here and tried to copy what the other women looked like. Every time Havoc paid particular attention to me, I made a note of the clothing I was wearing and gravitated toward similar items when I went shopping. Driller took that to the extreme. Everything had to be slutty. If I wasn’t showing off my body, he would take it as a personal offense. He wanted people to see me as eye candy. Nothing more, but he wanted people to covet me and him, like he once did Havoc.
Now, I picked things I felt pretty in when I tried them on, but I can’t help but worry. I’ll just give all the assholes one more thing to tear me down for.
“You look like a fucking goddess. The only thing that would make it even better would be if you were wearing my cum.”
A burst of laughter escapes me, startling us both before Hannibal smiles smugly at me.
“In fact, I think that’s a great idea.”
“Hannibal—”
I’m cut off when he reaches for the shoulder strap and slides it down my arm. Slowly, he inches the dress down over mybreasts and stomach before getting to his knees and offering me a hand.
“Step out.”
I do as he asks, gripping his hand tightly as I step out of the material. Picking up the dress, he lays it across the bed before grabbing a pillow and placing it on the floor in front of me. I feel my eyes widen as he removes my strapless bra and tosses that on the bed, too, before he reaches for the thin lace of my thong and tears it from my body as if it were made of paper.
Shoving the lace into his jeans pocket, he offers me his hand again. “Kneel for me, doll.”
I look from him to the pillow before slipping my hand into his. Using him to balance, I kneel on the pillow and look up at him. I’m naked and on my knees, and yet the look of heat in his eyes blisters my skin and makes me feel like the most powerful person in this room.
With his eyes locked on mine, he pulls his cock free from his jeans and begins stroking it up and down. I lick my lips at the carnal view in front of me and hear him groan as he tightens his grip. Neither of us speaks, the only sound in the room is our ragged breathing and the rhythmic strokes of his cock.
It’s like a spell has been cast over us. Nothing outside of this room matters. There’s only him and me and us together, our combined arousal weaving a web around us. He steps closer, and I open my mouth in response. But he doesn’t take advantage, even though I’d like nothing more than to feel him hot and heavy against my tongue.
Instead, he traces the shape of my mouth with the tip of his cock, hissing when I swipe over the pearl of pre-cum dotting the head. He starts fucking his fist harder, faster. My breathing picks up with his sense of urgency, and I feel myself slicken with need. If I reach down and touch myself, I know my fingers would be soaked in minutes.
I don’t, though. This is just for him. I have no idea why that’s important, but it is. I want to be able to give something to him with no expectations in return. I have so little to offer, but that doesn’t mean I have nothing. With a grunt and a curse, Hannibal pulls back and comes, the first and second shots landing across my chest, the third and fourth across my stomach. The rest coats his hand.
If I wasn’t already on my knees, the look in his eyes would turn my legs to jelly. As it is, when he offers me his hand, I have to grasp it tightly and give myself a second to find my balance once I get to my feet before I release him. Stepping closer, he takes his cum-coated hand and slides it between my legs, stroking my clit with his wet digit.
“Fuck!” I curse when my legs begin to shake.
“Later. For now, I want you to come all over my hand.”
