Page 27 of The First Cut

“And if I told you to suck me off?”

Before I can stop her, she kneels on the unforgiving floor with a grimace. When she reaches for my jeans, I let her—curious to see how far she’ll go.

She slides her hand into my boxers and pulls my hard cock free. Leaning forward, she licks the tip with her hot, wet tongue. I groan—fuck, that feels good but then my brain kicks in. She’s pregnant and banged up. The last thing she needs is to be on her knees on the cold tile. I reach down and pick her up, holding her until she’s steady on her feet before letting go and tucking myself back into my pants.

She looks at me blankly. No fear, no embarrassment—no nothing. And fuck if that doesn’t make me want her even more. Coming from someone who’s not very good at processing emotion, I’m very aware of how easily people can manipulate them, especially if they think their life depends on it.

“There are some here that think you’re a spy,” I say as I circle her.

“Then they’re idiots.”

“You’re not exactly known for your loyalty.”

“You’re not known for your sanity.”

“In my case, it’s true.”

“If you say so.”

I let out a dry laugh. “Oh, Lola, if you think you’re gonna be the one to fix me, you’ll be very disappointed.”

A startled laugh bursts from her, making me pause. She never reacts how I expect.

“I don’t want to fix you. I can’t even fix myself. And honestly, if you think I’m a spy, well, there’s not much I can say about that. You’ll believe what you want, whether I protest my innocence or not, so what’s the point of saying anything? The club will decide my guilt, and like always, it will have nothing to do with the truth.”

I want to push her, sensing there’s a whole lot more to what she’s saying, but now’s not the time or place. “You’ll be staying with me.”

“Okay.”

“You’re not gonna fight me on it?”

“Would it make any difference?”

“No.”

“Then no, I won’t fight you. It’s exhausting waiting for broken bones to heal.”

“I don’t need to break bones to get you to do what I want.”

She covers her stomach again protectively, and it makes me wonder how often Driller uses threats against the baby to keep her under his control.

“No matter what goes down between us, the kids are off-limits. You’ll never use them as pawns, and I’ll never use them as weapons,” I tell her.

“You’ll say anything to get me to do what you want.”

“No. I wouldn’t waste my breath. I could just force you to do what I want—you know that.”

“Then why bother with pretty lies?”

“Because they aren’t lies. If you’re my old lady, then that’s the way it’ll stay until one of us dies. We’ll be building something together, something I think you desperately want.”

She blinks back tears. “What could you possibly give me, Hannibal?”

“A family.”

Chapter Eight

Lola