Page 83 of The First Cut

“I stand by what I said. Besides, you’re too young to date. Don’t you have to be thirty or something?”

I look at Lola, who shakes her head. “I’m not even thirty, Hannibal, and I’m pregnant.”

“Exactly. Wait, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re you, and you’re—” I look at Millie “—you.”

“What does that even mean?” Millie huffs.

I stand up straight and point the spatula at her. “It means if a boy touches you with his fingers, I’ll cut them off. If he touches you with his dick. I’ll?—”

“Cut it off?” she says sarcastically.

“No. I’ll cut off his head— because if anyone even thinks about putting their dick inside you, they’re dead anyway.”

Lola bangs her head against the table as Millie stares at me with her mouth hanging open. “You can’t say that. If my boyfriend dies, this whole conversation will make it premeditated.” She folds her arms over her chest.

I point to the badge on my chest “This says I’m president. That means I’m smart enough to not get caught.”

“I’m going to die a virgin.”

“That’s the plan.” I grin before grabbing three bowls and dishing up the food.

Maybe this parenting thing won’t be so hard after all.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Lola

“For fuck’s sake, I suck at this!” Hannibal curses, releasing the strands of my hair and flopping back on the bed.

I turn and straddle his lap, his hands instantly going to my hips to steady me. “You spent an hour every day this week watching tutorials on braiding hair and then practicing on me. It doesn’t matter if the braid is too loose or off-center. It doesn’t matter that Millie can braid her own hair.”

“Wait, she can?”

I lean over him and kiss his lips. “You spent hours learning how to braid your daughter’s hair. Trust me, that’s the only thing that matters.”

He cocks his head, looking at me as if to gauge my truthfulness. “Really?”

“Really.”

He sighs before sliding his hands up the back of my T-shirt. His fingers deftly unhook my bra before he flips us, so I’m now lying flat on my back, and he’s straddling my thighs. Reaching inside his cut, he pulls out a small leather pouch. I watch ashe flips it open and swallow hard as he pulls out a sleek silver scalpel.

“Hannibal?” I whisper, not bothering to hide my nerves.

“Trust me, doll.”

I nod but don’t say anything so my voice doesn’t betray me.

Leaning over me, he hooks the neck of my T-shirt with his finger and lifts it away from my skin before he uses the scalpel to cut the material from collar to hem. Spreading the material wide, he uses the blade to cut the straps of my bra before pulling it free and tossing it across the room.

“You just bought that one,” I gasp as his mouth closes over one of my nipples.

“I don’t care. I’ll buy you a dozen more. Not that you need to wear one for my benefit. With tits like this, it’s a fucking travesty to cover them up,” he murmurs before moving to my other breast.

I grip his hair as he lavishes my breasts with attention, whispering his name reverently until I’m a hot, wet, squirming mess of need.

“You wet for me, doll?”

I nod my head rapidly. “Yes.”