Chapter 44 I Feel Safe With You
I Feel Safe With You
Eli's Search History: bilateral salpingectomy information and lasting effects
Eli
My fingers whiten on the wooden doorframe beneath them. The bare room glares back at me, mocking.
The plans I had for this place have been quashed. The image of Emily, round with my children—gone.
I don’t care. Not really. Kids were never something I had particularly strong feelings about either way. But when I moved my angel in, I guess I just assumed they’d be the natural course of things.
Still, I’m mourning the loss of a future I’d already started picturing.
I would have loved her pregnant. But I love her more than the idea of imaginary children.
Kids are replaceable anyway, Emily is not.
All I care about now, is keeping her safe.
Anger surges through my veins at the thought of some fucker getting her pregnant.
After she told me about the bilateral salpingectomy—yes, I googled it—she explained how she’d gotten pregnant by a man she’d been with for two months.
When she told him about the baby, he dipped.
She didn’t even get the chance to tell him she didn’t want to keep it.
I want to rip that man’s head off with my bare hands.
Which is probably why she’s refusing to give me a name.
“Hey.” Emily’s angelic voice cuts through my thoughts.
I turn to find her standing in the doorway, biting her lip.
“Hi, Angel.”
Her hands are tucked behind her back. Hiding something.
I tilt my head. “What do you have there?”
She hesitates, then brings them forward.
Is that my mask?
And—
My knife?
Something tightens low in my chest. “Why do you have those?”
Her mouth curves, all mischief, though there’s a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes that makes my fingers twitch. “I found them in your drawer. I was looking for my charger.”
I haven’t touched either in months. Not since she learned the truth.
“Do you remember when you broke in,” she says softly, lifting the knife, “and held this to my throat?”
I groan. “How could I forget?”
She smiles. “You thought Graham was a man.”
I narrow my eyes. “Where is this going, Angel?”
She bites her lip again. This time, when she speaks, her voice is quieter. Steadier. “I think… I liked the fear. When it was you.”
I don’t speak. I want to hear the words from her.
“I was thinking we could maybe…” She trails off, and I stalk towards her, my patience snapping.
“Maybe?” I ask, my hand sliding to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair.
Her breath stutters, her chest rising sharply. “It’s just that… I know I can trust you now. I know you’d never actually hurt me. I think I’ve always known. And, well…”
“Angel,” I groan, pulling her flush against me, the knife in her hand pressing into my stomach. “Get to the point.”
Her eyes shine as she searches my face, lips parted. “I was thinking you could…”
“I won’t do it unless you ask,” I murmur.
I need her to choose it. To choose me. It’s what I’ve always needed.
“You… you could wear the mask when we—”
I raise a brow.
She huffs in frustration. “I want you to wear the mask and fuck me.”
I lean in, my lips brushing hers. “And the knife?”
“What about it?”
“What should I do with it?”
“W-what would you like to do?”
I bite her lower lip slowly, tugging it away before releasing it. “I could use it to fuck you.”
She jerks back. “Use… the knife?” Her head shakes. “I don’t—”
“You don’t think you’d enjoy it?” A sly grin curves my mouth. “Then why are your nipples so hard they’re straining through your top?”
She gasps, eyes dropping to the unmistakable evidence of her arousal.
“Your cheeks are flushed,” I murmur. “Is that because you like the idea of me using my knife on you?” I let my gaze drag over her. “I bet your pretty pussy is soaked just thinking about it.”
I expect her to retreat. To cower.
Instead, my angel smirks. “Why don’t you find out?”
It takes everything in me not to take her right here. But I don’t move.
Emily’s chest rises and falls sharply, her body trembling with a heady mix of fear and anticipation.
I snatch the mask and knife from her quivering fingers. Sliding the mask over my face, I inhale, the familiar weight grounding me. My head tips back as a near-euphoric rush floods my veins.
Then I snap my gaze back to her, locking onto her eyes—knowing all she can see now is a soulless mask.
“Run, Angel.”
I don’t have to tell her twice. She turns and bolts, bare feet pounding down the stairs.
I don’t run.
I walk. Slowly.
Because knowing the person hunting you is so certain they’ll catch you that they don’t even bother to hurry?
That’s a different kind of fear.
I catch up to her as she stumbles into the kitchen.
Her head twists, eyes locking onto me, her hair swooshing around her face. She turns fully, then begins to walk backward, slow and deliberate, never breaking eye contact.
I stalk after her until she’s pressed against the island in the centre of the kitchen, her body trembling, chest rising and falling sharply. My hips crowd hers and she gasps, feeling exactly how much I want her.
The knife lifts, the tip settling at her collarbone, barely kissing skin.
I hold it there.
Pause.
Despite the shivers wracking her body, she nods—encouraging me.
I grin behind the mask.
Then her clothes are giving way, fabric parting beneath the blade as I expose her to me.
Big tits and pert nipples strain towards me. Curves that I would sell my soul for. Pussy that I know is weeping for me.
I flip the knife, so the hilt faces her, the blade biting into my palm instead. Blood beads and slides, slicking the handle.
Emily’s eyes widen, pupils blown, as she watches me drag the knife down her body until it hovers in line with her wet heat.
My free hand braces on the countertop beside her head, caging her in.
“Tell me to stop, Angel.”
She doesn’t. Her hips shift, lifting just slightly—enough for the handle to brush her clit.
Her soft moan fills the room, tangling with our laboured breaths.
Tilting the handle, I work it slowly inside her, my blood mixing with her juices to ease the intrusion.
Her lips part, head tipping back as her hips grind, craving friction.
I shove the mask up. My mouth crashes into hers as I continue moving the knife. She gasps against my lips, my tongue sliding inside.
The blade keeps biting into my palm as I thrust the handle in and out of her. But it isn’t just blood making my hand wet—she’s dripping, arousal coating the knife and sliding down her thighs.
“Fall apart for me, Angel.”
Her hips buck, eyes fluttering closed as she chases release.
The handle moves easily inside her now, and I quicken my pace.
She cries out—nonsensical, garbled.
“I—I need to pee,” she gasps, eyes flying open with panic.
“Let it out,” I murmur.
“Eli!”
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Emily screams, and then liquid gushes over my hand, splashing onto the floor.
I don’t stop, wringing every last tremor from her.
“Oh my god,” Emily breathes when I finally pull the knife from her tight heat.
She stares at the floor in shock. “Did I just—?”
“Squirt all over my knife?” I say lightly. “Yeah. I’m never washing that again.”
She laughs, thinking I’m joking—until I lift the handle to my mouth and drag my tongue along it, savouring the taste of her cum. My eyes close, a groan tearing from my chest. “Delicious.”
“Eli—”
“We’re not done here, Angel.”
She stares at me.
“On your knees.”
Slowly, using the island for support, she sinks down in front of me.
What a sight.
My fingers hook into her jaw as I slip the mask back into place. “Such a good girl.”
She looks up at me, waiting.
I nod toward my still-covered cock. “Take it out.”
I don’t have to ask twice. Her fingers tremble as she unbuckles my belt, opens the button, and slides the zip down.
My cock springs free, bobbing, straining toward her.
She licks her lips.
“Take all of me, Angel.”
Her mouth closes around me, and I groan at the heat and wetness of her.
One hand pumps my length as she takes as much as she can, the other bracing on my thigh.
My fingers tangle in her hair, gripping tight.
She moans around me.
My hips begin to pulse forward. I hit the back of her throat; she gags but doesn’t pull away, doubling her efforts as tears spill.
“Christ,” I groan. “So fucking good, Angel. You’re doing so well.”
Her hand slides from my thigh to my balls. Lightning shoots down my spine, but I refuse to come. Not yet.
I pull out.
She looks up at me, eyes glistening, saliva on her chin.
Perfectly ruined.
Dragging her up from the floor, I pull her against me, sliding my hands under her ass to lift her. She squeals—the sound lights me up.
Her back hits the counter as I thrust into her. She gasps, head tipping back.
Reaching up, she shoves the mask from my face. I let it fall.
With no barrier between us, I kiss her—hard.
My hips snap in a brutal rhythm, our eyes locked, something tender threading through the heat.
“I love you,” she whispers, staring straight into me.
“I love you, Angel,” I choke as my orgasm crashes over me.
Fuck. I didn’t mean to come so fast.
I lower Emily to the floor and drop to my knees.
“You don’t—”
Ignoring her, I run my tongue over her slit, tasting our combined release, the blood. I moan into her softness.
It doesn’t take long before she’s screaming my name again.
As I rise, I grip her chin, and tip her face up.
Then spit into her mouth.
She swallows.
I grin. “Good girl.”
She slumps back against the counter. “Wow.”
I scoop her up and carry her upstairs, into the shower. We wash each other, grab towels, dry off, and tumble into bed.
Exhaustion presses behind my eyes.
I pull her close, her ass snug against me. My cock stirs—an instinctive response to the most beautiful woman in the world shifting in my arms.
“Thank you for trusting me,” I murmur.
She sighs, content. “I feel safe with you.”