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Lucy lay beside me in our bed, gasping for air, her cheeks stained with tears. I slowly pulled the knife out of her core and felt resistance as her walls clenched around the blade while I removed it—which only made me want to impale her with my cock, immediately. Resisting the urge to force my hard cock inside her dripping pussy and fuck her until she was screaming my name was nearly impossible.
I set the knife down gingerly on the bedside table, drawing in a deep, steadying breath as I took in the sight of her, trying to ensure she wasn't hurt—visibly, at the very least.
"How are you feeling, baby girl?" I asked her quietly, stroking her cheek softly, unable to completely mask the worry in my voice.
She smiled sleepily back at me, putting my nerves at ease.
"That was... I don't even know what that was. But, holy shit, Johnny..." she started laughing. "I... I really liked that. Probably too much. I've never done anything like that before in my life."
"I haven't, either," I replied truthfully. I inhaled slowly, exhaling deeply. "I'm so fucking proud of you, love." My eyes met hers, and an instant feeling of need washed over me.
"You were amazing. You did so well," I praised her, stroking her cheek lovingly. I trailed my hand down her exposed chest, to her stomach, to her swollen, tender clit, circling it delicately. "Are you feeling okay? Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?"
