Page 15 of Bake the Town Red

The taste of blood fills my mouth from sinking my teeth into my inner cheek. That’s the only way to silence my groans.

My free hand grips the base of my shaft as I start rocking my hips into it. My cock slides effortlessly on Dahlia’s lips. Her shallow breaths drive me wild. I gaze lower, at her breasts, covered by the blankets and that barrier pisses me right the fuck off.

Without slowing down, I draw them back. Pull her black hoodie and T-shirt up to her neck. To the snake tattoo there.

Yes. That’s what I’ve been missing. Full, round breasts. Small, pink nipples that harden at the loss of warmth. How hertits sway from left to right when I slide my cock between one corner of her mouth to the other.

When Dahlia yawns in her sleep, her mouth parts wider. Her lips wrap around me, taking me in a little deeper. Her tongue rests on my length as I keep rocking my hips back and forth.

It’s almost as if she’s licking me.

“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, coming on her sweet tongue.

A swift pain slices through me before the relief arrives. I pull away just in time to spray my load on her lips, in her mouth. The last of my orgasm, I shoot in her hair. That’s what I feel like doing.

That’s what being owned by me means.

“This doesn’t mean we’re together, little savage.” I tip my head up to the ceiling, talking to whoever the fuck runs this show. “Doesn’t mean any goddamn thing.”

Then I rub my cum inside her mouth, snapping it closed. By the morning, she’d have swallowed my seed. She won’t taste a thing, but I’d be deep inside her. Forever

“I still love you. But I’m not yours. Nothing’s changed. Good night, Dahlia. And happy hunting.”

CHAPTER TWO

Dahlia

Baking at four-thirty in the morning could only be described as exquisite.

Made ten times more exquisite on the first day of October.

The month my healing process starts.

That first October when I started killing people as a form of therapy, I wasn’t happy about it. The murder part was fun. Always is.

What pushed me to do it… That part wasn’t fun at all.

Panic. Pain. Loneliness.

October—or more accurately, Halloween—will forever remind me how I lost everything. Not once but twice.

My brother disappeared. I gained Tyler as a guardian that day, and I still cried for months.

Fast forward three years later, and Ian came back. Only this time, I lost him for good. Him, Mrs. Price, and Tyler.

I should hate this month. Loathe the hell out of it.

Except my soul won’t let me. My soul demands that I find happiness in killing people. Bad people. All but one of my targets. The woman I haven’t killed yet. The woman who’ll die this month. Technically, she’snot a bad person. She still has it coming. I have my reasons.

Can’t help it.

Just like I couldn’t help killing thirty-one people at nineteen. What creative murders they were.

Even if I hated it, it’s not like I had a choice. Tyler wasn’t there. Tyler’s out there, getting over ourbad lucknonsense excuse he clings on to. Murdering people at the back of Sweet DeNights helps me slay my demons, all by myself.

I smile to myself while I wrap sandwich cookies in a food vacuum package, lift the rolling pin, and bash them.Bam, bam, bamand they’re crumpling into tiny pieces.

I’m what one might call the Santa Clause of Halloween. While no one gets gifts, the naughty ones get punishments.

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