Page 161 of Bake the Town Red

“Hmm.” She considers my question. “Umm…”

I place my game controller over her pussy. My role in this game doesn’t require hitting a few buttons at once. Not until she acts.

In the meantime, I touch her.

“You’re soaking.” I slide my fingers into her heat. Run my nose along her neck. Drag my fingers up and slap her swollen pussy. “But a soaking cunt won’t give me the answers I want. Which. Way?”

It takes her a couple of seconds to stop squirming and moaning. Could be because I’m pinching her clit and rubbing it with my thumb and index finger.

“Where’s the worst—” Dahlia groans, rocking her hips. “The worst villain?”

When I look down at the front of Dahlia’s body, I see the peaks of her nipples stretching my T-shirt. The goosebumps that rake her soft thighs.

I could do better.

I am doing better.

I spit on my hand, reach between Dahlia and me to rub my saliva on my cock. She rolls her head back to my shoulder when I’m done.

Oh, fuck, that’s it. That effortless sliding between her butt cheeks. To be enveloped by her heat.

“Left,” I grit out.

Dahlia doesn’t question me. She takes us in that direction. I press the button that’ll make my character auto-follow her. Her bodyguard, among other things.

With my hands back on her hips and her cunt, I hold her, slide my dick without penetration.

My woman isn’t a warrior like the character on the screen. Not this minute, anyway. She’s an adorable mess. Her fingers press the buttons angrily. Breaths are clipped from the soft strokes of my fingers on her clit. Her body jerks with every thrust of mine.

Precum leaks from the head of my cock. Pressure builds in my balls.

Her clit is hard, throbbing. She’s dripping on me.

And we continue watching the screen. Never taking our eyes off it.

Tall bookshelves reach for the ceiling. Dahlia, breathless and full of need, tilts the head of her character up. Paintings hang high up on the walls. Dust specks float in the dimming light of the day.

I thought of everything. I wanted it to be perfect.

Dahlia deserved nothing less.

“Wow.” Maybe the spiders sliding between the bookshelves. Maybe the crows flying close to the ceiling. Could be the hooded dark people in the oil paintings. Or maybe it’s a reaction to me. To my impatience and how hard I shove her down my cock. “Wow.”

“I had to—” I grunt when her pretty pussy squeezes my dick. She spreads her legs wider, an invitation if I’ve ever seen it. So I fuck her from beneath her. Balls deep. Every fuckingtime. “Created it like this for you. You’re mine, little savage. And I take care of what’s mine. Everything there, everything that I am, is for you.”

Her orgasm hits her hard. Her character stumbles and the man we’re chasing turns to face us. He smiles and his teeth are yellow and crooked. Before he has a chance to advance on us, I grab Dahlia’s game controller.

She’s still moaning and begging for me. I hug her tighter and press a few buttons until the hand of her character grasps onto old book spines and straightens.

The miserable gray-haired villain sees her recuperating. The coward whips around and flees.

“W-who was that?” she asks.

I’m not done with Dahlia, so I pass her the game controller. Grip her hips, dragging her sweet cunt up and down my cock.

“Ty, who are we killing?”

Her character raises a sharp butcher knife. I haven’t seen her select it. Yes, I’ve been looking straight ahead. But my head, it’s deep inside Dahlia’s pussy. Desperate to give her another orgasm.

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