Page 170 of Bake the Town Red

“You’re going to suck my dick later.” I push Dahlia to the floor, my fingers making a fist of her hair. “Little cum slut. You think I care if you’re not in the mood? You think I give a fuck?”

“Let me go.” Such a good actress, my Dahlia. Shrieking as if I really mean to scare her. As if I’ll rape her mouth later. “Don’t, please, help! Help me!”

Her eyes, though, they can’t lie. Through the thin almond shapes in the mask, there’s the real her. The woman who would’ve begged for the opposite. Had it been just the two of us here, she would’ve cried for me to violate her mouth.

“Well, well, well.” The door to the baking room flies open, hitting the wall behind it. “What do we have here?”

By letting himself in, Johnathan so-called exposes Dahlia and me. He sees my plans for what they are. A man ready to rip off the woman’s mask and stuff her mouth with my dick.

He doesn’t move to help her.

He’s watching the scene unfold.

Guess what, fucker? We’re watching you too.

The pictures of him didn’t lie. He’s tall, lean, built. His blond hair is thick and cut short and brushed to the side. His brown gaze is cocky as fuck. His smug smile is worse.

Jerk.

“Get lost.” My fist in Dahlia’s hair tightens. I thrust her masked face into my cock. The crunching sound of her mask makes my cock jerk. “We’re busy here.”

He doesn’t move.

“If you don’t mind.”

“Help!”

“Oh, but I do mind.” Johnathan doesn’t disappoint. He pushes the door closed behind him. Granting us the privacy we need. “CTCyfrin. That’s you behind that mask, isn’t it?”

This fucking guy thinks his so smart. Truthfully, he’s nothingbut an amateur.

First, he gives away his identity by calling out mine. Second, his hand moves to the inside of his expensive navy suit jacket. Surreptitiously reaching for his weapon of choice.

Surreptitiously, my ass.

It’s as if he hasn’t killed anyone before.

“You’re a fan?” I snarl. Dahlia whimpers. Both of us pretend we have no idea what’s going on.

“You wish, jerkoff.”

“Help,” Dahlia whines. Her voice is so small.

Finally, Johnathan stops in his tracks. Three feet separate him and us. His hand remains hidden in his jacket, his eyes studying Dahlia before they’re back on me.

“That’s interesting.” He smirks. It takes everything in me to hold still instead of twisting my body, kicking his knee, watching him fall. I’ll have the best fucking time, smashing his face with my boot. “Here I was thinking you liked that bitch.”

He’s a foot closer. Mentally, I’m already on him, choking the life out of him for calling Dahlia a bitch. I keep reminding myself he’s headed for a world of torture.

That helps subdue my murderous needs. Helps me stick to my act.

“Get the hell out,” I tell him. Ibaithim. Just like Dahlia baited me not too long ago. “She’s mine. Go find someone else to suck you off, whoever the fuck you are.”

He’s focused on me. So focused that he doesn’t pay attention to the frying pan on the stove.

He’s blind to the fumes rising from the empty utensil. Has no idea that I’m loosening my grip on Dahlia’s hair.

“I don’t think I would.” His hand slides out of his jacket, exposing a sharp knife.

---