Page 178 of Bake the Town Red

“Yes?” I breathe. Barely.

“Not a peep out of you about skinning the warm body.” Tyler rounds the chair dead Johnathan occupies. “Not. A. Peep. You hear me?”

“Y-yes.”

Body? What body? I only have eyes for Tyler. For my fiancé in his most feral form. My man reminds me of a dangerous predator. His shoulders are squared, hands balled into fists.

He’s coming for me.

Instinct dictates my moves. I step back, back, back while Tyler prowls forward. He pushes his mask up his face, shrugging his coat off.

My nipples pull tight. The constant need for him rises in my belly, catching at my throat. The fear of him makes the room hotter. My desire for Tyler is greater.

When he’s close, he lowers my mask back in its place. Doesn’t say a word for five full breaths.

“Ty?”

“Lean against the wall.” He drops to his knees before me. “I need to lick you more than I need air, little savage. I can’t fucking think straight.”

I do as he says. Breathless. Limbless. In love.

The button and zipper of my jeans pose no obstacle to him. The fact that my jeans are skin-tight is no issue, either. He yanks them down to my knees in less than a second.

“No panties.” His gaze darts up to meet my eyes. “You like being filthy, Mrs. Price?”

Oh, fuck. I used to have a brain. I used to have clever retorts. None of it is left. Nothing when he calls me this.

“I do.” I’m breathless. Terribly happy too. “Husband.”

Tyler groans when he hears the titlehusband. His fingers part my lips and his mouth and tongue are on me.

Technically, he’s not my husband yet. Neither of us minds the minor oversight. Just like we don’t care that I might get my cycle any second with his mouth on my pussy.

He’s eating me like he’s been starved for decades. Like he’s never done this before.

His tongue is hot and his lips are demanding, and in a few short minutes, I’m pulsing and shaking and screaming his name.

“Please, Tyler. Please.”

The room is dark. It’s filled with light. Maybe both. I can’t be sure. I see flashes and hearts. I see Tyler removing my sneakers and tugging on my jeans and socks until they’re gone.

“Tell me you’re hungry for my cum.” Tyler pushes a knee to my pussy, holding my spent body up that way. He covers one of my hands with his, yanking it to the button of his jeans. No belt today, thank fuck. “Take me out and tell me you’re hungry for my cum, Dahlia.”

Adrenaline, fear, and lust flow through my veins, drowning me in them. Tremors break through my body. My hands shake.

But nothing—and I meannothing—will stop me from taking what’s mine. From being Tyler’s.

“I’m hungry, Tyler.” I snap his button open, lowering his zipper. My knuckles graze his jeans, feeling his hard cock as I go. “So hungry.”

“Hungry for what?” His fingers squeeze my chin. Tyler holds my mask up and brings his face closer so that his lips brush mine when he talks. “Tell me, pretty girl, what are you hungry for?”

“I’m hungry for your cock.” I pull it out, stroking the long, thick, and silky dick with my hand. “Hungry for this.”

“Close.” Tyler’s teeth are clenched. He’s hanging by a thread. I want him to snap. “I don’t remember—Fuck,” he curses when I rub his precum down his length. Slams his free hand on the wall beside my head. My mask drops into place outof nowhere, and he squeezes my chin tighter. “Fuck, Dahlia. Be a good fucking girl and say it already.”

“Your cum.”

He kicks my legs wider.

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