Page 31 of Bake the Town Red

The need to have his cock in my pussy was ever-strong. The desire to wrap my lips and lick the bead of precum was driving me nuts. I could practically taste it.

Wanting him had been imprinted in my DNA since I could remember myself.

Tyler loved me back. So much so that he’d cut me off to save my life. Backward logic, I know, because without Ty, I had no life.But his head had been fucked up. By staying away from him, I protected him too. From another meltdown.

I still needed him. Fucking his face while he slept was a compromise.

A wonderful compromise. I rocked my hips, took his mouth softly. Maddeningly softly. Anything faster, any more pressure I’d put on his lips, and I’d get caught. He’d wake up.

But I was losing my mind with need.

As I fucked his hot mouth and rubbed myself on his scruff, I raised a hand to my throat. Curled my fingers around it. Around the snake and scars. Choked myself.

That felt better. So. Much. Better.

It could be something Tyler did. He would’ve taken his anger out on the world like that, with me as the recipient. He’d pleasure me and find his release.

Just another perfect example of what a great couple we’d make.

The less air flowing into my lungs, the tighter my stomach coiled. My nipples grazed the inside of my bra, and my clit was wet and hot from Tyler’s mouth.

When I finally came, I almost blacked out. Almost. I lifted my ass higher so Tyler wouldn’t wake from how I clenched on fucking nothing. Bit my tongue so hard I nearly drew blood.

Before I left, I took the liberty of swiping my tongue over Tyler’s cock. A quick lick of his precum. Salty and oh-so-him. Kissed the tip. And bounced home.

Fucking amazing.

“What’s wrong with your eyes?” Gunner grew balls while I was in dreamland. “You’re fucked in the head. Let me go.”

He thinks that because I’m crazy, he has the upper hand.

Better think again.

“Earlier, I asked you—politely, if I might add—to give me your tongue.” I take my place in front of Gunner, aiming the dripping frosting at his face.

Another splotch of cinnamon frosting lands on his lips. Now that I’m not holding the scissors, Gunner’s turned brave. He darts his tongue out, licking it. Grinning.

“You’ve been rude, Gunner.” I pretend he didn’t just taunt me. “Refusing me like that. Very, very disrespectful.”

My words and mocking tone have the impact of the scissors.

Gunner’s amusement is snuffed out. His attempt at being rough is an epic fail. The terror in his eyes is a precious moment I want to capture. Send it to his wife and daughter. Let them have this victory. Bathe in it.

Same way I rejoiced when I put an end to the sick fuck that was my uncle.

Unfortunately, a photo would incriminate me. Law enforcement would have my ass for that. I’d like my ass to stay where it is, thank you very much.

Where Tyler can reach it.

“You’re going to d-d-drown me with frosting?” He finally sees what’s happening here. His chin quivers. Eyebrows high up on his forehead. “I w-w-won’t open my mouth for you, cunt. You’ll never be able to put them there.”

He slams it shut again. Coward.

“Nah, I won’t put these”—I shake the piping bags—“inside your mouth. You’ll open that baby up for me all on your own.”

In one swift movement, I shove both open ends of the frosting piping bags into his nostrils. Gunner’s first reaction is shock. He stays put while I sink the bags as deep as I can get them. His eyes bulge when I tilt his face up so he’s looking at the ceiling.

His shock lasts a few more seconds. That’s it. Because then I squeeze the bags tight. Frosting fills his nose, overflowing them.

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