Page 39 of Bake the Town Red

She does it on purpose. Bakes just the right amount so she can close on time during October. Only during October. I’ve studied her enough to learn that fun fact.

A pang of jealousy slashes through me. Her targets. What does she do with them? I’ve never snuck to the back to find out. That’s her secret. Her life. I’m not a part of it anymore.

Taking a peek ended badly for me. I would’ve come just by watching her handle dead bodies.

I would’ve.

I can’t.

“Thank you.” Her mouth creates the shape around the words.

Dahlia smiles at an older man in a tweed jacket and a tattered pair of brown slacks. He’s the last of her customers. Even from this far, his trembling hand is noticeable. The bill in his hand quivers.

She must notice it too, because she shakes her head.

The messy bun on top of her head bounces, just a little. Her breasts are hidden behind the grotesque yet beautiful orange Halloween apron. Beneath it, if I squint my eyes, I can make out another one of her black knit dresses.

Her bright red lips scrunch. The man in front of her keeps sticking his trembling hand out to her. She keeps shaking her head.

He’s not on her shitlist, that’s for sure. He’s safe. Has no idea how lucky he is.

If he knew, he would’ve dropped the cupcake and left.

Like I should.

I push away from the building I’ve been leaning on. Cross the road. Let the old man pass me by on his way out.

The bell doesn’t ring as I slip inside. Dahlia doesn’t hear me step inside. Doesn’t see me flip the sign on the door toclosed.

She’s wiping the tiles on the wall behind the counter. The bright orange cloth in her hand moves over the black and white tiles.

Her round ass sways as she cleans and hums theHalloweenmovie theme to herself. Her body moves gracefully in the knitdress that reaches just over her ankles. She’s at ease and so fucking alluring that I want to scream.

I want to bend her over that counter and feed her pretty cunt my cum. Make her come. Make her cry out my name when I empty myself inside her.

Every drop of blood in my body travels south. My dick gets hard listening to her voice as she hums. Watching her do something as mundane as swiping a cloth over tiles is electric.

She’s mesmerizing when she’s at peace. Just as gorgeous as when she’s sleeping, screaming, or baking.

I’ll always, forever, be crazy in love with her.

I’m not just turned on. It’s more than that. My hands feel like claws. My teeth demand to have her flesh. She shakes her ass to the dark melody and the pressure in my head is unbearable.

I need to ruin her. Love her.

I need to stay away.

Bam. Both my hands slam on the counter, my body leaning forward.

“Ty.” She doesn’t even jump. Doesn’t rush to turn to me.

When she does, she’s slow about it. I sense hesitation. A brief, fleeting one. Then hope glitters behind her blue eyes.

“You didn’t hear me.”

“No. I felt you.”

Of course, she did. She’s more than just my prey. She’s a predator herself. She wouldn’t have made it this far without senses that are as sharp as her canines.

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