Page 52 of Bake the Town Red

And it gets crazier as I near her closed bedroom door.

I recognize the transformation as it happens. As I walk past the tiny kitchen and the smaller living room.

The sick desire calls for me to do worse than jack off to her. I want to bind her to the bed. Spank and bite and drive my cock so deep inside her that she’ll be sore for months.

Worse than that. I want to be with her. Forever.

Before I enter her bedroom, my eye catches something interesting. My cock rages when I turn back to the kitchen. When I tear one yellow Post-it off its stack and take it with me.

My orgasm can’t wait. But it will. The possessive, unhinged man I’m turning into demands it.

Her door opens without making a sound and I’m in there.

Throbbing. Maddened.

Starving.

Dahlia is sleeping, like I thought. She’s lying on her back, her soft hair still damp from the shower. Her pouty lips are pressed together. She’s peaceful, resting there with the covers pulled up to her chin.

It won’t last.

I swallow down the need to touch her face. To caress her cheeks that feel as silky as rose petals. That’ll wake her.

We can’t. Be. Together.

Carefully, I peel the thick blankets off her body. That I can do. I lift her red sweater and black T-shirt until they reach her collarbone. They scrunch up there, hiding the snake tattoo on her neck.

Revealing the rest of her.

Soft belly. Pink nipples. Plump breasts that I’m dying to take a bite of.

My woman.

Not yours.

I bite back a growl. I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want to return to her and ruin her life. But I’m hard and obsessed andfuck. Staying away hurts. Staying away is the worst kind of torture.

My cock is out of my briefs, throbbing in my fist. Precum leaks from the head, and I squeeze myself harder, feeling the pulse beneath my palm.

Inside my head—where Dahlia can’t hear me—I curse. Fuck, and fuck, and motherfucker. Damn this distance I have to put between us. Damn this curse I couldn’t get rid of.

I’m not here to cry over life, though, am I?

I’m here for her. She’s beautiful. Breathing softly, her chest rising and falling. Her nipples harden from the cold.

Mine.

Same as I’ve done every other night I broke in here, I fuck my hand, hard. I imagine what it would be like to be the first man inside her virgin cunt. She’d be tight. Would bleed for me. Scream for me.

I won’t close my eyes for a second. I’ll watch her scream in pain and pleasure. I’ll be a vampire feeding off her feelings. Swallow up every emotion that pours out of her.

She’ll clench around my cock and—oh, fuck, that feels good—soak me. I’ll make her that wet. Make her pussy cry for me.

Dahlia will love it when I fuck her like the beast I am. When I choke her. When I spank her ass and call her my whore.

I don’t know if I could take her any other way. I don’t know that I want to.

The distance has turned me into an animal. She’s turned me into one.

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