Page 53 of Bake the Town Red

My balls tighten, and it takes everything in me not to crumple the yellow Post-it in my other hand. That’s howmaddening it is to jack off to Dahlia while she’s here, begging for me to come all over her.

It’s so good that I want to break things. Set the world on fire.

Dahlia hums in her sleep and the sound reaches straight to my heart. To my cock. I lose it and then I’m shooting hot spurts of cum on her stomach.

Then I hold back. It hurts like a motherfucker to keep it in, but I’m on a mission. Normally, I’d dip my finger, paintDandTwith my cum on her skin.

Tonight, I’m leaving her a message. Much like the ones she used to leave on my sofa bed years ago at my old home.

Except my message won’t be a creepy one.

My message will contain one word, and one word only.

An undeniable truth. The thing that’ll always be out of my reach.

Mine.

I aim the head of my cock at the yellow Post-it. With what’s left of my cum, I scribble the message to the paper. Press it to the pillow next to Dahlia. Hover an inch above her face, pretending to kiss her before I put her clothes back in place. Tuck her under the covers.

She’ll find what I left her when she wakes up.

She’ll know it was me.

Still doesn’t mean we’re together.

This doesn’t mean a goddamned thing.

I just hope the universe hears me too.

CHAPTER TEN

Dahlia

My alarm goes off at precisely four in the morning.

I’ve slept like the dead, got in more hours than I normally do. My target kissed life goodbye faster than the others, and I was here by eleven, in bed by eleven-thirty and out like a light.

A good night’s sleep was supposed to make me feel better. Alive.

It hasn’t done any of it.

The same itch I’ve felt over the last three days crawls up my skin, starting in my toes. Up my feet, ankles and legs it goes. Between my thighs. At the delicious, painful tingle, I clench them.

Doesn’t help. Dammit. I cross one leg over another. Nothing.

Nothing helps.

The infuriating craving spreads higher to my navel, to my breasts. Choking me with longing. From missing Tyler’s tongue on me. In my mouth. On my pussy.

I loathe this…this doing nothing. Thiswaiting it out.

Baiting Tyler is a nightmare.

Being the bigger person is worse, especially when you’re five-one.

I’m done giving him his space. It’s fucking bullshit, is what it is. I’ve been doing it for the last four years and I am done.

Stalking him in the street isn’t enough. Creeping up into his apartment won’t do anymore.

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