Page 67 of Bake the Town Red

“Of course I did. I was so needy…” Dahlia’s voice turns into one of a spoiled child. Her smirk changes into a sexy pout. “Daddy.”

“You weren’t with anyone else.” I lean in, licking her red lipstick off her lips. Sucking on them. She moans. Growls. “You’ll never be with anyone else.” I grab her breast, brushing my thumb on the hardened nipple through her clothes. “Tell me why that is.”

“Because you’re my Daddy. You took his place years ago. Remember?” Psychotic little thing tilts her head to bite my cheek. “Back then, you didn’t touch me. Didn’t so much as look at my breasts until I turned seventeen. Now this. You stalk me. Make sure the boys in school don’t come anywhere near me. Leave me sad and unsatisfied and a virgin. Such a Daddy, aren’t you, Tyler?”

“Want me to be your Daddy?”

She’s begging to be punished. I squeeze my hand around her slender neck. Grind my erection against her belly. Dry hump her right there, near the rusty mailboxes. The door rattles with how hard I push and how easily her body gives in to me.

“Would your Daddy do this?”

When I tighten my grip around her neck, Dahlia cries out. Her pleasure turns into a scream reverberating through her lungs. Pleasure so loud I have to release her breast and clamp my hand around her mouth.

Her screams belong to me. If I see anyone else getting off on them, I’m slashing their throats.

It won’t be the first time I killed a person.

Bad guys. Episodes of rage so overwhelming I’m unable to hold back. Some, you even forget. Some, you remember. How you claim the revenge that was stolen from me.

Not now. I have her here, and I don’t want anything to come between us.

“You didn’t answer me, little savage,” I taunt her, since she obviously can’t answer with my hand on her mouth. “You want me to be your Daddy?”Push. Thrust.The door will cave under my violent pounding if I’m not careful. “I won’t be that for you. I’ll do better. I’ll be your everything. And we’ll both live to regret it.”

Her teeth scrape the inside of my palm. She stomps on my boot with her sneakers.

“Feisty. Always the feisty one.” With my hand still on her mouth, I wrench open the door to the building, dragging her to the elevator. “Feisty. Trapped. And mine.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Dahlia

“Mine.”

For years, this was the one word I’ve been desperate to hear—and no, the note he left me doesn’t count.

I needed his voice. Have dreamed about it during my sweetest nightmares. Where spiders creeped up on every inch of my body. Where ravens croak from the sky.

Mine.

Finally, he said it.

Actually said it.

“Dahlia?” His brown eyes have softened the slightest bit as he’s forced me into the elevator. He pins my arms behind my back, presses them and me to the elevator’s wall. “Where’d you go?”

I would’ve told him I’m fine.

Except the pushy bastard has his hand on my lips. I stare at him. At his glowering eyes. His sculpted jaw, high cheekbones. The shadows lurking beneath them.

He thinks I’ve lost it. He remembers the days he’d drag me back to reality and thinks it’s happening all over again. Starting to, at least.

I wouldn’t have. If he’d been there, I would’ve been just fine.

I’m not being fair. I’m also not being rational. He’s followed me home. He’s the one who pushed me into the elevator. Because of him, I’ve been heartbroken for years.

Sadly, this is the moment that every hurt moment I’ve ever endured rises to the surface.

All of them.

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