Page 72 of Bake the Town Red

“Then I turned eighteen. You still didn’t touch me.” Those aren’t accusations. It’s her bleeding heart doing the talking. The soft side of me bleeds right next to hers. “That Halloween morning, before you left for work, you wanted to fuck me. And you didn’t.”

I can tell where she’s headed with this. Of course, I can. I was there.

In her apartment. Breaths labored. Cock heavy between my legs. Tightness around my chest. A relentless pull at my heart.

She was losing it, and I carried her to the shower, same as always. I turned on the water, waited for her eyes to tell me she was okay. Once Dahlia was back, I left her a change of clothes. Stormed out of her apartment. Raced up to mine.

I hadn’t dated for years at that point. Hadn’t looked at anyone else. Dahlia and my grandma were my priority, then Dahlia became my obsession.

Her eighteenth birthday didn’t change a goddamn thing. It was too taboo. Too wrong to have her. She’d been my ward until that birthday. I’d been her guardian.

And I. Wanted. Her. I was hot all fucking over, all the time. Only her.

“You weren’t in the apartment when I came out of the shower.”

Nope. I had to come. I had to be able to think and not assault her.

I don’t confirm or deny it. I touch her. I manhandle her. With the front of her body pressed to the wall, one of her blue eyes narrows at me. Dark and accusing and borderline crazy.

“You went up there to fuck your fist. Yourfist. Not me. Your fucking hand. Why?”

Her attitude. I have to put her in her place and worship her and dammit—my cock is so hard.

“Little savage.” One hand on her face, keeping her there. The other shoves her jeans and panties to the floor. “You’ve tested my patience one too many times tonight.”

“Patience?” That taunting. That tease. “What patience?”

“You really shouldn’t have said that.”

I’m not gentle when I press her face harder into the wall. I wish I could be. I wish I could use the other one to massage her clit. Draw a sweet orgasm out of her. Then another.

Like any other loving person would.

I haven’t been like other people goddamn long while. Don’t know if I’ll ever be.

Dahlia’s full lips part. She’s about to draw in a breath. To gasp. The anticipation is killing her.

The wait is over, I want to tell her.

I’m beyond talking.

Every nerve ending in my body burns for her. Every piece of my tattered heart wants to leap out to Dahlia. Our souls weave together like some kind of fucked-up human quilt.

She’s pliant in my hold, moaning when I yank her hips up with one hand. When I bare her dripping pussy to me.

“What should I have said?” Dahlia can hardly speak. Not with the way I’m forcing her face to the wall. “Daddy?”

I hook my arm around her front, slapping her pussy three times. Her cries of pain aren’t loud enough. The beast in me demands more. More of everything.

“Begging me to hurt you.” Five extra slaps and tears start rolling down her cheek. “See how well you take this.”Slap. Slap. Slap. “How much you enjoy pain whenDaddydelivers it.”

Hurt flashes in her eye all of a sudden. Sadness eclipses her taunting smile.

Something inside her has cracked.

“Dahlia.” I bend over her, rubbing her swollen clit.

“It hurt the worst when you left.” Her tears land on my palm. She pouts, as if she’s just noticed it now. As if they offend her. She blinks, willing them to stop. “I won’t ever not love you, but I can’t take you walking out on me again. If this whole possessive shit is bullshit, I don’t consent to this. To any of it.”

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