Page 73 of Bake the Town Red

For years, this woman has murdered people. Probably tortured them for the heck of it. They must have cried in pain when she took out her anger with life on them. Probably begged for their mommies.

None of what they’ve been through compares to her words. Her pain. What she’s doing to me.

As I stare into her eyes, I see it. I did it. I put that pain there.

I don’t want to leave. I want everything.

I’m too fucked to know how to ask for it like a decent human being.

“I don’t remember asking for your consent, Dahlia.” Three fingers inside her wet pussy are proof that I mean what I say. This is only the tip of the iceberg. “I’ll do whatever I fucking please with you.”

She’s so tight. Hot and wet and sucking me in while she fights me.

“No.” Her eyebrows shoot down. She wrestles me, resisting my unyielding grip. “If you plan to leave, get the fuck off me.”

It would be the right thing to do. Desecrate her. Claim every hole in her body. Walk out the motherfucking door, never to return.

Save her.

Impossible. Won’t happen.

I’ll have to find another way to save her.

“Fuck that.” The pressure in my cock becomes unbearable. I’m desperate to replace my fingers with it. Take Dahlia. “I own you, Dahlia. Forever. Stop resisting me.”

She trembles at the words. I lower myself until I’m flat against her back. Put my mouth on her naked shoulder.

“You. Belong. To. Me.” I press my thumb to her clit that’s soaking for me. Rub it. Hurt her so good that her legs quiver. “Understand?”

“Tyler.” My name. One breath.

She doesn’t get any more of those before I throw her over my shoulder and walk us to the bed in her tiny bedroom. Smaller than my grandma’s, since Dahlia’s parents split the one bedroom into two. Not exactly legal, but no one comes to check up on this hellhole.

If they would’ve, they could’ve caught Al in the act. Could’ve put an end to the six months of torture.

They hadn’t. No one had.

“Don’t,” she threatens as she’s hanging upside down on my shoulder. “Let me go.”

“As you wish.” I throw her on the bed. Reach for her sneakers. Take them off with the jeans and panties that dangle from her ankles.

She’s naked. Gloriously naked. I’ve seen her in this state plenty of times. Have been there to witness her body changing over the years.

Never with her eyes open, though. Never with her staring at me, unhinged and ready for war and sex.

“I want you.” She seethes. “I love you.”

I step out of my boots. Drop my jeans and briefs and kick them off. My hoodie and T-shirt go last.

Dahlia’s never seen me naked. I think. This woman is a walking, talking box of surprises. I wouldn’t put it past her to break into my apartment. She did break into it while I was working.

She might’ve stalked me. My cock jerks at the thought. Precum wets the tip.

There’ll be time to touch myself.

Her first. I spread her legs.

“You love me.” She presses them together. I push them apart, kneeling between them on the bed. “Admit it, or I’ll scream rape.”