Page 75 of Bake the Town Red

My desire for her detonates from within me. Bursts in a ball of energy. If it were a real thing, it would’ve painted the room in the color of—

Who the hell cares?

I thrust my hips forward. Hard and fast, tearing through her hymen in one violent shove.

Her eyes narrow, lips parting, and one whispered, “Fuuuck,” escapes her.

Not a single word makes it out of my throat. I watch Dahlia’s pain. Marvel in it. It’s sweeter and more precious than taking her virginity. More delicious than dragging my cock out, only to slam inside her deeper with far less gentleness than I have before.

“Tell me you love me.” She clenches around, milking my cock. “Tell me you love me, you asshole.”

“Why? You want me to hurt you?” I fuck her. I ruin her. I love her more with each thrust. Grow more attached and inanely possessive every time she breathes my name. “I said no promises.”

“You’re such a jerk.” Her mouth is a filthy one. I shut her up by covering it with mine, licking and tasting this serial killer that for tonight, is mine. Only mine.

“I’ll tell you this,” I start because I have to. Because I’m mad at the world and I despise what’s happened to us. But I. Love. Her. “You’re beautiful. Crazy. All wrong up there. And every one of those things fuels my obsession with you. Each and every one.”

“Tyler. Oh. Oh.” Her mouth rounds in the shape of an O. Her gaze is both surprise and wonder. “What the—”

She’s coming. She’s fucking coming. Her walls squeeze my cock. Her cunt clamps around me. I wrap a hand around her throat, choking this beautiful woman. I’m a sadistic bastard. Desperate to feel her screams reverberating on my palm.

Shivers rack through her body as she comes. She screams for me. Shudders.Shattersbeneath me. Cursing and begging and crying my name as if she’s never come before.

Her eyes remain locked firmly on me the entire time. Wave after wave.

I’m not done. Can’t be done.

“Fuck, you’re milking me.” I suck on her nipple, move higher to lick the cathartic tears on her cheeks. “Your pussy is so tight. You’ve been waiting for me, haven’t you, little savage?”

“Always.” Her eyelashes are dark and heavy with tears. “Always.”

My teeth trace the shape of her tattoo. Her scars. I kiss and bite them to the sound of her tortured cries. Of our bodies slapping together. I’m getting close, ready to come, but not before I see it.

Without letting go of her wrists, I lift myself off her. Look between us. Where Dahlia and I connect.

Yes. God, yes.

Blood. Her hymen all over my cock.

“It’s mine.” My gaze snaps to hers. The bed creaks from each forceful thrust. “Say it, Dahlia. This pussy is mine.”

“This pussy is yours,” she breathes. “This pussy is yours.”

“Such a good girl.” I don’t want to say it. Don’t want to lead her on. But she is. She’s so fucking good for me.

My thumb is on her clit, and for a few minutes, I am this good person I once was. I rub her while I fuck her. I get lost in her gaze. Don’t tell her not to look at me like that, like there’s hope for us.

For a few long minutes, we’re these people with no shared past. With a bright future ahead of us.

She comes for me again and I’m right there with her.

“Dahlia,” I grunt with my release.

Our orgasms aren’t separate. They’re the same thing, much like we are. For every thrust, for every time I empty more of myself inside her, Dahlia gasps. Clenches. Milking me dry.

Saying she’s exquisite is a fucking joke.

There’s no one word to describe Dahlia.

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