14. Sofia

14

SOFIA

M y heart hammers against my ribs when I enter Tyson’s trailer. The space feels smaller than I imagined, more intimate. His presence fills every corner.

“Come here, baby girl.” His voice wraps around me like velvet.

I cross my arms over my chest, suddenly hyper-aware of my curves. The ones Paulie says make me look fat.

Tyson’s fingers brush my chin, tilting my face up. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

“Nothing.” I try to sound confident, but my voice wavers.

“Bullshit.” His thumb traces my bottom lip. “You’re trembling.”

Heat floods my cheeks. I step back, putting space between us. “I just... I don’t understand why you want me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Look at you.” I gesture at his muscled frame, the tattoos visible beneath his rolled-up sleeves. “And I’m...” The words stick in my throat.

“You’re what?” His eyes darken.

“I’m not exactly model material.” I force a laugh that sounds hollow. “Paulie says-”

“Fuck what Paulie says!” He closes the distance between us, his hands settling on my hips. “That piece of shit wouldn’t know beauty if it slapped him in the face.”

I bite my lip, fighting the urge to pull away. “He says I need to lose weight.”

“Is that what this is about?” Tyson’s expression softens. His fingers trail up my sides, making me shiver. “Every curve of your body is perfect. You have no idea how crazy you make me.”

I shift under his intense gaze, my skin prickling with awareness. Deep down, I know I’m not fat - I’ve got curves, sure, and I’m no size zero, but that’s never bothered me until Paulie started his constant comments.

Tyson’s fingers trail down my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “You know what I’m going to do?”

I shake my head, lost in the depths of his eyes.

“I’m going to worship every fucking inch of this body.” His hand slides to my hip, squeezing gently. “I will show you how gorgeous you are, baby girl. By the time I’m done, you won’t have a single doubt in that pretty head that you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”

My breath catches. The raw desire in his voice makes my knees weak. “Tyson... ”

“Look at me.” His fingers cup my chin. “These curves? They drive me crazy. That asshole doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you, let alone make you doubt yourself.”

The intensity of his words hits me like a physical force. No one’s ever talked to me like this—like I’m something precious and desirable rather than someone who needs fixing.

“I see how you try to hide yourself,” he continues, his thumb brushing my bottom lip. “The way you cross your arms over your chest, tug at your clothes. It stops now.”

Tyson’s thumb strokes my jaw gently as his other hand rests on the small of my back, pulling me closer. My pulse races, and desire mixes with an edge of fear as his fingers tighten around my throat. A tingle runs through me, and I tilt my head back, inviting him to apply more pressure. He knows exactly what I need.

“Look into my eyes.” His voice is a low rumble, commanding my compliance.

I lift my gaze to meet his, the intensity in his eyes making my breath hitch. He stares into me, searching for any sign of hesitation or fear. I hold his gaze, silently assuring him that I want this and need it.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” His thumb brushes my bottom lip as he speaks, his hand still wrapped around my throat. I nod, my heart hammering in my chest.

“Use your voice. Tell me you understand.”

Swallowing hard, I force my voice past the tightness in my throat. “I understand. ”

“Good.” His grip relaxes slightly, but his fingers remain at my neck. “Does it turn you on when I’m dominant?”

I can’t hold back the shiver that runs through me. “Yes.” My voice is barely a whisper.

“Good.” The corners of his mouth lift in a half-smile. “Because I like to engage in BDSM. I’m going to tie you up, spank that gorgeous ass of yours, and make you scream my name. And you’re going to fucking love it.”

Tyson’s words strike something deep within me, lighting a fire I never knew existed. Submitting to him and being completely at his mercy is more enticing than I imagined. And how he looks at me—like he can see straight through my walls—thrills me.

“Strip for me, baby girl.” His voice is a low command.

I swallow hard, my fingers moving to the zipper of my dress. I don’t need to ask why—I want to be his good girl.

Slowly, I pull down the zipper, feeling his eyes on me the entire time. With a deliberate shrug, I let the dress slide off my shoulders and pool at my feet, leaving me standing before him in nothing but my black lace bra and matching panties. The cool air of the trailer raises goosebumps on my exposed skin.

His gaze rakes over me, making me feel more naked than I already am. My nipples tighten beneath the lace, and I can’t suppress a small whimper as I anticipate what’s to come .

“You’re beautiful.” His voice is a gravelly murmur. “But you’re wearing too much.”

I wet my lips with the tip of my tongue. “What do you want me to do?”

He doesn’t respond; he raises an eyebrow as if challenging me to disobey.

With a swift motion, I unclasp my bra, shimmying out of it and tossing it onto a nearby chair. The material of my panties is growing damp from my desire.

“Panties, too. Nice and slow.” His eyes shine with lust, but he stands there, unmoving.

I grab the edge of my panties and slowly slide them down my thighs, over my knees, and finally past my ankles. I step out of them, feeling incredibly exposed but also empowered. I know he wants me, and that desire fuels my confidence.

Tyson’s gaze burns a path over my body, lingering on my breasts, my hips, and then my pussy. “Get on the bed, Sofia. On your back.”

I climb onto the bed, the sheets soft against my naked skin, and lie down, my heart hammering in my chest. I watch him, anticipation coursing through my veins like molten lava.

He doesn’t join me immediately. Instead, he stands there, taking in the sight of me before him like a feast. “Such a beautiful sight, baby girl. Just fucking perfect.”

His words thrill me. I want to be his—completely and utterly.

He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a set of handcuffs. I bite my lip, excitement fluttering my stomach. Part of me can’t believe this is happening—that I’m willingly letting myself be handcuffed to a bed by a man I barely know. But something about Tyson makes me feel safe, even as he pushes my boundaries.

“I’m going to cuff you now. Arms above your head.” His voice is soft, but an undercurrent of steel demands my obedience.

Lifting my arms above my head, Tyson snaps the cool metal around my wrists, tightening it enough so I can’t move my arms. The sensation is thrilling, and I shift, testing the restraints.

“Comfortable?” His eyes glint with amusement.

“Yes,” I whisper, feeling more exposed than ever.

He produces a blindfold next, and I stifle a gasp. “This is optional. Some people prefer it. I want to blindfold you, but only if you agree.”

I nod, unable to speak. I’ve never been blindfolded during sex before, and the thought sends a jolt of anticipation through me.

“Good girl.” He slides the soft fabric over my eyes, blocking my vision. Suddenly, the room feels even more intimate, and my other senses heighten. I hear the faint sound of his movement, smell his cologne, and feel the mattress dip as he settles next to me.

His fingers trail down my arm, and I shiver. “I’m going to start slow. I want to ease you into this. If it’s too much at any point, your safe word is ‘purple.’ Can you remember that?”

“Purple,” I repeat, my voice steadier than I feel.

“That’s my girl.” His lips brush my earlobe, sending a shiver down my spine. “Now, let’s begin.”

His hands explore my body, his touch light as a feather, making me squirm. I feel the soft caress of something trace against my skin, the sensation exquisite. His strokes are gentle, sending pleasant tingles through my body. I relax into the bed, surrendering to the pleasure.

The strokes increase in intensity, and I moan, arching my back.

“Do you like the feel of my flogger, baby?” He asks, gripping my hip and holding me in place as it lands on my thighs.

I can’t find the words so merely nod. His lips find my neck, his tongue tracing a path that makes my breath stutter. His kisses are demanding, his teeth grazing my skin, and I can feel his stubble.

“You’re doing so well.” His warm breath fans the sensitive skin of my neck. “But I think you can take more.”

The flogger strokes continue each landing with a satisfying smack that echoes in the small space. My skin feels alive, every nerve ending ignited. I moan as pleasure courses through me.

His fingers dip between my legs, finding my slick entrance. “You like that, don’t you, baby? Feeling that sting on your skin while I touch you here.”

“Yes,” I manage to whisper, my chest heaving.

“Tell me what you want. Don’t be shy.”

“I want—” My words dissolve into a moan as his fingers push inside me. “More.”

Laughter rumbles in his chest. “I can give you more.”

He adds another finger, stretching me, and I rock my hips against his hand, meeting his thrusts. My body feels electric, every touch sending jolts of pleasure through me.

Then, suddenly, his fingers are gone, leaving me wanting. I whimper, arching my back, searching for more contact.

“Shh, baby girl. I’m not done with you yet.”

I squirm at the loss of his touch, my head thrumming with need. My skin buzzes with sensation—every nerve ending is alive and begging for more. The room’s cool air caresses my heated skin.

“Please,” I whisper, needing release.

I hear the rustle of clothing and the soft clink of metal, followed by a sharp sting of a warm hand slapping my inner thigh. I gasp, my body tensing. It’s a different sensation to the flogger.

“You’re so responsive. Such a beautiful sight.” His voice is thick with desire. “Do you like it when I spank you?”

“Yes,” I breathe.

The sting comes again, this time on the other thigh, making me moan. I anticipate the next strike, needing it like a drug.

He doesn’t keep me waiting, delivering another stinging slap that has me arching off the bed. I’m lost in sensation, my body throbbing with want.

“Tell me how much you like it.” His voice is a husky demand.

“I—I love it,” I admit, embarrassment warring with desire. “Please, more. ”

The sound of his laughter surrounds me, rich and full. “As you wish, baby girl.”

The next slap lands on the side of my ass cheek, making me jerk against the cuffs. A whimper escapes me, a mix of pleasure and pain. My body craves more, and he delivers, each slap leaving a burning imprint on my skin.

I lose myself in the sensation, my entire being focused on the delicious sting of each strike. The blindfold heightens my other senses, making me hyper-aware of Ty’s movements, the feel of his hands on my body, and his masculine scent.

Without warning, his hand slips between my legs again, his fingers thrusting into me. I cry out, my body clenching around him.

“Fucking hell, you’re so wet,” he growls.

His thumb finds my clit, swirling gently as his fingers pump in and out. I moan, my body tensing as lightning zigzags through me. I’m so close to the edge—teetering on the precipice of release.

With one final thrust of his fingers, he brings me over, and I shatter, my body convulsing as I cry out. I’m only vaguely aware of his name falling from my lips—a frantic plea.

He just made me orgasm from a flogger and his fingers. No guy has ever made me orgasm before.