17. Tyson

17

TYSON

I stare at my phone for the hundredth time today, willing it to buzz with a message from Sofia. Five days of radio silence, or worse—one-word replies that tell me nothing. My fingers clench around the device.

“Fuck.” I slam it down on my desk, making the papers scatter.

Lars pokes his head in. “Everything good, boss?”

“Get out.”

He vanishes without another word. Smart man.

I pull up the security feed Phoenix installed in her bedroom. It’s still offline.

My last text to her sits unanswered from this morning:

Talk to me, baby girl.

The carnival is packed outside my trailer, with screams and laughter floating through the walls. We’ve got less than a week left in Dawsbury before we move on, and the thought of leaving her behind twists my gut.

I pull up our previous messages, scrolling through the heat and passion we shared just days ago. Her responses now are cold and distant: “K.” “Maybe.” “Busy.” Each one drives the knife deeper.

I grab my jacket and head for the door. Time to pay my favorite redhead a visit.

I stalk through the carnival, ignoring the concerned glances from my crew. The smell of popcorn and cotton candy turns my stomach as I pass the food stalls. My boots crunch across the gravel lot to where my black Mustang sits waiting.

Turning the key brings the motor to life, and I zoom out onto the main road. Dawsbury’s streets blur past as I push well over the speed limit, my knuckles white on the steering wheel.

Twenty minutes later, I pull onto her street, killing the headlights as I cruise past the manicured lawns and oversized houses. My heart pounds when I spot her place—and the gaudy red Lamborghini parked in her driveway.

“Son of a bitch.” I recognize that car. Paulie loves showing it off around town, revving the engine.

I park a few houses down, hidden in the shadows of an oak tree. The lights are on inside her place, silhouettes moving behind the curtains. My jaw clenches as I imagine that piece of shit putting his hands on what’s mine.

The leather steering wheel creaks under my grip. I could storm in there and teach him exactly what happens when someone touches my property. Although Sofia belongs to him since he’s engaged to her, her heart definitely doesn’t.

I sit in the dark, watching that damn car mock me with its presence. Each minute that passes feeds the rage building in my chest.

I slip out of the Mustang, tightening my black jacket around my shoulders. I flip up the hood to conceal my face as I move silently through the neighboring yards.

Voices drift through an open window on the side of her house. I crouch beneath it, pressing against the wall.

“You’ve been different lately.” Paulie’s voice drips with accusation. “Getting an attitude. Think you’re too good for me now?”

“I’m not having this conversation again.” Sofia’s tone is tired, defeated.

“Look at you. Can’t even fit in that dress properly anymore. You’re getting fatter.”

My fingers dig into my palms, nails biting deep enough to draw blood. The urge to burst through that window and wrap my hands around his throat burns through me.

“I’m not fat, Paulie. Stop it.”

“You’re a fat bitch, and you know it. Lucky I even look at you.”

A sharp crack echoes—he’s slammed his hand on something. Sofia’s sharp intake of breath has me halfway to my feet before I force myself back down.

I could do it. One quick move, and I’d be through that window. Three seconds to cross the room. Another two to snap his worthless neck. But then Jimmy would come looking for answers, and Sofia would be caught in the crossfire.

“Maybe if you spent less time stuffing your face and more time at the gym...” His words continue to slice through the night air.

My jaw clenches so hard my teeth might crack. Every muscle screams to move, to act, to tear him apart for daring to speak to her like that. But I stay frozen, letting the rage build instead of explode.

I’ve killed before. Hell, I’ve tortured guys to death. But the things I want to do to Paulie right now? They would be more depraved. Slower. Messier. The kind of thing that would have cops swarming in search of a psychopathic killer. And I doubt Sofia could look at me after she witnessed my capacity for depravity.

I listen as Sofia’s voice rises, sharp with anger. “Get out, Paulie. Just get out.”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that?” His footsteps thud across the floor. Something crashes—a vase, maybe.

“I said get out!”

“You ungrateful little—” His hand hitting something makes my blood boil. “Fine. But this isn’t over.”

The front door slams so hard that the window frame rattles. His expensive shoes click across the driveway, followed by the obnoxious roar of that ridiculous Lamborghini starting up. The engine revs several times—showing off like the insecure piece of shit he is—before the sound fades into the distance.

Sofia’s sobs drift through the window, soft and broken. Each one twists the knife in my chest. I wait another thirty seconds to make sure Paulie isn’t coming back, then hoist myself through the open window with practiced ease.

She’s curled up on the couch, arms wrapped around her knees, tears streaming down her face. The sight of her crying over that worthless bastard makes me want to hunt him down.

“He’s not worth these tears.”

Her head snaps up, eyes wide. “Tyson? How did you—” She swipes at her cheeks. “Were you outside this whole time?”

“Long enough to hear what that piece of shit said to you.” I cross the room and crouch in front of her. “And every word was a lie.”

I gently wipe the tears from her cheeks with my thumb, my heart aching at the sight of her pain. “Come here.”

Sofia hesitates for a moment before falling into my arms. I pull her close, breathing in the scent of her hair as she buries her face against my chest. Her body trembles with quiet sobs, and I stroke her back in soothing circles.

“That’s it,” I murmur. “Let it out. I’ve got you.”

Her fingers clutch at my shirt as the tears gradually slow. I press my lips to the top of her head, holding her until her breathing steadies.

“Look at me,” I whisper.

She tilts her face, those stunning green eyes still wet with tears. My thumb traces the curve of her cheek.

“You deserve so much better than this, Sofia. You deserve to be cherished. Treasured. ”

Her lips part slightly, and I can’t resist any longer. I lean down and capture her mouth, pouring all my feelings into the kiss. She melts against me, her hands sliding up to my shoulders.

When we break apart, I rest my forehead against hers. “Let me show you how special you are. Let me worship every beautiful inch of you. Make you feel like the queen you are.”

A small smile tugs at her lips. “Ty...”

“I mean it.” I cup her face in my hands. “You’re perfect exactly as you are. Those curves drive me wild. Your strength, your fire—everything about you is fucking incredible. And I want to spend hours proving it to you.”

The vulnerability in her eyes makes my chest tight. No one’s ever treated her the way she deserves. But I’m going to change that.

“Let me show you,” I whisper against her lips. “Let me make you feel like the goddess you are.”

Her breath catches as my fingers trail down her neck, loosening the buttons of her silk robe. “Yes, Ty,” she breathes, emerald eyes darkened with desire.

“Say it again, baby girl,” I murmur. “Tell me you want me to worship you like a goddess.”

Her lips part. “I want it, Ty.”

I slip the robe off her shoulders, letting it cascade to the floor. She stands before me, naked and trembling with need.

“I want to show you something,” I whisper, stepping back to grab the coil of rope from my jacket pocket. “ Something that will heighten your senses and make you feel better.”

I show her the deep burgundy rope that contrasts with her ivory skin. Her eyes widen as I approach, curiosity warring with apprehension.

“Trust me?” I ask softly.

She licks her lips, that resolute chin of hers lifting. “I do.”

I smile, tracing a finger down her cheek. “Close your eyes, then.”

She obeys, allowing me to guide her to the center of the room. The rope slides through my fingers like silk as I work, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. She gasps as my hands skim over her skin, the rope slipping along her arms, her back, her tits.

This binding is an ancient art. Pressure points and strategic knots are designed to heighten her pleasure. Shibari is a delicate art that very few truly master.

“How do you feel?” I ask, my breath tickling her ear.

“Intoxicated,” she admits, a flush spreading across her bound chest. “The rope, your touch... It’s too much.”

“Not nearly enough.” My fingertips brush over her collarbone and the hollow of her throat. “I want to give you more, Sofia. Take you to places you’ve never been before.”

Her breath hitches as I reach the rope between her legs, securing it in a way that will heighten each sensation. “I’m going to make you fly, baby girl. Surrender to me, and I promise you won’t fall. ”

She moans, her body arching toward mine. “Please, Tyson. Take me there. I need?—”

“Shh, baby.” I brush my thumbs over her nipples, rolling them gently. “You’ve held so much back, so much tension. Let me teach you to let go.”

Her eyelids flutter as I move back to appraise my handiwork. The rope accentuates her lush curves, highlighting each dip and swell. The art of Shibari transforms her into a living sculpture.

Stepping back, I admire her, my cock throbbing in my pants. I’m dying to plunge into her heat, but restraint is my game. I’m in no rush.

“Call me Master when we’re fucking, Sofia,” I command, letting the darkness in my voice fill the room. I want her to submit fully, to give herself over to my every desire. “Can you do that for me?”

Her chest rises and falls with each rapid breath as she submits to my authority. “Yes, Master.”

That single word is my undoing. I step forward, crushing my mouth to hers, and tightly grip her hair. She whimpers, the ropes pulling taut against her skin. The sound goes straight to my cock.

With one hand, I tear open my jeans, freeing my aching erection. I stroke myself, moaning at the first touch. “You’re fucking desperate for this, aren’t you?”

“Let me see you too, Master.” Her voice is timid but laced with desire. “I want to see all of you.”

I smirk, amusement curling in my gut. Such a simple request, but our power dynamics shift with every word acknowledging my dominance.

Slowly, teasingly, I peel off my shirt, tossing it aside. I watch her eyes trail over my chest, taking in my muscles and ink.

I kick off my boots and strip off my pants, keeping my eyes locked on hers. A thrill runs through me as I stand before her, fully exposed. Her bound body starkly contrasts my unrestrained one, a physical representation of the power I hold.

I hook my fingers under her bound arms and lift her from the floor. She’s so beautiful, her skin flushed, breath quickening as I carry her to the couch.

Lowering her onto the soft cushions, I adjust her positioning, ensuring her arms restrained behind her back are comfortable. I gently draw the back of my hand down her cheek. “Are you doing okay, baby?”

She lets out a shaky breath, her eyes sparkling. “Yes, Master.”

The title sends a heat spike through me, and I groan, tightening my grip on her hair. “Say it again.”

“Yes, Master,” she whispers, her body arching toward me.

The need to claim what’s mine pounds through my veins like a war drum. I press her back against the couch, pinning her in place with my weight. Her curves mold against me, soft where I’m hard.

Her legs part for me instinctually, arousal clouding her emerald eyes. I feast on her, my hands drinking in her skin. My cock twitches, begging to be buried inside her wet heat.

My tongue traces the curve of her neck, tasting her pulse. “So fucking wet for me, baby.”

“Please, Ty.” Her voice breaks. “I need you.”

My grin is wicked as I pull back to run my hand over my shaft, teasing myself almost as much as I’m teasing her. “Fuck, I need this too. I need to feel that sweet pussy clenching down on me.”

Her eyes are huge, fixed on my cock as I move into position. “But first, I want to see just how ready that pretty cunt is.”

I use the tip of my cock to part her slick folds, a groan tearing from my throat at how good she feels. “You’re dripping for me.”

“Fuck,” she gasps, her bound arms twisting as she tries to get closer. “Ty, now. Please!”

“Impatient, baby girl?” I rub the head of my cock against her clit, drawing a sharp cry from her. “Did you forget who’s in charge here?”

“No, Master!” Her hips buck, searching for my cock. “Please, I’m sorry. I need you inside me.”

Her pussy clenches as she begs, a sight that has me gripping tight to my control. I want to bury myself balls-deep in that hot cunt and fill her up. But I know that denying her heightens everything. Teasing her to the brink drives us both wild.

I press flat against her, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. Our tongues tangle as I grind the tip of my cock against her clit, swirling it around the swollen bud until she’s almost sobbing.

“You like that, baby?” I murmur, nipping at her bottom lip. “Like the pressure?”

“Yes, Master.” Her hips writhe against me, shameless in her need. “More. Please, right there.”

I pull back, my eyes raking over her as I stroke my throbbing cock. The shaft glistens with pre-cum, the piercing gleaming in the low light. “Look at that pretty clit. All swollen and aching. Bet your body is desperate for my cock, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Her breathless answer has my balls drawing up tight.

“Bet you’d love me to suck on those sweet tits too.” I drag the pierced head of my cock over her clit. “Maybe use my teeth a little. See how much I can make those tight little nipples stand up.”

A broken moan tears from her throat, and she moves restlessly beneath me, the ropes keeping her securely in place. “Do it, Master. Please.”

The begging has me hard as steel, the piercing rubbing deliciously over my sensitive head as I jerk myself off in front of her. I lean down and graze my teeth over her nipple, then swirl my tongue around the taut bud. She cries out, the sound going straight to my cock.

“Your body is a fucking work of art.” I draw back, my eyes devouring her. “Ready to feel how hard I am for you?”

Her eyes flutter closed as her hips lift wantonly. “Yes, Master. Please, now. I need your?—”

I don’t give her a chance to finish the sentence. Sliding my cock between her folds, I groan as I finally sink into her heat. And the sound from her lips is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.