Chapter Ten
Malory
The rest of the day is tense to say the least.
Tyson seems distant, keeping himself busy in the garage while I do the same with my little projects around the cabin.
Once my ivy cuttings got his thorough approval earlier, I’ve begun to weave a hanging potholder out of some leftover cord I found in the kitchen junk drawer.
I loved the hanging plants in my old room, but I doubt Tyson is going let me drill into the ceiling once I find a plant to put in it.
Nonetheless, it’s something to keep my hands busy as my thoughts keep drifting to the man who started this whole mess. To how his strong arms felt wrapped around my body, how worshipped and utterly ravaged I felt in his embrace.
With a groan, I bury my head in the nearest throw pillow.
Out of sight, out of mind has never been more inaccurate.
Nero’s head perks up at sensing my distress and I scratch him behind his pointy ear, a spot I’ve learned makes him almost purr.
“What’s gotten into me?” I whisper as he lays his head into my lap, oblivious of me questioning my own sanity.
Lately, he’s been especially clingy, possibly because I keep sneaking him little treats. I love all the extra doggy cuddles even if Tyson has been grumbling about it.
I may be using the dog as a buffer between us since it’s been proven time and time again that being alone with the guy tends to get too intense too fast.
The front door opens as the man in question covered in sawdust rushes past me with a quick kiss to the crown of my head that makes my heart miss a beat. And a scowl towards Nero before he’s up the stair to take a quick shower before dinner.
For a change, he has put on a t-shirt that molds against his muscles like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination.
I wonder why he even bothered.
Never mind, I shouldn’t be ogling him in the first place.
Scrambling to my feet, I make my way to the kitchen to get a head start on the cooking, anxiously waiting for him to join me.
Just as I start peeling the vegetables, a heavy hand wraps around my waist, pulling me to the side as Tyson plucks the sharp tool out of my hand, taking over.
For a second, I stare at him dumfounded. I guess we’re back to our regular routine of silent coexistence.
With a shake of my head, I grab the wooden chopping board and we start working side by side without another word.
Right until his arm accidentally bushes against mine, the simple touch sending an electric jolt trough me.
“Ow!” I yelp suddenly, looking down at the drop of blood that’s gathered at the top of my finger.
In a heartbeat, Tyson is in front of me, cradling my hand in his open palm to inspect the wound.
“It’s nothing.” I try pulling away but he doesn’t budge.
“Hold still.” My eyes widen as he brings my bleeding finger to his mouth and sucks.
With an unsteady heartbeat, I watch him slowly lick the smeared blood from his lower lip, tasting my life’s essence.
Before I have a chance to blink, he has me hoisted up by the back of my thighs, making me wrap my legs around his toned waist while holding my hand cocooned safely against his chest as he carries me towards the bathroom.
I’m too stunned to speak when Tyson sets me down on the counter next to the sink before retrieving a first aid kit from the cabinet.
Thinking back to our first night, this position feels a bit too familiar.
This time he’s not the one bleeding though.
Laying everything out, the man takes my hand in his much larger one, carefully cleaning the tiny wound.
His thumb stroking the back of my hand in a soothing motion, with such gentleness that my breath gets caught in my throat.
“I’m sorry, little one.” Tyson says softly as he wraps my finger in a lot more gauze than would be necessary.
“It’s not your fault.”
“It is.” He counters, making it clear that he’s aware that it was his mere touch that got me distracted, that my body’s reaction betrayed the unspoken between us.
For the rest of the evening, Tyson doesn’t allow me to lift a finger, no pun intended.
That’s how I end up being stuck in my seat at the kitchen island, watching his broad back while he goes about the recipe, his muscles rippling with every move. Since when has cooking become this attractive.
There’s something incredibly alluring about the way he confidently handles everything he sets out to do.
So much strength and dominance bottled up in one man, without any trace of weaknesses.
Well except for that one moment down by the creek when I’m almost certain I saw genuine panic brimming in his wild eyes.
Never before has another person’s distress triggered my own so powerfully, fueling my need to comfort him.
In a way, we did find comfort in each other’s arms in the end. And so much more.
It’s completely dark outside when we finish our meal and Tyson leads me to the couch before lighting the fireplace, adding to the ambiance.
We’ve watched a few movies together despite me being barely able to pay attention to the plot with him right next to me, touching my thigh or holding my hand in his.
Tonight though, instead of sitting down beside me as usual, the man suddenly hauls me onto his lap, pulling me close against his chest.
My weak attempt at wiggling out of hold only causing his arms to tighten around me, making it impossible to move.
All too soon, my struggle ceases and I settle against his hard body without further protest.
Admittedly, it’s nice to be held by him.
His warmth making me feel safe and protected. Even cherished.
Which is ironic given he’s the most dangerous person I know.
But maybe that’s exactly what makes him so different. I doubt any other man could measure up to the way his dominance makes my insides clench in need.
Call me sheltered, but I’ve never felt this comfortable to allow this sort of intimacy with anyone.
Maybe I’m not entirely willing but that’s the thing, he doesn’t give me the choice.
The confidence in his touch leaving no room for argument, no room for me to overthink, to let my anxiety get the better of me.
I’d never confess this aloud but the way he takes control, I like it.
I like it a lot.
Relaxing further into his embrace, I rest my head on his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh. This feels nice.
A satisfied groan rumbles from deep within Tyson’s chest at feeling me give in.
We stay like that for a long while. Tangled up in each other, oblivious to the reality lurking outside of our little, secluded world.
Goosebumps erupt all over my skin as the pads of his rough fingertips trace over my back.
“What’s your favorite color?” I blurt out, feeling suddenly nervous.
“Green.” His voice is low and laid-back “Yours?”
“Brown.”
“Why?” Tyson tilts my chin up to look at me.
“Because it’s warm and cozy, like wood or earth. Always overlooked, never appreciated.” I shrug, unsure whether I’m still talking about a color. “Why green?”
“It’s the color of the pines, of nature…” His gaze meets mine. “… and your eyes.”
My lips part at the admission.
Is there a world where I could be more to him than just a pawn, that he might be able to feel…
Overwhelmed by the intensity of his stare, I shy back, hiding my face in the crook of his neck.
Why do I keep getting heart palpitations every damn time this man opens his mouth?
I mean he’s a literal killer. But that detail seems to slip my mind the moment his skin meets mine and his warm breath brushes my ear.
Or does the non-existent possibility that a cold-blooded man like Tyson might have a heart underneath all that harsh exterior makes him that much more intriguing.
I’m so screwed.
Either way there’s not much I can do about this since he has some unhinged obsession with me judging by his possessive words and touches, by how his expression changes into something unreadable whenever our eyes lock.
Yet how much of it is purely convenience since I just so happen to fit right into his meticulously planned vengeance, I do not know.
I can’t for the life of me get a glimpse beneath his hard, impenetrable surface.
“What makes you smile?” I ask seemingly out of nowhere.
To my defense, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him genuinely smile aside from a quick smirk every now and then, but that’s it.
“You.” Tyson tucks a strand of loose hair behind my ear, making my heartbeat spike yet again.
“Except for me.” I breathe with a shake of my head.
“That’s it. There’s only you, Malory.”
“Come on, I’m serious.” I nudge his shoulder. “There has to be something.” I refuse to let this go, refuse to let myself believe that whatever this is between us could be real.
“I don’t remember the last time I truly smiled. Even as a child, there was no reason to.”
I look up to find him staring into the fire, lost in his thoughts with a deep line forming between his eyebrows.
“Don’t you long for it though?” It’s none of my business, but I can’t seem to help myself.
For some inexplicable reason, I want to know him. Truly know him.
“Isn’t there anything else you want out of life besides your revenge? Don’t people spend their lives chasing happiness and love?”
Tyson remains silent for a while, pondering my words as I silently, motionlessly wait for him speak.
“I don’t think I can feel those things anymore.” He admits in a low voice.
“It started with me numbing physical pain but over time, that transferred over to my emotions as well.”
A sociopath.
From his dead gaze, I’ve had a hunch that he’s neurodivergent but I didn’t let myself see how serious it actually was.
Yet it still doesn’t change anything between us.
Despite what he is and what he does, Tyson has treated me better than all the neurotypical people in my life and I’ll continue to judge him by his actions, not some preconceived notions of society.
“Because of your dad?” I ask softly, running my fingers over his scarred arm.
He looks taken aback, genuinely shocked that my first reaction to his admission was not disgust, but empathy.
“Yeah. He was Capo of the Camorra in Los Angeles. The Italian mafia reigning over the West Coast.” He clarifies upon seeing my confusion.
“I’m not sure what he saw in my mother. I mean sure she was beautiful, sophisticated and of Italian descent, but she already had two young boys whose father left them without a trace, abandoning them like they meant nothing to him.
In those circles it’s uncommon not to marry an Italian virgin, however the man was in desperate need of an heir.
Or maybe he was just glad she had no living relatives who could protect her from him.
Our grandfather was the only family she had left but he was merely an enforcer who got shot on a raid once his boss set his sights on his daughter.” Tyson’s arms around me tighten and I feel his hands fist at my lower back.
“In my older half-brothers, he saw someone who could take over his duties while he wallowed in wealth, slowly rotting away. But the money soon ran out. He was hot-headed and violent, not suited for negotiating deals and handling the business side of things.
Gradually, his drinking got worse, and he took his frustration out on my mother and me, blaming us for his failures.” Tyson’s every word is laced with such cold hatred that has me turning rigid.
Tears gather in my eyes, but I don’t dare making a sound. I’m barely breathing for the fear that it would stop him from sharing more of his past with me, from opening up to me.
“My father has always preferred my half-brothers in his own sick way, taking them in as his own. Which naturally made me as the youngest child disposable and therefore mostly at the receiving end of his rage. Just a frail, sickly boy he was ashamed of and therefore named my eldest brother his heir. That was the beginning of his downfall.
Blood means everything in the Camorra so you can imagine the uproar this caused. I was glad for it though. I never begrudged Dante, never had any interest in furthering the Corso name.”
I struggle picturing Tyson that way, being anything but the picture of raw masculinity that he is now.
What shocks me even more is the absence of pain in his voice. It sounds indifferent, almost empty.
And I begin to understand.
All that early childhood trauma has led to him shutting off his feelings to be able to bear it. To survive.
It makes sense why he’s the way he is, closed-off and seemingly heartless. But that’s not all there is to him, I refuse to believe it.
He might not feel emotions like others would but that doesn't mean they’re not there somewhere.
“Raffaele and Dante were older, tougher. Able to do dangerous jobs being brought up with the Capo’s ruthless values. He made fucking kids his soldiers.” Tyson snarls through gritted teeth.
“Though his lack of regard for tradition, his marriage to a lesser woman and illegitimate children cost him the last ounce of respect he had amongst his men.”
His voice becomes haunted, his body turning rigid against mine.
“My mother would try to protect me. But she could only do so much until she was lying on the floor, beaten to a bloody pulp. Once she passed out, he’d then turn to me because kicking an unconscious body wasn’t doing it for him anymore.”
Tears are now running freely down my cheeks, soaking his shirt as I cling to him, silently weeping for the little boy.
When I first saw his scars, I never could have imagined the extent of his suffering. It’s too much to even begin to fathom.
“Eventually, my mother couldn’t take it anymore.
I was the one who found her, curled up in the corner chair in my room with her wrists slit, watching me as I slept while she slowly bled out all over the mahogany floors.”
I can’t resist pressing my lips against the side of his neck, anything to get rid of the look on his face.
“That was the night I ran away. If I had stayed, my father would have eventually killed me as well. O ne way or another .
At that point, I was in my early teens and able to make some fast cash running drugs in the city. Scrawny as I was, no one would be dumb enough to fuck with a Corso.
Whilst living in the streets, my uncle found me and made me into the man I am today. Enzo and my father have never seen eye to eye on things. He was the kind of man who got things done himself, brutal and effective. He preferred working on his own and I took after him in that regard.”
“I’ve never been initiated into the Camorra, even after my brother became Capo. Only the closest circle knows that I’m still alive.
For one not to undermine Dante’s claim since I’m technically the legitimate heir, and I also occasionally dispose of someone for him without anyone suspecting Italian involvement.”
The life he’s describing, it all seems so dystopian, impossible for me to grasp how far the underworld reaches.
“In time, I became good at what I do, too good. My cold efficiency becoming something even my uncle began to fear.
So, I left and went back to my father. I wanted him to see me, to see what I’ve become, to know who put the knife through his heart. After that, I never looked back.”
The sob that wrecks my body has Tyson crushing me against him, nuzzling into me as he takes a deep breath.
“Don’t cry for me, little one.”
That only makes me cry harder.
“I wouldn’t change anything that happened to me. It led me to where I am today, to where we are.” He kisses the top of my head, burying his face in my hair.
The fire has almost burned out when my breathing finally evens out, yet Tyson doesn’t move to feed it, keeping me in his tight embrace.
The few remaining embers and moonlight offering the only source of light, casting the living room into darkness.
When I move to discreetly wipe my tears away, Tyson’s hand is there first, taking my small face between his palms, brushing his thumbs over my cheekbones with the lightest caress.
“The only tears you’ll shed from now on will be when you’re crying out in pleasure.”
I feel the sheer dominance deep in my core, a stark contrast to the gentleness of his hands. “Is that clear, little one?”
Stunned by the sudden change in his mood, I gape at him, unsure whether I’m hearing right.
One second I’m in his arms, the next I’m flung backwards, landing with my back on the couch as Tyson hovers above me. His arms on either side of my head, caging me in.
“I said, is that clear.” His voice drops into a growl, sending a shiver down my spine and I can only nod.
Lowering onto his forearms, his body presses into mine. He’s not crushing me, but I can feel his weight surrounding me like a cocoon, pushing me deeper into the soft leather.
My palms land on his chest, but I don’t shove him away. On the contrary, I’m fighting the urge to pull him closer, to feel all of him.
“Use your words, Malory.” His hot breath brushes the shell of my ear, making me tremble in response. “You know I like that.”
“Mhm…. ah!” A yelp escapes me when the man bites my earlobe with a disapproving grunt.
“Y-yes!” I cry out, fisting the fabric of his shirt.
With one last nibble, Tyson’s head lifts, looking straight at me with black eyes full of unbridled lust.
“You don’t sound too convinced. I should make sure you really mean it.”
Before I can stop him, his mouth is back on my skin, biting my neck.
There’s nothing soft about his touch anymore as he marks every piece of exposed flesh, leaving a burning trail in his wake.
Too lost in the sensations taking over my body, I whine at the loss when he suddenly pulls back, tugging his shirt over his head.
I’ll never get enough of the sight of his bare, inked torso.
My eyes landing on the bulge straining painfully against the fabric of his cargos, begging to be released, and I swallow hard.
With a loud tear, Tyson rips my tank top straight down the middle, ripping the flimsy fabric off my body.
Cold air hits my naked skin, goosebumps erupting all over as his eyes roam my bare chest, lingering at my heaving breasts. Without a bra, he can see my nipples harden fully under his dark gaze.
Feeling self-conscious under his intense scrutiny, I instinctively move to cover myself but he’s back on me, our chests pressed together, making me bite back a moan at feeling his bare skin sliding against mine.
“So fucking gorgeous, baby.” His lips return to my body, hungrily exploring every newly uncovered inch.
Latching onto my nipple, his tongue swirls around the peaked bud before he sucks hard. All the while his calloused hand palms my other breast, giving it the same mind-shattering attention.
A voice at the back of my head keeps screaming at me to stop this before there’s no going back, but I can’t.
I crave his touch too much.
Giving into the delicious assault, my hands start roaming his back, feeling the extensive, long scars along his warm skin.
Reeling back, Tyson sits on his heels with a strained look in his eyes that has my chest tightening.
He looks even more massive from below. A broken warrior of death.
I hope he sees the reassurance in my gaze as I push myself up, hesitantly running my hands over his abdomen. Showing him that I’d never judge his suffering as I savor the feeling of his solid muscles flexing beneath my fingertips.
He doesn’t push me away, seeming to relax more under my gentle touch.
I lower my head, placing open-mouthed kisses all over his chest and abs. Taking special care to trace his scars with my lips, I let him know that I want this as much as he does.
I really do.
Somewhere between his soft lips and piercing gaze, I stopped caring about right or wrong, letting myself feel.
Letting myself give up control.
Given how sheltered and introverted I grew up, I lack any experience with men at all. Though it’s not entirely my parent’s fault. If I really wanted to, I could have met someone in my mother’s snobby social circles or at least tried to sneak out.
The thing is, I never cared enough to get to know anyone on a deeper level and certainly didn’t trust them with my body.
Until now.
Barging into my life without any regard for the walls I’ve so carefully built, Tyson doesn’t give me the choice.
Every day he breaks down my boundaries, tearing through them like they’re nothing. And I gladly let him.
My train of thoughts get interrupted when I’m shoved back down as Tyson makes his way down my body like he can’t get enough.
Kiss after kiss, he leaves nothing untouched.
Stopping at my pelvis, his fingers slip under the waistband of my leggings. He begins pulling them off, the small whimper of protest I let out getting quickly silenced with a harsh bite to my hip, turning quickly into a moan.
Tyson slides the fabric down my legs, throwing it across the room until I’m lying bare in front of him with only a pair of thin, cotton panties shielding me from his wrath.
Not wanting to earn myself another bitemark, I manage to refrain from covering myself as his eyes zero in on my center, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.
The man looks ravenous.
Rough hands grab my thighs as Tyson throws my legs over his wide shoulders. His bulk hunching over when he pulls me closer, nibbling along my inner thigh.
His mouth caresses the sensitive skin, his face an inch away from my throbbing pussy as heat rushes to my face.
So close, yet not close enough.
Without a warning, he licks the length of my slit over the fabric, making my hips buck off the couch at the foreign sensation.
One large palm pushes down on my stomach, keeping me firmly in place before he shoves my panties to the side.
A gasp leaving my lips at Tyson’s warm breath ghosting over my tender flesh as he takes a deep breath, smelling my arousal.
Then the man dives in, burying his face in my lap, thrusting his tongue between my folds as he devours me like a starved beast.
His touch full of control, dominating my body with ease.
Just how I need it.
Biting my lower lip, I struggle to hold back the desperate moans threatening to burst out of me.
I’ve never felt anything remotely close to the way his tongue feels on my skin.
Sinking my fingers into his thick hair, I tug hard to pull him impossibly closer.
Instantly, his mouth latches onto my aching bundle of nerves, making my thighs squeeze around his head. And yet he doesn’t seem to mind if he suffocates down there, his strokes only growing more ferocious.
“That’s it, baby.” Tyson groans into my pussy. “Grind that pretty little cunt into my face.”
Exchanging his hot mouth for his fingers, he rubs my clit at a maddening pace while his tongue pushes into me, my core tightening as the first moan of many escapes.
He’s everywhere, making me feel everything.
His other hand reaches up to squeeze my breast, pinching my nipple between his fingers until it feels raw.
Heightening my pleasure by lacing it with hints of pain, the sensation makes me finally snap.
A never-ending wave of torturous pleasure rolling through me as I come on his tongue, my body quaking with the aftershocks.
“Fucking delicious.” Tyson keeps lapping up my release, fucking me through my orgasm without letting me come down from the incredible high.
It’s too much.
Just as I feel like I can’t take it anymore, he trusts two fingers into me. Pumping in and out of my weeping hole with blinding force until I climax once more, drenching his face in my come.
“The sweetest, little thing I’ve ever tasted.”
With one last gentle kiss to my pulsating clit, he eases his fingers out of my pussy, making my core clench at the loss as he sucks them dry. His burning gaze never leaving mine.
Too fucked out to form a coherent thought, I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck as he crawls up my body, his chin glistening with my come.
Reaching between my legs, Tyson swipes one finger through my juices, making me jerk in his hold at how sensitive I am before he brings it up to my mouth.
“Open up, baby.” His voice is low and husky as I obediently part my lips for him, swirling my tongue around his thick digit, tasting myself.
“You’re fucking perfect.” He whispers more to himself than anything. My heartbeat stuttering at hearing those words nonetheless.
Praise isn’t something I’m used to and I find myself desperately wanting more.
Tyson brushes the hair from my sweaty forehead before softly tracing my cheekbones, our noses touching at how close he’s gotten.
Just as I think he’ll seal his lips with mine, his hand on my hip flexes, his chin dipping away from me.
The spark of disappointment blooming in my chest gets quickly doused when he starts lightly kissing my jaw and neck, occasionally biting a spot he hasn’t yet marked, lingering by the sensitive place behind my ear that makes my toes curl.
As my breath start to pick up once more, Tyson spreads my legs wide, settling comfortably between them.
Pinning my body beneath his, he lets me feel the entirety of his weight on me while I relish in the sudden sense of safety it brings me.
That’s when I feel it.
His throbbing erection pressing into me.
I don’t know what compels me to do so, but I lift my hips, rubbing myself against the steel bulge.
I never thought it could get this hard.
A feral growl rumbles from deep within Tyson’s chest, making my core ache with need once more.
One would think that I’ve had enough by now. But it couldn’t be farther from the truth.
Biting my lip, I look up to catch him watching me with an unreadable expression, his eyes so dark I can hardly make out his irises.
“I need you.” His voice is strained, his hold on me bruising.
The meaning of his words hits me like a tidal wave, knocking the breath out of me.
Regardless of how good he makes me feel, I fear the unknown. I fear what this will mean for us once we cross that line.
Not that we haven’t obliterated most of them already.
“I-I’ve never…” I stutter, turning my head towards the dying embers, unable to look at him.
Trapping my chin in a firm grip between his fingers, Tyson brings my face back to his.
“I know.” He whispers against my mouth. “I’ll be the first and last man who’ll fuck you, own every part of you, little one.”
His hand circles my nape, holding me like he truly owns me.
“It doesn’t matter whether I have to wait another two years for you. I’ll wait for an eternity but know this, Malory. There’s only ever going to be me.” His voice becomes death incarnate. “And I’ll gladly kill anyone who thinks otherwise, who dares to touch what’s mine.”
I suck in a sharp breath, I shouldn’t want to give him this last piece of me. But I do.
I believe every last word he says.
Deep down, I want it to be true. At least the less sane parts of me do. But the questions of sanity and morality have long ceases to matter when it comes to Tyson.
I don’t understand how we got here, but somehow we did.
I can’t grasp the enormity of any of this because a few days ago, I couldn’t have made any of this up even if I wanted to.
And yet I’m here, about to lose my virginity to the man holding me hostage.
The look on his face is raw possession.
Instead of shying away from it, I grasp it with everything within me. I want his possessiveness, his dominance.
I want all of it.
Wrapping my legs around his back, I pull his hard body closer to mine. Despite the two soul shattering orgasms, my aching pussy is begging for more. More of him.
“I need you to say it, Malory.” Seeing the uncertainty in my eyes, he nudges his nose against mine, softening his voice.
This is not the violent conquest I expected.
“I know you want this as much as I do. Just let go, baby.” He runs a hand through my hair and my eyes close at the tingling sensation.
“Let me take care of you.”
Compared to his usual depravity, his tone is laced with care. So much of it that it fills my heart to the point of bursting.
I refuse to believe that the man before me is unfeeling. Maybe towards others but right now, his gaze could set me aflame.
“W-will you hurt me?” My bottom lips wobbles with anticipation and anxiety alike.
“Yes.” His eyes scan mine, reading every micro expression that flashes across my face. “But you enjoy some pain with your pleasure. Don’t you, little one?”
“Y-yes.” I breathe.
Before I have the chance to blink, I’m in the air. Tyson lifting me up in his arms like I weight nothing, making my legs tighten around his trim waist.
With me cradled safely against his chest, he kicks the coffee table out of the way, sending the mugs and remotes crashing to the floor loudly.
Without a second glance towards the mess, his feral gaze is solely focused on me as he carefully lays me down in front of the fireplace before stretching out between my legs, assuming our previous position more comfortably on the plush carpet.
This is really about to happen.
Gathering all my courage, I reach for his pants, my trembling hands fumbling with the buttons.
When I can’t for the life of me get the last one undone, he steps in, shoving them down along with his boxes, freeing his solid cock.
My eyes trail down his prominent V-line leading to the thick shaft, throbbing veins running along its impressive length, pumping blood to the engorged tip already leaking precum.
I feel the color drain from my face. There’s no way he’s going to fit.
As if sensing my train of thought, Tyson wraps a hand around himself before pumping once, making my core clench at the sight of him seeking his own pleasure.
Guiding his cock to my entrance, he nudges the pink head against my clit, earning himself a needy whine.
A noise I didn’t think myself capable of making.
Within a few strokes he’s fully coated in my arousal as he goes to line himself up. Pushing into me ever so slowly as his fingers grip my hips, holding me in place.
My whole body tenses at the intrusion, my thighs clamping shut around his.
“Look at me. Open those beautiful eyes, baby.” Tyson’s gentle voice breaks through the painful haze.
I haven’t even realized they were clenched shut. Upon opening them, I’m met with his piercing black gaze watching my face intently, reverently.
“Let me in.” His strong hand circles my neck, keeping me from turning away. “Let me fuck my pussy.”
Taking a deep breath, my thighs part for him once more as I force my muscles to relax around his girth, my eyes never leaving his.
“That’s my good girl.” Just as the pain starts to subside, Tyson thrusts into me in one go, ruthlessly tearing through my hymen.
There’s no holding back the cry wrenching itself from my throat at the intense stretch.
My arms wrapping around his neck, anchoring myself to him as we both breathe hard.
We stay like that for a while, locked in each other with him buried balls deep in me, filling me in ways I’ve never been filled before.
“M-malory…” Tyson chokes out my name, his expression strained like he’s struggling to hold back.
When I nod, he slowly pulls out an inch before sliding back in, my nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure and pain explode in my core, heightening at every stroke.
It hurts so good.
“Fuck.” He grunts, slamming into me again and again. “ My tight little pussy. All fucking mine .”
I clench at his words, breathy moans leaving my lips every time his cock rubs against my sensitive walls. “You were made for me, little one.”
And you for me.
“Look at how well you’re taking me, baby.” Tyson lifts me up with a hand around my neck so I can see his thickness plunging in and out my tiny opening, his lower abdomen drenched in my juices, his shaft smeared with a fine sheen of my blood.
I moan loudly at the sight of my body submitting to his strength, his dominance.
“My fucking good girl.” Tyson ruts into me like a man possessed, going deeper and deeper with every stroke.
“Your cunt is mine.” Thrust.
“Your body and soul are mine.” Thrust.
“My fucking property.”
His hold on my throat tightens to stop my body from sliding over the floor from the force of his thrusts, pulling me back every time our bodies meet.
I can’t do anything but hold onto his broad shoulders for dear life as the man unleashes all of himself.
“You feel so damn good, baby girl.” He groans roughly, the sound of our unbridled grunts and moans filling the night.
Nothing has ever come close to this, nothing has ever felt this good.
“Let me hear you cry as I make you come all over my cock.”
The man between my legs doesn’t let up, relentlessly pounding into me until I feel myself tightening around him.
Meeting each of his hard trusts, I start rolling my hips with his.
“ Fuuuck... That’s it.” Tyson pants through clenched teeth, sweat covering his tattooed skin as I writhe beneath him each time his pelvis grinds against my clit, my nails ripping into his scarred back.
“Look at you, little one. Taking my cock so fucking well.”
The moment his teeth sink into my jaw, my body locks up, spasming around his shaft as I come with a strangled scream.
Convulsing around him, I almost black out from the intense amounts of pleasure coursing through me.
He’s all I can feel.
My thighs shaking as he fucks me through the orgasm until I’m on the verge of passing out, my whole body quivering in overstimulation.
With on last powerful thrust, he buries himself deep within my pulsating walls, filling me with a guttural moan.
I can’t tear my eyes away from the man above me, his expression filled with pleasure, free and unguarded.
I’ve never seen something more beautiful.
Tyson doesn’t move to pull out, wrapping his arms tightly around me as we hold each other together, coming down from the incredible high.
Our ragged breaths mingling while he licks away the tears streaming down my cheeks.
I didn’t even realize I was crying as he seals our foreheads together.
“Every tear you shed, every breath you take, every moan and whimper are fucking mine.”