Chapter 30
Dixie
Daylight faded, closing in on night, with activity around the warehouse high. Lovelyn was certain she was onto something with the money flow around Austin’s business, and Mila took on the solicitors, trying to find another way to end the suffering.
By my request, they left me alone.
In the brick-arched window of Tyler’s apartment, I stared out at the city, stuck in my head. I was trying to remember my past identity. The girl I’d been before my grandparents’ world had sucked me in and spat me out.
No great lover of school, that was for sure.
I’d liked going, but only for the friends and the boys I’d started noticing.
We’d never had any money, so I’d become good at hair and makeup and traded that skill in the girls’ bathroom, French-braiding or blending contour in exchange for lunch money or favours.
Or for free, for girls who had less than me.
I hugged my arms around myself. I’d always tried to be kind. It had been easy to see what others needed. Maybe that’s why I’d been so good at sex work. My brain stalled out at taking that thought any further. Nope, we were done with dick.
I moved on from the tweenager to the girl I’d been when I first came to Deadwater. Almost at my full height, honey hair in a ponytail, on my grandfather’s arm to visit his office.
I switched my view to a closer-by bridge, a Gothic, dark structure in the dusk.
One I’d crossed when I’d returned to the city in my twenties.
I’d had a boob job, a slutty short skirt, lip filler that I’d since had dissolved.
I’d been certain that no one who’d known me as a kid would see that girl in the adult.
And I’d been right. They’d either stare or tut, depending on their gender and sexuality.
My focus slid back to my reflection. In leggings and a skeleton girls’ detective agency t-shirt Cassie had gifted me for my good work with the files, I had my hair up, the platinum warmer at the roots where my true colour peeked through. The original me. Except I had no idea who I was anymore.
Not the innocent child I’d liked, not the heir Mila needed me to be, and not the sex worker Tyler had become obsessed with.
My identity had been lost.
Behind me, the door swung open.
Tyler’s slow steps brought him across the room, his reflection closing in. He circled me and leaned on the edge of the brick. His gaze linked with mine. “Hey, doll.”
I’d missed him. So much. I needed him to hold me but couldn’t find the words.
He tried again. “I’ll be out for much of the night.”
I forced a nod, not wanting details. It was better if I didn’t know. “Just not…”
“The rape enabler? Got it. But anyone else is fair game. I have half the crew helping. We’ll clean up. Once they’re all caged, we can talk through your systematic destruction.”
My smile was a weak attempt. I didn’t feel so brave anymore. Not when faced with an identity crisis.
Then I picked up on the stress on Tyler’s brow.
Not tiredness, as energy coiled tightly around him, but from the weight of a hundred decisions he was making.
To anyone else, he’d appear calm and together.
But I’d been sneaking glances at him forever.
I’d guessed when he felt the world was being a little too loud.
Perhaps we needed each other.
I took his hand and dragged him with me down the hall.
Tyler was my other major problem, since I’d discovered the feelings that lived in my heart, that fluttered about my chest and warmed me from the inside out.
We’d gone about everything backwards. We’d missed the dating stage, the steady get-to-know-you.
I needed some of that. An honest relationship built in layers, not jumping from stolen looks in the hall to all-out ownership.
In the bedroom, leaving everything else a safe distance away, I pushed up on my toes and kissed him. He held still, his lips matching mine but that infuriating control unbreaking.
I wanted him gone for me. To be so hopelessly lost, I was the only thing he knew for sure. If this was a relationship, we both had the right to own the other. To take what was needed. Yet how could I do that when he’d never ask?
Then there was the darker, more twisted thought that kept hammering away at the back of my brain. What if his obsession went away? I couldn’t fall for him then lose him. It would end me.
Those walls had to come down.
“Pick me up,” I whispered.
Tyler obeyed, easily collecting me into his arms, his hands sliding from my thighs to my ass. I wound my legs around his waist and didn’t stop the kiss, only ramping up my efforts with an urgency to get closer.
It was his rule about not coming that fucked me up. By deliberately holding back, he was unable to do the one thing I needed. Tyler wanted to possess, protect, and own me. But it wasn’t just that. He’d been attracted to me before, when I’d been the bouncy, confident, faking-it version of myself.
If I couldn’t be the innocent girl I once was, and I couldn’t go back to the woman I’d been selling, then I would be something else entirely. His undoing.
I kissed him harder, a new fear appearing in my mind.
What about his trigger? His big emotional breakdowns that turned into bloodshed and kidnap. He’d told me he didn’t have sex often. He’d described not liking the feelings it created. That couldn’t last.
I needed to work out what pushed him over the edge then keep doing that until he lost it on me. If he stayed after, I could maybe believe he was mine and that we might have a chance.
I had to break Tyler’s rule.
“On the bed,” I whispered.
Tyler paced the few steps and lowered me down. I rose onto my knees and reached for his buckle.
His hand stilled mine. “Tell me what ye need.”
I thought fast. One thing about Tyler was that he had my back in any decision, whether he liked it or not.
“When we talked about sex work, you asked if I wanted to go back to it.”
In the dimly lit room, his throat bobbed. “That’s your choice.”
“If I wanted to practice, would you help me?”
He stayed quiet, some internal battle playing out. Then he inclined his head.
I scooted off the bed and switched our places, guiding him to sit. This time, I didn’t immediately reach for his jeans, instead, lightly touching his shoulder to ensure his focus was solely on me.
I rolled my head, stretching out, then pushed between his knees, getting into his space. Obediently, Tyler moved forward on the bed, and his hands came to my hips.
Good boy.
If I’d planned this better, or at all, I would’ve dressed up for him, but this was fine. I did my best work naked. Like I’d done before, I made a show of stripping my shirt, holding it over my chest. Hiding the goods.
“You’re a client.” The words tasted old. Unfamiliar. But I wanted to see if they still owned me. Or if I owned them now. “You paid for a service. Correct me if I do anything wrong or if there’s something you want me to do.”
His chest rose and fell on a heavy sigh. “I’m not doing that. Everything ye do is right.”
Damn his sweetness.
I dropped one side of the shirt then the other, giving him an inches-close view of my breasts, still encased in a pretty bra. Not the deliciously slutty kind, but purple lace with matching underwear. A step up from what he’d seen before.
Tyler swallowed, then dragged his attention to my face.
“Eyes here.” I ran a finger down his cheek and in a line across to me. Then I hooked the bra cup and teased inside. No reveal, just to get his gaze locked on.
“Touch me,” I ordered.
He brought his hands to my waist, his grip hot but light. Not the clash I wanted. Yet his gaze burned and his neck muscles strained. Need poured off him in a storm. It lit up every one of my senses. Whatever tight control he had on his body, he couldn’t stop his mind.
“Take my leggings down. Don’t close your eyes.”
Tyler gritted his jaw but obeyed, stripping them to leave me in just my underwear. He did it fast. No lingering.
“You’re not supposed to make this easy,” I murmured.
That jaw flexed. “No part of this is easy.”
Good.
Still between his knees, I tapped the hands that had returned to their safe place at my waist. “Your punishment. No touching for a minute.”
He fisted the sheets either side of him and stared at me, his expression closed off but his eyes burning.
Inside me, answering heat flared. I loved everything about performing for him. He wanted so much but would never take. My goal of breaking him hit hard.
Swinging my hips, I turned around, giving him an eyeful of my ass in the tiny purple underwear, then I reached and unclipped my blonde hair, shaking it down my back.
I let him enjoy the view then peeked back, a coy glance over my shoulder with my lashes lowered. “If you were paying, what would you ask for?”
He pressed his lips together, no answer coming, but red stained his cheeks.
I raised my hands above my head and drew one down the other arm, all the way to wind behind me to unclip my bra. I tossed it away, then reached back for his hands.
He willingly came. Groaned when I wrapped them around my breasts.
I meant to tease some more. Quip something smart. But his touch felt so incredibly good, I lost myself in the sensation, even with him just holding me.
He kissed my spine. I arched more into his hold, his fingers dragging over my skin.
Every time Tyler and I did anything together, it felt like a first. It took a long minute to remember that I was trying to achieve something.
I restarted my brain and turned, a lock of hair bouncing with the motion, and Tyler’s hold dislodged.
“You’re here for a fantasy. Something you can’t get anywhere else. ”
His breathing deepened. “Dixie.”
“Shh.”
I leaned in and kissed his throat. Letting my lips linger where his pulse hammered. His head tipped back. I smiled against his skin.
“I haven’t even started yet.”