Chapter Thirteen
Malory
Late spring sunrays warm my pale skin, breaking through the trees above.
I truly do love it here. The peace and serenity of it all.
Even wildflowers have started to bloom in the high grass surrounding the cabin, allowing me to have a freshly filled vase every morning.
Well, at first it was a vase that has now turned into yet another mason jar since Tyson keeps knocking them off the kitchen island whenever he decides to bend me over it.
Which has been happening a lot over the last few days.
He’s fucked me in every corner of the cabin, slamming me up against every available surface and every piece of furniture, ravaging my body so thoroughly I barely recognize it.
Until my throat is hoarse from screaming.
Until I think he’ll never stop.
I don’t want him to.
Tearing orgasm after orgasm from me to the point I nearly pass out from overstimulation.
Only then does he come, buried deep inside me with our release dripping down my thighs.
I’d be lying if I said I’m not enjoying every second of his rough handling. The man doesn’t take it easy on me.
It’s like he can’t help himself. Fueled by raw, unsatiable lust that matches my own.
Even the aftercare is impeccable. Always bathing my limp body before he carefully dries every inch of my skin, massaging my favorite vanilla lotion into my aching muscles until my eyes start to droop and I doze off in his arms as he tucks me in.
Yet, he never stays.
Never sleeps in my bed with me.
Every morning, I wake up hoping to find him asleep next to me and every time I’m left disappointed.
We hold hands on our walks and cuddle on the couch, which rapidly turns into yet another fuck session, but that’s it.
Tyson worships every inch on my body with his mouth, yet he never kisses me.
We’re physically closer than ever, yet there’s something profound missing. A part of him I can’t quite reach.
I’m not sure whether I want to reach it.
Everything about Tyson is black. His hair. His eyes. His heart.
His darkness sucking me in deeper and deeper and for some reason, it’s not enough.
I continue wanting more from the man I know is empty inside. It’s exactly like he said.
I’m his.
His possession.
A thing he can own, but never love. I don’t think he’s capable of love.
And I’m not holding that against him, especially since I know his reasons. After the abuse he suffered, who wouldn’t want to just turn it all off.
I’ve long accepted that I care about the unfeeling man who has ripped me away from my old life. Maybe more than I should.
Coming to terms with it is easier than to live with the guilt of my own apathy because the thought of escaping hasn’t even crossed my mind.
I don’t want to anymore.
Tyson, Nero and this place have offered me more happiness and freedom than I could’ve imagined for myself.
Cold water droplets land on my exposed arms, breaking me out of my spiral as Nero shakes off his wet fur before laying down at my feet.
I found an old, dusty hammock in the garage and proceeded to hang it by the creek between two old pines. It would be a shame to be cooped up inside while everything is in full bloom.
Lately, it’s been warm enough to wear tank tops outside, which naturally leads Tyson to groping my petite breasts every chance he gets.
Turning another page of my romance novel while gently swaying back and forth, I enjoy the light breeze as a shadow falls over the open pages.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding.” The deep voice echoes from behind, his massive form looming over me.
“Like you don’t know exactly where I am at all times.” I tease, yet Tyson doesn’t deny it.
Tilting my head, I take him in. His black t-shirt molding perfectly to his toned abs and broad shoulders, making me yearn to run my hands over the wide plains of his chest.
He has that lethal quality that makes him that much more irresistible.
It’s clear that those muscles are made for killing. There’s no denying it.
As I try my best focus on my book, rereading the same sentence for the fifth time, the hammock dips under Tyson’s weight, making me slide into his side as a strong arm wraps around my shoulders, pulling me even closer.
My insides flutter when I feel him placing a gentle kiss to the top of my head, making me hide my blushing face in the grove between his neck and shoulder.
Nuzzling deeper into him, I take a deep breath of his musky scent mixed with a hint of cedarwood. Letting it wash over me, I find a sense of comfort in Tyson’s closeness.
Relaxing further into his embrace, the book in my lap is long forgotten as I trace the scars on his upper arm, some intricately woven into the designs of the tattoos covering them.
“What’s going to happen to us?” I ask, my whisper barely audible as I voice what we’ve both been dreading.
“What do you mean?” Tyson’s hold on me strengthens.
“You know what.”
We sit in silence for a while and I begin to think he isn’t going to answer. Finally, he tilts my chin up to search my face, seeing the anxiety lingering in my eyes.
“What do you want to happen?” He palms my cheek as I gape at him in surprise.
I’ve never considered having a say in my fate.
If it wasn’t my parents who dictated my future, then it was Tyson who threw me into whatever this is.
Though I’m more than okay with him dominating me, making me feel cherished and cared for in his arms.
Him taking the lead, being in control.
It feels good. Freeing.
And I’m fully aware how backwards that sounds.
Like an unspoken agreement, it felt natural to submit to Tyson because I trust him not to break me.
In the beginning, I gave into the man because I thought I didn’t have a choice, making the best of an impossible situation. Or at least that’s what I told myself.
The bare truth is, there’s always been more between us from the first moment he broke into my room, the first time our eyes locked. Even back then I felt drawn to him.
To his presence. His touch.
I want him. Us.
Instead of answering I lean closer, sealing my forehead with his, our lips almost touching.
“M-malory.” It’s barely a whisper. A mix of yearning and resignation.
My mouth ghosts softly over his, the sensation making me shudder in his arms.
That does it for him.
Tyson grips the back of my head, his hand tangling in my loose hair, tugging me closer as he devours me. His lips spreading over mine with desperate hunger.
He doesn’t just kiss me, he conquers me.
All of me.
A small moan slips from between my parted lips closely followed by his deep growl, allowing him to plunge his tongue into my open mouth, claiming me fully.
My fingers sink into his thick hair as I pull him even closer, our tongues tangling until I’m forced to submit, letting him explore every inch of my mouth without restraint.
I gasp when he suddenly bites my bottom lip, dragging it out with his teeth as the metallic taste of blood trickles onto my tongue, making Tyson go feral.
His other hand cups my jaw, holding my face hostage while he kisses me harder, the force of it nearly tipping over the hammock as he laps at my bleeding lip until we’re both breathless.
“Damn it, baby.” He rasps before giving me one final kiss. A soft peck that absolutely melts my heart.
“So fucking perfect. And all mine.”
Tyson’s lips are smeared with my blood, making him look equally lethal and breathtaking as he licks them clean, groaning at the taste of me.
“Am I your first?” His voice is low and husky, making my thighs clench with need.
I nod, unable to form words as the man kisses me once more with surprising gentleness. His mouth lingering on mine before pulling back.
The whine I let out at the loss making him laugh. A deep, genuine laugh.
I gape at him with wide eyes, that carefree smile shocking me more than the kiss.
I’ve only ever seen him smirk a handful of times and even that was incredibly rare.
Now, all I want is to hear it again, to see the way his eyes crease at the corners. Describing Tyson as handsome would be an insult. The man is devastating in the most dangerous way.
“You’re my first as well.” His thumb strokes tenderly along my cheekbone as I stare at him in disbelief.
“B-but you’ve slept with other women.”
“That doesn’t mean I kissed them.” He counters, his eyes darting to my bleeding lip with an unreadable look.
Admittedly, it kind of makes sense since he’s never kissed me during sex either. I’ve lost quite a bit of sleep over why it bothered me so much.
“Why not?” I whisper almost inaudibly.
“There’s no point in it for someone like me. I never cared about anyone in that way before.” He admits with a stiff shrug.
“And now?” I search his eyes for a hint of the answer I’ve been hoping for, holding my breath.
“You’ve changed everything, little one.”
With that he swoops in for another taste of my lips, claiming complete ownership over me.
“When you’re a heartless bastard like me, fucking used to be just a way to satisfy my needs. None of it meant anything before I met you.”
My heart swells, making me almost believe that there might be more for us, that he might be able to…
The thing about hope is that it’s dangerous. But then again so is he.
“I… I need more from you than just sex, Tyson.” A weight lights off my shoulders at having finally said it out loud.
“What is it? Tell me.” His brows draw together, tempting me to smooth out the deep etched crease between them.
“I don’t want to be just a possession to you. I need a real connection.” My voice is quiet, hesitant as I cast my gaze downwards.
“You’re mine, Malory. That’s not up for discussion.” The dominance in his tone is unshakeable.
“I want us to be equals. I want you to me mine too.” The words slip out before I have chance to think better of it.
It seems to take him aback as he considers me before cradling my face between his palms.
“I am yours.” Full of conviction, his burning black eyes lock with mine. “I’ve been yours since I first saw you. For two fucking years, I’ve belonged to you.”
My heart stops as I keep searching his face for any sign of uncertainty only to find unwavering determination.
“You’re the first and only women I’ll ever kiss.” Tyson brings his face closer, our noses touching. “And I’ll do my best to open up to you, but I can’t make any promises.”
“That’s all I’m asking for.” I breathe with relief. “I know sharing isn’t your strongest suit, it isn’t mine either. I guess that’s one thing we have in common.”
“ We. I like that.” He murmurs, running a hand through his messy, dark hair as he leans back with a peaceful expression on his face.
Molding my small body against his much larger one with a content sigh, I snuggle closer as his calloused hand envelops mine on his heart, hiding it completely.
I look down at our joined hands, our fingers tightly intwined as a deep sense of belonging washes over me.
This feels so inexplicably right.
Like we were supposed to end up here all along.
When the shadows of the pines around us grow long and the sun starts setting, we finally scramble to our feet, making our way back towards the cabin.
Tyson’s hand possessively wrapped around my waist as Nero paces in front of us, keeping his distance.
The poor dog has already witnessed too much for my liking, but at least he’s learned to scurry away whenever Tyson pounces on me.
Sometimes I think they’re telepathic.
It’s uncanny how they have the same black hair, or fur, and that overly intimidating look going on. I guess it’s true when they say that owners tend to look like their dogs.
When we’re not even halfway across the property, Tyson’s patience snaps as hoists me up in his arms.
Holding my body close to his, he eats up the remaining distance with a few long strides.
Without bothering to close the front door, he has me spread out on the kitchen island, tearing off my clothes like possessed before he proceeds to make me come twice on his tongue alone.
With my head still reeling from the onslaught of orgasms, I find myself bend over the counter as he fills me so perfectly, my hips banging hard against the marble as he pounds into me with bruising force.
Biting every inch of my exposed skin he can reach, the pain mixing deliciously with the overwhelming pleasure, raising it to new heights as I scream in bliss.
Letting the warm water soothe my aching body, I lean back into Tyson’s hard chest in the bathtub. It’s a tight fit considering his massive frame, not allowing for an inch of additional space.
Not that I don’t want to be plastered against those solid muscles.
Despite him ambushing me plenty of times in the shower, we’ve never actually taken a bath together. Well, I did offer that one time.
After the guy literarily fucked my brains out, there was no way I’d be able to walk in the foreseeable future.
So, Tyson being the king of aftercare that he is carried my limp body up here, stripped and climbed in beneath the bubbles with me like it was an everyday occurrence.
It’s perfect though.
His arms wrapped around my torso, fingers trailing over my stomach and down the valley between my breasts, making my insides tingle all over again.
It’s like I can never get enough of the man.
My muscles beginning to loosen up as Tyson gently runs a loofa over my skin, massaging my vanilla scented shower gel over every tender part of my body until I’m melting against him.
I could just close my eyes and stay like this forever. Yet the craving to care for him as well wins over.
Turning in his arms, I straddle Tyson’s hips as best as I can in the narrow tub before squirting out a blob of his shower gel into my open hand, rubbing it between my palms.
His wary eyes never leaving me, tracking my every move.
I spread the sudsy substance over his wide chest and shoulders, down his inked arms and then back up once more.
I don’t stop until I feel him gradually relax under my touch, a low hum leaving his parted lips.
Moving onto his hair, I slide my fingers through the wet strands with no need to use a different product since his shower gel doubles as a shampoo.
It’s the three in one kind only men use. Something we’ll definitely have to rectify as soon as possible but right now isn’t the time to be bringing that up.
The smell of rich wood fills the bathroom as I continue my ministrations, gliding the pads of my fingers over his scalp until he’s almost purring beneath me.
Out of nowhere, Tyson grabs my face, cupping it between his hands as he pulls me to him, sealing his lips with mine.
The kiss is different than before. Slow and tender, full of unspoken gratitude.
Just like me, Tyson isn’t used to people caring for him.
While our upbringing cannot be even remotely compared, it’s the sentiment of being utterly on your own that I can relate to.
My body molding against his as I lie on top of him, listening to his steady heartbeat, wrapped up tightly in his arms as the water cools around us.
We stay nuzzled close together with him drawing calming circles over my bare back, making my eyes droop.
I must have drifted off to sleep in his hold because the last thing I feel before unconsciousness takes over are soft sheets covering my body and warm lips on my forehead, whispering against my skin. “I’ll never let you go.”
I wish he wouldn`t.