Chapter Nineteen
Malory
Early next morning while the front lawn is still sprinkled with dew, my body is covered in goosebumps.
Despite wearing leggings and Tyson’s black hoodie, his hand around mine is the only thing giving me a bit of warmth.
For some reason, the man is always burning up. Like my own personal furnace.
Nuzzling my nose into the neckline, I love that I can smell him on it. And with the thing being ginormous on me, it feels like being wrapped up in a cozy, oversized blanket at all times.
With one last breath of his calming scent, I take my first hesitant step into the garage.
I’ve never really been in this part of the cabin before, wanting Tyson to have his own space. And also because I’m a little intimidated by all the tools lying about.
All around me, everything from axes to saws, hammers and stuff I can’t even name is hanging from the walls. With a set of spare tires and canisters filled with petrol neatly stacked in the far corner.
The air smells like motor oil and saw dust but it isn’t stuffy like I expected. I’m honestly surprised how well organized everything seems.
I wouldn’t have pegged Tyson as the OCD type but given he isn’t guided by emotions, I guess he isn’t chaotic either.
That kind of makes sense in my head.
At the very back right next to a wood working bench, a metal cabinet that looks like an oversized safe secured with a complicated-looking lock towers over everything.
Coming to a stop in front of it, I watch Tyson unlock the thing effortlessly like he’s done it a thousand times. Which is probably the case.
A sharp breath passes my lips when he opens in, revealing what’s hidden inside.
Row after row of weapons. From sniper rifles to handguns with silencers, all kinds of tactical gear, night vision goggles, bullet proof vests and holsters.
It’s a hitman’s wet dream.
An arsenal that could sustain a small army from the looks of it.
“Pick your poison.” He nudges me towards the armory.
Yet all I can do is stare at it dumbfounded, with no idea where to even begin. And a little scared to touch anything in case it will explode.
A heartbreaking grin breaks out on Tyson’s handsome face when he sees my stunned expression.
Someone is clearly proud at his collection.
“How about we start with a small one.” The man takes out a sleek gun that looks like it might actually fit in my hand.
“Fitting for a tiny being like you.” He kisses my temple as I sigh with relief and a glance towards the larger rifles that I wouldn’t even be able to pick up on my own.
“Do not be afraid.” Tyson says calmly, setting the loaded gun into my open palm.
It’s heavier than I expected.
“It’s good if you have respect, but don’t be fearful. It’ll hold you back.”
With a shaky nod, I take it. My fingers closing around the cold steel.
For the last fifteen minutes, we’ve been going over how to load and unload the gun. Step by step so I can get a feel for it.
“Your hold needs to be steady, but not rigid. Try relaxing your muscles while keeping the gun firmly in your hand.”
Yeah, easier said than done.
I release an exasperated breath as Tyson continues to guide my movements with endless patience.
In the morning light, his eyes are lighter, a rich chocolate brown that could turn black at any moment.
“View it as an extension of your arm. Move with it as if it’s a part of you.” His voice is thicker than usual and I can feel the fondness he holds for his weapons. “One fluid motion, little one.”
There's a light tremble in my hand as his much larger one closes around it, guiding me.
Together, we point the gun towards the tree line where a makeshift paper target has been strung up between two tall pines, gently swaying in the light breeze.
“Aim for the center of the body. It’s more likely for you to hit home that way than if you were going for the head.”
I lean back into his chest, seeking reassurance as Tyson readily seals his body with mine, wrapping an arm around my waist.
But when it comes to actually pulling the trigger, he doesn’t help me. Waiting for me to gather the courage to do it on my own.
And I do.
A deafening bang echoes through the quiet wood, reverberating down my spine. The sound much louder than I anticipated.
The recoil from the shot makes me jump back, bumping into Tyson’s solid chest as he steadies me.
“Where did it go?” I squint at the target, searching for a hole in the paper to no avail.
Good thing we’ve left Nero locked safely inside, protected from any stray bullets.
“Don’t worry about it for now, baby. Focus on remaining steady, no jerking away this time.”
Widening my stance with my feet planted firmly on the ground, we raise the gun once more.
Tyson’s hand on my hip with the intention to stabilize me serving more as a distraction than anything else.
“There you go.” He brushes his thumb over my hipbone, making me swallow hard to stay somewhat focused.
The multiple layers of clothes separating us doing nothing to lessen the tingly sensation spreading over every inch of the skin he’s touching.
Well, here goes nothing.
I flinch every time for the first few rounds.
Yet I manage to push through with the knowledge that Tyson has my back. Literally.
It’s a good skill to have if I ever found myself in a dangerous situation.
Again.
Before I met Tyson, it never occurred to me that it might be a real possibility, being as sheltered as I was.
Coming to know the man’s lifestyle, getting familiar with his world, I’ve grown to be more apprehensive. More realistic about the threats that are out there.
Guessing my train of thought, his mouth grazes the shell of my ear.
“If worst comes to pass, you’ll be able to protect yourself, Malory. But I won’t let it come to that. Over my dead body will I allow a fucking scratch on your porcelain skin.” He rasps against the side of my face.
Scraping his teeth over my exposed neck, Tyson tenderly kisses his marks from last night, pulling back too quickly for my liking.
“You can do it on your own now, little one.”
His hand releases my clammy one, making cold sweat break out on my temples as I faintly shake my head.
“Guns are less personal than knives. Act on your instinct, don’t think about it. I know you got it.” His hot breath brushes my nape, making me shiver involuntarily.
Raising my unsteady hand, I point at the target, double checking my aim before tentatively squeezing the trigger.
“You can't fucking hesitate, Malory. That millisecond is what’s going to get you killed.” There’s genuine concern for my safety marring Tyson’s voice.
Placing both hands on my shoulders, he turns me into position, facing the trees once more.
“Don’t lose sight of your target. Subconsciously, where you’re looking is where you’ll likely shoot.”
Taking a deep breath, I try again. My posture rigid until I feel Tyson step behind me, setting me at ease with his closeness.
After several rounds of empty magazines, I can hold my ground without jolting and my aim has improved quite a bit.
It’s far from perfect but I’m slowly getting there.
With each shot I’m hitting closer and closer to the center.
A living, moving target however would be another thing entirely.
Nonetheless, if I learned one thing today, it’s that I shouldn’t underestimate myself.
I did something I never thought I’d have the courage for and it feels euphoric.
As it turns out, all I needed was the right support. Not one that’s constantly tearing me down, controlling my every move.
With Tyson, I feel like I can do anything.
He’s been incredibly patient with me, and the gratitude I feel because of it is making my vision blur with unshed tears.
When was the last time I did something without being chastised and told time and time again that I wasn’t good enough.
Seeing the tears welling up in the corners of my eyes, my rough man immediately pulls me close, gently kissing them away.
“Thank you for this.” I offer him a watery smile.
“ Always .” With that he seals our lips for a brief moment before continuing in a low voice.
“Don’t be hard on yourself, little one. We’ve got all day, the rest of our lives really. But I’d also like to spend it in other ways than shooting practice.” He murmurs suggestively and my bleak thoughts instantly dissolve into warm pools of desire flooding my veins.
Something unreadable settles over his features, his expression hardening as he looks me over.
“Is something wrong?”
“Not at all. I thought I’d hate seeing you like this, so innocent and full of life holding a weapon of death.” His gaze sweeps over me one more time. “Yet the only thing I see is how fucking strong and sexy you are, baby girl.”
A blush creeps over my neck and cheeks as I turn away from his now heated gaze.
“Again. This time try imagining you’re aiming at a living, breathing opponent.” He commands and I shudder at picturing a real person standing in front of that target.
No particular face comes to mind. It’s just a blank silhouette of a man standing in a dark alley, his features hidden by shadows.
“I’ve never felt remorse, but I understand it’s different for you, Malory. And it will hold you back.”
For someone who couldn’t feel emotions until recently, he’s awfully good at reading mine.
“How does it feel?” He breathes.
My brows furrow, not knowing where to even begin putting it into words for him, so I dodge.
“Maybe you'll know now with your newfound emotional state.”
With a shake of his head, Tyson tilts my chin towards him, looking deeply into my eyes.
“I won’t. Whatever this is that’s been happening to me, it only extends to you, little one.” He pulls me into a hard, passionate kiss, his lips claiming the truth of his feelings.
I still can’t fathom this ruthless being truly feels something for me.
It’s surreal. Way more than I ever dared dreaming of.
“Do you think I could actually do it?” I ask breathlessly when he moves down, kissing along my jawline.
“Yes. I think when it came down to it, you wouldn’t hesitate.”
There’s no doubt that the man believes in me, unconditionally. Something I’m not accustomed to from my parents, nor from myself really.
“Again.”
He holds out another magazine and this time, I insert it myself, feeling strangely accomplished.
I’ve got this.
The paper target flutters at the impact every time my shots land near the middle, not stopping until my hands are tired and ears ringing.
This whole time Tyson’s hard body molds over mine like a protective shield, his rock-hard cock rubbing against my ass with every little move I make.
Unable to resist, I grind against it.
His hold on me tightening almost painfully as he growls into my ear.
“Do you know how many lives I took like this? How many men faced the end of my barrel before bleeding out at my feet, pleading for their worthless lives?” His teeth graze the spot on my neck where my pulse hammers wildly.
“And now the time has come that you become acquainted with it as well.”
“Huh?”
Before I realize what’s happening, Tyson slides out his own gun from his belt, holding it under my chin.
I suck in a sharp breath as the smoking weapon in my hand clatters to the ground, allowing me to grasp his wrist.
Yet something holds me back from actually stopping him.
Ever so slowly, he glides the muzzle down my torso, the valley between my breasts, over my belly button to the apex of my thighs, along my mound until he reaches my clit.
My body turning rigid, blood draining from my face as I await his next move.
I gasp when the hard, cold metal teases my sensitive nub through the thin fabric of my leggings, shivering uncontrollably.
My heart beating hard in my chest. Whether from fear or the thrill, I don’t know.
All I know that I don’t have it in me to end this.
“Do you know what it does to me seeing you drowning in my clothes?” He grits out roughly before tearing the hoodie over my head.
The fabric bunching in his clenched fists as he rips it off me, baring me to the crisp air and the touch of his calloused hands.
Out of nowhere, Tyson rips a hole it the crotch of my pants, leaving the scraps of fabric hanging off me as he shreds my panties, gaining himself access to my now fully exposed pussy.
His free hand possessively kneading every newly uncovered patch of my skin, massaging the naked flesh until I’m leaning into him for more.
Forcing my thighs further apart, he hooks my leg backwards over his knee, spreading me wide open while his other hand covers my exposed breast.
So strong, so confident in his conquest, he bites the tender spot on my nape, leaving me with yet another mark of ownership.
“My darkness doesn’t scare you, Malory. It fuels your own demons.” He whispers against my skin.
Resuming his path of conquest, Tyson leaves throbbing hickeys scattered all over my shoulders and neck until my body’s writhing against his, yearning for all he’s willing to give me.
It’s true. His darkness is my own.
Then I feel it.
Teasing my entrance, the tip of the gun slips from my clit between my sensitive folds.
Before my brain can catch up with what’s happening, he pushes into me.
Slowly at first, he pulls the barrel halfway out before thrusting in deeper, working it in inch by torturous inch.
My pussy clenches around the foreign object breaching my walls as a violent shudder wrecks my body.
I can’t help it.
Whimpering, I feel myself getting wetter with every stroke, giving into the terror. Embracing it as my fear turns into bliss.
Finally, my body wins over my mind, shutting off any rational thoughts that might have lingered.
Focusing solely on the pleasure spreading through my nerve endings, I let go of all my inhibitions, throwing my head back with a moan.
“You crave this, little one. So precious and innocent, and yet you can't wait to dive off the deep end with me.” Tyson growls thickly.
And he’s right.
Isn’t it always the quiet ones who are the most depraved inside.
I’ve always been intrigued by the darker side of things, making up forbidden fantasies at night and daydreaming in the light.
I buried those urges deep inside me but now, they’re coming out to play.
“You get off on it as much as I do, baby.” His words hit home as I mewl in response.
My jaw hanging slack as Tyson’s ministrations between my thighs quicken, savoring the satisfaction of losing all control.
My head falls against his shoulder as my body turns limp from being pushed beyond my limits and straight into Tyson’s capable hands to play with however he wants.
I give him all of myself. Because only under his brutal dominance do I feel liberated.
Free.
“This tight pussy is taking it so well, baby girl.” Tyson remains nuzzled by my ear, his heavy breaths ghosting over my cheek.
With his massive body curled over me, his head is right next to mine, allowing him to look down at where I need him the most.
Following his gaze, I moan loudly at the sight of the weapon plunging in and out of me, the metal glistening with my dripping arousal.
This is so wrong, so incredibly good.
Tyson is the only person able to recognize my cravings because they are his as well, feeding into my inner most desires. The one’s I haven’t yet fully acknowledged myself.
My own darkness seeks his, yearning for us to drown in it together.
“I knew you’d be able to take it, to handle all I give you.” His chest heaves at my back with strain.
“You're doing so good, baby. So fucking good.”
“Ty… please…” I beg for something, anything really.
Reaching around, I cup the back of his neck, anchoring myself to his strong body as I feel the knot in my stomach tightening.
The overwhelming sensation of the long barrel inside me lacing with an undercurrent of fear, making my eyes roll back.
Every time I think the intimacy between us can’t get any better, it always does.
Pure pleasure bordering on pain making it that much more intense.
With Tyson thrusting the loaded weapon into me, I realize one thing. I trust this man unconditionally.
Not only with my body, but with my soul.
I cry out his name over and over like a chant of my devotion, barely recognizing my own voice.
Sensing that I’m close, Tyson’s other hand leaves my abused nipple only to start furiously rubbing at my clit, pulling a gut-wrenching scream out of me as I shatter.
A stream of liquid gushing out of me, running down the barrel.
Long after I cease to tremble from the aftershocks, Tyson slides the gun from between my spasming walls, making me sag against him with a satiated sigh.
This was everything.
Bringing the glistening, loaded weapon to my mouth, he slips it between my parted lips, forcing me to taste myself on the hard steel.
“My new favorite.” Tyson’s burning gaze bounces between my lips and his gun. “I should do this with all of them.”
I shudder at the image of him doing just that.
Tucking the gun back into his pants, I slump against his solid chest. Unsure whether to be relieved or disappointed that it’s over.
Before I can catch my breath, my legs are suddenly kicked out from underneath me, Tyson’s strong arms bracing my fall as I land on all fours on the ground. With him on top on me.
I wince at the branches digging into my hands and knees.
Yanking at the remaining scraps of fabric hanging off my waist, he strips me bare until I’m completely naked in the middle of the woods.
The clank of his belt finally breaking through my post-orgasmic haze, making his intentions clear as day.
Immediately, my body’s ready to take more as I press myself against his crotch, earning myself a low growl before he unzips his cargo pants, freeing himself.
Glancing over my shoulder, my breath catches at the sight of the man behind me.
Feral and ready to ravage.
His broad frame is all I can see, his muscles bulging under the tight fitted t-shirt with barely contained restraint.
Blazing black eyes fixed on my glistening pussy, swollen and raw from his onslaught. Which by the looks of it won’t end any time soon.
Kneeling between my spread legs, Tyson fists his throbbing cock, pleasuring himself to the sight of me.
My lips part at seeing him like this, unguarded and unhinged.
If I weren’t there already, this man would most definitely bring me to my knees.
One rough hand grabs my ass, kneading the flesh harshly, watching as my pale skin reddens under his touch.
Positioning himself at my entrance, he strokes his tip against my slit, his head teasing my sensitive pussy.
“You want more, baby?” His cock breaches my walls just enough to drive me insane.
I whimper, unable to make my scattered mind form the words, but he seems to understand my needy mewling.
Withdrawing, I instantly feel the loss, wanting his hands back on my skin as if they’re a vital part of me that I can’t live without.
Tyson has become the center of my life. Not just intimately, but in every way that matters.
My keeper. My everything.
Without a warning, he buries himself deep inside my core, letting out a guttural groan that has my insides clenching.
“Such a good girl.” He moans as my pussy grips his length. “Milking my cock like you did my fucking gun.”
Then he’s slamming into me while I writhe beneath him, his strokes hard and forceful, using me without mercy.
It hurts so good.
Pain and pleasure merging in violent waves within me. I don’t want it to stop. Ever.
“How does it feel, Malory?”
Raw, carnal, incredible.
“S-so good… Ty…” My elbows give out from the sheer brutality of his thrusts and I fall forward with my cheek flat against the ground.
Arching my back, my ass is high in the air with Tyson’s firm grip on my waist holding me upright, using it as leverage to fuck me to the brink of insanity.
My entire body is shaking, feeling everything at the same time, sending my senses into overdrive.
The trees before me blending into a greenish haze as tears fill my eyes.
There’s no escape as he fucks me into oblivion, pounding into me with all his might. Yet I can’t stop wanting him to delve even deeper.
He’s never close enough, deep enough. I want to feel him under my skin.
“You feel so good, baby.” The man groans hoarsely, “My perfect little cunt, fucking made for me.”
With one hand running soothing circles along my spine, Tyson rearranges my insides, his hips slapping loudly against my ass.
“This is it for me, little one.”
Me too.
Yet I don't say it out loud. I can't.
The man goes on and on, never slowing his pace, never stopping.
He’s ruthless. Owning my body in every sense, refusing to let go as he stakes his claim on me.
Shifting his hips, he starts hitting just the right spot that sets my insides aflame, my pussy gripping him like a vice.
“Fuuuck...” A feral growl unlike anything I’ve heard rumbles from deep within his chest.
My body rocking back and forth on the forest floor as he keeps viciously ramming into my heat. His bruising grip on my waist making my fingers dig into the soft ground.
Right there. That spot he’s hitting.
My heart pounds wildly in my ribcage, my vision blurring until I feel like I might faint.
He’s fucking me like nothing else in this world matters.
Not his vengeance, not my fucked-up upbringing.
There’s only us.
Our bodies moving together.
Insatiably .
Tyson’s strokes turn impossibly rougher as carnal lust consumes us both.
Riding on the edge of pain, the pleasure is endless, making my spine bow as I wail.
His fingers finding my clit.
And I scream.
There’s dirt all over me, dead leaves and branches tangled in my hair, my clothes torn to shreds.
After Tyson carried my limp body back to the cabin, the man proceeded to disinfect every little scratch on my palms and knees, gently kissing the barely visible wounds.
With me sitting on the bathroom counter, he untangles my locks, gently brushing through the long tresses.
Once he’s done, Tyson picks me up as if I weigh nothing, making me instinctively wrap my arms and legs tightly around him as we step into the shower.
Without letting go of me, he lathers my vanilla shower gel onto every inch of my body, his touch light and caring.
I feel utterly worshipped. Loved.
Wiggling free of his hold, my legs barely hold me upright as I stand on my own. I want to do the same for him, show him that he’s worth caring for.
Squeezing out some of the soap into my palm, I slowly explore every nook and crevice on his chiseled body with my fingertips. Skin against skin, enveloping him in my scent.
Tyson’s low grunt sounds above me, making me look up. His eyes are closed, lips parted and the semi-permanent crease between his eyebrows has disappeared.
Well, mostly.
I can’t resist standing up on my tiptoes, grabbing the back of his neck to kiss those full lips.
Immediately, the man’s arms engulf me, fingers tangling in my hair as he tilts my head up to deepen our connection.
It’s slow. Our tongues stroking against each other almost tenderly. Tasting, teasing.
When we finally break apart, Tyson’s eyes are hooded, his expression full of unspoken emotions.
Of things neither of us dares to voice.
Standing under the hot spray, he cups my cheek, his thumb stroking my flushed skin before he brings our foreheads together.
I love when he does that.
I love being treated with soft, delicate care. But I also love being manhandled and dominated, craving both sides of him equally.
Being with Tyson, I’ve learned so much about myself.
It helps that he’s always so perfectly attuned to me, able to read my body’s reactions before I know what I need myself.
The rest of the day is spent with us soaking in the bath, laying in each other’s embrace.
So when he finally lifts me from the tub to wrap me up in a fluffy towel and massage lotion into my aching muscles, I can hardly keep my eyes open. The man even applies my skin care so lightly it feels like butterflies ghosting my face.
Falling asleep tucked into Tyson’s side with his strong arms wrapped tightly around me, my head rests in the crook of his neck, my palm splayed on his beating heart.
A deep, restful sleep overcoming me as one last thought passes my mind.
I don’t want him to let me go. I don’t want this to end.
Ever.