Page 8

8

TABITHA

T ry as I might, I haven’t been able to get Tyson out of my head since the night in his car. I’ve been trying, but he’s like a splinter embedded just beneath my skin—a constant source of irritation that I can’t find any respite from. I’ve thought about it and have come to realize I can’t get him out of my mind because I haven’t closed the door on him totally. Firmly. Completely. Until I do, I can’t excise that splinter.

I walk into the club, which I think serves as Tyson’s headquarters. The interior is dim and gloomy but clean. Despite it being the middle of the day, half a dozen men sit at the bar nursing their drinks, and a thick layer of cigarette smoke hugs the ceiling like smog along the city skyline. Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Freebird” issues softly from the speakers around the ceiling, and the bartender sits off to the side, reading the paper.

A familiar face emerges from the gloom and steps in my path, confirming that I’m in the right place. Six-foot-four, Zeus is as wide as he is tall and has a mane of wild, onyx-colored hair. He’s like a mountain that grew arms and legs and learned how to talk. I remember him from the ride home the night all this started. He’s kind of hard to forget.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice a deep rumble.

“I need to talk to Tyson.”

“He’s not seeing people.”

“He needs to see me.”

I speak with a confidence I don’t actually feel. Standing here in front of Mountain Man has me feeling a little rattled. He’s just so big and imposing that it makes me nervous. The guy could squash me flat with one hand.

“You should leave,” Zeus grumbles.

“Not until I talk to Tyson.”

“You can leave, or I’ll make you leave?—”

“Zeus, it’s all right.”

I turn to see a man stepping over to us. Zeus gives him a nod, then turns and walks back to his post, leaving me with this man I don’t know. He’s a few inches shorter than Tyson and lean but looks fit and athletic. His black hair is slicked back, and his goatee is neatly trimmed. Like Tyson, he dresses in a nicely tailored, expensive-looking three-piece suit and has the same dangerous air about him. He stops and looks me up and down, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You’re Tabitha, yeah?” he asks.

“And you are?”

“Marco,” he replies. “I’m Tyson’s associate.”

“Don’t you mean henchman?” I ask acidly.

He chuckles. “Tyson said you’ve got a sharp tongue on you, but to answer your question, I like to think I’m more than just an ordinary henchman.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “I need to talk to him.”

“Yeah. Sure,” he says. “Follow me.”

He leads me through a door and into the back of the club. The back room is filled with boxes of liquor and other necessities required to run the bar. Marco stops at a door that’s marked private and raps on it before opening it and sticking his head in.

“Hey, you’ve got a visitor,” Marco says, his tone amused.

“If it’s Rico and?—”

“It’s not,” he says.

Marco steps back and pushes the door open, then motions me forward. I step into the office, and Marco closes the door behind me. Tyson is sitting behind a large desk with a surprised look on his face. He closes his laptop and cocks his head.

“Well, this is a surprise,” he says. “How’d you know where to find me?”

“I’m a resourceful girl.”

“Apparently so. I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be,” I reply. “I’m just here to tell you that this—whatever this is between us—can’t happen again. It isn’t going to happen again.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re … I don’t date guys who do what you do.”

“You don’t know what I do.”

I clench my hands into fists. “I’m not na?ve. I know you’re a criminal, Tyson. And that’s just not the kind of man I’m interested in being with.”

He leans back in his chair and considers me for a moment. There’s a strange look in his eyes I can’t quite interpret. It almost looks like … hurt. As if me judging him for what he does has somehow wounded him. He quickly composes himself, but I saw it. He clearly has a depth of emotion I never would have believed if I hadn’t seen it myself.

“I’m more than what I do.”

“Maybe. But I’m having a hard time getting past what you do.”

“And you came all the way down here to tell me that?” he asks. “You could have just sent a text. Know what that tells me?”

“What?”

“That you wanted to see me and that maybe, just maybe, you’re not convinced that this isn’t going to happen again,” he says. “Or that you aren’t sure you don’t want it to happen again.”

“N-no. I’m sure. This isn’t going to happen again. It can’t,” I stammer.

He purses his lips as he gets to his feet. As he walks toward me, I back up, a soft squeak bursting from my mouth as I bump into the door behind me. Tyson takes another step forward, pinning me between him and the wall, his mouth hovering so close to mine. I draw in a breath, my heart thundering in my ears, and swallow hard.

“I-I just came to tell you that,” I say, my voice shaking. “I should go.”

“The door’s behind you.”

My stomach churning and my legs trembling, I stare into those icy blue eyes and feel like my feet are rooted to the ground beneath me. I’m so turned on I can’t see straight, and I feel frozen. Like I can’t move no matter how hard I try. The corner of Tyson’s mouth curls upward, and my heart leaps into my throat. He brushes my hair off my forehead with the lightest touch, and I feel that familiar heat between my thighs. My mind is screaming at me to move. It’s telling me that I said what I needed to say, to open the door behind me, and slip away. My body, however, refuses to obey, leaving me rooted to my spot.

“Thought you said you were leaving,” he says.

His breath is warm on my cheek and smells faintly of mint. He leans closer to me, his firm, toned body pressed against me. My nose is filled with the subtle hint of his cologne, and I feel the heat radiating from his body. My throat is suddenly dry, and as I gaze into his eyes, time seems to slow down. He leans forward and presses his mouth to mine. Tyson slides his tongue into my mouth, and I melt against him, his kiss breaking through the dam of my resolve.

A low gasp spills from my mouth as Tyson trails kisses down my neck while his big, strong hands caress my body. He presses himself against me, and it’s then that I feel his long, rigid cock flush against my belly. Tyson scoops me up and carries me over to his desk. He turns me around and bends me over roughly. Butterflies swarm in my belly as he holds me down with one hand and yanks my yoga pants down with the other.

Turning my head, I see him admiring me from the back, the hunger in his eyes getting me wet. I hold my breath as he kneels and leans forward, and when his tongue slips between my wet, swollen lips, I cry out. He laps at my pussy from behind with an abandon that has me stuttering and gasping. I’m writhing wildly, but he keeps me pinned to his desk while he lashes me with his tongue. He teases my ass, circling it with his thumb, then presses it into me.

“Fuck,” I stammer. “Yes, Daddy. Just like that, Daddy.”

I grind myself back against his face, taking his tongue deeper into me as he continues to thumb my ass. The pressure inside me builds quickly. My skin feels like it’s on fire as I throw my head back and cry out, my orgasm tearing through me. Tyson continues lapping at me as I come, the sensation so intense it makes me squirm.

He doesn’t even give me a chance to recover from such an intense and powerful orgasm. Instead, he stands up and pulls his cock out. Still holding me down hard on his desk, Tyson presses the tip of his cock against my swollen, throbbing opening. I turn my head, looking up at him and seeing him flash me a wolfish smile as he thrusts his hips, piercing me with his dick. My eyes widen, and my breath is driven from my lungs as he fills me up.

“Oh my God,” I cry.

Tyson grabs hold of my hair and yanks my head backward as he starts to pump his hips, fucking me in a hard, steady rhythm. He’s so big and thick that it’s almost painful as he stretches me open. At the same time, that slight pinch of pain only makes the sensation of his cock sliding along my inner walls all the more intense.

“Yes, Daddy,” I croak. “Fuck me just like that. Give it to me harder.”

“You’re a dirty little girl, Tabitha.”

My lips curl back in a seductive smile as he continues pounding me. With one hand still pulling my hair, Tyson’s other hand slides down my back, and he begins teasing my ass again. He circles it with his thumb, then presses it in, stretching my second hole open as well, drawing a long, shuddering cry from my mouth. Tyson fucks me and thumbs my ass harder, and it feels so incredible, my head is spinning. The sharp slap of our bodies crashing together rings in my ears, a sound so erotic, it’s got my juices running down my thighs.

I can’t believe this is happening. I came here to tell him this wasn’t going to happen again. I was firm and had made up my mind. But somewhere between telling him I wasn’t going to see him again and actually walking away, something in my brain shifted. Being so near to the man and looking into those cold, steely eyes of his unlocked a door inside of me I hadn’t even known was there. Once that door opened, I was flooded with desire. With lust. With hunger. With need. And here we are.

“Give it to me, Daddy,” I say.

His body tenses and a low grunt bursts from his mouth. I can tell he likes the way I’m talking to him and feel him swelling inside of me. A smile touches my lips, and in response, Tyson yanks my head backward savagely, making me moan salaciously. This is everything I’ve fantasized about and more. He thrusts deep into me. My eyes roll back in my head, and I let out a throaty groan as I come again, even harder than the first time.

Caught in the throes of my orgasm, my breathing is ragged, and my head is spinning. Tyson is gritting his teeth, the veins on the side of his neck standing out as he tries to hold back the inevitable, wanting to prolong the moment, which somehow turns me on even more, and a fiendish little smile touches my lips.

“Come for me, Daddy,” I gasp. “Fill me up. Give me your come, Daddy.”

A deep growl rumbles in his chest, and he throws his head back. His cock pulses and then explodes, filling me with a flood of his warm, sticky seed. I shudder and lean back, pressing myself against him as I feel his long, thick rod twitching, emptying himself into me. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, and I shudder.

We remain like that for several long, blissful moments. Eventually, his cock softens, and he pulls out of me, leaving me feeling an unexpected emptiness, and I long to have him inside of me again. I stand up and look up at him in amazement. A cocky half-grin touches his lips as he leans forward and gives me a soft, chaste kiss. I pull back and look deeply into his eyes, a host of competing thoughts and emotions swirling inside me.

“This is going to be complicated,” I say.

“The best things in life always are.”