Falling for Tyson

by Erica Breyer

  “Leave it!” he said, his face glistening in the golden light. She wasn’t going to argue because he’d lowered his head back to her mound, and those lips had closed over her.

  “Oh, God!” she said out loud now.

  A strong hand slid up from her ankle, up her calf, over her knee, along the inside of her thigh. His tongue was dipping past her slick slit, deep into the wetness that was surely dripping down her inner thighs already. When his fingers slid into her pussy, she was certain her knees would give way.

  ‘Oh God, oh God…’ Where was the air? She couldn’t find enough air.

  His fingers slipped an inch deeper into her heat and then curled and swirled—

  ‘Sweet Jesus…!’ A man who knew how to find a G-spot. Her body reacted as if she’d touched a live wire. She shot upright and thrust her hips towards his face. ‘Did I break his nose?’ He could get another nose. God was a woman, and Cassie had done something to earn her approval.

  When his mouth closed over her clit and sucked down, sucked her in, and swirled, she came undone. The sound that was torn from her didn’t sound human. If he hadn’t been holding her, she would have crumpled to the floor.

  He waited a moment. Perhaps it was longer. It could have been a century. Cassie didn’t care. Her hands were in his hair, holding him against her as she ground herself forward. He could take a breath when she was ready. If she was ever ready.

  And then he was sliding up her body, his fingers still buried inside her, a thumb tracing slow circles over her tingling clit. When his lips met hers, she could taste herself on him. His face glistened with it. The sweet, sticky, slickness of her pleasure. She licked his chin, nipped lightly. He groaned, not letting up with that slow, maddening swirl of his thumb. Fingers still plumbing her depths. It should have been enough.

  But it wasn’t.

  She licked her flavor from him. Sucked at it.

  ‘Wow, I taste good…’

  Why had she never known that till now? She traced her lips down his throat, the way he had done with her. She could feel the movement of his breath, how he swallowed, sucked in air when her teeth grazed his flesh. She nipped harder. Her face was buried in the curve of his neck, and the muscles were rigid beneath her lips. And yet his fingers still dipped and swirled within her, that thumb stroking circles that had her knees quivering. It was more than she could bear.

  “Cass…Cassie…Cassiopeia…” he groaned. That damn name. It should have sounded ridiculous, but it didn’t. Not the way he said it. Not when his fingers were delving into her.

  Her hands hovered over his arms, exploring the broad sweep of his shoulders. Why was he clothed when she was basically naked? She tugged at his shirt, feeling satisfaction as buttons snagged, popped, tore free, pulling the shirt down his body. She glanced down and sucked in a breath.

  ‘Dear Lord…’ He was perfect. He could have been sculpted from bronze. Her breath caught again, and she stroked a hand down his chest, almost reverently. Traced a pattern of ink across his chest…a shark? She licked it, then pinched a nipple between thumb and forefinger, and he groaned. The sound caught at a place deep down beneath her belly, where his fingers were still pressing, and she clenched muscles she never knew she had.

  This was insane.

  With anyone else, this would have been the end of the show. Hell, in most cases, she never got to finish her own side of the ‘show’. Yet somehow, she sensed this was only the beginning. And those fingers…those maddening fingers.

  She bit down on his shoulder, and he groaned again. His free hand moved up behind her head, holding her firmly against his skin. She bit deeper, knowing her teeth would probably leave their mark. His shirt was snagged halfway down his arms, hooked over his wrists…he wasn’t taking his fingers from her clasping pussy, and she wasn’t going to ask him to. But she needed to get those damn pants off. Beneath that snug waistband, she knew heaven waited, and every cell in her body was demanding release.

  More release.

  She fumbled with the buttons, a hand curling down into the front to reach for the hot flesh she knew was within.

  And the fucking buzzing was sounding again. She stiffened, looked up.

  “Just…Just…” his voice was a hoarse croak. “Just leave it…”

  His pants were halfway down his thighs. ‘God, those thighs…’ She was going to sink her teeth into those thighs too…as soon as she’d found her way past the waistband of his shorts.

  Now it was her turn to be kneeling at his feet, and she breathed deeply, black boxers mere inches from her nose. It was worth the moment of loss she’d felt as she’d slid down beyond the reach of his fingers in her hungry, hungry pussy. Her face was cupped in his hands, and he’d hunched slightly to look down at her. She dropped her head backward, and their eyes met.

  Could there possibly be a more intimate moment than this?

  And the phone was ringing again.

  “Jesus Christ!” Tyson bit out.

  “I think you should answer it,” she said, barely recognizing her own voice.

  “No,” he bit out. “I don’t… No, just don’t stop…”

  She turned her face back to the bulge that was almost brushing her lips, fingers curling into the waistband of his boxers to peel them down.

  The phone rang again, and the impossibly taut lines of his belly jerked. Cassie stopped and looked up, then tugged the device free from the back pocket of his jeans. She raised her hand and passed it to him. His green eyes were almost black when they met hers, but he took it and swiped a thumb over the screen.

  “Fuck! What?” he barked into the phone. His expression clouded. Grew dark. “Where?” he said, his fingers were stroking her hair. She pressed her cheek to his inner thigh, still looking up at him. The heat of the moment was seeping away in a steady swirl. “Yeah?” he continued. “Okay, send me the address. I’ll be there in twenty.” He ended the call, leaned back, and shut his eyes for a second, then opened them and stared down at her. He dipped his knees to draw level with her and cupped a palm beneath her elbow, raising her as he moved to his feet. He heaved a breath.

  “It’s Clint,” he said. “He’s in trouble. I gotta go.”

  She nodded without questioning him. What was there to say?

  “I…Uh…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. She shook her head and brushed her lips against his cheek.

  “It’s okay,” she murmured. “Go.”

  Chapter 11

  “So, how did it go?” Nat asked archly. Cassie grinned like the cat that got the cream. They were having their regular Sunday get-together – this time at Nat’s place instead of the beach – and Andy was about to join them. From the looks of it, her weekly ‘Nat Sunday’ was about to become a ‘Nat and Andy Sunday’.

  “It was amazing,” she sighed. “I met his family…his mom…well, she seems nice.” It was a bit of a lie, but Cassie didn’t want to make hasty judgments.

  Her phone pinged, and she glanced at it. A message lit the screen. Her cheeks flushed as she read it.

  “What? Is everything okay?” asked Nat.

  “Yeah…it’s…just a message.” Her face was flaming. “From Tyson. A bit of a poem, I think.”

  “What does it say? Read it, read it!” Before she could comply, Nat grabbed the device and read out loud.

  “Cass…Cassie…Cassiopeia…Galaxy Girl…The moon and the stars dance in your eyes…Across your lips…Between your thighs…” Nat stopped abruptly. “Oh my!” She giggled and passed the phone back. “That was naughty of me; I’m sorry, darling.” She didn’t look sorry at all.

  Cassie flipped the phone face-down. “Bitch!” she laughed. She was dying in so many ways.

  “I deserve that!” Nat’s expression was unrepentant. “So, I’m guessing it went really well then?” she asked. Cassie nodded, then jumped slightly as the phone pinged again. “Pick it up, darling!” Nat urged.

  ‘I have to see you again,’ the message read.

  “He wants to see me again,”
Cassie said, a little breathlessly. “Bit silly, though. He knows I’ll be at gym tomorrow.” She tapped out a quick message in response.

  ‘Definitely. Chat tomorrow.’ She didn’t want to seem too eager…but really… She received a quick thumbs-up in response.

  “Cass, darling,” Nat put her hand over Cassie’s and patted it in a gesture just short of condescension, “I’m not sure how to break this to you, but the man didn’t ask you to train with him because he thinks you need to go to gym.” She put on a mock-serious expression. “I think…now don’t be too shocked…I think he might want to get into your pants,” she whispered. Cassie giggled. Nat dropped her voice even lower, “And Cass…I really think you should let him!”

  ✽✽✽

  Tyson was going through paperwork with Maxwell on Monday morning when his screen lit up with Cassie’s number. He answered on the first ring. She was calling to say she had to take a trip out of town and wouldn’t be able to make it to training. His heart sank. He’d been waiting for a chance to plan another date.

  “I’ll be away all week,” she was saying, her tone gloomy.

  “Don’t sweat it, Cass; a couple of days off won’t hurt you,” he reassured her. They’d hurt him, though…and he wasn’t thinking of training.

  “But I’ve been doing so well! I don’t want to break the routine. Should I find a gym while I’m away and get some help there?” she asked.

  “No!” he said quickly. The consistent work was paying off, and Cassie was heading towards the ideal balance of muscle tone and curves. He didn’t want anyone messing with perfection. Didn’t want anyone else getting their grubby hands on her either, if he was honest with himself. “No, take a couple of days off. It’ll be good for you.”

  “If you say so,” she conceded, then sighed. “Damn, I wish I didn’t have to go. Would you believe I actually hate flying? What if I catch Ebola or something?”

  Tyson choked on a laugh. She had such a flair for the dramatic. He loved it. “Cassie, you’re not going to catch Ebola. Unless you’re planning a detour through Africa.” Maxwell was laughing in the background.

  “I know.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “I guess I’m just sulking. I don’t want to go…” there was a pause, “I…I’m going to miss you.” He swallowed hard. It had taken her forever to get to the heart of the call, but he hadn’t wanted to push her.

  “I’m going to miss you too,” he murmured back. He didn’t care if Maxwell heard. There was another moment of silence while she processed his words. “A week suddenly feels like a really long time.”

  “Forever,” she answered. “I don’t want to be away from you.” He swallowed again. It was the first time they’d ever spoken like this. Like a couple. He realized things had gone from cold to hot in just a few short days, but he wasn’t complaining.

  “You’ll just have to make it up to me,” he teased, testing the limits a little. She didn’t back away.

  “Oh, I promise I will,” her voice was a little husky. His own throat was clogging up too. He wondered if she’d be up for a round of phone-sex— ‘Cut it out, Killoran, that’ll never fly.’ But she wouldn’t need to say anything dirty. Just the sound of that voice…when it was husky just like that… “Can we get together when I get back?” she was asking.

  “Absolutely!” he answered. “Give me a time and a place, and I’ll be there.” Too keen? Tough shit.

  He ended the call and grinned like a fool at Maxwell. The man winked and shot him a thumbs-up. Things were finally going in the right direction.

  “I got the go-ahead on that project of yours,” Max said out of the blue. Or probably not, since he may have guessed the inspiration behind Tyson’s new campaign idea. “The sportswear division has a new line of duds. For regular folks,” he was cautious with his wording. “They love the idea of backing an initiative like yours. Healthy living, acceptance, anti-bullying – it’s all trending right now.”

  “This isn’t about what’s trending, Max,” Tyson replied. He was thinking about how he could discuss it with Cassie. With her expertise, she might find an angle that packed real punch – the kind he didn’t know how to deliver.

  “I know, Ty, but you know how these corporate types work. They like to see results. They wanna hear things like ‘return on investment’, ‘buzzworthy’, ‘top of mind’, and ‘leveraging resources’.”

  Tyson frowned. “What the hell does that even mean?”

  “Not a whole lot, bro, just a bunch of words to justify the crap-ton of cash they spent on their MBAs. But anyway, it doesn’t matter. I used my Bullshit-Translate app to put a proposal together, and they’re buying it. We’ll start the first round of talks with their PR team next week,” Max looked pleased with himself, and Tyson clapped him on the back.

  “Great job, Max. I knew you could do it. It’s going to be good to do something that has meaning out there.” Tyson couldn’t wait to tell Cassie.

  ✽✽✽

  Cassie walked into her hotel suite and shut the door behind her.

  “What a day,” she groaned as she kicked off her heels and dropped her briefcase on the bed before shrugging out of her jacket. It was after 9 pm, and she’d just wrapped up the second day of the assignment. An audit of the client’s campaign stats had revealed an anomaly in the numbers. Management was not happy. In short, it was a fuck up. Fortunately not her own fuck up, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t have to do a whole heap of damage control to get things back on track. She rolled her head from side to side and rubbed the back of her neck.

  “Hot bath…bubbles,” she said to herself as she headed into the bathroom and turned on the taps. One of the perks of the job was that the company didn’t skimp on travel expenses. Her room was in a five-star hotel, and every possible comfort was included. The oversized tub was big enough for two, and a ledge along the edge held an array of fragrant bottles. She splashed in a generous amount of something rose-scented and wandered back into the bedroom, unbuttoning her shirt as she went.

  A minibar in the corner of the room yielded a decent bottle of chardonnay, and Cassie sighed after the first mouthful. She stood beside the bar fridge and took two more big gulps, feeling herself unravel slightly.

  ‘Okay… that’s getting better,’ she thought as the alcohol hit her empty stomach. She should probably have ordered up something to eat but couldn’t summon the enthusiasm to go through the room service menu. The thought of reading anything after a day of pouring over sheets of figures made her eyes water. She topped up her glass and stripped off the rest of her clothes as she headed back to the bathroom, giving yet another sigh as she eased into the warm water.

  Within minutes, the world started to feel habitable again. She took another sip and then gave a little start when her phone started ringing. She’d changed her ringtone to Tyson’s favorite fight tune – the one that thumped out when he headed into the ring. ‘Such a groupie,’ she thought to herself as she sat up and reached to where she’d left it on the ledge, grinning at the image on the screen. She’d set his caller ID to a photo of him she’d found online. He was standing on a mat in a victory pose, arms outstretched, muscles popping. So many muscles… Her thumb brushed over a spot just south of those perfectly toned abs when she hit the button to answer the call.

  “Hey, you,” his voice came over the line, and she smiled.

  “Hey,” she answered.

  “I didn’t want to bug you because you said you’d call when you were done, but I couldn’t wait any longer,” he said. Her smile broadened. He’d phoned the night before, and they’d ended up talking for hours. They’d eventually called it a night around midnight, after half an hour of ‘You hang up first,’ ‘No, you hang up first’. It had left her feeling like a dizzy adolescent.

  “I just got in,” she told him. “We had a bit of a disaster on site.”

  “Tough day?” Tyson asked.

  “Brutal,” she sighed. “The manager’s a real ball-buster. I think her staff is afraid of her.”
She took a sip of wine and sank down into the water. “No, scrap that; I know they’re afraid of her.”

  “Sounds charming,” he chuckled. The sound was warm and husky and did strange things to her insides. “But I’m pretty sure you got a handle on her.”

  “It took a couple of hours, but yeah, I think we’re on the same page now,” Cassie said. “Unfortunately it took a solid day of going through the figures. I think my eyeballs have PTSD.”

  “Poor baby,” he consoled her teasingly.

  “Then things got heated when we figured out that someone had been hiding an entire series of foggy results on one stream of ad-spend.”

  “Oh boy, doesn’t sound good…though I have no idea what that means,” he laughed. She didn’t entirely believe him. The man was far more business savvy than he let on.