Falling for Tyson

by Erica Breyer

  “Oh, I’ve got more than that,” she teased, brushing a puckered nipple against his lips. Tyson gave a light nip, and she gasped, then pulled back, taunting him with the promise of more.

  “Is that right? Show me.” His tone matched hers, and she responded by tipping her hips a little. The movement had the pouting lips of her pussy stroking along the length of his shaft, and he inhaled a sharp breath.

  “Need to tap out?” she asked coyly.

  “Oh, hell no,” he replied, shuddering as she raised herself upright, poised over him. She cupped her breasts in her palms and undulated her hips slightly. His back arched as he sought out her heat, but she stayed just out of reach, letting the tip of his cock brush against her and then drawing away. He growled low in his throat, moving his hands to her hips and pulling her down. The muscles of her thighs flexed as she resisted his grip.

  “Nuh-uh-uh…” Cassie taunted, doing that thing with her hips again. It was enough to make a grown man weep. “I’m in the driver’s seat…can’t you see?” She rested her hands over his, and her breasts swung free again.

  “Oh, yeah…I see,” he breathed. “And where are you taking me?” He sat up abruptly and sucked a nipple into his mouth, thanking the endless years of training that had blessed him with abs that made the motion effortless. She gave a sharp gasp, and he moved his head, moving his tongue around her other nipple in hot, wet swirls. It must have hit the spot because she rewarded him by sinking down until the tip of his cock was engulfed by the warm, velvet vice he’d been introduced to the night before. His moan was muffled by a mouthful of flesh as she lowered herself down further, inch by throbbing inch. He released her breast and leaned back slightly to watch their coupling, fascinated by the sight of his shaft disappearing into her heat.

  “Heaven,” she whispered as her pelvis ground against his, and he bottomed out inside her. “I’m taking you to heaven…”

  Chapter 17

  Cassie rolled over and stretched luxuriously, deliciously stiff in all the right places. She moved her legs beneath the soft sheets. Egyptian cotton was going to play a significant role in her life from now on. In more ways than one. She grinned.

  The bed beside her was empty, and she wanted to pout. Tyson had left for a morning jog an hour before.

  “Gotta run,” he’d grinned, kissing her on the tip of her nose, “occupational hazard. Sponsors need me to be on top of the game, or some kinda crap like that.” She’d watched as he’d bounced out of bed to get dressed. So much energy so early. After last night…this morning. She’d have to work harder to tire him out. The sight of that fine ass had drawn a little murmur of approval from her, and he’d shimmied his butt as he tugged on running shorts and a tank-top.

  “Buns of steel, baby!” she’d giggled, applauding and calling for more, but he bowed mockingly and jogged out the door. She’d dozed off again within minutes.

  Now she missed him.

  A buzzing sound caught her attention as she settled back against the pillows and wondered if she should wait for him in bed…or in the bath. Hmmm…a bath full of bubbles. That could work. They’d flood the bathroom floor, but who cared! Would he even have bubbles? It didn’t seem likely. Such a manly man, she giggled to herself.

  The buzzing sound continued, and she spotted the source. His phone was still on the bedside table, shining as a message appeared on the screen. The subject line snagged her eye, and she frowned.

  ‘Re: Cassie. Where do you want me to put this?’

  That was strange. Who would he be speaking to about her? The screen faded to black before she could see who it was from. None of her business anyway.

  Except it was about her.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn’t going to look at it.

  But it was about her…

  She clenched her hands into fists, exhaled sharply through her nose. She shouldn’t look. She really shouldn’t.

  It was about her.

  With a swift surreptitious look around, as if someone might be watching, she quickly reached over and grabbed the phone.

  C.A.S.S.

  The pin code was the same. She exhaled. The email notification was still on the screen, and she took a deep breath as she swiped her thumb over to open it.

  ✽✽✽

  Tyson bounded along the track through the park, feeling as if he was on springs. The air was fresh and clear in his lungs, and his thighs burned with a familiar ache that made him feel electrically alive. His heart soared. It wasn’t the run that did it, though. His mouth twitched with the start of a smile as he thought about the night before. Cass… It was more than he’d ever imagined. So much more. He headed towards a small fence and hopped over it easily. The path split further up ahead. One fork would lead to an additional track. The other led home.

  Home.

  That’s where he was going. Normally he’d take the longer route. But normally, he didn’t have anyone to go home to. Home to Cassie. The twitch of his lips broadened into a grin. He veered back onto the sidewalk that headed to his apartment, making a quick stop at the coffee shop on the way. The route was a little harder to negotiate, holding two giant cups. He usually took stairs two at a time. He was humming under his breath when he jogged through the front door.

  “Hey, Wallstreet! I got you a coffee,” he called as he headed through the living area. He was met with silence. ‘Not up yet. Still in bed. Good,’ he thought with a grin. He reached the bedroom and frowned at the empty bed, sheets still tousled.

  “Cass?” he called, striding towards the bathroom. ‘Bathtub… Just as good.’ He grinned again.

  The bathroom was empty and silent, aside from the dripping of a tap. He frowned and turned around. He dropped the cups in the basin and headed back into the living room. Her clothes were no longer on the floor where they’d been flung the night before. Her purse was gone. And now that he was thinking about it, he hadn’t seen her car where they’d parked it the night before. Couldn’t be…

  “What the hell?” he said into the silence. He walked back into the bedroom and did a slow turn around the room as if he’d somehow missed her hiding in the closet or behind the curtains. Which was ridiculous, but his brain was just refusing to grasp the situation. He turned and stared back at the bed. That tousled bed.

  His phone lay in the bedclothes. He hadn’t left it there. He picked it up, looked down at the screen. A message had been opened in his email. Realization slowly began to dawn. He opened the message, and the attachment automatically opened up. It had already been downloaded. His head spun as a cacophony of animal sounds swam around him. He sat down on the bed heavily.

  “Fuck.”

  It didn’t even occur to him to ask why she’d been going through his mail in the first place. All he knew was that she’d seen that video. That stupid, stupid clip. All those horrible images of her.

  “Fuck!” he said more loudly, rubbing his hand over his face. He had to do something. Had to speak to her.

  He dialed her number.

  “Hi. You’ve reached Cassie—” He threw the phone down on the bed.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” he almost shouted, spinning towards his closet and yanking out a clean set of clothes. He pulled off his shorts and tank-top, still damp from the run. Cursed as he struggled to get his clean pants on over the trainers he hadn’t bothered to take off. A pile of black clothing now lay in a heap beside his bed, and he was going to leave it there. He grabbed his phone and shot off a text.

  ‘Cass, I need to speak to you. Please pick up.’

  When he walked through his front door, the light of his screen was still shining. Her phone showed that she was online, but no answering texts came back. He dialed her number.

  “Hi. You’ve reached Cassie—”

  He clenched his fists to stop the surge of emotion from making him do something stupid. He took a breath, texted:

  ‘Baby, it’s not what you think. I need to explain.’

  Nada.

  ‘Cass, I
can see you’re online. Please answer?’

  He grabbed his keys, ran out the door, and got to the parking bay in record time. There was still an empty space where his Harley was usually parked. The orange skull on the gleaming bonnet of his Maserati leered – and he hated it more today than ever. By the time he got into the car, there was still no answer. Although now there were two blue ticks beside each of his messages. She’d seen them.

  He breathed a sigh of relief as the screen showed that she was typing. He waited. Waited. Waited. Nothing. She’d started typing and then stopped.

  ‘Can I come round?’ As if he wasn’t already en route.

  No answer.

  ‘I’m coming over’ Of course he was.

  Silence.

  He turned the key in the ignition and gunned the engine.

  ✽✽✽

  Shattered.

  There was no other word to describe how she felt. Just shattered. Like her heart had been torn from her chest and crushed between cruel hands.

  Cassie stared at the screen, her finger hovering over the send button. She took a deep breath and deleted the message. Moved her fingers again to hit ‘Block Sender’. There was nothing he could do or say to explain this away.

  Nothing.

  A pile of red fabric lay in a heap beside her bed, and she was going to leave it there. She’d felt like a million dollars when she’d left home the previous night. She and Nat had rummaged through her wardrobe for hours before Nat decided to lend her one of her own, which she’d brought in a bag in anticipation of helping her friend dress up. It had been snug – a relic from Nat’s pre-dieting days – but paired with a pair of black pumps, even Cassie had to admit, she didn’t look half bad.

  “Stupid, stupid girl,” she muttered. “What were you thinking? That he meant any of it? That he could actually want little old you?” She gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Nothing little about me.’ That video had confirmed it. The animal sounds. Her heaving, sweating body. That moment in the change-room. How could he have had access to any of that? Who shared it with him? He must have thought she was the world’s biggest joke. Laughing every minute he’d touched her. No wonder he’d chosen to take her from behind…couldn’t stand the sight of her fat face.

  And yet, just thinking about those moments…those white-hot moments…even tainted with her shame now, those thoughts still warmed her. Her reaction to this man defied explanation. Watching Tyson in the ring had stirred something inside her that was so deep and primal she wasn’t quite sure how to acknowledge it. That was her man. Hers, dammit! The way he’d moved, the lithe power of his body, his reflexes. What a rush! Yet, watching him hit the ground had made her want to claw Carter’s face off with her fingernails.

  And then that woman. She muttered a profanity, then checked herself. She’d shouted out more foul language in one night than she’d spoken in an entire year. But still…

  She’d been there for him. He’d asked her to go that day at the beach when they’d been just like a couple. And he’d introduced her to his family! Together at the barbeque, things had been… Had she imagined it? So sweet and attentive. Bringing her drinks. Feeding her. Touching her. Tasting her. ‘Oh, God…’ She screwed her eyes shut. And the messages…the searing, scorching messages...that call.

  Then last night’s trite speech about his ‘Inner Beauty’ campaign. What a load of bull! He was just using her as part of some marketing stunt. Bring out the fat girl and act like you don’t mind the blubber. A whole new client base, sitting there, ready to dial the gym. Probably eating crisps.

  She dashed a tear away and sniffed. She glanced down to where black lace cupped her breasts, and matching panties framed the gentle swell of her belly. She bit back a sob and reached for an oversized toweling robe draped over a chair beside the bed. She wrapped herself in it and then curled up under the covers. Her mind roiled with furious thoughts for long minutes before she finally dozed off, exhausted. Body-wracking sobs had sucked the energy right out of her.

  ✽✽✽

  Tyson braked abruptly as he slid into the parking area, taking up two parking bays. He’d never wanted to be one of those muscle-car jerks who drove like an asshole, but today was different. He was breathless by the time he sprinted through the foyer, not bothering to nod at the security guard who recognized him from before. He reached her door, raised his hand, and tried to steady his heart-rate. Three sharp raps.

  “Cassie, it’s Tyson.” Who else could it be? “I need to speak to you,” he said firmly. His knocks rang hollowly into her apartment. From within, he heard muffled sounds but no response to his call. She was in there, dammit. He’d seen her car parked outside.

  “Cassie, open up! Please let me speak to you!” He knocked harder. The muffled sounds had stopped. Whatever she’d been doing in there, she’d stopped.

  This was a fuck-up!

  “Cassie, please!” He banged on the door with his fist. Down the hall, a door creaked open an inch, and someone peered out at him cautiously then snapped the door shut when they made eye-contact. ‘Shit.’

  “Dammit, Cassie, open the door! I need to explain that message to you. It isn’t what it looks like, I swear!” He pounded on the door now. He was going to kick it down.

  ‘Yeah, that’s totally gonna work.’ He reeled himself in, dropped his forehead to the door.

  “Cassie…please…” his voice broke. “I just need to speak to you. Let me help you understand.”

  A giant, monumental, mother of a fuck-up!

  “Cass…” His forehead was still against the cold door, his hand palm-down on the surface.

  A sound down the hall caught his attention, and he looked up. It was the security guard, flanked by a pair of uniformed police officers.

  “Awww, fuck!” he groaned.

  “Good morning, sir,” one of the officers said politely but with a firmness to his tone that spoke volumes. “Everything okay here?” His partner looked at Tyson, and the pair exchanged glances. Recognition had just dawned. Tyson knew what was coming next. The polite façade would stay in place until he made the slightest wrong move. And then they were going to escalate straight to extreme force. It was an occupational hazard in his line of work. People just didn’t believe a professional fighter could keep it together.

  He stepped away from the door, his palms up in front of him at chest-height. He wasn’t armed, of course, but he wasn’t going to do anything to alarm them.

  “All good, officer,” he said as meekly as he knew how. Probably not meek enough. “I just need to speak to my—” He stopped. His what? Girlfriend? Lover? Something more? They hadn’t got to the point of pinning it down. And yet it was as if his life revolved around her. It had since the day they’d met.

  “Sir, perhaps you should head home, cool down,” the officer was saying. His partner had moved up a step, alert. “When your…friend is ready to talk to you, she’ll get in touch. I’m sure of it.” He must have read something in Tyson’s face. Desperation? His voice was soothing.

  Tyson wanted to resist. He had to explain it to her. Couldn’t leave things like this. But the look on the other officer’s face stopped him. The man had stiffened, his hands at his sides, fingers flickering. It made Tyson think of a gunslinger in an old western flick. If he didn’t back down, he was going to be tasered…or worse.

  “Yeah…sure, officer, you’re right…of course.” Dammit! He wasn’t right. Tyson needed to speak to her. Now! The gunslinger leaned forward, watching the expressions warring on his face. ‘Back down, Killoran, you’ll make things worse.’ He consciously relaxed his body, let his shoulders slump. The officer released a breath… ‘He’s shitting himself.’ Tyson plastered a smile on his face – the one that looked human, not the wolf-grin.

  The men stepped apart and gave a gesture that urged him to join them. “We’ll walk you to your car, sir,” the first one remained soothing. “I’m certain everything will work out fine.”

  “Sure,” said Tyson, falling into step with them.
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  He wasn’t sure at all.

  Chapter 18

  Cassie took Monday off. She didn’t care what it might say about her…she never took personal days. She could have a moment of weakness. Or many. Cassie had spent the previous day curled in bed. Nat had texted to invite her and Tyson to the beach around midday. The text had brought forth a fresh wave of sobbing.

  She’d replied with a ‘Really busy’ and a smiley face and hoped Nat would be satisfied.

  The television brought little relief either. She’d forgotten she had tuned a replay of a fight he’d been in weeks before, and the screen had flipped channels automatically as she’d poured her third glass of red wine. When the announcer had introduced the fighters, she’d recognized Tyson’s signature tune and had thrown a tiny tantrum…along with her wine glass. The shards were still on the floor in a little red pool beside the wall. She’d have to scrub the crimson streaks from the paint later. Right then, she didn’t care.