I bit my lip hard, trying not to think about the future. But I couldn’t help it. I didn’twantto go back home, near my parents. Not even so much because of them, but because I didn’t want to go back to a life that didn’t include Tyson looking at me like he was right now.
“If that bitch makes you cry one more time, I’m going to fucking lose it,” Tyson growled, wiping away the fresh wave of tears that I would never in a million years tell him weren’t because of Mother at all. “Whatever bullshit she was spewing at you before I came in, I want you to forget it, okay? Whatever she said, she’s wrong. And what was that crap about applying to other schools, huh?”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to have to talk about it. I didn’t even want tothinkabout it, not yet.
Tyson leaned down to rest his forehead against mine. “She doesn’t deserve you,” he said without making me answer him, then he lifted me up and sat me on the counter… right by the food, which probably wasn’t very sanitary, but I didn’t care. Especially when he stepped in close, standing right between my legs. “You’re too damn good for that fucked-up family you come from, baby, you know that, right?” he said, grabbing onto my bottom and yanking me forward, right to the edge of the counter.
And then he kissed me, which was always heaven. At least, the only kindIwas interested in. I wrapped my legs around his waist and forgot all about my mother and the stir fry and everything else for a moment, and when Tyson finally ended it, he squeezed my bottom and leaned in even closer, trailing hot kisses up my neck to my ear. “You were cooking, huh?” he whispered. “Making dinner for me, sweetheart?”
I nodded, a cascade of excitement tumbling through me as his hot breath played over my skin.
“Always thinking of me, aren’t you?” he asked, sucking my earlobe into his mouth.
I…
It…
Oh myGod.
I whimpered. What had he asked? I’d never known that ears were… that they… that it would feel like...
Tyson bit down and I gasped, my pants suddenly too tight.
“So tasty,” he said, doing it again.
I cried out, thrusting myself against his body, and he squeezed my bottom tight, pulling back to grin at me. “Did I say you could rub off on me, sugar? Because I don’t remember giving you permission to use me as a fuck toy.”
“I’m… I’m… I’m sorry,” I panted, having trouble thinking clearly since he kept rocking me against him despite what he’d said. The friction from his hard body was exciting my thing so much that I couldn’t catch my breath, and I grabbed onto his arms, digging my fingers in as I tried to be good and stop the fireworks from coming.
“What’s this?” he asked, pulling one of my hands off him with a frown. “You cut yourself, baby?” He unwrapped the paper towel from my finger. “How about we get a Band-Aid on this, huh?”
“No,” I gasped, because that’s not what I needed. I didn’t care about my finger atall. “Please. Just… just…you. I needyou.”
His eyebrows went up, then he gave me a hot smile and lifted my hand, sucking the finger I’d cut into his mouth with his eyes locked on mine.
I froze, mesmerized by the sight of his lips tightening around my finger. It wasn’t really bleeding anymore, but it still stung the tiniest bit… and then Tyson swirled his tongue around it and smiled without opening his mouth, and I squeezed my legs around his waist, thrusting against him again.
It was just my finger, but it felt like… it felt like…
I moaned, and he pulled my finger out of his mouth, shaking his head at me even though he kept smiling. “So naughty,” he said. “Here I am trying to take care of you, and you go and do exactly what I just told you not to. Are you trying to come in your pants?”
I shook my head, but then I nodded. I hadn’t meant to… but oh God, oh yes. Iwantedto. I wanted tobad.
I swallowed. “Please? May I, Tyson?”
Tyson groaned, leaning in to kiss me hard. Then, “Didn’t we just agree that I’m the one in charge?”
I nodded, forcing myself to be still.
“And that means we do whatIwant, right, baby?”
“Yes,” I agreed, ignoring the throbbing desperation in my pants as another kind of pleasure rushed through me. I wanted to doeverythinghe wanted. It made ignoring my thing almost easy. I’d learned how to ignorethatkind of excitement a long time ago, and even better than how good it would have felt if he’d let me keep rubbing on him—well, maybe not “even better,” but at leastasgood—was the hope that he wanted me to do something for him.
Something to make him happy.
Something that wouldpleasehim.
Something… something that, if I did it right, might make Tyson tell me I’d been good for him. Ilovedbeing good for him. Every time he said so, it sent me to that lovely, floaty place that all his praise took me. He’d asked if I wanted to come, and Idid, but that other feeling—just knowing he was happy with me—that was almost better.
