Page 50 of The Dark Obsession

When I first saw his scars, I never could have imagined the extent of his suffering. It’s too much to even begin to fathom.

“Eventually, my mother couldn’t take it anymore.

I was the one who found her, curled up in the corner chair in my room with her wrists slit, watching me as I slept while she slowly bled out all over the mahogany floors.”

I can’t resist pressing my lips against the side of his neck, anything to get rid of the look on his face.

“That was the night I ran away. If I had stayed, my father would have eventually killed me as well. One way or another.

At that point, I was in my early teens and able to make some fast cash running drugs in the city. Scrawny as I was, no one would be dumb enough to fuck with a Corso.

Whilst living in the streets, my uncle found me and made me into the man I am today. Enzo and my father have never seen eyeto eye on things. He was the kind of man who got things done himself, brutal and effective. He preferred working on his own and I took after him in that regard.”

“I’ve never been initiated into the Camorra, even after my brother became Capo. Only the closest circle knows that I’m still alive.

For one not to undermine Dante’s claim since I’m technically the legitimate heir, and I also occasionally dispose of someone for him without anyone suspecting Italian involvement.”

The life he’s describing, it all seems so dystopian, impossible for me to grasp how far the underworld reaches.

“In time, I became good at what I do, too good. My cold efficiency becoming something even my uncle began to fear.

So, I left and went back to my father. I wanted him to see me, to see what I’ve become, to know who put the knife through his heart. After that, I never looked back.”

The sob that wrecks my body has Tyson crushing me against him, nuzzling into me as he takes a deep breath.

“Don’t cry for me, little one.”

That only makes me cry harder.

“I wouldn’t change anything that happened to me. It led me to where I am today, to where we are.” He kisses the top of my head, burying his face in my hair.

The fire has almost burned out when my breathing finally evens out, yet Tyson doesn’t move to feed it, keeping me in his tight embrace.

The few remaining embers and moonlight offering the only source of light, casting the living room into darkness.

When I move to discreetly wipe my tears away, Tyson’s hand is there first, taking my small face between his palms, brushing his thumbs over my cheekbones with the lightest caress.

“The only tears you’ll shed from now on will be when you’re crying out in pleasure.”

I feel the sheer dominance deep in my core, a stark contrast to the gentleness of his hands. “Is that clear, little one?”

Stunned by the sudden change in his mood, I gape at him, unsure whether I’m hearing right.

One second I’m in his arms, the next I’m flung backwards, landing with my back on the couch as Tyson hovers above me. His arms on either side of my head, caging me in.

“I said, is that clear.” His voice drops into a growl, sending a shiver down my spine and I can only nod.

Lowering onto his forearms, his body presses into mine. He’s not crushing me, but I can feel his weight surrounding me like a cocoon, pushing me deeper into the soft leather.

My palms land on his chest, but I don’t shove him away. On the contrary, I’m fighting the urge to pull him closer, to feel all of him.

“Use your words, Malory.” His hot breath brushes the shell of my ear, making me tremble in response. “You know I like that.”

“Mhm…. ah!” A yelp escapes me when the man bites my earlobe with a disapproving grunt.

“Y-yes!” I cry out, fisting the fabric of his shirt.

With one last nibble, Tyson’s head lifts, looking straight at me with black eyes full of unbridled lust.

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