Tyrone’s private number lit up again. Another message.
“Meet me. Tonight. No backup.”
An address followed—an abandoned loft downtown. No cameras. No witnesses.
He didn’t hesitate. He wanted to see who had the nerve to try and blackmail him.
When Tyrone walked in, the heavy metal door slammed shut behind him. The place smelled like concrete, heat, and danger. Then he saw her—Faith.
Short. Stacked. Dangerous.
She leaned against a rusted railing, arms crossed under breasts so big they looked ready to spill out of her tight black tank top. Her waist was tiny, her jeans painted on, and the glint in her eyes was pure fire.
“You’re the big boss everyone’s drooling over,” she said, voice cocky, southern twang wrapped around every word. “You look even better in person.”
Tyrone stared her down. “You’re the one making threats?”
Faith laughed, a low, throaty sound. “Honey, this ain’t a threat. It’s an offer.”
She walked toward him, hips swaying, dragging her fingertips up his chest like she owned the space. “You got an empire now. But it’s missing something.”
He grabbed her wrist tight. She didn’t flinch—just smirked up at him.
“And you think that’s you?” he rumbled.
She smiled wickedly. “You need a wild card. Someone who’s not just gonna moan pretty and take it. Someone who’ll fight you for it.”
Tyrone squeezed harder, testing her, pushing her.
Faith shoved herself up against him, her massive tits mashing into his chest, her mouth brushing his ear. “You want real? You want raw?” she whispered. “I’ll make you look tame.”
He shoved her back against a wall, one hand at her throat, eyes dark and full of heat. She licked her lips.
“Show me then,” he growled.
She grinned. “Uncuff me, boss man. Let’s make a real scene.”
And in that grimy loft, under flickering lights, Tyrone and Faith clashed—wild, rough, teeth and nails and gasps. Not soft. Not polite. Just pure, primal domination. Faith fought for every second—and loved every second she lost.
When Tyrone finally pinned Faith against the wall, hand wrapped around her throat, she was grinning like she’d won. Her lips were swollen from their brutal kisses, her jeans were half-unbuttoned, and her eyes were lit with challenge.
“You want in?” Tyrone growled, chest heaving. “You earn it.”
Faith licked her lips. “Bring it on, boss man.”
He let her go with a rough shove. Faith stumbled back, laughing under her breath. Tyrone pulled out his phone, pressed a button, and within minutes, they arrived.
Brooke. Aspen. Renee.
Each one still dressed the way fans loved them—Brooke in her tight pencil skirt and open blouse, Aspen in her scandalous secretary uniform, Renee in half her security outfit, cuffs swinging from her hip.
The girls sized up Faith immediately.
Brooke smirked. “She’s cute.”
Aspen tilted her head, a little sweetness hiding the sharpness in her eyes. “She’s got a mouth on her.”
Renee stepped forward, flexing the cuffs in her hand. “Maybe she needs to be tamed.”
Faith cracked her knuckles. “Bitch, I hope you try.”
Tyrone sat down on a broken leather chair, legs spread wide, a king watching his gladiators.
“Here’s the game,” he said. “You beat each of them… you get a permanent spot in Dominion.”
Faith grinned like it was Christmas.
Round One: Brooke
Brooke sauntered forward, all seductive curves and hypnotic hips. She circled Faith slowly, like a lioness, then pounced—grabbing Faith’s hair and yanking her head back.
Faith fought dirty, clawing at Brooke’s thighs, trying to flip her.
They crashed to the floor, skirts riding up, panties flashing, breasts spilling free as they rolled and wrestled. Brooke was surprisingly strong, pinning Faith under her, grinding their bodies together.
Faith finally bucked her off—laughing, wild-eyed—and mounted Brooke, pinning her wrists above her head.
Tyrone clapped once, slow. “First win.”
Brooke lay there, panting and grinning, proud even in defeat.
Round Two: Aspen
Sweet, soft Aspen—until you got her on her knees.
She crawled toward Faith, all faux-innocence, and Faith underestimated her—badly.
Aspen surged forward, tackling her low, wrapping her arms around Faith’s waist and flipping her onto her stomach. Aspen’s small but quick hands ripped Faith’s tank top wide open, leaving her breasts spilling out as Aspen straddled her back.
Faith struggled hard—but Aspen had the moves of a woman trained to obey and dominate. She grabbed a handful of Faith’s hair, whispering dirty promises in her ear as she kept her pinned.
It took Faith everything to twist free and shove Aspen onto her back, yanking her shirt open in revenge.
Tyrone lifted a brow. “Hard-fought. Another win.”
Aspen smiled from the floor, legs still spread shamelessly.
Round Three: Renee
This was different.
Renee stalked forward, cuffs swinging.
“You want real?” Renee said, voice dripping with danger. “Come earn it.”
Faith charged first—but Renee dodged her easily, grabbing her by the arm, twisting her around, slamming her up against a beam.
Click. Click.
Cuffs locked around Faith’s wrists behind her back.
Faith gasped, pulling against them, but Renee was fast—grabbing a fistful of her hair and forcing her down to her knees.
“You can’t beat a real officer, sweetheart,” Renee whispered darkly. “But you sure look good trying.”
Faith writhed, trying to fight, but cuffed and breathless, she had no leverage. Renee yanked her head back, exposing her neck, her chest heaving with every angry, lusty breath.
Tyrone stood, walking toward them, slow and menacing.
He cupped Faith’s chin, forcing her to look up at him. “Two out of three wins,” he said. “Close. But not good enough.”
Faith’s lips curled into a defiant smirk, even on her knees, wrists bound. “Then punish me, boss.”
Tyrone looked down at all four women—the empire he owned.
And smiled.
“Gladly.”
Brooke’s Page
Aspen’s Page
Tyrone’s Page
