Lily
Ihave no recollection of anything between the moment I screamed on Cross’s lap and when I open my eyes, but I know where I am, even before I’m fully awake.
I recognize the comfortable bed, the smell of the sheets, even the light.
I must have passed out. I’m sore in so many places it’s clear that all the filthy memories that come to my mind are very real.
I sit up.
I’m clean; that’s the first thing I notice. The last thing I remembered, I was positively covered in various body fluids. But then again, I know Cross gives excellent showers. Amongst other things.
My toes curl, more images flashing through my mind.
I’ve been awake for less than two minutes when the door opens in front of Cross, holding a tray.
I can barely see him until he comes into focus once he’s closer.
“I thought you’d wake soon. You started to stir.”
He’s brought me breakfast—or lunch, I’ve no clue what time it is—eggs, bacon, pancakes, berries, with a tall glass of orange juice and a coffee. Exactly the kind of things I would have picked out if given a choice.
My stomach growls; I’ve barely eaten the last few days, too stressed out about the game, the stakes if the Beasts won.
In hindsight, my anxiety seems very foolish. What happened after losing that bet was a hell of a lot of fun.
“Thank you.” I can’t help blushing as I look at him. “For the food, and for showering me.”
“I wasn’t going to put you in my bed covered in cum, love.” He laughs easily. “Besides, you were sort of awake for most of it.”
“Really? I can’t remember any of it.”
He shrugs. “As I said, sort of. Your eyes fluttered and you moaned once or twice. It was cute.”
Cross moved to his computer, and starts to work, ignoring me.
I eat as fast as I can and clear my throat. “Well, I’d better get home. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
He lifts one eyebrow, but says nothing.
“Err—any idea where my glasses are?”
“About that.” He winces. “You sort of stepped on them.”
I gasp. “What?”
Fuck. The last thing I need is to have to replace them.
“I was going to order you a new pair, but when I called your ophthalmologist for the prescription details, they let me know you’ve been due for an exam—well, for a couple of years now. So I booked an exam for tomorrow.”
I don’t even know where to start to unpack what he just said. “You called my ophthalmologist…back in Michigan? And they just gave you the information?”
He shrugs. “I told them I was your husband, so, yes.”
I gasp.
“Are you insane?”
“I can be very charming when I want to be,” he assures me. As if I haven’t noticed. “Besides, asking for your prescription is hardly akin to asking for your bank details. Though I also have those.”
I don’t even manage a word, staring in absolutely disbelief.
“The appointment’s at five, so it won’t clash with any of your classes.”
“I could have a class at five,” I point out.
Cross shrugs. “You don’t. I have your schedule.”
What the—
“You have my schedule and my bank details?” I say slowly. “What the fuck, Cross?”
“Amongst other things, Lily darling.”
I blink slowly. “That’s weird. Why would you want any?”
“I like to check up on you during the day,” he replies casually. “It helps to know where you are.”
That’s insane.
I figured we ran into each other a fair bit because one of his majors is the same as mine. Now he’s telling me he was…following me?
I remember all the times I’ve seen him, at night, during the day, always at a distance.
“You’re stalking me.”
It should sound like an accusation, but I say it without intonation, as if it’s just a fact.
I’m twenty. I’m a brunette. I have green hair. I am being stalked by Hector Cross.
All those things about myself seem like core information I know. I realize I knew before today.
And I’m not running.
“Not sure that’s the right word,” he replies, conversational as ever.
“Stalking does imply a degree of harassment or intent of harm, I would argue. What I do is checking up on you to make sure you’re safe.
I’ve always had compulsions, generally for a short period of time, then I move on to the next shiny new interesting thing. ”
I don’t like that. Not at all. I cross my arms over my chest. “So you’re an obsessive, compulsive stalker, but it’s fine, because you always get bored?”
Even with my blurry vision, I can see him smile. “Only one problem, Lily darling. I’m not bored yet. It’s been over a year and I’m still watching you.”
The tension that crept into my shoulders relaxes a little. I’m startled to realize what pissed me off wasn’t the stalking so much as the implication he would get bored of me soon.
There’s something very wrong with me.
“I see.”
“Do you?” He tilts his head.
Not really. I don’t understand why he’s telling me all this. Do stalkers usually confess to stalking their obsessions? I don’t think so.
“See, I fully intended to keep watching you, Lily Trueman.” Cross stands. “I figured you were a good girl, who’d end up with a boring accountant, probably with a scheduled sex life. Twice a month, on prearranged dates. Unremarkable. And then you said you’d suck my team.”
He’s close enough for me to see him clearly now, and his amber eyes have never been brighter.
“That’s when I understood that I was watching because I somehow figured out you were meant for me.” He leans forward over the tray, his face inches from mine. “Watching you come alive when you were getting skullfucked and dry humped clarified a few things for me, darling. I’m keeping you.”
His mouth seeks mine, and I find my lips parting for him, wanting everything he has to give.
I’m keeping you.
He didn’t ask a question; he simply informed me of his intent, and I certainly don’t plan on contradicting him when being kept by him is exactly what I want. What I crave.
Cutlery clatters to the floor as he pushes the tray aside, climbing on top of me.
I move the sheets out of the way, as desperate to feel him as he is to touch me.
Cross doesn’t remove any of his clothes, just opens his fly before sliding directly inside my already drenched folds like it’s the most natural thing to do.
Yesterday, he fucked me hard, but he takes his time now, making me beg for every inch, until my walls desperately cling to his hardness, my entire body taut.
The rhythm changes without warning, from the deepest, most excruciating thrusts to shallow, fast moves that make his cock hit right at the bundle of nerves inside me.
He plays my body as though he’s known it all our lives.
“Please,” I beg him, feeling him slow down just as I can feel myself nearing the precipice.
I know him. He loves control. He loves teasing, and denying, and edging me.
“Please what, Lily darling?”
“Let me come. Please let me come,” I repeat, frantically moving my hips up and meet his.
“Do you deserve to come, do you think? Have you been a good girl?”
“Yes!” I cry, hoping it’s true.
“So, you’ll let me get you new glasses?”
“Yes.”
I’m fairly certain there’s very little I wouldn’t agree to on the spot. “You won’t protest when I get the right ones for you—with the split lenses.”
I only wail, bobbing my head in agreement.
“And you’ll use the studio downstairs?”
“I’ll use your bloody studio,” I whimper.
He’s almost stopped now, and my core contracts, bubbling with need.
“Tut-tut. That wasn’t very polite now, was it?”
Fuck.
“Please. Let me come and I’ll do whatever you want me to.”
“Whatever, huh?” I know I’m in trouble when I see that smirk.
He has me exactly where he wants me.
As his cock plunges back inside me, hammering my insides as lurid noises fill the air, my moans, his grunts, the wet sound of his cock plowing in and out of me.
I suck in air, my body finally exploding around him. I tighten so much it’s no surprise he grunts his release and fills me right after.
Sweaty, and feeling so light I could fly, I barely hear him.
“So, I take it you won’t kick up a fuss about the fact that I’ve moved you in here, will you?”
I blink.
“What?”
That’s when I notice the changes in the room, despite my lack of glasses.
My computer is next to his. Two boxes sit in front of an open wardrobe filled with my clothes.
It’s official. Hector Cross is bloody insane.
But then again, so am I, because all I say is, “A deal is a deal.”
The End