Cross + Catherine: The Companion

by Bethany-Kris

  Like everything else in life.

  Even if it scared Catherine to death.

  “I just threw her stuff in with ours,” Catherine said. “Might as well do it all at once when I have five minutes.”

  “You know,” Cross murmured, leaning further into the doorway. “Cece spends just as much time living here as she does at her apartment. You still do all her laundry, and take her over enough cooked food when she doesn’t come here to eat to feed a small army. I’m not sure she understands the concept of actually moving out on her own, Catty, because this isn’t it. In case you were curious.”

  “She only stays here when Juan is out of town,” Catherine replied. “I think she gets lonely without him, and we are her piss-poor substitute.”

  Cross glowered. “I am her father. I am not a piss-poor substitute for anything, or anyone.”

  Just the way his tone darkened made Catherine grin.

  “It’s a good thing for Juan that you like him,” she said. “Otherwise, I might be concerned about his life.”

  “There are moments where you should probably still be concerned for his life, but I am told that’s normal considering I am the father of a daughter.” Cross grinned, entirely unashamed at his admittance. “And I remind him of that fact every chance I can, too.”

  Catherine didn’t doubt it.

  “So, I guess that means Cece is probably in classes, right?” Cross asked. “Since it’s Friday and all—I know she has classes until supper or so.”

  “She didn’t mention doing anything else but classes today, so yes, I imagine that’s where she’s going to be until she comes here to be fed.”

  “And Naz has his baseball practice today, so he won’t be home for a couple of hours. At least.”

  Catherine heard the suggestive dip in Cross’s tone loud and clear. She gave him a look, and found he was grinning at her in that way of his.

  A way that suggested sin.

  Fun.

  And sex.

  She couldn’t deny the heat that shot through her body as Cross looked her over with a slow appreciation. Two decades of marriage, and it only took a goddamn look to get her hot and bothered with him.

  His gaze lingered on her bare legs—she was still in one of his T-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts. Shivers raced up her spine as he took a step into the room, and those dark eyes of his locked on her.

  “Really?” she asked. “You find me sexy doing the laundry?”

  Cross shrugged. “You’re always sexy to me, babe. But also, the house is empty. When is the house ever empty anymore? If it’s not the kids, or someone here for us, then it’s someone here waiting for them.”

  He was close enough to touch her now, but he didn’t.

  Not yet.

  “If you’re trying to imply that it has put a damper on our sex life, it hasn’t,” she pointed out. “You still get laid just as much as you used to, and it doesn’t slow us down.”

  “Maybe not in the bedroom, no.”

  Catherine cocked a brow. “Then what are you complaining about?”

  He did reach out for then. He snagged her around the waist with one arm, and dragged her close. Kissing her without any warning at all, his tongue dipped into her mouth the second she parted her lips for him. He didn’t stop kissing her until her lips were numb, and her breaths were coming out a little short.

  God, she loved this man.

  Still …

  After all these years.

  She loved him with everything she had, and with everything she was.

  Cross grasped tightly to Catherine’s jaw and tipped her head back, so he could stare her right in the eyes. Their gazes locked, and just like that, the rest of the world ceased to exist. It was just them again—them and love.

  “I would never complain about you for anything,” Cross said softly.

  “Ever?”

  “Never.”

  “Better not.”

  Cross smirked. “But I wasn’t lying, either. We never fuck anywhere but the bedroom now.”

  “And the shower,” she pointed out.

  He chuckled. “Mmm, true.”

  “Blame your kids.”

  “That’s the thing, babe. The house is empty. No kids. No need for locked doors because there will be no walking in on us.”

  “Cross—”

  She didn’t get to say anything else. He picked her up from the floor like she weighed nothing more than a feather, and sat her down on the edge of the washer. His lips crashed down on hers as he tugged her shorts down her legs before dropping them to the floor. Her panties soon followed the same path—forgotten in a pile somewhere down below.

  All the while, he never broke their kiss. And when he finally did break their connection, it was only to tip her head back, and kiss a hot path down the column of her throat. He left burning kisses across her racing pulse point, too.

  Cross stepped in between Catherine’s widened legs. Already, she could feel the hard ridge of his erection pressing against her center. A shot of heat darted straight down to her pussy. She had no doubt she was already wet.

  God knew she was ready.

  Unashamed and wanton, Catherine grinded her center against Cross’s erection to feel more—she always wanted more of him.

  “Take my cock out.”

  His words were a rough murmur in her ear. It sent yet another round of shivers cascading down her spine.

  “So demanding,” she whispered.

  Cross’s dark eyes found hers. “You’re really going to see demanding if you don’t hurry the fuck up, babe.”

  Catherine grinned, and kissed her husband. All the while, her hands worked at his fly. Soon, she had shoved his pants and boxer-briefs down just enough to free his thick, hard cock to her hand. She stroked him once, and then twice.

  “Fuck,” Cross grunted against her throat. “Stop playing, Catty.”

  Her laughter lit up the room, but she was quick to get his cock where she wanted it to be the most. He took her in one smooth, deep thrust. She was wet enough for him to slide right up to the hilt without taking any time at all.

  Sometimes, she loved slow.

  More often than not, she wanted fast.

  Christ.

  He filled her so good.

  Stretched her open just the way she liked.

  Cross’s hands landed to Catherine’s thighs, and his fingertips dug in hard enough to leave bruises behind. He pushed her legs open even wider—enough to make her muscles and thighs ache in the best way.

  “Hold onto something.”

  She did—her fingers wrapped tightly around his wrists just as he started a brutal, punishing rhythm. It was enough to shake the washing machine. Hard enough to drive her crazy in the best way possible. Her fingernails scored lines into his wrists, and his teeth cut into her bottom lip before he kissed the same spot.

  “Come on, babe,” Cross urged. “Come for me, so I can bend you over and get you like that, too.”

  It was always his mouth that did it for her. She came harder than ever, and loved every second of it, too.

  Cross slowed his pace just enough to kiss her through the trembling orgasm. “Fuck you look good like—”

  “Ma!”

  At the sound of their son’s shout, Catherine jerked away from Cross with wide eyes.

  “Oh, my God,” she squeaked.

  “Calm down,” he said.

  Catherine slapped him in the chest, and hissed, “You fucking calm down!”

  “Ma, where are you? I forgot my gear for baseball!”

  Catherine’s gaze drifted to the corner of the laundry room where—sure enough—their fourteen-year -old’s baseball bag sat untouched. He always left it there for Catherine to clean whatever needed cleaned.

  “Ma?”

  Nazio was closer now to the laundry room. Close enough that Catherine could hear his fucking footsteps.

  Panic swelled in her heart.

  Fear tightened around her throat.

  The door was
open!

  “Naz,” Cross called out, “do not come another step down this hallway.”

  “Way to be discrete,” Catherine whispered.

  He ignored her.

  Their son’s steps faltered. “Why?”

  “Just … don’t!” Catherine shrieked.

  The embarrassment she felt colored her tone thickly. She couldn’t have even tried to hide it.

  Silence followed for several seconds before Naz let out a sound of disgust.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re—”

  “Just go back upstairs, Naz,” Cross said.

  “Oh, God, you are!”

  “Naz—”

  “That’s fucking gross!”

  Cross tipped his head back, stared blankly at the ceiling, and started to chuckle dryly. She didn’t know what was so funny, but he was going to be the butt end of this joke when he realized he wasn’t going to get to be the one between them who finished.

  “I put my fucking gear in there!” Naz howled.

  “Just go away, Naz,” Cross muttered.

  “Jesus, are you naked, or something? Well … you would have to be, I guess. Oh, God—it’s in my head. It’s in my head!”

  Naz’s voice lessened as his footsteps echoed further away. His ranting continued on, though.

  Cross gave Catherine a look and asked, “I am never going to get sex outside the bedroom again, am I?”

  “Not until that kid is out of this house.”

  “Figured. Well, fuck. I tried.”

  The Run

  Naz POV

  “Naz, do you have a minute?”

  Seventeen-year-old Naz glanced up from the pieces of his laptop he had scattered across the metal table. He regularly put the computer through so much abuse that he liked to take it apart, clean what he could, and replace what he needed to.

  “What’s up?”

  His father leaned further inside the garage’s doorway, and looked over the mess on the table. “Is that … what is that?”

  “Pieces of my laptop,” Naz said.

  Cross nodded, but still looked entirely unsurprised at the admission. “You should run that cleanup program on your mother’s computer—make sure there’s no backdoors or open windows somewhere again.”

  Naz got what his father said … or rather, what he didn’t say. Pretty regularly, Naz ran a program he created on his family’s computers to make sure the securities and encryptions for their illegal businesses were not in any way compromised. It also made sure to keep their backdoors or unseen windows of opportunities on the computers—so to speak—firmly closed when business was done on the dark web.

  One could not be too safe.

  Not in their business.

  “I was going to run it later,” Naz said.

  Cross nodded. “Good.”

  “So, what’s up?”

  His father brought out a folder from behind his back, and grinned. He waved the folder in the air like it was some kind of prize.

  Naz stood up straighter instead of leaning against the table like he had been. “What’s in that, now?”

  “Something you have been asking about for a while.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, principe.”

  Naz lifted a brow, and then reached out to snatch the folder from his father. Cross quickly pulled the folder out of Naz’s reach with a chuckle. He didn’t even blink a lash at the sight of Naz’s glare.

  “Patience, son.”

  Naz scoffed. “Donati men have no patience.”

  Cross tipped his head to the side. “True, so here.”

  Naz took the folder when his father passed it over. Quickly, he opened the folder to scan the contents. All the while, his father kept grinning like he was the cat who had caught the goddamn canary or something.

  It didn’t even matter how smug his father looked because Naz was too caught up in the information he found in the folder.

  “Holy shit,” Naz said.

  “It’s only small,” Cross was quick to point out.

  “Really, though?”

  Naz looked up.

  His father only shrugged.

  “Yeah, really. Are you up for it?”

  Naz didn’t even have to think about it, really. He had spent years thinking about it leading up to this moment. “Fuck yes, I am up for a gun run.”

  His first run.

  “Like I said,” Cross told him, putting his hands up, “it’s a small run, and the buyer is a regular.”

  Naz nodded as he scanned the details for the buyer, and the fifty firearms he specifically requested.

  “He likes them flown in, huh?” Naz asked.

  “Well, he likes them flown into the first spot. Beyond that, though, they have to be driven a ways. Far safer once they’ve been flown in first.”

  “Okay.”

  Cross pushed away from the wall to stand straight. “So, look everything over. Sketch out all the details for your plan on this run—I will then look it all over, and decide to sign off on it or not. I’ll give you about a week to get that back to me.”

  Naz laughed. “I’ll have it back to you by tomorrow night, Dad.”

  Cross smirked. “Yeah, I figured.”

  As Naz promised, he was ready by the next night to bring his run plans back to his father.

  “Dad?”

  “Hmm?”

  Cross peered up from the laptop screen, and Naz stepped further into his father’s office. His ma sat on the window bench seat with a paperback novel in her hands.

  It never failed to amaze Naz how even when his parents weren’t working together, they were still together.

  Always together.

  Never apart for long.

  The two could be entirely silent, yet Naz could tell they enjoyed that, too. Simply being together even in their quiet moments.

  He wondered if he would ever find love like that.

  A love that strong.

  That fulfilling.

  That amazing.

  “Let me guess,” his father said, “you’ve already got the plans for the run ready for me?”

  Naz grinned. “I told you I would.”

  Cross put a hand out, and gestured with his fingers. “Give me what you’ve got, son.”

  Coming further inside the office, Naz passed over the folder detailing the plans for the gun run. He didn’t feel particularly nervous as his father silently scanned through the details.

  Naz wouldn’t be offended either should his father find something wrong—unlikely—or a plan that needed changing for whatever reason. That one was far more likely only because Cross might find something that he thought could work better, or safer, in another way.

  This—being a damn good gunrunner—was what his father did.

  Cross Donati was the best of the best.

  “Well?” Naz asked.

  His father finished his perusal, and closed the folder.

  “What do you think?” Naz asked.

  Cross smiled. “It all looks good. I would be willing to go ahead with this as soon as I can get the guns moved.”

  “Yeah?”

  “There was just one little issue,” Cross added.

  “What’s that?”

  “You planned for a partner, but didn’t discuss who that would be with me ahead of time. I can set you up with—”

  “Well, that’s because I thought it would be you.”

  “Oh,” Cross said.

  A look passed between Naz’s mother and father. An unspoken conversation Naz couldn’t begin to understand. They did that far too often, honestly. Sometimes, his parents could have entire conversations in silence, and never broke a stride.

  He added that into the pile of strange things about their relationship, and love. Like maybe being together for so long, and knowing each other so well was the reason why they were afforded this kind of privilege.

  Finally, his mother nodded.

  Cross looked back at Naz. “I guess you’ve got yourself a partner, son.”<
br />
  Naz took the folder back. “Who the fuck else would it be?”

  The Son

  Cross POV

  It was the warm streak of sunlight painting bright colors across Cross’s eyelids that woke him up first. And then shortly after, the soft beeping of his alarm going off reminded him that he had shit to do this morning.

  Still, he didn’t bother to open his eyes until he felt his wife’s hand come over and push gently against the middle of his spine. Her sly way of getting him up before her so that he could make her—

  “Go turn the coffee pot on, Cross,” Catherine said, her voice thick with sleep.

  She wasn’t sly at all about this.

  He groaned. “But I’m comfortable.”

  “You have one job in the mornings.”

  “A job you delegated to me,” he grumbled, “and not one I willingly volunteered for. How I became the coffee maker between us every day, I don’t know.”

  “I am the queen of the house.”

  “What about the fucking king?”

  Cross finally looked over to find Catherine’s green eyes glittering under the mound of blankets. He could still see the camber of her smile peeking out a little, too. It was enough to tell him she was joking.

  Always trying to get a rise out of him.

  “You make the best coffee,” Catherine said with her glittering eyes and half-hidden smile. “And that is why you were delegated to the task every day of our marriage.”

  “Mmhmm.”

  Cross reached out, and grabbed hold of his wife. He yanked her from the fortress of her blankets, and pulled her into him. Smothering her half-hearted protests with a searing kiss woke up his semi-hard erection more than it already was.

  He didn’t mind making coffee …

  If he got a taste of her first.

  “Good morning,” she whispered against his lips.

  “It’s a very good morning now.”

  Catherine’s light laughter lit up the room. The sweet, musical sound was a balm to his soul. A melody he had permanently imprinted on his mind. He could hear it when the house was silent, or even in his dreams.

  Beauty was his life.

  Love was his wife.

  There was nothing about Catherine that he didn’t know. There was nothing about her that he didn’t love entirely.