by Bethany-Kris
“But—”
“Not one word, Dante!”
“Catrina,” her father growled.
A car horn honked outside.
Catherine’s impatience picked up, so she walked down to let her father know she was leaving. She found her mother and father in a stare-down. Dante looked fit to kill, and Catrina seemed calm and cool with her diamond incrusted fingernails resting at her hip. This was almost how every single one of her parents arguments went down over the years.
Catrina almost always won, too.
Almost always.
“Try me,” Catrina murmured.
“It’s not the same, Cat. Jesus.”
“It absolutely is, bello. You will not demand a different behavior from her simply because she is a girl. She is doing nothing wrong, not by wanting to see someone, not right now. Let her do as she wants, just like you did for Michel.”
“I can ask questions, can’t I?”
“Not if you’re going to pose them in such a way that suggests she has to conduct herself how you, or the rest of the male population deem acceptable for her gender,” Catrina replied with a sweet smile.
Oh, no.
Catherine knew when her mother’s sweet smile came out, bad things were sure to follow. Catrina only ever smiled like that when she was ready to slash someone’s throat.
“The day you’re willing to tell Michel whatever it is you’re considering telling Catherine about dating, sex, or private and public conduct, is the day I’ll allow you this,” her mother added, “and not one second before, Dante. Mark my fucking words, not one second before.”
“Liliana is waiting, Daddy,” Catherine said quietly.
Dante didn’t turn around as he replied, “Go, Catherine. But—”
“Dante.”
“You can call us anytime,” Dante said, still looking at her mother, “for anything, Catherine.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
Catrina’s gaze darted over her husband’s shoulder to Catherine. “Have fun, reginella.”
“Tell Cross we say hello,” Dante added.
Probably not.
“It’s Catherine, right?”
Catherine nodded. She had never actually had a conversation with Cross’s mother before, and the woman seemed quiet. Unlike Catherine’s own mother.
“Did your father send someone with you?” Emma asked.
“He didn’t say, but someone probably followed behind my cousin,” Catherine admitted.
“Ah, I see.” Emma smiled widely. “Well, I’m heading out with Camilla, but if you need anything, I’m sure Cross can find it for you.”
“Wait, you’re not staying?”
Emma’s brow lifted. “Do I need to?”
“Pretty sure my dad wouldn’t leave me alone in the house with a boy.”
“Maybe not,” Emma said, “but my boy is not his, and Cross knows how to properly behave with girls. I trust him to act appropriately, no matter what he chooses to do, especially where girls are concerned. So yes, I don’t mind leaving him alone, or you with him.”
“Oh.”
“He’s upstairs, by the way.”
With that, Catherine was dismissed. She quickly made her way upstairs, and found Cross’s bedroom easily enough.
“I just met your mom downstairs,” Catherine said, shrugging her coat off and sitting on the edge of Cross’s bed. “She’s really nice.”
“Ma’s an angel,” Cross replied, his voice muffled slightly behind the bathroom door.
She smiled.
“Cal can be kind of ass, though,” he added.
“Why?”
“Never gets off my ass lately.”
“That’s his job, isn’t it? And your mom left, too.”
“She’s got an art thing with my sister.”
The bathroom door opened. Cross strolled out with damp hair, and only a towel slung around his hips. Catherine had not been expecting that, never mind how incredibly hard it was not to stare at him as he crossed the bedroom.
She failed at the not staring bit.
She stared hard.
Catherine was very aware that Cross was in shape, and quite fit. She knew he jogged, which probably helped with his leanness and tone. He played football, and practiced several days a week. He also played soccer, when that season rolled around.
She had never actually seen this much of Cross without clothing on.
What a sight it was.
At least six feet tall already, fit like a boxer and toned like a runner, with a six pack of abs and a perfectly shaped V leading down to his groin. He was gorgeous.
Catherine felt her throat tighten up, not to mention the warmth spreading through her bloodstream. Cross didn’t seem to have any idea about her distraction with staring at him. That, or he didn’t mind.
“You don’t … take clothes in with you or something when you shower?” she asked.
Cross looked over his shoulder, his brow furrowing. “Why? It’s my room.”
“Yeah, but I was coming over.”
“And now you’re here. Chill, I’m getting dressed.”
Not fast enough for me to catch my breath again.
Cross disappeared back into the bathroom with his clothes in hand. He appeared a couple of minutes later dressed in jeans, a faded band Tee, and wearing a smug grin. “See, all dressed.”
Catherine frowned. “Hmm.”
“What?”
His genuine confusion was almost cute.
“You looked better without the clothes,” she admitted.
Catherine had no idea where her sudden braveness came from, but there it was. Somehow, she managed not to turn three different shades of red after she said it, too. She didn’t have the first clue how, though.
Cross’s confusion melted into a grin.
A very sexy grin.
That only made Catherine’s knotted, twisting insides turn even worse.
But damn, it was still pretty good.
Cross tugged on a strand of Catherine’s hair as he passed her by. “I would say the same for you, but I can’t; I don’t know.”
Catherine stiffened.
He didn’t miss it.
“What?” he asked quietly, coming back to stand in front of her.
Catherine shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “Nothing.”
“You know I don’t expect shit, right? Not from you like that, if you don’t want to. I didn’t message you to come over today to fuck or mess around. I wanted you to come over because I’ve actually got a day to hang out, as long as I do stay at the house.”
“But …”
Cross dropped down into a crouch. His hands found Catherine’s thighs over her jeans. “But, what?”
“But don’t you want to?”
“Sure,” he said like it was nothing, “but only when you do. Only when you ask to.”
“Funny, any other guy seems to think they can just say what they want, and they’ll get it.”
“Guys are dicks.”
“You’re a guy,” she said.
“Yeah, but I’m not an animal, either.”
“I don’t get it.”
Cross stood a bit, his hands crawling up Catherine’s sides as he leaned over her until she was lying back on the bed. Her breath caught hard in her chest as his fingertips grazed the bit of exposed skin on her midsection where her shirt had ridden up.
“I mean, I’m not a dog or something,” Cross said, still letting his fingers explore the expanse of her stomach and sides. His knee pressed in between her thighs, and his face came close enough to hers for Catherine to see the bit of stubble forming on his jaw. “It means, when a guy does something unacceptable, it’s almost always excused. It’s like he can’t control himself or whatever, like something she did made him uncontrollable. That’s bullshit. Girls don’t make guys turn into animals—we don’t suddenly turn rabid because we get a taste of pussy, our cock gets hard, and then she decides to back out. Anyone who says differently is a fucking liar.”
<
br /> With that, Cross pushed back up off the bed, away from Catherine, and winked.
“Come back down here,” Catherine urged.
Cross laughed. “I don’t—”
“I liked you there; come back here.”
He didn’t need to be told a third time. Only this time, she learned she enjoyed his weight on top of hers, and the way his hands grabbed her bare waist tightly. She found she liked how her muscles clenched and the warmth in her blood became hotter as his groin ground into her center. How it felt even better when her legs locked around his waist to keep him closer. There was no distance between them. She made sure to close it, kissing him until her lips felt numb, and she tasted of him.
Cross’s teeth nipped into her bottom lip before his lips pressed down over and over again to her jaw, throat, and across her collarbones. Catherine didn’t like being pawed over because that’s all guys seemed to want to do. Get their hands up her clothes, to push and prod without any real knowledge about what they were doing or any intention to make it feel good for her.
It hadn’t ever been about her.
Until now.
Cross’s hands pushed her shirt up higher, until it rested under her breasts. His thumbs swept under that same spot, over and over until she was squirming and swallowing the growing thickness in her throat. His mouth moved from her throat to her stomach. His tongue striking out against her naval at the sight of the barbell piercing he found there.
Catherine sucked in a sharp breath, because damn, she kept forgetting to breathe.
“Feel good?” he asked, his tone low and rough.
“So good.”
“Yeah, babe, I can hear that.” Cross’s lips grazed lower, but his hands stayed high. “We can st—”
Catherine’s legs tightened around Cross’s body. “Don’t you dare.”
Cross’s laugh came from somewhere deeper, making it sound lovely to Catherine’s ears. “What do you want, Catherine?”
“To keep feeling good.”
“All right. Question.”
“What?”
“Has anyone ever made you come before?”
“No. I don’t think they knew how.”
Cross made a noise under his breath that Catherine couldn’t decipher. “That’s a damn shame, but I don’t mind being the first. Have you ever come at all?”
That time, Catherine didn’t answer with words, she only nodded. She knew how to get herself off, sure, but she wasn’t about to explain it. He grinned at her response.
“Good, then you know what’s going to happen, but this’ll be better because it’s someone else doing it.”
“A bit cocky, aren’t you?”
“Why do I have to keep explaining to people that it’s arrogance? It’s not the same thing.”
“It’s literally a synonym of cockiness, Cross.”
“Cocky people boast. Arrogant people don’t have to.”
“Do you really want to argue about this with me right now?”
“Do you want me to keep going here or not?”
“Fine, you’re arrogant. You’re so fucking arrogant it’s disgusting, Cross.”
“And don’t forget it.”
“Now, what are you planning on doing?” she asked.
Cross flashed his white teeth in a smile. “I’m going to get these pants off you, pull your panties down, put your legs over my shoulders, and eat you until you scream. And it’s going to feel great.”
Catherine’s cheeks heated. “Never done that.”
“We don’t have—”
“I think we do,” she interrupted quickly, surprised at how high her voice sounded.
She really thought they should because it sounded wonderful. She also kind of wanted to put his arrogance to the test.
Cross chuckled as he unsnapped the button on her skinny jeans, and tugged the zipper down. “You good?”
“I promise to tell you if I’m not.”
“You better.”
Catherine lifted up from the bed as Cross pulled her jeans down her legs. She couldn’t help but shiver when he kissed the insides of her knees as the pants hit the floor. She was almost surprised at the shocks that seemed to jump across her skin when Cross’s fingers curled into the sides of her pink lace panties. Except she wasn’t—it was Cross, after all, and there was just something about him that made Catherine react. If not her heart, then her mind, and if not her mind, then her body.
It. Never. Failed.
She let out a slow breath and bit her bottom lip when he tugged the panties down over her hips. Every insecurity she could possibly feel came bubbling up in that moment in a giant rush of embarrassment.
“You’re shaking,” Cross murmured.
“Nervous.”
Of course, she was nervous.
Catherine had never been spread out, entirely open to someone before. She had never allowed someone to touch her—taste her—the way Cross was about to. She didn’t know what to expect. She didn’t know what he expected, for that matter.
“Catherine.”
She propped up on her elbows a bit to see him better. “Yeah?”
“Don’t be nervous.”
“Kind of hard, Cross.”
He cocked a brow. “You know you’re perfect, right? You’re damn beautiful, Catherine. And this isn’t even about me, it’s all about you feeling really, really good. That’s all you need to worry about. Everything else is background noise I get to enjoy.”
“That’s … an interesting way to put it.”
“It’s the truth. Are you good, or no?”
“Better,” she admitted.
“Close your eyes and see stars, or watch me get you off, it’s up to you. Just don’t worry about anything else, okay?”
Her nod was all the reply he apparently needed.
Catherine hadn’t been sure what to expect, but that first touch of the rough side of his tongue tunneling against her most sensitive spot was not it. She hadn’t realized how intense that feeling would be, how it would make her back arch off the bed, or her hands fly out to find something—anything—to hold onto.
Jesus, and oh, my God, and shit, shit, shit.
She had not realized the sounds that would crawl out of her throat, how good it would feel when she lifted her lower half into his face to get more, or how it would feel as though she couldn’t catch her breath.
Catherine fisted the blankets on the bed with one hand, and her other found purchase in Cross’s hair. She tried not to pull, not to tug or push, but it was hard because he was right …
“There,” Catherine gasped, “there, Cross ...”
The whine that tore out of her throat sounded almost cattish. Her eyes squeezed shut, and all she could do was feel. His hand slipping up under her bralette, and his thumb stroking the curve of her breast. His other hand dipping between her thighs, and a finger, then two, pressing deep and making her realize she was so very wet.
Had she not felt so entirely good—had she not been lost to the sensations rushing through—she might have been embarrassed, but nothing else mattered.
Not in that moment.
His wicked tongue left her long enough for him to say, “Come on, then, do it, come.”
And he was right back again. Harder strokes. Deeper fingers. Her skin felt like fire racing under the surface, and that familiar tightening began in her stomach. The world tilted on its axis in that moment, making Catherine think she was off-balance in every way. Her hands left the bedsheets and Cross’s hair, instead finding his shoulders, then his neck, and scoring lines over his exposed skin when she tried to right her mind and body back to center.
Cross had been right.
It was better when someone else made her come.
It was better when it was him.
Catherine thought it took far too long for her to calm after the bliss had stopped waging war in her body, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. She couldn’t find the embarrassment she thought she might feel, either, not w
ith Cross watching from between her thighs, and his mouth still wet from her.
“I’m not sure friends do this,” Catherine mumbled into the palm of her hand.
Cross’s tongue lapped at her inner thigh before he asked, “Hmm?”
“I told my dad we were friends. I don’t think friends do things like this, is all.”
“The best kind of friends do,” he said.
Maybe.
“I’m calling you Catty, from now on,” Cross added.
“What, why?”
He tipped his head to the side, making Catherine take in the row of scratches she had left on his neck. That looked like it hurt, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“Don’t you dare call me—”
“Too late, Catty.”
She was far too out of it in her mind to argue with him. “That is … quite a talent.”
“That’s not a talent. It’s a goddamn skill.”
Catherine nodded, still breathless and trembling. “And when exactly can I get you to use that skill again?”
Cross smirked, and his dark eyes screamed sin and fun; his cheek rested against her inner thigh and he said, “All you have to do is ask, babe. I like doing anything that gets you off because it gets me off.”
“What if I asked right now?”
He was already back between her thighs before she could get her question entirely out. She couldn’t breathe again.
Catherine really didn’t mind.
“So, are you fucking Cross Donati now?”
Catherine could have pretended like she didn’t hear the question from Dina Lavigne, given she had earbuds in her ears, but the girl’s voice just grated on her nerves like nothing else. Tugging out one earbud, Catherine looked up from her books on the cafeteria table and found it wasn’t only Dina standing there. It was also half of her little posse.
Joy.
“I’m sorry?” Catherine asked.
She was giving the girl a single chance to ask her a different question, and they could both pretend like the first one hadn’t happened.
Catherine hoped for too much.
“Cross. Are you the new pussy of the month he’s moved on to, or …?”
Her little group of friends snickered amongst one another.
Catherine was suddenly glad she stuck to her own group of friends.