by Bethany-Kris
Cross nodded.
Catherine eyed him curiously. “Special like what?”
“Broadway Theater happens to be running one of your favorites.”
Her heart stopped. “Romeo and Juliet?”
“You know it.”
“How did you even get tickets for that? The shows are sold out months ahead of time, Cross.”
“I know some people,” he said, smirking. “Go get dressed, something appropriate for the venue.”
It was only then that she really noticed he too was wearing a suit and tie.
“You were busy today, weren’t you?”
Cross laughed. “I am exhausted, but who the hell cares? Go, or we’re going to be late getting into the city.”
Catherine didn’t need to be told a second time.
“Best birthday gift ever,” Catherine said.
“Oh?”
“Ever.”
Cross slung his arm around Catherine, pulled her close, and kissed her temple. “You know I still hate the whole dying together thing, right?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“It’s still not romantic, babe.”
“Okay, maybe not, but—”
“But nothing, it’s not romantic.”
“Cross, shut up and let me talk. Remember what I did when you kept interrupting me the first time over this?”
“Yeah, you smacked me with a book and then I got into your panties. It was great.”
Catherine’s cheeks heated at his blatant crassness, and her sudden flood of innocent memories. “Okay, but mostly the book thing is what I meant.”
“Sure, but I liked the other bit better.”
“Me, too, but not the point. So shut up and listen.”
Cross smirked at her in the darkness. “You don’t have a book to smack me with this time.”
“I can find one.”
“Where?”
“Shh,” someone muttered from behind them.
“Fuck off into a hole somewhere,” Cross hurled over his shoulder.
Catherine covered her mouth to hide her giggles. She would not be at all surprised if Cross got both their asses kicked out of Broadway Theatre because he made a damn scene. “Quiet, Cross.”
“You started talking first.”
“Hush.” She gave him a side-eye. “You’re right.”
“I always am, but go on, and give me pleasure of explaining what I’m right about this time.”
Arrogant, arrogant, arrogant.
And she loved it far too much.
“It’s not romantic, but … it makes me feel nostalgic. About us, I mean, and when we were younger.”
Cross’s grin melted into a soft smile. “Yeah, I guess it does.”
Then, his hand sneaked up the side of her bare thigh, and under her wine-red cocktail dress. Catherine squeaked under her breath, and batted his hand away.
“Nope,” she mumbled.
“I was working on recreating that memory, Catty.”
“You’re awful.”
Cross shrugged, and relaxed back into the seat. “Hey, give me some credit. I made it all the way here without stripping you naked after being gone nearly four weeks. I think I’m doing pretty good.”
“Define good.”
Catherine knew better.
Oh, she knew better.
She poked a barely sleeping bear with a very short stick.
“Good is you screaming my name, naked, and filled with my cock. That’s good, babe. And we’re working on that, Romeo’s dead now. Not me, though. I’m very much alive, and my dick’s hard. Let’s see if we make it to Manhattan, Catty.”
Jesus.
That’s exactly what they needed: Jesus.
She didn’t even think to ask why they were going to Manhattan.
They made it to Manhattan.
With their clothes still on.
Catherine intertwined her fingers with Cross’s as he pushed the top floor button on the building’s elevator. “Who lives here?”
Cross smiled faintly, not bothering to give her an answer.
She poked his shoulder.
What was up with him?
“How was Chicago?” she asked instead.
“Good,” he replied, “but long. I’ll probably be heading out again sometime over the next couple of months, depending on … uh, some things.”
“You won’t miss my graduation in June, right?”
Cross pulled her in front of him, tipped her head back, and kissed her mouth three times in quick, soft succession. “No, I will not be missing that. I promise. No matter what.”
“Oh, I got this today, by the way.”
He cocked a brow as she let go of his hand, and pulled a folded up envelope from her clutch. She waved it so he could see the Columbia University logo on the front.
“You didn’t open it?”
“Nope.”
“Your parents didn’t want you to open it as soon as you got it?”
“I picked it up out of the stack of mail as I got home, and then I heard you and Daddy arguing upstairs. Ma brings the mail in and drops it. She never looks through it. She leaves it for Daddy.”
Cross scowled. “Yeah, still sorry about the arguing thing.”
“Mmhmm.”
“You should wait until you’re home to open it, Catherine.”
She shrugged. “I got in, anyway.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
Yes, she did.
“No, I did. My father and his brothers attended—two of them graduated Cum Laude. My aunt, Kim, she attended, too. And my uncle went back years later and attended. Marcellos donate a lot of money to that university. My grades are ace, so yeah, I got in.”
Cross smirked. “And who’s the arrogant one again?”
Catherine glanced down at the envelope. “But you never know, right?”
“Open it.”
“I thought you wanted me to wait?”
The elevator dinged, and the door opened to a short hall that seemed to lead to only one door. Catherine still was confused why they were there. “Seriously, who the hell lives here?”
She turned back to look at Cross.
He was holding out a single, silver key.
“I do,” he said quietly.
Catherine’s smile grew as she stepped backwards out of the elevator, never taking her gaze off Cross at the same time. “Really?”
He nodded once. “Yeah, I’ve been looking for something ever since shortly after I graduated. I got access to my trust fund, and figured, somewhere to live would be the only thing I would ever spend that money on, so that was my plan. Nothing stood out, so everything was shit. I moved into the apartment because it did the job, and I didn’t need to be living with my parents at nineteen.”
Catherine took the key he offered, and followed alongside him until they were standing at the door. “This was the paperwork you said you had to sign today when you got in?”
“The paperwork for the penthouse was ready before I left, actually.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Second surprise for your birthday, maybe. No one else has seen the inside of the place but me. I wanted you to see it before anyone else did.”
Catherine shoved the key in the lock. “But why?”
“Let’s just go in first, and then we’ll talk.”
“Okay.”
She pushed open the door, and sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of bright, white vaulted ceilings. Open concept, the penthouse was basically on display from the front door. She could see a short hallway toward the back, and three opened doors that likely led to bedrooms and a bathroom. The large kitchen, dining, and living room were all one huge open, empty space. One entire wall was just windows, overlooking another taller condo building across the way. And a good portion just beyond the windows outside had a large deck that could be walked out onto through a glass door on the far end of the wall.
Cherry hardwood floors shined under her feet. Black steel
light fixtures hung between pot lights from up above. The kitchen was a stainless steel and black granite dream. A pool table rested near the wall of windows, half covered by a tan sheet.
Cross walked further into the place, and Catherine followed behind. She checked out the two bedrooms—both large with their own attached baths, and the larger of the two had a walk-in closet. She instantly fell in love with the claw foot, porcelain bathtub in the bathroom attached to the master bedroom. Even the main bathroom was big, white, and beautiful.
Once they were back out in the main area, Catherine headed over to check out the pool table.
“Why is this the only thing here?”
“I guess the pool table was a custom build,” Cross said, “and the guy couldn’t get the builder to come in and take it apart before closing, so they could get it out without damaging it. I offered to hold onto it until he could, but he said fuck it.”
Catherine ran her fingertips over the royal purple velvet top. “Huh.”
“I’ll teach you to hustle, babe.”
She smirked at him. “Or I could teach you.”
“So, do you like it?”
Was he joking?
“Oh, my God, I love it. And I wonder, how much was this place?”
Cross shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “Five-point-three million.”
Catherine’s eyes stretched wide as she turned on him. “What?”
She wasn’t surprised at the cost. The going rate of a small, one bedroom penthouse in Manhattan could easily go over a million. And with the rise in condo buildings all over the place, that price was getting higher by the month. She was surprised, however, that he offered the figure so easily, as though it wasn’t a big thing at all to drop over five million dollars just like that.
“Calisto had control of my trust until I was eighteen, and he looked after it for me. His money manager built the trust on some sure-thing investments, and that gained a bit. A good portion of the cash just sat and gained interest for eighteen years, too.”
“I mean, yeah, I know how trusts work, Cross.”
Catherine’s father allowed her access to her portfolio for her trust, and sometimes she was allowed to look through investments where the trust was growing best. She wasn’t, however, allowed to remove money from the trust until she turned eighteen.
“I got a deal, too, seeing as how it was going to be in foreclosure, and the guy went through a private lawyer to try and sell it before the bank got ahold of it. Calisto brought it up to me when his lawyer mentioned it—I bought the guy’s mortgage out, basically. It’s worth double what I paid, easily.” Cross glanced at her. “Basically emptied my trust fund.”
“On a penthouse?”
“I wouldn’t have spent a dime of that money, otherwise. I mean, when I was younger, I took money out to buy shit I wanted, but I didn’t really stop to consider what I was doing back then. It came from a man I don’t care to know, so it would have just rotted in the bank. Let’s look at it like the man who donated the sperm can finally say he fucking did something for my life.”
Catherine tampered her reaction about the money. “For what it’s worth, Cross, he’s missing out on a great man.”
“He didn’t raise this man, Catherine, a far better man stepped in to help my mother with the job. So, he doesn’t even matter.”
He was absolutely right.
Catherine reached out and snagged Cross by his suit jacket. She pulled him close, stood on her tiptoes in her heels, and kissed him. Their oh, so familiar dance washed through her veins like the best kind of drug, making her high, happy, and content all at the same time. Every sweep of his lips, and stroke of his tongue drove her crazy, and she couldn’t pull him close enough to satisfy her racing heart.
Before she knew what happened, Cross had picked her up and set her on the edge of the pool table.
“Your turn,” he murmured against her lips.
“To do what?”
“Open your letter.”
She’d forgotten about that, even if she was still holding it. Shooting him a wink, she ripped open the side of the letter, and pulled it out, flipping open the three folds to read the first few words out loud. It was all she needed to read, really, and Cross didn’t let her get anymore out.
“Catherine Marcello, we are pleased to accept your—”
He kissed her again—harder than she had kissed him, taking away her breath and making her thighs widen to get his body tucked right where she needed him the most.
“Congratulations,” he told her.
Catherine grinned. “There was never any doubt.”
“Maybe not, but it’s still deserved, and you should be told that, too.”
“Cross?”
“Hmm?”
“Was this what you were arguing with my father about?” she asked. “This place, and me?”
Cross straightened a bit, and placed his hands to either side of her on the pool table’s edge. “Yeah, it was.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re graduating in less than two months. Manhattan is farther from your parents’ home than where I live now, and closer to the university I already knew you were going to get accepted into. My intentions are to ask you to be here with me when you graduate—you’re eighteen, you can go or do whatever you want, and it’s your choice. I let him know that, so he was aware, and it wouldn’t feel like I snuck something up on him. It wasn’t that I needed to let him know, but I’ve got enough respect for the man to see his lines in the sand. This would be one of those, and I didn’t want to jump over it without first giving him a heads up.”
“And he didn’t like it,” Catherine assumed.
Cross looked away. “That’s putting it mildly, but no, he didn’t like it.”
“What does he want?”
“Likely me out of the picture,” Cross said under his breath.
“Don’t say that.”
Cross gave her a half smile. “I’m being a shit, I know.”
“A little.”
“Dante would like for you to be where he can see you, so that he doesn’t have to worry all the time. It’s funny, that’s all.”
“Why is that funny?” she asked.
“Because that’s the same reason I want you with me, but he just doesn’t realize it. We’re out for the same goal, and the real problem is that we both think we can do it better.”
Catherine twisted her hands together, considering his words. “Have you thought about telling him that?”
“He’s like you; stubborn and difficult. I’m like me—”
“Arrogant and trouble.”
Cross let out a hard laugh. “Exactly. It’s like oil and water.”
“So why do we mix so well, then?”
“Because I love you.”
Catherine watched him under dark lashes. “Oh?”
“And I get to fuck you, so that helps.”
She punched him in the gut, not holding back for a second. It even made her knuckles hurt, and Cross half buckled at the unexpected hit. “Ass.”
He straightened with a glint in his eye, and his hands grabbed her spread open thighs hard enough to make her gasp. “You owe me for that one, babe.”
Anticipation curled in her stomach, beating like butterflies.
“At least we made it to Manhattan.”
Cross nodded. “That we did.”
Catherine fumbled with Cross’s belt as his hands slipped under her dress and teased her black lace panties down her thighs to her knees. The article dropped to the floor on its own while he pushed the skirt of the wine-red cocktail dress high around her waist. Catherine had only managed to pull his belt out and unsnap the buttons; he worked much faster than she did.
He pushed her back further onto the pool table, until her bare backside was resting against royal purple velvet, and the spikes on her heels rested on the carved wood edge. Without warning, his fingers dug into the backs of her thighs, and he leaned down to bury his face between her thig
hs.
She felt everything.
His tongue tunneled into her pussy, his nose nudged along the hood of her clit, and his teeth nipped along her folds. He was all there, sucking biting, his tongue driving relentlessly, and his breath pulsing against her, making her even hotter than she already was.
Catherine tried to stay upright, because shit, she really liked the sight of Cross between her thighs, eating like he was starved and she was the best meal. She couldn’t, though, instead falling to her back, arching high, and reaching for him at the same time. Her hips lifted into his mouth as his tongue slid higher, teasing an already oversensitive clit, his mouth opened wide, and he sucked on damn near all of her.
He got his scream, then.
Catherine came hard.
“Cross!”
She felt the loss of his mouth and heard a muttered, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Catherine opened her eyes again. The unzipping of a zipper echoed, and a shuffle of fabric followed. He was already sliding a condom down his cock by the time her vision entirely cleared. Catherine bit the edge of her hand, trying to soothe overstretched nerves as she was yanked back to the edge of the pool table again.
“No, no,” Cross said, tugging her hand away. “I put what I want in your mouth, not the other way around.”
“Fuck you.”
“Gladly, Catty.” His words were spoken with a sneer, while the head of his cock ran up and down her slit. “It’s empty in here—do you know how loud you’re going to be? Say hello to the neighbors, babe. Don’t hold back, now.”
Cross’s hands found her waist, and he pulled her into him without mercy. She was suddenly spit open, her thighs ached from being pushed wide, and she was full. It was so damn good. Catherine’s shaky sigh came out filled with relief.
“Too long,” Cross said, hearing her unspoken words. He was slow as hell on the withdrawal, but wasted no damn time slamming back into her again. Catherine whined her agreement, and her fingers locked tight around his wrists for some kind of support. “There we are—just come now, babe. I fuck, you give it to me.”
That sounded perfect to her.
Brutal would probably be the best way to describe how hard and deep his next thrusts came, but Catherine didn’t mind at all. She begged for it, really. Needed it.