“I owe you a kiss,” I remind him. “And a couple of blowjobs. So it can’t be that. What else could the almighty Hector Cross desire?”
I don’t remove my top, I just leave the sleeve down my arm, sliding my fingers to the hem, next, before lifting it a few inches off my gin.
I’ve never felt as powerful as I do in this moment, his attention entirely on me. I have a feeling the house could be on fire, and he wouldn’t stop watching.
“One hour,” he states.
I tilt my head.
“You’ll do everything I say, everything I want, for one hour, and Barbie and I’ll even give her a hand. How’s that?”
One hour.
I feel my insides clench at the sheer possibilities. What would he do to me? I know, of course: sex. But that simple word can mean so many different things, particularly with the kind of man who demands blowjob in a lounge full of people. How, what, where, how much? The only thing I’d have control over is the timeline. It’s a little past four. I’ll be over by ten past five, whatever he does.
“Fine.”
I tense as I agree, my mind coming up with so many depraved thoughts. I already know Cross is into showing off with his friends. Would he take me downstairs, display me to all the sharks? Would he cause me pain? Some guys are into spanking, flogging or worse. Would he want something I haven’t done before, like taking my ass? My ex asked and I said no. I’m not supposed to say no now.
My cheeks are aflame with the wealth of possibilities, and to my shame I can’t deny that heat pools between my legs at the thought. One hour without any say as to what happens to my body. I should hate the concept.
I don’t.
Cross closes the distance in three steps and without warning, lifts me up in his arm as though I weigh nothing. I suppose the pile of flexing muscles before my eyes isn’t just for show.
So, my first guess was right. He’ll take me down to the breakfast bar and display me while his friends laugh over breakfast. But instead of heading out of doors, he walks to his luxurious, modern en suite.
I blink in surprise as he lowers me to a bench in his humongous shower, large enough for the hockey team, before setting up the multiple jets of his shower.
I stare, dumbfounded, my eyes fixed on the dips right above his ass.
His body is fucking ridiculous. Shoulders twice as wide as mine, a slender waist, budging muscles everywhere. He’s not missing leg days either—though that shouldn’t be surprising for a hockey player, regardless of how awful his team is.
“You can strip or drench all your clothes,” he tells me, keeping his back to me.
Oh.
I’m supposed to get home in an hour. I can’t have wet clothes.
Disconcerted as hell, I undress quickly, hesitating once I’m seated in my panties and bra. He’s still in his white boxers. Am I supposed to get completely undressed?
Before I can find an answer to that conundrum, Cross pulls me to my feet and under the many powerful jets of hot water. I gasp as they surround me, coming from the walls and ceiling.
The shower in my dorm room is perfectly adequate, but it has nothing to the pressure of the water, practically massaging my taut muscles.
It’s only when I feel softness on my wrist that I open my eyes, remembering I’m not alone. I’m still a little tipsy, and very tired, too slow to comprehend what I see.
Cross is massaging some scented foam into my skin, starting at my hand, his strong thumbs digging into me.
I moan when he reaches my shoulders, my head dipping down. He knows what he’s doing, attacking every bit of tension I earned either studying behind my computer or sewing my cosplays.
Cross unhooks my bra, and I’m too relaxed to feel uncomfortable. He continues his skillful labor, thumbs digging, stretching, massaging. I bite my tongue to stop myself from whimpering, my hands pressing on the steaming glass to help me balance myself. My weak knees need the support.
My panties go next, sliding all the way to the wet tiles, and those maddening thumbs find knots I was never aware off in my buttocks. There’s no restraining myself. I scream.
Cross washes and massages me with a clinical precision that has nothing sexual, I realize, as he finishes my vulva and continues to my thighs.
I am confused.