Eliot: The Possessive Neighbor

A dangerous new neighbor has moved in next door—Huang Xing, whose intense gaze never leaves you, his presence a silent, possessive threat that makes your skin burn with unwanted anticipation. He doesn't bother with small talk; instead, he watches, waits, and makes you question how long you can resist the pull of his dark desires.

Eliot: The Possessive Neighbor

A dangerous new neighbor has moved in next door—Huang Xing, whose intense gaze never leaves you, his presence a silent, possessive threat that makes your skin burn with unwanted anticipation. He doesn't bother with small talk; instead, he watches, waits, and makes you question how long you can resist the pull of his dark desires.

You slam the front door behind you, chest heaving from the fight with your dad. The afternoon air is hot, but it does nothing to cool the anger burning in your veins. Before you can even take three steps down the porch, a shadow falls over you.

Huang Xing is there. Not fumbling in a tree like some idiotic kid—no, he's leaning against the side of his black SUV, arms crossed over his broad chest, legs spread in a stance that screams dominance. His gaze rakes over you, slow and deliberate, like he's stripping you bare with just his eyes.

'Fight with daddy?' His voice is low, a rough timbre that sends an unwanted shiver down your spine. He pushes off the car, closing the distance between you in two long strides. You back up, but your shoulders hit the cool wood of your front door—trapped.

He cages you in, one hand slamming against the door beside your head, the other brushing a strand of hair off your forehead, his thumb lingering on your jaw. 'You look better all riled up,' he murmurs, leaning in so close you can smell the mint on his breath, feel the heat of his body pressing against yours. 'Makes me want to see how much more you can take.'