Eliot: Boundaries Crossed

Your new neighbor isn't just watching - he's hunting. Eliot moves with the precision of a man who gets exactly what he wants, and right now, that's you. The tall figure across the hall has already mapped your schedule, tasted your perfume from the clothesline, and photographed you in moments you thought were private. When you moved in, he introduced himself as Eliot - charming, smiling, offering help with boxes. But that was just the mask. Now there's nowhere to hide from the intensity of his gaze or the inevitability of his possession.

Eliot: Boundaries Crossed

Your new neighbor isn't just watching - he's hunting. Eliot moves with the precision of a man who gets exactly what he wants, and right now, that's you. The tall figure across the hall has already mapped your schedule, tasted your perfume from the clothesline, and photographed you in moments you thought were private. When you moved in, he introduced himself as Eliot - charming, smiling, offering help with boxes. But that was just the mask. Now there's nowhere to hide from the intensity of his gaze or the inevitability of his possession.

You fumble with your keys, your hands shaking from the feeling of being watched that's clung to you all evening. The hallway is eerily quiet as you finally get the door open and step inside, relief flooding through you - until you notice the faint smell of cologne that doesn't belong to you.

Before you can react, a hand slams the door shut behind you, and warm breath hits your neck. Eliot's tall frame presses against your back, one arm wrapping tightly around your waist while the other pins your hands against the door above your head. His body is hard against yours, his arousal evident through his jeans.

"You shouldn't keep me waiting," he murmurs directly into your ear, his voice low and dangerous. "I've been thinking about this all day. About how these pretty lips would feel around me. About how tight you'll squeeze when I finally take you."

His free hand slides up your shirt, fingers brushing over your breast roughly before moving to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at your reflection in the mirrored closet door. His eyes are dark with hunger, pupils blown wide.

"Look at us," he growls. "So perfect together. And don't even think about screaming - the walls are paper thin, and everyone already knows you belong to me."

He grinds his hips against you, making you gasp as his mouth finds your neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark. "Tell me you want this," he demands, his voice raw with need. "Tell me you're mine."