Pride (The Elite Seven Book 2)

by J. D. Hollyfield

  “Mason…” Again, she moans, and I struggle to keep it together. I push another finger inside her, this time even less gentle. I’m hard as a rock and if I don’t pull myself together, I’m gonna pound her cunt straight through the fucking wall. My name falls from her lips again, and the sound is like fucking heaven. I push harder, shoving my fingers so deep, my knuckles restrict me from going any further. “Love the way my name sounds off those lips, babe,” I say, working in and out of her.

  This is supposed to be a game I’m heading, but I sense myself losing. Her voice, the smell of her arousal, my cock that’s fighting not to fuck her hard and dirty. I slam my eyes shut, working faster. She rides my hand, wanting me to punish her. Fuck. I want her. Her walls squeeze me as she orgasms around my hand. I slowly pull my fingers from her soaked cunt and allow her body to slide down the board, her legs barely able to hold herself up. She almost falls forward, and I reach out to steady her. I feast on her glazed-over eyes and crack a smile.

  “Perfect,” I say, and before she can spew any lies about us being a bad idea, I walk out of her classroom.

  One week later…

  I’m fucking obsessed.

  Everything I do revolves around watching her. Stalking her. Lusting for her.

  I can’t stop.

  The following week played out the same way. Our little game of cat and mouse, until Friday rolled around. This time, I took it a step further and fucked her over her desk. I shoved her cute little silk scarf she wore in her mouth to muffle her moans and took her from behind. My hands left marks on her smooth pale skin with each spank. God, I’ve never felt so high being with someone. Even Dahlia didn’t take me to this level of euphoria. Megan started the same way, telling me it was wrong, we were wrong, and I would follow through, just like last week, letting her weak plea fall on deaf ears as I plowed my cock so hard into her, the ancient wooden desk even moved.

  She was this sweet professor who had this secret craving for being bad. And I wanted to be her enabler. I started attending her classes on the other days just to see more of her. I couldn’t get enough of her. She was orbiting into my very own addiction. I wanted more. I needed more.

  I may have started this as a game to prove to her we were more than just a fling. A student/teacher disaster waiting to happen. And now, I’m even more so convinced she’s mine. And she’s going to realize it and stop fighting what’s happening between us. Any mention of The Elite has been silenced. No messages or emails to call to. It left me only focused on her and what I wanted her to be for me. And when I wasn’t with her or Evelyn, my time was spent trying to find out why Lillian wanted to expose and ruin her. But the problem was, the internet was all dead ends.

  I became obsessed with trying to get answers.

  Obsessed with her.

  I followed Megan home. Watched her in the park when she ran. Sat in my car outside her small little bungalow on the outskirts of town and watched her read in her living room for hours upon hours. I told myself I wasn’t a creep or a stalker. It’s because I needed to understand. Maybe, just maybe, I would catch her doing something that would make me understand why she deserved what I’m being forced to do. But there’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. And I’m close to losing my shit. As I watched her grocery shop, I begged her to steal. Lie when asked the price of a dress while clothes shopping. I even prayed to catch her with another guy. The last thought enraged me, thinking of her with someone else—sharing those moans and orgasms with someone other than me.

  But still, nothing.

  She was, in every single way, perfect.

  And tonight, as I sit outside her house, watching her, and imagining myself inside next to her, being better than the fuck-up I am, I wonder how in the fuck I’m going to get out of my task if I can’t find anything on her or Lillian. I’m gonna have to make a move soon. If I don’t find what I need, my task will be unavoidable, and I’ll have to make choices I don’t want to make. But my sister’s life depends on it.

  My phone buzzes, pulling my eyes away just as she flips her page. Looks like the devil is back up and running. I read the message across my screen. Envy’s up.

  The music blares to some shitty ass dance music as I finish up my fifth beer. After handing Envy his task, we met up with Rhett and the rest of the brothers at God’s lavish apartment for another outrageous party. The more and more I’m around this guy, which isn’t much, I see why he’s Gluttony. His excess in everything is fucking ridiculous. My eyes scan the room, and I watch as Envy and Wrath have an argument in the corner. No idea what that shit’s about, and I debate on getting involved. As the alpha, I need to keep all my brothers in line. But then I watch as God walks up to them, grinding his teeth and jittery as fuck. He pulls Envy away and drags him into the bedroom, where he popped out of. I’m tempted to follow. Whatever it is they’re doing, I could use a jolt of.

  “Sup brother.”

  Rhett walks up and stands next to me sipping on a beer. “Sup,” I return, staring off into the crowd of horny college students, drinking and humping each other. “Things work out with your girl?” I ask. Rhett pulled the plug on his task, turning in his coin. I saw relief in his eyes. It’s a shame mine didn’t mirror the same feeling. I wanted to tell him the coin was evil. But he was blinded by emotion. I understood. I was in the same boat. But the moment Lillian caught wind, I knew she had something more destructive up her sleeve.

  “Yeah, things are good,” he says, a shit eating grin on his face as he rakes over his girl on the dancefloor as she dances with her friends.

  “Just watch your back, brother. You have no idea what they have in store—”

  Chastity cuts into my warning and walks up grabbing his attention. He nods his understanding and allows her to pull him onto the dancefloor. I watch them as he holds her tight, staring down at her like he owns every single part of her. Which is just the beginning of how I’m starting to feel about Megan, wishing she was here to drown all the bad shit going on in my head out.

  “Don’t you look like you can use a little bit of fun.” My eyes break away from Rhett and Chastity to the chick now standing in front of me. “You look so angry. Ya know, we can find an empty room and make that frown of yours go away.” She tugs at her already too tight shirt, practically exposing her nipples.

  I slam the rest of my beer, needing the alcohol to hit me faster. I need to numb my mind and the booze isn’t doing the job. Nothing is. My brain refuses to shut down. I haven’t talked to Micah since that night he got his task. Wondering if he went through with it. I refused to hear Envy’s task. Whatever destruction was in store for him, I couldn’t bear the burden of knowing. But there was one thing that’s for certain. He was going through with it. That gleam in his eye told me so.

  I can’t stop thinking about when the next one will be handed down? What horrific things will the next brother have to do?

  I just want to leave and find Megan. I’m struggling to find reason in what I’m truly doing with her. I like her. Fuck, it might be more. But I can’t imagine doing the horrific things Lillian wants me to do. Why the fuck does she hate her so much? Was she jealous of her? She’s her brother’s daughter, for Christ’s sake. Was she disgusted by her secret fetish for kink? Being a sadist cunt seems worse than having a dark taste for sex. And so fucking what? Megan stands for so much more than her bedroom desires. She’s amazing, smart. A hard worker, and a great teacher. She wants to help people. In the last class, she was urging people to sign up for the New Orleans Homeless missionary charity to help support the homeless and less fortunate. How does someone that selfless deserve to be chastised and defaced?

  I wasn’t going to do it. I couldn’t. But every time I told myself I wouldn’t go through with it, my sister’s face came into view. No matter how I broke it down, I was fucked. Someone was going to suffer. The more time that goes by, the more questions that arise. How long has this cult society been going on? How long have people been getting away with such disgusting acts? Maybe I was
searching for the wrong answers. Maybe if I got down to the root of The Elite, I could expose them. Take them down. Ruin Lillian herself. Maybe if I did that, I wouldn’t have to ruin the only good thing that’s come into my life.

  “There ain’t shit you can do that’ll get rid of this look, so move along,” I tell her, knowing no one will fire me up the way Megan does. I push off the wall, but she blocks my exit.

  “Oh, come on. We can grab some drinks and maybe go in the hot tub. There’re tons of private rooms. We can get to know each other a little better.” She raises her hand, but before it makes contact with my chest, my fingers wrap around her wrist. She groans at my hard grip. I learn closer with my cruel stare. “What exactly you wanna do? How ‘bout you let me tie you up and fuck your ass. Play a little game of who can scream louder? Maybe we can explore what else you like shoved up you while we’re at it.”

  Her facial expression morphs into disgust. She rips her hand from my grip and slaps me hard. “You’re a sick fuck,” she spits and walks away. Unfazed, I snag a beer from some tool walking passed me and chug it. He dares to turn my way, but the threat in my eyes has him scurrying off like a little pussy. It’s late, and I know no one will be on campus. Now is the perfect time to take a little visit to Lillian’s office and see what else she has locked up in that desk of hers. I walk by Sloth, who nods at me as if he can read my mind.

  I’m out the door and headed to my car. Pulling my keys out of my front pocket, I notice a cloud of smoke in the shadows. I backtrack to see Sloth appear from the darkness. “How the fuck did you—?”

  “I wouldn’t do it if I were you,” he says, taking a huge puff of a joint.

  “Do what? How’d you get out here before me?”

  He takes a step forward, illuminating himself under the streetlight. “There’s persistence in elimination. And in elimination takes strategy.”

  This guy needs to lay off the fucking weed. “You know, I don’t really have time for fucking riddles, so if you could just spit out whatever it is you want to tell me, I got shit to do.” He takes another drag and flicks the half-smoked joint in the street. He saunters up to me, lighting up a cigarette. “The best work is done when no one’s looking. The problem is, they always are.” He turns his head to stare off down the street. I follow his lead but see nothing but an abandoned alley. He returns his gaze back to mine. “I’ll see you around, alpha. Sooner rather than later.” Like a ghost, he disappears back into the shadows of the night.

  I jump in my car, weirded out by that encounter. What the hell does he mean? It was a warning, that’s for sure, but how does he know so much? I start my car and pull away, unsure where I’m going. My plans to break into Lillian’s office are now diverted.

  Fuck the whole Elite. Right now, my only thoughts are on seeing Megan and fucking her until all the bad shit floating around in my head disappears. I head toward her house, and my phone dings. I growl at the bad timing and lift my screen to read my incoming text.

  Cunt Griffin: Detour time. Head down Miller to the French Quarter. Enjoy the scenery.

  I slam my hands on my steering wheel. I want to message back telling her to go to hell. Ignore her demand, shut my phone down, and spend the entire night with Megan. Besides wanting to take every single part of her until my dick threatens to fall off, I want to get to know her. Her likes and dislikes. What she eats for breakfast, the brand of shampoo she uses. I would even sit and listen to her political views if it meant just hearing her voice.

  I run my hands through my hair and tug at the sudden headache making its way through my skull. Just fucking do it and be done, I tell myself, taking a detour through town until I find myself in the heart of Bourbon Street. Never a care for what day or time it is, the French Quarter is always alive with music. Street performers block half the streets while people scatter along the sidewalks dancing and laughing, drinking and exposing themselves as if every day were Mardi Gras.

  When I come up to the stoplight on Bourbon Street, a group of college kids parade across the street, holding beers and sloshing booze onto the pavement. Just as the light changes to green, a couple ignores the sign and crosses. Annoyance strikes on my nerves, and I raise my fist to slam on my horn when I recognize her. My hand stalls in mid-air as I watch Megan, on the arm of some guy, trotting along the street. The asshole turns to wave at me, thanking me for not running his ass over.

  My eyes lock on them as they make it across the street, his hand dipping low on her back to escort her onto the sidewalk. Seeing his hand on her infuriates me. I want to jump the curb and run him over just to get him off her. A honking car behind me forces me to accelerate and drive just as I catch them popping into a nearby restaurant. I flip the asshole behind me the bird, take a right, and park a few blocks down. Throwing my hoodie over my head, I jump out and head back toward the place they walked in to. I don’t know what I’m doing. Why I find myself standing outside the window of the table they were just seated at. I watch in disgust as he pulls out her seat and she smiles at him. The same fucking smile she gives me. They order drinks from the waitress, and every so often, she laughs at something he says. My teeth grind every time he reaches over to pat the top of her hand. The urge to know what they’re talking about grates at me. I’m about to storm in there and rough her dorky ass date up. But is that what this is? Is he just another me? Someone she’s trying to convince to go home with her and play her dark and twisted games with until she’s done getting off? Is this the evidence I’ve been desperately searching for that proves she’s not so innocent?

  Fuck! The realization hurts. How fucking stupid of me to think we had something more, deeper. She was probably just being nice, so you’d keep her secret. Her dirty little secret. I watch her raise her finger to the waitress. Her lips move, and I read them. Check please. That didn’t take long to convince him—not as fast as she convinced me.

  I pull away from the window, unable to watch any more. My phone dings, and I rip it from my back pocket.

  Cunt Griffin: Now that your love-sick puppy dog faze is over, get back to the task at hand. xoxo

  The rage inside rumbles deep in my chest. That bitch set me up, wanting me to see this. My anger threatens to detonate. I need to get out of here before I end up inside, ripping that motherfucker’s head off. I hang a right, knocking into a college frat boy.

  “Hey, watch it, asshole.”

  He opens his mouth to talk more shit, but doesn’t get another word out, because I raise my fist and smash it into his face. Blood splatters as I break his nose. Pulling back, I strike him again, over and over, until the sounds of a girl screaming she’s calling the cops compels me back to reality. When the fog finally rises, I pry open my eyes and grimace at the kid, bloody and unconscious at my feet. I glower at the small crowd I’ve caused. Even people from the restaurant are peeking out the window, curious to the commotion. Jumping up, I take a step back, throw my hoodie back over my head for disguise, and begin jogging down the street. I run past my car to avoid them seeing what I drive. Can’t risk them taking down my plates if those pussies really do call the cops. I run for almost a mile until I see neon lights and slip into the hole in the wall bar.

  Megan

  “Yes, Mother…I know…I am! Tell Dad I love him too. I won’t, Mom. I’ll see you both on Sunday. Love you too!”

  I throw the phone down and snatch my book back up in my hands. I flip to where my favorite worn bookmark holds my place, and curl back into my chair, wrapping my feet under the large cashmere blanket Mom bought me for Christmas last year. My eyes find where I left off when vicious pounding on my door has my arms shooting to the sky, tossing my book. Startled by the intrusion, the book falls to the floor, losing my page.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  “What in god’s name…” I get up and peek out my bay window. It’s too late for anyone to just stop by. It’s not my parents since I just spoke to Mom. I don’t see anyone, and my nerves begin to spike. This is a safe neighborhood, but no matter the loc
ation, New Orleans has its danger. More banging sounds, and the hairs on my arms stand on end. My hackles rise as I get up and grab for the bat hidden in the large vase holding my umbrellas. “Who is it?” I call to the door as I tiptoe to the side, using the bat to pull back the curtains. My eyes widen in shock when I see Mason.

  “Open up,” he yells through the barrier.

  I drop the bat and start working on opening the locks. Once I get the last one undone and twist the knob, the door pushes open and Mason falls through the threshold.

  “Mason…what are you…are you drunk?” He stumbles forward again, almost taking us both to the ground. His foot manages to kick back and shut the door. “You can’t just show up at my—”

  “Why’d you do it?” He steadies himself with the help of my hallway end table. I get a glimpse of his hands. His knuckles are cut up and bloodied.

  “Do what? What happened to your hand?”

  He ignores my question. His hair is as wild as the look in his eyes. “The night we met, you got me in that motel room and we fucked like animals.” I suck in a breath at his crude choice of words. “Yeah, you know, when I ate your cunt until you screamed. Tore your nails deep into my back until I tied you up.” My body heats at the memory. The way he smelled that night at the bar. The ferocity in his eyes that had me wet before even saying a word to him. The way he looked so damaged, I knew giving him a way to forget would be what we both needed. “Why’d you pick me?”

  “You seemed like you could use—”