Elias (GRIT Sector 1)

by Rebecca Sherwin

  She growled. She fucking growled at me and I almost lost it. Instead I grabbed the back of her dress and pulled, tearing it from her to expose her small, round tits and perfect rosy nipples. I took one in my mouth as she mounted me and lowered herself onto my cock. Throwing my head back, I gripped her hair and pulled hard, exposing her neck for me to sink my teeth into. Trixie cried, her pussy tightening around me as she rode my cock like she needed every thrust to breathe. I gave it back, raising my hips until my thighs hit her ass, my pelvis stroked hers, rubbing her clit; my hands dug into her skin as I scraped my nails down her back and I gripped her ass to urge her on. I couldn't get enough of her; I wanted to drive deeper, I wanted to pound harder; I wanted to lose my breath and steal hers; I wanted my soul to leave my body so I could commandeer hers...I wanted it all. She gave me everything and I gave her everything back, but everything wasn't enough.

  "God, Trixie," I groaned as she rode me, her tits bouncing, lips parted, her hair tickling my hands and sending goosebumps up my spine. "Fuck, you're so wet."

  "You're so hard," she returned. "So deep. So hot. So, so...mine."

  "Yours," I agreed. "Use me, baby. Get us both off."

  I could feel my spine beginning to tingle, my thighs beginning to burn and quake the longer I stayed on my knees. My chest felt heavy, my lungs felt tight, my hands squeezed harder as the race to release began. Trixie slid up and down my cock, coating it in slick heat that made my cock burn with the need to fill her with my cum. I jerked inside her, she held me tighter. I groaned her name, she whispered mine. I pulled her hair, she took two fistfuls and pulled back. I kissed her, she ruined me. She made me someone completely different, entirely new and questionably pure. She made me a man who loved. She made me a man who revelled in the beauty of a woman taking control, confident and assertive, animalistic and fucking divine.

  "Trixie, come. I need you to come."

  "I need you to come. This is about you."

  Me. This was about me. She was a fucking goddess. I didn't want to come before she had, but I couldn't stop it. She made me weak, she made me strong; she made me a servant to her will and if she wanted me to come, I'd damn well explode, the heat between us eclipsing the stars that danced between us in a stellar collision of epic proportion. Trixie leaned back, one hand on the floor for leverage, the other rolling my balls between skilled fingers as they drew up in her hold. Still she rode me, sweat glittering on her milky skin, my cock wet and angry as it disappeared inside her heavenly cunt. God, she killed me. With a deafening growl, I flipped us, slamming her back onto the cold hard floor of the apartment as I pulled out of her and grabbed my cock, working it as cum surged up its length and spurted onto Trixie's stomach. Ribbon after ribbon marked her flesh. I came so hard I saw stars and every one of my muscles jerked as I spilled myself onto her.

  "God."

  I dropped to the floor, shaking arms bearing most of my weight as I pressed my forehead to hers and kissed her.

  "Shall I go outside now?" she asked, threading her fingers into my hair and massaging my scalp with gentle strokes. "Shall I walk outside and show them all I'm yours?"

  "Not a fucking chance," I growled, rearing up and grabbing her arm to yank her to her feet. "No one sees you like this but me, do you understand?"

  "I understand perfectly," she replied with fire in her eyes. "I just thought that-"

  "Don't think it again. You're mine, Ashford. Get rid of those thoughts. I have other ways of showing the world you're mine without casting you out in the street covered in my cum."

  "Always so bossy."

  She played innocent but I saw the effect my words had on her. She reached out and began unbuttoning my shirt and I watched the sticky cream glistening on her stomach trickle, losing itself between her legs. My well-used manhood stirred.

  "I take care of what's mine."

  "And that's me?"

  There was still an edge of doubt in her suddenly quiet voice. She had no idea what she did to me. She had no idea the danger she put us in by tempting me beyond my ability to refuse. She had no idea what was in store for her.

  "That's you."

  "I like that."

  "You don't have a choice."

  "There's always a choice."

  Of course there was, she was right. She could have chosen William. It wouldn't have been the first time it happened and I had no doubt it wouldn't be the last. But she wouldn't refuse me, she wouldn't reject me—not yet, at least—and I'd make the most of every second I had with her as mine.

  "Where are we?" she asked again, gliding her hands over my shoulders to encourage the shirt to float to the floor.

  "It's my place."

  "Why do you keep saying that? You don't live here."

  "I didn't say I did, doesn't mean I don't own it."

  "Then why..." She froze, taking a step back and looking around. I watched her take note of the scarce furniture, the wide open spaces and unobstructed surfaces. I watched her look for personal artefacts and items that showed I'd lived here at all. I hadn't. "This is your fuck pad."

  "I wouldn't call it a fuck pad."

  "That's exactly what this is. You bring women here to fuck them, what else could it be called? You use this place so you don't have to tell your family where you are and who you're balls deep in."

  "Our family," I reminded her. As if she could forget.

  I didn't often get uncomfortable with a conversation. If I didn't want to have it, I just silenced the other participant with a quick command or deathly glare. Neither of those would work with Trixie. She held as much fire and warranted as much authority. She wouldn't bow down to a command or cower beneath a stare.

  I sighed, dragging a hand through my hair. Why did she have to address this? Why couldn't she just shut off her curiosity and continue undressing me? Why did she need to know all the damn answers and subject me to guilt and discomfort I didn't deserve to feel?

  "It was a... uh...play pad."

  "A play pad? What are you, five?"

  She hated this place. Hated that I'd brought her here. I hated that she didn't understand. I hated the anger in her voice.

  But I took great satisfaction in knowing she was jealous. Just like I was. Jealousy meant hope...didn't it?

  "No, I'm not five. Jesus, Trixie. It was a play pad because I never got balls deep in anyone. I didn't fuck anyone here. I just brought them here to play."

  "Ugh." She growled, reaching for her torn dress. I almost laughed. She wasn't going anywhere. "Always with the cryptic. It's getting boring. If you think I can't handle the truth, fine, but don't bullshit me."

  "I don't fuck women. It's really quite simple." The air between us fizzed with anger and frustration. I didn't want to have to explain this. She knew she deserved an explanation. "I bring them here, yes, because they're not permitted on the estate. What was I supposed to do, remain celibate until you came along?"

  She smarted. Her brow furrowed and her lips slipped into a natural and adorable pout. That made her think.

  "You didn't fuck anyone before me?" I asked.

  "Sure, but I'm not taking you on location."

  "This is my place, regardless who was here before. It's you here with me now."

  "Why don't you fuck them?"

  "I don't want to."

  "Why? You were no virgin the first time we had sex."

  I laughed then, and snapped my mouth shut when Trixie smacked my chest. I couldn't help it. I thought this kind of argument was supposed to occur under tension, with serious risk that one of us would say the wrong thing and send the other one running away. But we weren't drowning in paranoia. Maybe Trixie finally understood she couldn't get away from me. Or maybe because we'd resigned. Maybe it was because it didn't matter. I wanted to kill any man who had touched Trixie, or been in her damn breathing space, but I wouldn't. Because they didn't matter. Trixie was obsessed with this place, not because I brought women here—she couldn't erase them from my past and I knew she loved it when I showed
her exactly what those women had taught me—but because I wasn't being honest with her.

  "I wasn't a virgin. I've slept with women. I fucked women like any normal young man did, haphazardly, awkwardly and not without its embarrassing moments."

  "Why is this the past tense? What happened?"

  "The transition happened." I crouched down to collect my shirt and threw it over Trixie's shoulders. We weren't going to have this conversation here, with her standing naked in front of me. I pointed towards the room behind her. "Go in the bedroom."

  "Is it clean?"

  Rolling my eyes, I answered, "Yes. It's clean."

  She felt bad. I saw it when the light in her eyes dimmed with regret. I wouldn't ease her guilt; she could embrace it and wish she'd never said it. I was sure she'd take it back soon enough and spit more anger at me. She said nothing else, buttoning up the shirt as she turned and headed to the bedroom. The shirt stopped just below her ass, caressing the tops of her thighs as her hips sashayed in a formal invitation for me to follow her. Grabbing the bottles of water I'd left on the counter when I was here earlier, I followed her into the bedroom and closed the door behind me. Trixie made her way to the king size bed, trailing her fingers over the black cotton sheets, to the pillow. She picked it up and brought it to her face, inhaling deeply and making my cock stir. She was smelling for me. She was smelling for other women. I loved the way she'd claimed me like I had her. I loved that she wasn't ashamed to show it, even if she refused to admit it.

  "No one has been here for months."

  "Why not?"

  Placing the pillow back on the bed and smoothing it down, she sat on the edge and faced me. She wasn't going to let this go, so I figured I may as well get comfortable. I stripped out of my shoes, socks and jeans, and sat on the bed with her. I placed the water on the bedside table and pulled her between my legs with her back to my front. My final act before the exposure was to pull the mask off. I tossed it to the floor and looked at Trixie. She stared at me like I was the only person she'd ever seen and it made my heart swell. The amazement and bewilderment in her violet eyes killed me. I didn't deserve it. I took a deep, steadying breath.

  "The transition began at the beginning of the year. It has nothing to do with age or evolution or even tradition. I knew it was coming, I'd been training for it my whole life, and Ruby decided it was time."

  "What's the transition?"

  "It's the phase the leader of GRIT must go through before he can claim sole leadership. You already know that I've been raised to honour the legacy of several Eli's before me."

  "I do."

  Her body softened, melding to mine, her back warm against my stomach, her hair soft against my chest, her hands steady as she unscrewed the lid on one of the bottles, took a drink and then raised the bottle for me to do the same. With my hand covering hers, I tipped the bottle back, welcoming the cold liquid down my throat. I loved how she listened to each lesson; I loved how she morphed with me every time we went back in time. I loved how she loved me enough to have faith in my stories and trust me beyond doubt.

  "They each made their mark on the organisation during their transition. It was the time Eli found Tallulah, Eli collected the harlots that formed his harem. It was during the transition that another Eli found his love for masochism, Elias discovered his taste for prostitutes, another Eli stole married women...am I making my point?"

  Trixie nodded, her hair tickling my back and sending strangling vines of happiness to weave their way through my ribs. She wasn't running. But I knew what came next.

  "That's why you have this place, to discover what you like."

  "Yes."

  "What did you find?" She swallowed, drinking down more water before she finished. "What's your mark?"

  "Love."

  "Love?"

  "Yes. Love. You. I found you, Ashford." She shivered, finally understanding that my use of her last name was a term of endearment. She said nothing, giving me time, her silence encouraging me to elaborate. "We're supposed to rebel. I'm supposed to rebel because that's what the first Eli did. His wife wasn't part of GRIT; she wasn't accepted because Jessica Ashford knew she was a snake. So he left the organisation, without a leader, and he didn't care what became of GRIT. He found his way back and paid for his sins but in running away he ensured every one of his ancestors bearing his name would do the same. We're encouraged to leave and to find our way back to the throne."

  "I understand. But you don't want to."

  "No, I don't. I never wanted to run off and fuck random women to find my flavour. I've never wanted to run away. Not until I found you."

  "Now I don't get it. Why do I make you want to run away?"

  "Because I love you. Love is what made the first Eli betray his family. Love is what made him weak in the eyes of the family, and strong in his own right although it was never credited. My love for you makes me want to flee the organisation, so you don't have to be a part of it."

  "But I am a part of it."

  "I know." I sighed. "And that's why I want things to change."

  Change. A word I never thought I'd hear Elias utter in support. He wanted change; a man who was so set in his ways, Ruby Ashford's most loyal soldier, wanted to do things differently. Because of me. Because he loved me. Not because he was weak, but because I was. He loved the tradition of the family; he thrived on the path before him that had been walked a hundred times; he was an old-time gentleman, in a dangerous man's body, with a dark knight's soul. This was his life, it was who he was meant to be, and I had forced him to make a choice.

  "What kind of change?"

  "We're not always good," he confessed, finally acknowledging the fact that what GRIT did may not have been the best way for the city to heal. "We do bad things because without them, we're nothing. Have you wondered why GRIT has been in power for hundreds of years, and yet we live in a world dominated by crime?"

  "Yes."

  "Have you asked yourself why we're still locked in now you know there's an establishment that can break down the walls?"

  "Yes."

  "And what answers did you come up with?"

  I hadn't. I just hadn't believed—hadn't been convinced—that this was right. Successful. Moral.

  "I don't know."

  "You said we have a choice," Elias whispered, with his hands in my hair. His fingers trailed down my arm to the bottle of water and he plucked it from my grasp to take a drink. "What choice do you think GRIT makes?"

  I thought about it, feeling my mind work overtime as it tried to come up with a theory. As if searching for aid, I looked around me. The room was luxurious, if lacking all personal flourish that told me Elias was comfortable here. It looked and felt like a hotel room. The sheets were pressed to perfection, the carpet thick and vacuumed to look brand new. The furniture was accented with gold, old filigree on the corners of the dresser; heavy drapes decorated the windows, purple that matched Ruby's trademark colour, and the view of the city overlooked the entire Capital, to where the reinforced concrete walls stood proudly on the outskirts. Everything in this city worked to keep GRIT safe...or did it?

  "The bank," I said. "It's legit?"

  "It is." Elias rested his chin on the top of my head and wrapped his arms around my waist.

  "The people who die...the ones who are stolen by the underground...what happens to their fortunes?"

  "Like all deceased past and present, it is used to pay off debts, cover expenses, and the remaining amount is handed to those named in the will."

  "Are you on the wills? Are you the debt collectors? Are you part of the expenses?"

  "Sometimes."

  "So you charge for protection?"

  "Sometimes. We invest in lives, Trixie. We are a fully functioning bank in a city of squalor and disrepair."

  "So you treat lives like businesses? Someone wants a loan and they repay with your name on the will. They ask for investments in their lives so that you earn when they die?"

  "Yes."

&nb
sp; "You thrive on crime. You're not trying to eradicate it. You're trying to profit from it."

  "It hasn't always been the case. It was something our grandfather began. What he found during the transition was that fortune is made when there's blood on the streets."

  My heart fluttered as a stab of betrayal penetrated my chest. We weren't good guys. We were bad guys. We were criminals. We were the underground.

  "It isn't like that across the organisation. Trace does try to wipe out human trafficking. His operations are non-profit. Well, he takes from the traffickers, but he catches them to protect the victims. Lawson keeps drugs off the streets. Again, money made from deals doesn't go into an evidence lockup, but we don't allow drugs to run rife in the city. We work to end the distribution of narcotics. Beckett fronts the counterterrorism force. We intercept weapons and explosives, and we apprehend people who threaten the way of life."

  "Way of life." I scoffed. "You stop them bombing the city so that your money is safe."

  Elias shook his head, dragging his chin back and forth. I didn't know what to say. What was there to say to that? I'd hoped the word 'vigilante', which my instincts had told me to doubt, meant that we were heroes. That we were working to get the boundaries removed. I'd hoped that we were the good guys struggling to right a bad world. I'd never imagined we were the ones keeping London in the darkness.

  "That's why I want to change, Trixie." My turn to shake my head. I didn't believe him. How could I? How could I believe he'd sacrifice his life of luxury and why would he, when he could have anything he wanted with the click of his fingers? He believed criminal money was there for the taking—there was no reason for him to change. "I want the walls down."

  "Why are they even up? Did you play a part in that, too? Convince whoever made the decision that containing crime would wipe it out? That you'd stop it and make London clean again?"

  "The walls were erected to contain crime, yes. It's a fact that a concentrated dose of anything is easier to work with than a larger diluted surface area."

  "We're not in a science lab. These are people's lives we're talking about. You've taken money from people whose deaths you played a part in. They could have fled. They could have been saved. They died so you had stacks of cash in a world where money means nothing!"