I ignore the stabbing feeling in my gut at knowing I plan on doing just that. My task is to expose her, not keep her secret. “Relax. I ain’t gonna say shit,” I lie. Her eyes shoot from my chest, where she had yet to blink away from, to connect with mine. This is the first time she’s made eye contact with me today, and the moment it happens, my cock starts to stir again. Shit, she’s attractive. She’s still tiny compared to my large frame, but those sexy nude heels give her just enough height.
“Mason…”
“I told you. Relax. I thought you were way younger yourself. Not into seducing my professors.”
“Younger?” she gapes. “I’m twenty-three. That’s way too old for you.” Not when I’m really twenty. But I can’t admit that.
I can’t help it. I take a step closer, causing her to retract a step, her back hitting the chalkboard. “Didn’t think age was a factor last weekend,” I taunt, and her cheeks flare red. It reminds me of how flushed and sweaty we both were. My low laughter has her melting farther into the wall. “I’m kidding. Listen, I’m a late start in your class. Maybe in exchange for my silence, you help me catch up on what I’ve missed? I really need this grade.”
She studies me, debating whether I’m telling the truth on my vow of silence or fucking with her. I definitely want to be fucking her, but I need to bide myself some time. I ain’t doing shit until I get some answers.
A few more seconds pass before her shoulders become less tense, and she replies. “I guess I can do that. But! Last week never happened, okay? It was a mistake. I mean, it wasn’t…I had a nice time, but this is my job. We have to stay professional. Okay?”
Professional my ass. Her naked under me sounds more like it. The sexy little tremors of her body when she whimpers at my touch. The taste of her on my tongue. Not why you’re here, asshole. Reminding myself of that is the bucket of ice water I need thrown in my face to remember this isn’t for enjoyment. It’s not about having fun with my professor no matter how alive she made me feel. It’s about getting my job done and moving on. Completing my task, The Elite, and taking my sister and leaving this fucking town.
“Okay. Sure. I can do that. Sounds like a fair trade. If you stick to it.” She raises her brow, hope mixing with worry in her eyes as she stands on pins and needles for my reply.
“Scouts honor,” I say, and raise two fingers.
We’re both quiet for a moment, until she sighs, the beautiful sound seeping into my skin. “Well, I have some time now. Maybe we can just go over what you missed and start from there.”
Bingo.
I’m in.
Those glossed-over eyes confirm, despite our situation, she still wants me. Feeling pleased, I step back, allowing her some breathing room, and toss my backpack to the ground. “Yeah, sure,” I reply and take a seat. She scrambles for a sheet of paper in her tote bag and comes to sit next to me.
“Okay, so…um, first, here’s the syllabus for class. You’ll want to look this over and maybe spend some time catching up on the chapters you’ve missed.”
I’m trying to stay focused on what she’s saying, but with the light aroma of cherries and vanilla seeping into my nostrils, it’s impossible. I lift my eyes from the sheet and watch as her lips move, aching to trace my finger along her bottom one.
“How familiar are you with theology and religion?”
“Huh?”
“Theology. The class?” She examines me, waiting for an answer.
“Uh, none,” I reply honestly. A prison GED doesn’t see a need for learning about that shit. Her smile is kind. If she’s disappointed in my lacking education thus far, she doesn’t show it.
“Oh! Okay. That’s not a problem. We can start from the beginning. See if anything rings a bell.” She starts highlighting a bunch of shit on the syllabus. “So, the first three weeks we went over the definitions, study of religious scriptures, and how it all aligned with ancient philosophies and worship.”
I have no idea what the fuck she’s talking about. Shit I couldn’t care less about. My eyes follow each line she swipes, but I’m fighting to hide the scowl forming on my face as my thoughts are elsewhere. What is Lillian’s angle with Megan? What secret does Megan possibly have that deserves such punishment?
The card.
Sinful enjoyment.
Lillian wants me to punish her for her dark tastes in bed? My fists clench under the desk. I fear I might just turn into the Hulk himself.
“Still with me?”
“What?”
“Sorry, I’m going too fast. Just when I talk, I can sometimes lose myself in…” She scans my face. “God, this is too awkward, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s fine. Keep going.” Keep talking so the sound of your musical voice drowns out all the bad shit in my head.
“Um, maybe I can give you some homework. You can work on it between classes. Some reading maybe?” I study her, searching for the deceit. Ugliness to warrant why I’m really here. But I see nothing behind her sweet beautiful smile. “So, this isn’t gonna work, is it?”
It is. It has to. I shake off the doubt and moral battle in my head. “It is. Just last time we were this close, we were doing some pretty heavy shit, not talking lesson plans. Speaking of, wanna explain why you disappeared?”
Crimson creeps into her cheeks. “I thought…I was saving us both the awkward small talk in the morning,” she answers, fiddling with her fingers.
“Maybe we could have chatted theology, then I wouldn’t be so far behind.”
Her mouth parts, and I admire her plump lips.
“Mason, I…I…that night was a—”
“Don’t say it. We both know it wasn’t a mistake. Let’s not degrade what we had. But I get it. You and I, not happenin’. Student and professor. That’s all. Cool?”
The last part’s a lie. The buzzing around us, the pull that tells me we’re far from over. She nods, feeding into my bullshit, or at least shutting down the topic, and I allow her to finish going over the rest of the syllabus. I sit back and listen, her face lit with excitement as she talks. Time seems to get away from us both, and the janitor peeking his head in alerts us to how much we lost track of time.
“Wow, how embarrassing. Why’d you just let me babble for the last hour?”
“You obviously love what you teach.”
She shrugs off my compliment. We both stand, and she gathers her notes and hands them to me. “Or love to bore people to death. Most students use my hour to sleep or catch up on Netflix shows.” She grabs her tote bag and slides into her jacket.
“Those people are fucking assholes,” I reply, wanting to snap the necks of anyone who disrespects her.
“Ah, well…that’s college for ya,” she replies. I grab my bag, and together, we walk out of the classroom. Heading outside, I notice the sun’s already long gone.
“So, theology, huh?”
“Nerd alert, right?” She laughs at herself but continues. “I practically grew up playing in my dad’s office. He had a huge library with tons of books. While most of the kids my age were at parties, building up their reputations and cool factor, I was at home nose deep into history books. Spent two years abroad for college studying religion, Greek theologies, you know, Plato. I almost stayed and taught in Europe, but my mom cried and threw the world’s biggest guilt trip, so I came home. Worked super hard and got myself a teaching job here on my own. Despite my family’s connections to the university.”
“So, you’re from New Orleans?”
She smiles and nods. “Yep. Born and raised. My family’s here. Everyone, actually. Doesn’t seem many of us have gone too far outside of New Orleans. What’s your story? Must be pretty smart yourself to land at such a great school.” Stiffness ripples up my back, my posture stone still. I falter in my step, catching her attention. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s really none of my—”
“Scholarship,” I say, my tone blank.
“Oh, well that’s great. The university is really philanthropic that wa
y.”
Satanic, more like it. “Yeah, you can say that.” We continue to walk down the building steps. “So, is St. Augustine a family legacy? You have brothers or sisters who also work here? You said family connections.”
“Oh no! But family yes! Dean Griffin, he’s my uncle actually!” She smiles as I falter in my step. I catch myself before hitting the bottom step. “You okay there?” she asks, unaware of what that information truly means to me.
“Yeah. George Griffin is your uncle?” I ask the words sour on my tongue.
“Yeah! Have you had the pleasure of meeting him yet? Such an intelligent man. And my aunt, Lillian. My dad’s sister. She runs the Counseling department. She’s so sweet and helpful. If you ever need anything, I could always introduce you. She’d be more than willing to help you out.”
I’m dizzy.
Sick.
Enraged.
Her fucking niece?
“Are you sure you’re okay? You kinda don’t look all right.”
I’m far from all right. “Yeah…um, I gotta go. Thanks for the help. I’ll see you in class.” I turn the opposite direction and storm off without another word.
It’s dark on campus, the only lighting coming from the dimly lit street lights. The wind is stronger than normal, casting a spell of leaves to blow across the empty parking lot. Empty but one car. I lurk behind the huge cypress tree, biding my time until I attack. It’s later than normal for her to still be at work, but it’s perfect for me. Dark, abandoned. No one will hear her scream.
The doors to the admissions building open, and my eyes capture her thin frame as she wrestles with her hair caught up in a gust of wind. She races to her car, searching in her pockets for her keys. I’m in the shadows, right behind her as she makes it to her fancy Mercedes. The key is pressed into the lock when I come up behind her, wrap my large hand around her neck, and slam her into the car. Lillian’s cry is loud and laced with fear.
“Take my wallet. I have money in there.” Her voice quivers, and it gives me much joy to hear the fear in her tone. She should be scared.
I pull back and whip her around to face me, bringing my hand back to her neck, and smash her up against her car, knocking the wind out of her. “What the fuck have you gotten me in to?” I growl low into her ear. Her hands shoot forward and slaps me in the chest.
“Goddammit, Mason, you scared me. Let me go.” She tries to wiggle free, but I only squeeze tighter.
“She’s your fucking niece? First your step-daughter, now your niece? How fucking sick and demented are you?” I squeeze harder, knowing if I don’t stop, I’ll choke the life out of her. Her hands squirm, trying to fight me off, but I’m lost in my hate for her. She’s gasping and losing strength in her own fight. With the last bit of energy she has left in her, she says the word.
“Evelyn.”
I release her, and she almost drops to the ground, grabbing for her neck. “What kind of game you playing here? I ain’t ruining her life.”
“A game where I make the rules, not you,” she rasps, coughing and holding her bruised neck. “You’ve just made a huge mistake. You think you have any say in what happens here?”
I bend forward, my heated breath striking her pale cheek. “I’m not doing it.” I push off her and begin to walk away.
“You will. Because your sister’s safety depends on it.” My eyelids clamp shut at her words, and I falter in my step.
I turn back to face her. “Then I’m cashing in my fucking coin.” I’ll accept whatever my new task is, knowing it doesn’t involve Megan.
Lillian raises her chin to the sky and evil laughter spews from her lips. “The coin? You silly boy, you don’t get a coin. You’re the alpha. Pride. I didn’t choose you so you can tap out, pet. I chose you because you will finish the job, no matter the consequences.”
The tornado of rage swirling in my chest scares me. I take a step toward her, threatening to sacrifice everything, just to end her right here, right now. My sister’s face comes to mind and I rein in my fury. With a stifled breath I pull back and head in the direction of my car. But not without Lillian leaving me with a warning.
“Mason! Did you know, back in ancient Greece, how they condemned anyone who sinned? The punishment was gruesome. Would you care to know what the punishment for pride was? They’d tie them to a wheel and watch their arms and legs stretch until their bones cracked and limbs ripped.”
I don’t turn around and feed into her threat. But she still wins. She’s filled me full of promise of what’s to come if I don’t comply. She’ll hurt my sister. I pick up the pace until I know I’m out of sight and take my closed fists to the nearest tree, and punch after punch, I destroy the tree until my skin is torn, and my knuckles are bloody. I still haven’t caught my breath when my phone dings in my pocket. My adrenaline is already through the roof, but it still manages to step up a notch. Don’t let it be Evelyn. Thankfully, I find a text from God.
Gluttony: Need you at Lust’s place ASAP.
Me: On my way.
I shoot off my text and jump into my car. Tonight’s plan was to meet at Rhett’s at nine, but it couldn’t come at a better time. I need the release like a motherfucker.
I pull up to the address and knock a few times. When no one answers, I invite myself in and glare around annoyed, because I’m expecting some sort of huge ass party. Hitting the foyer, I spot Gluttony, Sloth, and Lust. “What’s going on?” I ask, eyeing each one of them.
Something ain’t right.
The door opens again, and I nod to the rest of the brothers.
“Oh fuck,” Sloth’s voice travels from the living room and all eyes gravitate to where he’s standing. All the pent-up fury with Lillian instantly dissipates as I stare down at a body on the floor, blood painting the rug around his head. Scanning the photo frames lining the walls, I realize the man on the floor is Rhett’s father.
“Okay,” God says, nodding his head, glowering between the body and Rhett.
Fuck. This ain’t good. I turn my focus on Rhett who’s shaking. His chin looks like it took a pretty good hit. “He do that to you?” I ask nodding toward the unmoving body.
“This is bad,” Sloth mumbles.
“He hit me, and I just took him down. I didn’t…I don’t…”
“Breathe,” Micah steps in, nodding. “You’re not alone in this.”
“We’ll get rid of the body.” Envy shrugs a shoulder, like he’s talking about moving a fucking couch. “The swamp. Gators will take care of it.”
“It’s not an it. It’s a fucking person. Christ,” Wrath grinds out, sifting a hand through his hair.
Think…
Think…
As the alpha, I need to do something. Rhett doesn’t deserve to go to jail because he was protecting himself from a fucking abuser. I don’t need to know the reason to know it still ain’t right to hit your kid. Too many times in the system have I taken a fist, wishing I could fight back. Do exactly what he did.
“No, Envy is right. We protect our brother. We get rid of the evidence,” I say, earning a few raised brows. A round of silence falls upon us until we all snap into action and get down to business.
Dead body.
Bury.
Brotherhood.
Fuck! This is not where I saw my night going.
Megan
Eighteen…
Eighteen…
Eighteen!
I had sex with my eighteen-year-old student!
No, not just sex. Dirty, kinky, mind-blowing sex with my eighteen-year-old student!
“Ahhh!” I cry, throwing myself face first onto my bed, groaning at the soreness of being on my feet all day. How did I not think to ask? And what the hell should I have said? Oh, hey, by the way, you’re of age and not my student before I test out my fantasies on you, right? I start kicking and banging my fists, having a five-year-old tantrum. I knew I shouldn’t have gone through with it. Those damn romance books! I blame all of them. For years I’ve ached to try somethin
g spontaneous. Feed those cravings. I needed to just try. Kink, role playing. Toys. I’d been reading those sweet romance novels ever since I was a kid. But as of late, my tastes have changed. The forbidden books no one talks about. Taboos, BDSM. God, my blood warms just at the mention. It was bringing out a side of me I was unfamiliar with. I had a taste for something dark. I wasn’t a virgin by any means, but I just never pushed anything beyond the typical missionary experience. It was nice, sure. But it wasn’t hot. It wasn’t fulfilling for me. I had a boyfriend once who I tried going just a step further than the typical vanilla sex route. I’d gone online and bought some lotions and went as far as a butt plug. I’d presented it to him on our six-month anniversary, dressed in red see-through lingerie. My gift to him was my body and allowing him free range. I hoped he would pick up what I was throwing down, but the only thing he picked up was his minimal things around my apartment when he dumped me.
I realized maybe I was being silly with my urges and returned the items I bought. I stored those dirty books away and tried to alter my reading back to the lighter, fluffier stuff. But that hunger didn’t go away. I would sit in class and imagine myself being spanked. Daydream while at the laundry mat, a stranger tying me up and taking me in all my intimate spots. God, I practically had an orgasm while grocery shopping mentally visualizing being down on my knees and gagging on a large cock. What had been wrong with me! Then, one day I decided to take the plunge. If this was an itch that was never going away, I had to scratch it and move on.
So, I bought a bunch of toys.
I started small, like hand cuffs, a ball gag, and butt plugs. I shopped at an online kink store for an outfit, and when the weekend came, I searched out the dingiest bar in town. Not only was I a teacher, but the daughter of a prestigious Real Estate Tycoon. My family was heavily involved at the university. Not only was my aunt a high ranked counselor, my uncle was the dean! If I ever got caught, it would not only hurt my reputation, but my family’s. And what would it do to my father?
So, I played it smart. But not smart enough. Who would ever imagine, the first time I go out and test my deepest, naughtiest desires, I end up having sex with a student? But how was I really supposed to know he was only eighteen? He perceived to be at least twenty-five. His build and large frame. No doubt anyone would mistake him for a man. “Oh god,” I moan, shoving my face harder into my comforter. He’s not a man. He’s a boy. A boy with a cock bigger than any dick you’ve ever had inside you. Not to mention how well he knew how to use that bad boy. Thank god it was Sunday when I snuck out of that motel room. I had been so sore from the wild ride he gave me, I doubt I would’ve been able to stand all day and teach.
Pride (The Elite Seven Book 2) Page 8