Even thinking back to that night, there was nothing that would have triggered my acknowledgement that he was so young. He held himself with such fierceness. He was rugged, all muscle, and not to mention the added bonus of his sexy tattoos covering both his arms. If there was anyone that fit my fantasy of a wild night of raunchy sex, it was him. And there was no doubt I picked right. His stamina was exactly what I craved. He worked me, fucked me, devoured me in every way I could have ever asked for.
“Ugh,” I moan, curling into the fetal position. My sex begins to pulsate at the memory. My hand strokes between my legs, in hopes to dull the ache, but it only intensifies it. I picture his thick fingers as I pull up my skirt and rub against my clit. His tongue inside me as he licks away my arousal. I push my panties to the side at the mental visual of his cock, his deep voice demanding I watch as the tip of him slides inside me. “Jesus…” I moan again, inserting a finger, my eyes tightly shut. I begin to fuck myself, masturbating to the image of his hard features staring down at me, his cock inside me and the smell of him, tequila and all man, in the air. “Yes…yes…” I praise, working myself faster and faster, until my walls close in around my finger, my stomach tightens, and I orgasm, soaking my finger with my release.
Slowly removing my hand, I roll over onto my back. “What in the hell am I doing?” I ask myself, still feeling the high of my fantasy orgasm. I just masturbated to the thought of my sexy student—my student, who I shouldn’t be thinking of while I masturbate. “God, I’m in trouble,” I groan, rolling off the bed to shower. The problem is, the first thing I think about when I undress and start the shower is us back in the motel, him taking me in the bathroom and thoroughly fucking me hard against the bathroom counter before bringing me under the warm spray, using his mouth to lick all intimate parts of me clean.
The second the warm water hits my body, my hands find their way back to my aching folds.
“Dammit. I have no willpower,” I moan as I go for another solo mission.
Mason
Alive.
He was fucking alive.
We were seconds away from dumping Rhett’s father’s body into a marsh to be ripped into shreds by the alligators, thinking he was dead. The anger still flows through me at how careless we all were. But that night, besides all the fucked-up shit that went down, something else happened. We bonded. Truly became brothers. The Elite shit may have brought us together, but watching every single brother step up to protect their own, it gave me a small sense of pride, funny as that may be, that I had them all at my back.
I push the rest of that night, and the clear threat I made to Rhett’s father out of my head, I refocus on my current task at hand.
Megan Benedict.
I’m scribbling down notes on my pad of paper, trying to keep up with her as she speed-talks, the passion in her voice hot as fuck. I keep losing my train of thought every time I think about the other night, but the eyeful I get of her taut little ass in that skirt sets me right.
Before class, she grabbed my attention, addressing me by Mr. Blackwell, which turned me on and made her rosy cheeks flush, and invited me to a study session after class if I was available. I had to be insane not to accept. Even though her cute, yet professional invitation was unneeded. I’d been deep inside her. There was no need to be so formal.
Since learning her relationship with Lillian, I’ve started my research. Googling and trying to find a connection between her and The Elite, but nothing. Everything that had her name attached to it was positive. Perfect grades, perfect background. Perfect family. There was nothing that stated Megan Benedict was anything but what she perceived to be. And that was innocent. I needed to find out the story behind her and Lillian’s relationship. Why would she want to do this to her own family? I needed answers—and fast. It was only a matter of time before Lillian beckoned me, demanding a finished task.
Megan turns from the chalkboard, comes to sit next to me, and leans over to see what I’ve accomplished. “You know, I’m not sure why you think you need my help. You seem to be picking this all up pretty quickly.” She uses the back of her hand to brush a loose strand of hair out of her face, and I get a whiff of her floral shampoo.
“You can tell all that from my chicken scratch?” I examine the last hour of notes I took. My writing is horrible, and half the shit she wrote on the board, I don’t understand what it means.
“Sure. It shows you’re working hard to understand it. Sometimes taking notes in your own writing helps. When I was in college, I had to rewrite them at least three times before the information sunk in.” My brows crease at the thought of having to do this shit over three more times. “Hulk no like taking notes?” she jokes, but her laughter quickly dies off when she realizes what she just called me. “Oh, I’m…shoot, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine. and no, Hulk don’t like taking notes.” I offer her a playful grin, and she eases a bit in her chair. It’s hard not to mess with her about the nickname. I haven’t stopped thinking about a round two since I walked into her classroom, and I can tell by the glint in her eyes she’s having the same issue.
“Anywho…” She breaks away, putting some distance between us, and I instantly miss the closeness of her. “I think you’ve got this down. Just make sure not to miss any more classes and you should be well on your way to knowing all the ins and outs of ancient Greek theology.”
I don’t give a shit about Greek anything. Right now, I can’t stop staring at her full lips or amber eyes. I can sense my stare is starting to make her uncomfortable, so I pull back my intensity. “Yep, no problem. This is easy shit.” I close my notebook, the lie still hanging off my tongue. I would never be able to pass this class on my own. Half the shit she talked about was over my head. Just like Lillian said, with a prison GED, college is no place for a slum like me. But I refuse to let Megan know that.
With the cruel, truthful reality of it, I stand and shove my notebook in my backpack.
“Oh, you’re leaving?” Her smile drops a smidge.
“Thanks for the help. I’ll see you tomorrow, professor.” My lips perk in a frisky smirk. It does its job, because her eyes dilate. We stand there for some time staring at one another, until my phone begins to chirp in my pocket, breaking the moment. Pulling it out, I see a text from Micah.
Micah: 9-1-1 Need you brother. Come alone.
Fuck.
Micah’s been acting strange since we’ve reunited. He’s hiding something, I just can’t figure out what. Without him telling me, I can tell the last two years haven’t been all bells and whistles for him either.
“Gotta get going.” I slip my phone back into my pocket, our moment gone. With a simple nod and regret over having to leave, I storm out of the classroom and shoot off a text.
Me: Got you brother. On my way.
Mason
I’m dead on my feet.
My head aches from no sleep as I trudge through the cold weather to class. My hands rub against my tired eyes when I notice I still have dirt in my fingernails. My stomach turns, but I shove the images to the back of my mind. The smell of death and dirt still lingering on my skin.
Blood.
Blood.
Blood.
I take the steps two at a time and head into the building for biology. The only class I care to attend is Megan’s, but it isn’t until tomorrow. It’s strange to admit it, but I miss her. Her laugh. Her excitement over Greek bullshit. The way her eyes graze over mine in class, trying to be innocent in her stolen glances. I want to see her. After last night, what I had to do. What we all had to do,
“Micah, what the fuck’d you do?” Every other word escapes me as I regard the scene before me. He doesn’t answer me. He’s panting like a wild animal, lost in his own rage. Fuck. FUCK!
I’m two steps up the stairs to the building when I stop myself. People race passed me while I stare off at other students disappearing inside. I need to see her. I need her to rid all the bad shit in my head. It’s then I change co
urse. I fight through the frigid wind in the opposite direction until I’m jogging up the stairs to the communications building. When I open the door to her classroom, I’m greeted by an old guy.
“Coming in?” he asks, handing me a test.
“Uh, no, wrong class,” I say, then walk away.
Fuck.
The urge to see her intensifies. Agitation eats at me because I don’t know how to find her. It’s then I make an irrational move and shoot a text to Lillian.
Me: I’m close but need to know where she is right now.
I wait for a response, regretting the moment I press send, but Lillian is quick to reply.
Cunt Griffin: Library.
I knew she’d come through. I bet she has trackers on all of us. I don’t bother putting any more thought into it and race to the library. There’s a storm brewing, and I want to get indoors before I get swept up in it. I burst through the doors and a few eyes land on me, their brows crinkling at the unwanted noise. Ignoring the scrutiny, I look around. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a library. I walk up to the help desk, getting the attention of the older woman. She sneers back at me with disgust and confusion, knowing I’m not the normal looking stuck-up rich kid who attends this school.
“Can I help you, sir?” she asks, grabbing for the phone receiver.
I stick my hand in my hoodie for fun and pretend I have a gun just to scare her judgmental ass. “Yeah, I want you to—”
“Mason?” My head whips to my right. Megan stands not three feet away, dressed in a deep plum sweater dress, her hair, as always, up in a cute messy bun. Her reading glasses rest on top of her head as she holds a stack of books in her hand. She stares curiously at the help desk bitch, then back at me.
“Hi, what are you…doing?”
“Oh, I was just asking this nice lady where I can find some Greek literature books.” I turn and offer the old hag, who looks about ready to press her panic button, a smile to die for. Her brows scowl at me, and I turn back to Megan. “This nice woman was just about to help me.”
She gifts me with her glowing smile, and it instantly wipes all the dread of last night away. She takes a small step toward me and trips, fumbling with her books. I come to her rescue and grab the stack and steady her. “Watch yourself,” I whisper, handing her the books, but purposely forget to release her arm.
“Um…well, I can show you where they are…if you want,” she says, relieving the prejudice hag. I force myself to release her and nod, instructing her to lead the way. She blushes and her eyes dip to hide how pleased she is I’ve accepted her offer.
Silently, we walk through the library. A group of douchebags look her way, howling at her, and I clench my fists. A bunch of rich fucks thinking they’re entitled to treat an attractive woman like her with disrespect because they have money. Megan smiles politely and continues walking, ignoring it. I wonder if she gets this a lot. I stop as one table starts to whistle, but Megan grabs my arm. “We’re almost there,” she says, continuing to pull me down a book aisle. If I didn’t desperately crave her touch around my arm, I’d turn around and knock every one of those pricks out.
We head down an aisle, taking a few turns until she stops. I purposely bump into her because I’m a selfish prick and need the small contact. Her cheeks blush a soft shade of red, and she reaches for a book out of her grasp. Her arms stretch, hiking her dress up her thighs, exposing her creamy skin.
“Let me help,” I say before she falls into the shelf. Reaching forward, I snag the book she’s fumbling to reach.
Her eyes light up when I pull it down. She grabs for it, and immediately starts shuffling through the pages. “So, if you want anything Greek literature, this is the book to start with. It’s kinda like Greek knowledge for dummies.” She glances at me and smiles, but I’m lacking the same. “Oh god, no, I wasn’t calling you a dummy. It’s like a starter book. That’s what they call ’em. Oh god, that was rude of—”
I press my finger against her soft lips to stop her from speaking. “I got you,” I say, staring her down and loving the warmth of her breath against my finger. She doesn’t shove my finger away, which surprises me. We are in public and anyone can see us. I take a step closer, itching to lower my lips to hers. All the bullshit of The Elite is starting to weigh heavy on my shoulders. I can’t for the life of me find any dirt on Lillian or Megan, and I know I’m running out of time. And now this shit with Micah. I just want to forget for just a moment what I’ve gotten myself into and lose myself in her sweet lips. I wonder if she’d let me? Would we get caught? My selfishness only cares about tasting her right in this moment. I bend down, loving the sound of her hitched breath. She’s shocked at my bold move, but she doesn’t seem to be stopping me. Satisfaction gives me the drive to push her further, so I move my finger and replace it with my lips. Warm, soft cherries. Tasting her again has my mind running rampant with too many inappropriate things. Maybe kissing her was a bad idea, because this is just the beginning of what I need from her. I know I shouldn’t be here, and I shouldn’t be kissing her, but this is the only thing that’s made me feel free of all the fucking shit I’ve got myself wrapped up in. I press harder into her, using my tongue to part her lips. Her faint moan is the invitation I need to open her wider, tasting her, working my tongue in slow motion around hers.
I know I’m playing with fire, but I can’t stop. My arm curls around her waist, and I pull her into me. I’m hard as fuck, my cock pressing against her stomach.
“Mason, we can’t…” she moans into my mouth, raising her hand up to my chest. She wants to push me away, but just like myself, she doesn’t have it in her. She wants this just as much as I do. Gripping her ass, I lift her up the bookshelf and grind into her while deepening our kiss. My hands shake with the urge to dig under her dress and see how turned on she is. My bet is she’s wet as fuck and craving my finger, even more so my tongue. I grind into her again and swallow her hoarse whimper by kissing her harder. The restraint in me breaks and my hand dips beneath her dress. Her silky skin threatens to break me as I work my hand up her bare thigh. My lips break from hers and trace down to her neck, taking a small bite of her flesh and sucking it in my mouth. The sound of someone dropping a book in the next aisle over breaks the moment, and Megan becomes rigid in my arms. We both stand still until the sound of footsteps disappears down the aisle.
“Shit. That was close,” I mumble into her neck. Her fingers are dug deep into my chest as she hangs on to me for dear life. A low chuckle erupts from my chest at how damn cute she is trying to hide herself in my arms.
“Oh my god, why are you laughing? If someone saw us,” she panics. Realizing how tightly she’s gripping on to me, she wiggles out of my hold.
Forcing myself, I release her. “Well, for starters,” I begin, running my hands through my hair, preparing for the brutal pain of blue balls, “Hulk about to smash you through this bookshelf.” I stand back, needing to cup my poor balls while she adjusts her dress.
Picking up the book she dropped, she says, “Mason, we can’t do this.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because! It’s wrong. That was—”
“Hot?” I finish her sentence.
She sighs loudly. “I was going to say irresponsible.”
“You mean hot.”
“No. We can’t be doing that here.”
“But we can do that somewhere else?”
“No!”
“You’re confusing me.” I fight the laughter that’s building.
“You’re confusing me!” She sighs again. “Mason, I can’t…we can’t. This is my job. You’re a student. It’s wrong.”
Fuck it is.
But she’s right. Unlike me. This is her job. She belongs here. I’m just a decoy and a lie.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she says.
“Like what?” I inquire.
“Like you’re disappointed. This, what we’re doing…it won’t end well. Teacher/student flings…they never do.”
She can’t be any more correct on that statement, because she has no idea how bad ours will truly end. “You’re absolutely right,” I say.
She nods in return, but I don’t miss the flash of disappointment. A few more seconds of silence pass before the sound of shuffling books and students passing up and down the next row over remind us where we are.
“Well, I should probably get goin’.” I hold out my hand for the book she’s gripping to her chest.
“Oh, yeah…here.” She hands me the book, her cheeks still flushed.
This is where I should turn around and walk away but my legs won’t move. “So, is it too unprofessional for a student to walk a professor out to her car? It’s probably dark by now and I’d like to make sure you get to your car safely.”
She’s so damn beautiful when she smiles. A small part of me expects her to turn me down. But when her lips curl into that sexy, sweet grin, I know I won. “A simple, kind gesture from a student? I see nothing wrong with that.”
I can’t help but match her smile as we begin to walk toward the exit. We pass the group of assholes, but this time, they don’t say a peep. Not a single one of them dares to even blink our way. My eyes suddenly catch a shadow in the corner, and I recognize Sloth. What the fuck is he doing here? Casually, he nods, dipping his head as he sucks on a toothpick. I mimic the gesture, confused, but keep walking.
Pride (The Elite Seven Book 2) Page 9