Pride (The Elite Seven Book 2)

by J. D. Hollyfield

  “Don’t play games with me. Why? I could’ve been some fucking serial killer. Rapist.”

  “You looked lost, not murderous,” I say, speaking the truth. If I felt any danger about him, I would have never done what I’d done.

  “How many guys have you taken home like that and fucked?”

  “That’s none of your—”

  “How many fucking guys have you allowed to put their fingers in your sweet tight ass, their cocks in your cunt—”

  My open palm, with a fierce quickness, strikes across his face. The pain shoots through my wrist and up my arm. My breath catches in my throat as he attacks me. His large hands scoop me into his arms, backing us farther into the house.

  “Why would you put yourself in danger like that? I could have hurt you. I can hurt you.”

  I raise my arms around his neck, making a point to skim my fingers along the red welt on his cheek. “But you’re not. Never did I feel threatened or uncomfortable with you.”

  “You should have,” he growls, digging his fingers into my butt cheeks. “Now I know your secret. I know what a bad, bad girl you are.” He crushes his lips down on mine. He’s rough and feral, forcing my lips open and shoving his tongue inside my mouth. His brutal outburst is confusing yet turns me on. I don’t know where it’s coming from. It’s far from the flirt he’s been the past two weeks. I want to ask what’s changed in him, but my mind is starting to flip and that ache to be that bad, bad girl begs with need to come out and play.

  “That’s the risk I took. The high of knowing I was taking home a stranger to play my little game and hope he was the winning type. The dark type. The giving—ahhh…” I moan as both hands grip my ass hard, pulling my cheeks apart. He grinds into me, his cock hard against my stomach. The size of him sends a wave of sensations down every nerve ending, and I can’t help but press into him. The friction has him growling in my mouth and deepening our kiss.

  Too many scenarios swirl around in my mind. Make him stop. Have him fuck me against my table. He’s too young. Take him to my bedroom and play. He’s your student. You have to stop this and make him leave. Maybe just a little taste. I’ll behave. Dark. Only foreplay. Everything, everything, everything! I beg to take him back to my bedroom and have him tie me up and whip me and fuck me in ways I can’t stop fantasizing about.

  I knew by the shocked expression on his face when I pulled out my toys, it was the first time he’d been so adventurous. But now, it all made sense. He was still so young. It also reminds me of all the things I have hidden in my bedroom. The stuff I swore I was going to throw away after I got the one night out of my system. But I never had the guts to get rid of it. Do not go there, Megan. This is wrong.

  Mason rips his mouth off mine and goes for my neck. I bend to the side to allow him better access. “You’re fucking with my head,” he hums against my skin.

  “Would you rather me be fucking something else? Fucking your cock?” Oh my god, my vulgar mouth! Stop egging this on. Be the adult. Or not. I embrace the layers of goosebumps over my skin at the fantasy of him doing just that. I should be ashamed at how much I’ve fantasized about being with him. Having him inside me. I squeeze my eyes shut at how shitty my willpower is, and how I let him do insane things to me—in my classroom, of all places. I should fire myself for being so reckless. He could cost me my job and reputation if we got caught. But there was something inside me that told me the wildness of it all was all worth it.

  Snap out of this, Megan!

  Dammit, this is so wrong. I squeeze my eyes tighter, willing myself to push him away. Ask him to go. And, most importantly, tame the dark beast inside myself before she ends up ruining everything I’ve worked so hard for. I take in a deep breath to clear my mind, but Mason’s not making it easy for me. His hand finds its way to the back of my pajama pants and using his finger, he grazes my back hole. Fuck. My legs threaten to buckle, and I rock into him. “Mason…”

  “Fucking dirty girl.” He reaches forward, until his fingers are saturated with my arousal. Pushing one finger inside me, he pulls out, swirling the wetness between my butt cheeks. “How many guys have you let do this to you?”

  I struggle in his arms, but he holds me tighter in place, going back and inserting two fingers inside me. “Why, want someone else to join us? Didn’t picture you as the multi-player—”

  He bites at my neck, and I whimper, my final words falling short off my tongue. “I’ll fucking gut anyone who gets between this.” He starts pumping me harder. His spite of jealousy ignites my already pulsating arousal.

  “Just a two-player game then? Just your cock? Or should we—ahhh, shit, yes…” I moan as he uses his thumb to breach my puckered hole. He works me faster, and I lose my will to hang on. My orgasm erupts through me, and I explode around his fingers. He doesn’t let up, pumping in and out. My sensitivity kicks in, and my legs quiver around him. He pulls his soaked hand free and drops my legs to the ground while I attempt to catch my bearings.

  He’s yet to take his eyes off me, pinning me with his stare. “Who the fuck was that guy tonight?”

  “Huh?” I reply, still chasing my orgasmic high.

  “I saw you. Is he another conquest? Am I just a fucking conquest?”

  At first, he confuses me, but then my awful forced dinner date comes to mind. “Wait, you saw me?”

  A growl deep in his chest rumbles up his throat, shaking the floor beneath our feet. “Answer me,” he demands.

  I should be mad at the way he’s talking to me—asking questions that are none of his business—but his intensity does something to me. “No, he wasn’t a conquest. Far from it. It was a horrible date Aunt Lillian basically forced me on. She lied to me. It was supposed to be for a new fund-raising prospect for the Faith and Leadership program. As soon as we sat down, I found out it was far from it, and I kindly told him I wasn’t interested and left. And if you want to know, no, you’re not a conquest either. You’re something more.”

  The angel on my one shoulder just conked me over the head with her sparkly wand. My confession was a bad, bad idea. But the devil in the other corner pricks me with his sharp fork and cheers me on. He praises my handy work and promises all things Mason are a great idea.

  When Mason slams his mouth against mine, I mentally flick off my angel while high-fiving my devil, grab the lapels of his jacket, and tug him toward my bedroom. When we step over the threshold of my room, my huge bed, filled with white pillows and layers of soft blankets, comes into view. Nothing close to the sex dungeon I bet he expected. But the truth is, Mason is the first and only person I’ve ever shared my secret desires with.

  Even with the urge building inside me for years, I didn’t muster up the courage until that night. The way I felt with Mason that night was nothing I’d ever experienced before. Alive. Empowered I’d orgasmed with such fierceness more times than I’ve ever had with any man or toy. When I left that morning, I wanted to wake him for more, ride his hard cock until stars exploded behind my eyelids, then do our night all over again. I was willing to never leave that motel. But as tempted as I was, I left, told myself I more than scratched my itch and it was time to go back to my normal, vanilla life and move on. I didn’t bust my ass to lose it all. Get caught up with a guy from the wrong side of the tracks just to fulfill my overflowing sexual desires to be bad.

  What I didn’t expect was for him to turn up as a student in my classroom. The moment our eyes reunited, memories of that night hit me like a freight train taking the air from my lungs. My legs became weak and black spots twinkled in my vison. He was my dirty little secret. He was not supposed to show up in my pure, innocent world.

  But the more I see him, the hungrier my urges become. I told myself one night. I taste the lies that spew from my thoughts even as I think them. The toys I never got rid of, the clothes that still smell like him. I don’t know what I’m doing. This was insane. He’s drunk, and I should turn him away, as well as my desires.

  Student. Student. Student, I chant
to myself, in hopes I snap out of the haze I’m in, but the closer I bring Mason to my bed, the more excited I become. My breathing is labored at the excitement of his hands touching every single inappropriate part of me. I tug at his arm and twist his waist so his back is to my bed. My anticipation sparks, and I push him and watch as he falls backwards, sprawling out on my mattress.

  “It’s your turn to play nice and my turn for control. No talking, understand?”

  Mason

  My mouth is dry. My muscles sore. Strangely, I feel a cold breeze on my ass. I squint open an eye when the bright light sends a zap of electricity through my retina, sending pain straight to my skull. “Fuck.” I lift my head and inspect my surroundings. “Double fuck.” I came to Megan’s last night after the bar. I catch sight of my backside, and realize the cold breeze is due to my naked ass hanging out, her soft white sheet resting just above my thighs. Flipping to my side, I notice she’s not in bed with me. My mind spins for pieces of last night. Showing up at her door. The accusations. Her bringing me into her room. And fuck. Her wild, amazing imagination. My dick begins to poke against her mattress. I groan into her plush pillow, throw my legs off the bed, and sit up. The room spins, but I manage to get up and find her attached bathroom to take a piss. Everything in the bathroom is neatly placed. Her color choice, a calming shade of white and lavender. I wash my hands and search for my clothes, finding my briefs halfway under the bed and my jeans tossed over a chair in the corner.

  Partially dressed, I go in pursuit of Megan, which isn’t hard because I follow the yelling. I find her sitting cross-legged in front of the television, a bowl of cereal in her hands as she yells at the screen.

  “Oh, come on, Judy, that’s a bad move, girl!” She waves her spoon at the TV, then takes a bite.

  “Judge Judy, huh?”

  Her head whips in my direction, and a small blush creeps along her face. “Uh, how could you not?” She waits for my agreeance while shoving another full bite of cereal into her mouth. Long gone is the wild sex kitten from last night, and back is my innocent professor, wearing ridiculously bright pajama pants, eating a bowl of Lucky Charms, and watching a tacky reality justice tv show. “Don’t tell me you’re not a fan.” Her eyes widen at the mere thought that someone could possibly not enjoy Judge Judy.

  “No, I used to watch her a bit back in the day at…” I catch myself. “She’s okay,” I finish. Her curious eyes wait for me to elaborate, but I don’t. She lets it go by shoving another full bite into her mouth.

  “She gives some of the best advice,” she mumbles through her chewing. I stand there with my hands shoved in my jean pockets, admiring how cute she looks, a drop of milk falling from her spoon and dripping down her chin. It doesn’t go unnoticed that her eyes fail to stay on mine and drop every few seconds to my bare chest.

  “Sorry. I couldn’t find my shirt.”

  She chokes, knowing she’s been busted, and wipes at her chin. “Oh, yeah…uh, it was dirty, so I threw it in the washer. It’s almost done.” She continues to stare, and I’m uncertain where to go from here. I’m not sure if this is where I walk out, shirt or not, and pretend this never happened. I can’t imagine what she thinks of me now after the shit I pulled showing up at her door.

  Shockingly, she pats the open spot on the floor next to her. “I made you a bowl. Wasn’t sure what kind of cereal eater you were, so I kinda put three different kinds in there.” I check out the large mixing bowl beside her, noticing Lucky Charms, Captain Crunch, and I believe Cocoa Pebbles. “And I also didn’t know how hungry you were going to be. So, I just put it in this.” With a guilty smile, she says, “This is my third bowl.”

  Fuck, she’s cute.

  “Uh oh, what? Do you not like cereal?” She gawks, more devastated that I could possibly not like cereal than Judge Judy. I want to keep her in suspense longer just to stare at that cute little pout, but my stomach rumbles, and I actually do love fucking cereal.

  “Love cereal,” I say, and her relieved smile fucks with me as I sit my big ass down next to her. She hands me the milk sitting on the other side, and I waste no time digging into the best breakfast I’ve had in years.

  “So, I gotta ask—”

  “You’re the first,” she blurts out before I have a chance to say anything more. She doesn’t turn to me, but continues eating her cereal, pretending she’s immersed in the show.

  “You’re gonna need to explain that one further,” I say, pushing her.

  “The night at the bar. I’d never done that before. You were my first…and, well, I guess my only victim.” She takes another bite. “And last night…I guess I kinda victimized you last night too.” She keeps her eyes glued ahead of her. She can’t hide the flush of her cheeks, and I’m not sure if she can see from the corner of her eye the smile spreading across mine.

  “You think you took advantage of me last night?” I laugh.

  Her head whips to me. “Oh my god, do you think that? Oh shit. You were drunk. I shouldn’t have. Fuck, I should have sent you home. Shit!” She begins to panic, milk sloshing out of her bowl onto her cute little girly pants. I grab her bowl so she stops spilling it all over herself and place it on the ground.

  “You didn’t take advantage of me. I was messing with you. Anything that happened, I sure as fuck wanted it to. And I loved every goddamn second of it.”

  I love watching her eyes come to life. I’m learning she’s a very passionate person in her work and play. And last night was no different. She has wants. Cravings I’m desperate to feed. I pour myself more milk and guide my eyes to the screen. “So, what’s the case today?”

  Sensing her relax instantly at my topic change, she jumps right in “This girl! So, she cheats on her boyfriend, right? Then tries to kick him out so her new man can move in—but! She and her old man share the lease. She’s dragged his ass to Judge Judy ’cause she thinks since he’s on the lease, he should still pay half the rent!”

  Like I said, she has passion. I smirk while shoving a huge spoonful of mixed cereal into my mouth and fight the wussy moan at how good it tastes. It’s been a lifetime since I got a taste of hyped up sugar cereal. Before I realize it, I finish off the entire bowl, catching her curious eyes as I drain the leftover milk into my mouth.

  “Wow.”

  “Wow what?” I ask.

  “I think I met the one person who may love cereal more than I do.” She grins, and I take note of her bowl, which is also empty. We stare back at one another, sharing a silent moment of recognition, then both burst out laughing. I could stare at her for hours. She’s beautiful in a way I don’t know how to describe. Her eyes shine with curiosity, adventure. Her graciousness makes me want to be someone better, just so she looks at me like I’m someone to be proud of.

  I watch her stick her tongue out to wet her lips. Her throat bobs, swallowing, and I know—I know she’s feeling the same whirlwind building inside me. Yelling on the TV breaks the moment, and we both face the screen to see the verdict being called. Judge Judy slams her gavel onto the sound block and the show breaks into commercial. I know this is where I get up and leave, but the thought of walking out that door seems impossible.

  “So…” she starts, and I know it’s time. I shouldn’t have shown up here to begin with. It’s time to go.

  “Time to get—”

  “If you don’t have plans today, there’s this Haitian voodoo tour…” she starts, cutting me off. “The voodoo queen of New Orleans is said to be buried there, and…I don’t know, probably not your thing, but it’s—”

  “I’ll go,” I say.

  “You will?” She ogles, shocked. “But you didn’t even hear what it was.”

  “I’ll go,” I repeat.

  “Are you sure? It’s probably really—”

  “I said yes.” I couldn’t give a fuck if it’s to visit and test out torture equipment. I’d do anything in this moment to spend more time with her. Surround myself in her scent of cherries and sweet vanilla. My hands ache to hold her,
and my cock even more so to violate her, but most importantly, I want to just be next to her. Hear her voice as she tells me stories about her life. A life I was less than fortunate to have. I want to hang on to every word she speaks as I imagine I’m in her world, living her life, peaceful and beautiful.

  “Okay then.” She nods with her glowing smile that threatens to ruin me every time, then gets up, grabbing both our bowls. “It’s a date.” Her cheeks instantly flare a deep shade of crimson. “I mean…not a date. Just…we can’t…”

  I get up also and grab the bowls she is threatening to drop during her outburst. “No date. Just two people who enjoy syncretic religion playing around a cemetery full of dead people.”

  Her eyebrows raise in surprise. “You read the book,” she says, pleased.

  “Of course. When your favorite teacher recommends a book, you read it.” Silence falls between us. I should have kept the teacher comment to myself. Fuck, now I just ruined whatever plan she had for us.

  “Just two people…” she repeats.

  “It’s a free country, Miss Benedict. There’s no harm in two people being in the same place at the same time.” My words win her over, easing any worry of what people may think if they see us together.

  “Okay then. You’re right. Just two friends. Taking a tour.” She smirks.

  We’re silent, grinning at one another, until she finally breaks the moment.

  “So…” she starts.

  “Yeah, we should probably…”

  “Get ready. We should get ready.” She fidgets with her hands and I chuckle at how damn cute she is in those ridiculous pajama pants. I can’t help but mess with her, just to see more of that glimmer in her eyes.

  “Probably should change you out of those super sexy pajama pants. Don’t want anyone trying to steal you on my watch.” I grin and watch her mouth drop as her eyes fall to her pants. When they return to mine, her amused smirk has me grinning wider.

  “Yeah? Well you should probably put a shirt on while we’re at it. Can’t have you wakin’ the dead with those guns. Wait… technically you’d be killing someone with guns… I mean your pecs… Not that—”