Page 187 of Filthy Elites

“Does she need medical help?”

“I don’t think so. I dumped out the second cup and no one touched her.” She doesn’t look as harsh like this, face slack and sleeping. Young and confused, like every other freshman. “Thanks for coming. I didn’t know if you’d get the message, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Yeah, well, I’d been watching the whole thing and then the recording went blank. I was trying to figure out if it was a technical problem or something else. Then it came back on.”

I feel a strange conflict about him watching me the whole time. Safer but… also intrusive? I force myself to remember that I’d agreed to this. Willingly.

“I was trying to protect her privacy,” I tell him, glancing over my shoulder at a door slamming on the other side of the parking lot. “We need to get her back to the dorm before someone sees us.”

“I’ve got her.” He jerks his chin toward the beach. “You can head back.”

“Yeah, no.” I wrench open the door. “I’m not leaving her alone—with any of you.”

I slam the door, and he walks around the car, getting in the driver’s seat. With both hands on the wheel turns to me and asks, “You think I’d hurt her?”

I look to the backseat where Janelle has turned on her side and is curled into a ball. “You’ve told me yourself over and over. You’re a Zeta Sig too.” I snap the seat belt in place. “I don’t trust any of you.”

EIGHTEEN

Miller

After a week of being exclusively around dicks, it’s nice to be surrounded by soft, sweet smelling female skin. Oh, and their tits. God. How I’ve missed them. Big, little, round, perky, heavy. I don’t give a fuck. I want to bury my face and cock in the soft flesh.

It’s the downside of initiation week—the sheer intensity of the gauntlet. There’s no time for play, well, other than the hazing kind, which is what has made having Reagan secretly among the goats so enticing. I have had the chance to have a little fun. Watching her squirm with both discomfortandpleasure is worth the risk. And tonight? Her killing it with the challenge? I didn’t know she had it in her and fuck; it was hot.

“So, what’s your major?” one of the girls asks—they’re all freshman and essentially look the same. One of the brothers is specifically in charge of invites—female, freshman, and from chosen, top-tier sororities. This one has stars pattern on her bikini, two strategically placed over her nipples.

“Finance,” I reply, resting my hand on her lower back. “What about you?”

“Undecided,” she admits, “but I’m leaning toward education. I just love kids, you know?”

I don’t, but whatever. I grab three orange cups from a passing tray and hand them to each girl. I hold up my own red cup in a toast. “To freshman year.”

They giggle and clink their cups, guzzling down the alcohol. If I know Rat, and God help me, I do, he’s made these strongandwith an added kick. They’ll be loose and compliant soon and I can take all three of them to a quiet corner—or even a public one—and get them to do whatever I want. All I have to do is pretend to listen to their incessant chatter for just a little longer.

“Eight AM classes suck,” another girl says. Her bikini is made of a check fabric, like a picnic blanket. I let my eyes linger over the supple flesh between her tits and consider that I’d like to spread her out and eat off her soft skin. “Going to class hung over… I’m probably going to drop it.”

They continue talking about classes and professors and how challenging it is to figure out the bus system. I skim the crowd, eyes landing on Reagan standing by the bar. She’s blending in better, having adapted her posture and mannerisms. My eyes narrow as she talks to Royer and a weird feeling builds in my chest. Not quite apprehension, but something darker. Territorial.

“Your hair is so soft. Touch it,” Picnic commands the others. Slim fingers with sharp pointed nails comb through my hair, while another hand pushes under my shirt and strokes the hair on my lower belly.

Star tits grins up at me, eyes glassy. “She’s right. All of it is soft.”

I look back over at the bar and see Rat push an orange cup over to Reagan, which seems weird until she walks toward a girl standing alone. Fuck. That’s the girl Rat zeroed in on and brought as his chit. Shit’s about to get dirty.

“Listen,” I say to the girls, pulling their hands off of me, “you three stay together. I need to go do something real quick.”

“Promise?” the one with dark, warm skin and a gold top asks. “You promise you’ll come back.”

“You bet.”

Chits are girls brought to the party just to fuck with—or just to fuck. They’re outliers. Challenges. Not the standard sorority pussy that wants to be here. He had to cajole and flirt with her. Convince her he’s not just a dumb frat-boy. She’ll be humiliated, violated, and ruined by the end of the night.

The problem is that he sent Reagan in to do the dirty work and that’ll get her exposed.

I dart through the partiers, making it around the bonfire just in time to see her shaved head disappear into the dark by the dunes.

“Dude.” Knox steps in front of me, his tall frame blocking my view. “Your goat killed it. The only one to come in with all five bottles. Premium shit, too.”

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