Page 465 of Filthy Elites

When lunch is over, I reluctantly let her go to class. Clay put an app on my cell so I can access the security cameras and watch her whenever I want, but I resist. She’s already my obsession, if I allow myself to watch her more than I already do I’ll fail every single one of my classes.

The afternoon drags, the weight of my cell in my pocket taunting me. My last period is in the classroom opposite hers and the moment the bell sounds, I leave, settling my back against the wall to wait for her.

The other kids pour out of the room, but she’s slower to leave. She’s not looking where she’s going, her backpack in her hands, her gaze fixed on it as she slides something inside, then concentrates on fastening it up. All eyes are on her, but she’s completely unaware. I don’t know if that’s because she doesn’t know that they can’t keep their eyes off her or if she just doesn’t care.

No one has dared to ask why her, but I can see the unspoken question on all of their lips. In terms of GAA hierarchy, she’s at the bottom. Her family’s not rich or powerful, she’s not slutty or infamous. To the other students she’s a nobody, or at least she was until I made her mine. Now she’s a curiosity, someone to study, to emulate, because she’s done what no one else has in the three years we’ve held our positions as The Elite, she’s caught our attention.

Don’t get me wrong, we’ve hardly been celibate since we took over from the seniors, in fact we’ve fucked more than our fair share of girls. There’s even some kind of club for girls who have fucked all four of us, but none of us have ever had more than a passing fancy.

The Lockwoods, Jansens, Morrises and Rossbergs all have legacies to protect, we all know what’s expected of us and that means we don’t have the luxury of dating indiscriminately. The women we ultimately marry will either have to bring an alliance, or have a pedigree that makes them an asset.

Starling has neither of those things, but my parents are romantics and when I realized my obsession with her wasn’t going away, I told them about her. If I was in my senior year at college they probably would have told me she wasn’t an option, but claiming her now when she’s only sixteen gives me and them time to shape her and our future together into something they deem worthy.

“Little bird, if you don’t pay better attention to what’s going on around you, you’ll end up falling over someone or something and getting hurt,” I say, curling my palm possessively around her neck, stroking my thumb over the purpling bruised bite mark I put on her.

“Oh god,” she gasps, startled. “Jesus, you again. You need a bell or something, you scared me.”

“Sorry, baby,” I coo, laughing as I turn her into my arms, lean down and kiss her.

“You need to stop kissing me,” she whispers breathlessly when I release her.

Draping my arm across her shoulders, I urge her to start walking again. “Until I can get my dick inside of you, kissing you and touching you is all we’ve got. I plan to use your lips as much as I can. Unless you’d prefer I lift up your skirt and play with your pussy again, like I did this morning?”

Her cheeks heat to a light-pink color and I smile to myself. She likes me kissing her, she likes it when I tell her all the dirty things I plan to do to her. She can deny wanting me as much as she likes, but I saw and felt how wet she was this morning. I kept her panties as a fucking souvenir. She’s the most tempting kind of jailbait, and I’ll take her and own her, but not yet, not until she’s begging for it. I can wait, because the moment she’s ready I’ll make her mine in every way possible; until then my balls will be bluer than a fucking Smurf’s and my dick will be chaffed from all the whacking off I’ll be doing.

“What’s up anyway?” she asks.

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you here? I’m riding home with Court. You said.”

“I know, although you could both ride with me.”

“I want to ride with my friend.” Her tone becomes defiant and I grip her a little tighter.

“I said you could ride with your friend; I didn’t say you could be a bitch to me. You’re my fucking girlfriend, if I want to meet you after class, I will. And you’ll smile and kiss me and be fucking pleased to see me.”

“God, Sebastian, hasn’t this game gone on for long enough already? I’m not sure what you win or whatever, but you’ve belittled me, embarrassed me, ruined at least the next couple of months at school until people forget about this, and got me fired from a job I liked. Isn’t that enough? Whatever I did to piss you guys off, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, just please, please leave me alone.”

She’s pleading, begging, and all I feel is anger. I want to brand my name on her ass, put a ring on her finger and have her ride my dick twenty-four seven until she understands this isn’t make believe, it isn’t a game or a punishment or any kind of childish folly. “You think being my girlfriend is a punishment?”

“I think this is all just a cruel game, The Elite dishing out an outlandish punishment, like you do to the other kids who do something to piss you off.”

She’s not wrong about us being creative in the ways we punish those who step out against us, or break the rules we have set in place to keep order at GAA. I suppose it’s not entirely out of the realm of possibility that we could pretend to claim a girl, get her caught up in our web and dump her. It’s not something we’ve done before, but then penance is rarely doled out in the same manner twice.

“Our punishments aren’t cruel; we mete out justice in equal measure to suit the crime. Have you done something that would warrant being punished by The Elite?” I ask.

“No,” she cries. “I haven’t done anything. The school year only started yesterday and I didn’t see anyone but Court all summer.”

“If you haven’t done anything to break the rules, why would you think I’m punishing you?” I ask, genuinely curious why she’s so determined not to believe this is real.

“Seriously,” she deadpans. “I’m me and you’re you. Even if we disregard the differences in our socioeconomic status, before yesterday we’d never spoken to one another, I’d never even glanced in your direction for longer than a second. You’re an Elite and a senior, and I’m an antisocial outcast sophomore. This,” she motions between the two of us, “Doesn’t make any sense, ergo, this must be a trick, or a punishment, or hell, maybe it’s a bet. Whatever. I just think that enough is enough; you’ve had your fun, I’m thoroughly humiliated and humbled.”

“I’m not punishing you, little bird.”

We’re outside now and her friend is waiting with Evan, but I ignore them, taking Starling’s chin between my fingers and lifting it up, forcing her to look at me. “This isn’t a trick, a game, a bet or a punishment. I’ve wanted you since I saw you last year, but you were a freshman and completely off-limits, even to me. I’ve waited a full year to touch you, kiss you and tell the whole fucking world you’re mine. I won’t ever be cruel to you, unless you force my hand. You’re mine and when we graduate, we’ll name you Elite so you’ll be protected, I look after the things that belong to me.”

Her pupils are blown wide and her full pouty lips are damp, the bottom red from the way she’s nibbling at it as she stares at me. “I just want to be invisible; I don’t want to be seen or protected, I’m happy just being ignored.”

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