Page 510 of Filthy Elites

After a second, she starts to move again, dashing to the refrigerator and opening the door to peek inside. We all have a meal plan to eat three meals a day in the cafeteria, but Hunter and Clay love to cook, so we keep a fully stocked pantry of fresh ingredients. I also make sure there’s a constant supply of the snacks my little bird likes to eat.

No matter how many times the guys offer, she always refuses to eat with us, but she’s not above taking snacks to eat in her room. Reaching in, she pulls out an apple and the jar of peanut butter. It goes rock hard and almost impossible to spread if you keep it in the refrigerator, but she likes it like that so that’s where we leave it.

Getting up, I cross to the drinks cooler and pull out a bottle of beer. “Beer?” I ask her, deliberately not making eye contact.

She jolts like I’ve hit her, but I try not to react, taking out a second bottle and offering it to her as I walk back to the table, fighting the urge to brush up against her. She takes the bottle from me then stares down at it, like she’s not sure how it got into her hand.

“How are you finding your classes so far?” I ask, twisting the top off the beer and bringing it to my lips. The liquid is cold and I take a long pull before lowering it down to the table.

“I never took you for a beer drinker.”

I stifle a smile, forcing my eyes to stay downcast and pathetic. “No? What kind of drinker did you take me for?”

Her eyes widen, like she’s shocked herself by speaking to me. The truth is, no matter how much she thinks she hates me and my obsession with her, it’s become omnipresent in her life. I was the big bad wolf, hiding in the shadows, a constant in her world and without me, she’s adrift, lost.

I want to say her name, to force her to speak, to answer me, but I can’t, so instead I wait, pretending that it doesn’t kill me to not be able to control her.

“Whiskey, or maybe a mixed drink,” she says after so long I’d almost given up on her answering.

“I do enjoy a good single malt,” I say, smirking at the table where my elbows are resting.

Out of the corner of my eye I watch her look at the bottle warily, then carefully twist the top off and take a tentative sip, grimacing as she swallows.

“Oh my god that’s disgusting,” she chokes.

A chuckle slips from my lips, but I still keep my eyes from hers, standing and crossing to the cooler. Pulling down one of the strawberry wine coolers I bought for her, I offer it out to her. “Here, try this.” She doesn’t move so I take the beer from her hands, and swap it for the cooler, then slide back into my seat.

To her, I hopefully look calm and distant, which is exactly what I want her to see. Inside I’m roiling with the urge to tackle her to the ground, pin her with my body and sink my cock into her so deep she can taste my cum in the back of her throat. I want to breed her, own her, brand her. I want to dominate every aspect of her life until she can’t even breathe without looking at me for permission. A part of me knows that my thoughts have gone from primal to fucking psychopathic, but I just don’t seem to be able to do anything about it.

Not speaking, I ignore my own beer and instead lift hers to my lips and drink. I swear I can taste her sweet breath on the rim and I close my eyes and exhale happily, content for a second just from sharing something she’s had on her lips.

The twist of the metal top crunching fills the silence, then the hiss of carbonation as she lifts the bottle to her lips and drinks. “Mmm,” she hums.

“Better?”

“Much. Strawberry is my favorite.”

“I know.”

“Oh,” she says quietly. “Did you? Did you buy these for me?” It sounds like it pains her to ask, like it hurts her that I would know she’d like something and buy it for her, but I’ve always been generous with her, even when she didn’t want me to be.

“Yes,” I nod.

“Oh.”

She shuffles from foot to foot, like she wants to run from me, but also wants to stay. This is what I need. Even an inch of hesitation is enough for me to start to wheedle my way back into her life again. “I didn’t force you, did I?” I pose it like a question, but I know I didn’t. She might hate me, but that’s never stopped her body from responding to me, craving me.

The bottle slips from her hands, but somehow I reach out in time to stop it from crashing to the floor. Suddenly, I’m next to her, only a handful of inches between us.

“Tell me the truth,” I whisper, leaning imperceptibly into her body and waiting for her to react.

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t force me,” she whispers back, her pupils dilating at my nearness, her breathing becoming audible. I need to be careful not to push her, if I take too much now, she’ll only put up stronger walls next time. I’ve lost control for the moment, but I’ll get it back. I can’t take it from her like I did when she was barely sixteen, this time I’m going to have to seduce it from her. Letting her feel like she holds the power while I ensnare her in my web again. I’m still her cage, only this time she’ll be the one locking herself in, not me.

“Hunter’s making pasta tonight, you should join us,” I say, taking a step back and loving how her body drifts toward me even as I pull away. She’s never had to deal with me being the one to back away before, and I enjoy how discombobulated it’s making her.

“Oh, I”

“It’s only dinner, housemates eating together, nothing more. I know you don’t want to be their friends, but perhaps this could be a first step toward tolerant cordiality.”

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