Page 183 of Filthy Elites

“Yeah.” She takes a deep breath and reaches for the hem of her shirt. “How many twelve-year-olds have tits like this?”

She lifts her shirt and the guy’s jaw drops, eyes unblinking.Istare at her chest, at the brown of her nipples and the faint, remaining tan lines from a summer on the lake. My fingers twitch, wanting to feel their weight in my hands, but she drops the shirt and pushes the bottle toward the clerk along with a twenty-dollar bill.

The clerk doesn’t speak, but he does take the cash and slides the bottle into a paper bag.

“Have a good night,” Reagan says with a cheeky grin. The overhead bell rings as she heads out of the store.

The clerk looks at me, the glaze slowly lifting from his eyes. “Did you see the tits on that one?”

“Yeah. And you know what?” I ask. “They taste as good as they look.”

Exiting the store, I walk up to the Jeep where Reagan stands outside the passenger side, bouncing on her toes, grinning wide. Without warning, she rushes me and gives me a hug.

“Oh my god, that was crazy,” she says, pressing those glorious tits against my chest.

I rest a hand on her lower back. “Unexpected for sure.”

“You never said I couldn’t show my tits.” She pulls back and smiles. “You said I should man up, but I’m not a man. I saw that display of the woman in the store, and I just knew my tits are as good as hers. I figured at the very least I’d stun him and steal the bottle.”

“I know for a fact your tits are better than that model’s, just saying.”

“Yeah?” She looks up at me with those bright eyes, soft and genuinely touched by the compliment.

I nod, unable to figure out what to say next. My heart thuds in my chest, energized by the scene in the store, the closeness of this sexy, wild girl. I want to push up her shirt and suck on those nipples right here in the parking lot. I want her tongue in my mouth. My cock swells at the thought of her—all of her. I’m not supposed to want Reagan like this. Not for real.

The rush of blood pounds in my ears, and I think that maybe I’ll tell her. I’ll just tell her that I want her, but then I realized the pounding wasn’t just my pulse. It’s the thud of bass from a truck barreling down the road. A truck I recognize as one of my frat brothers. I step away from Reagan and nod at the Jeep. “We’ve got an hour and four more to go.”

“I’m ready,” she says, the adrenaline still running through her. I sense it when she sits next to me in the Jeep and as we drive down the road toward the next stop. But what I really notice about the girl next to me is that she’s full of surprises and for the first time in a long while, I’m eager to find out what comes next.

* * *

We’re notthe first to arrive at the rendezvous point, but the important part is that we’re not the last.

“You know those clerks are going to talk about this for years,” I tell her, pulling into the sandy lot. Reagan repeated her tactic at four other liquor stores and came away successful at each one, the last a woman who winked and gave it to her for free. “This night is going to go down as the one where ‘the girl flashed her tits for a fifth of whiskey.’”

“Hey, I’ve been famous for worse things.”

Ah, the blacklist.

Her smile drops, replaced with the same sadness and regret that has marred her expression for days. I feel the slightest regret over what we did to Reagan. She’s not as much of a prissy bitch as Andrea and Royer claimed. Or maybe this whole experience has just toughened her up.

“At least this one is a little more anonymous.” She runs her hand over her head, fingers lingering just above her ears. I snatch it from the air, twisting our fingers together. “I thought that one guy was going to try to reach across the counter to make sure they’re real.”

My blood heats at the thought of it. Fucking pervert. Most of the guys were shocked and amused. That old asshole thought he’d take advantage. If he’d tried…

“I would’ve cut his fingers off. One by one.”

She stares at me for a moment, then down at our twined fingers, like she’s trying to ascertain if I’m serious. Trust me. I am. The thought of some jackoff touching Reagan… well. Just no.

She pulls her hand away and quickly looks out the window. “So what’s next?”

It’s hard to see from here, but there’s a dune just ahead that slopes down toward the beach. The property is owned by an alumnus, and we have permission to party here all we want.

“You get to celebrate your success with a beach blowout, booze and all the pussy—” I wrinkle my nose and she does the same. “Guess you’re out of luck on the pussy part.”

“Guess so.”

I pull out one of the bottles of whisky and unscrew the cap. I hold it out to her and to my surprise, she takes it, swallowing a gulp. “Oh god,” she says, wheezing from the burn.

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