Page 203 of Filthy Elites

Her forehead drops to the tabletop, and she turns her face to the side so she can see me. “You’re too big.”

“Rat and Royer are going to expect you to barely be able to walk when you get out of here.” I catch her eye. “It’s me or the paddle. I know it’s scary the first time, but I can promise you one thing. I’ll make it good for you.”

Her teeth bare down on her bottom lip, but she nods her approval—herwant. I push down my joggers and pull out my cock, pushing it between her legs to get her juices over the head and shaft.

I wiggle my fingers one last time, spreading her out, then press the tip of my cock right up to the hole. Fighting the urge to just fuck right in, pounding my way into her ass, I take it easy, as she clutches the edges of the desk.

“That’s it,” I tell her. She has two dimples dotting the flesh. I press my thumbs into them. “Don’t fight me.”

Once I’m all the way in, I pull out slowly, letting her get used to it. I’m not here to tear her up—not like Rat would have. I’m here to do my job, show some brotherly love and get my nut off in the process. But I don’t have to be nice like this. I could use and abuse her any way I want.

“How’s that feel?” I move quicker now, building a controlled rhythm.

“Wrong,” she admits, crying out when I push in harder. “It hurts, but… it also feels good.”

“It’s okay to like dirty, painful things.”

There’s a part of me that wishes Miller was in here now. She’s not the first girl we’ve shared, but this feels different. It doesn’t just feel good; itfeels right. This secret girl hiding in our midst. The knowledge is deep in my bones, in the tight cinch of my balls, the hollow of my chest. I bite down on my bottom lip and hold in a groan, wanting it to last, but the tight muscles surrounding my dick are too much to bear and Reagan’s back arches, spurring me on.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god…” she chants, slamming her ass back against my lower abdomen. I wrap my arm around her waist, dragging my fingers back over her clit, pounding into her with deep strokes.

“Come for me,” I tell her. “Come on, I know you’re ready.”

“I don’t—”

“You do,” I tell her. “Stop fighting so hard and fucking come.”

The command unleashes something from within. Her pussy quakes against my fingers. Her body slouches and she’s sweaty and loose. I angle her back over the desk, holding her up. The aftershocks of her orgasm ricochet through her body and I pick up the pace, punching into her until my balls feel like they’re being squeezed by a vise, and I come hard and relentless, filling her up.

Even as I empty myself, my belly continues to twist at the scene in front of me. It’s a mix of emotion; desire at seeing her so sexy and spent, satisfaction at knowing I made her feel this way, but there’s the nagging concern that Miller and I are playing with fire.

“You okay?” I ask her, pulling out and tucking myself in my pants.

“Yeah that was…” her eyes are glazed, and she’s at a loss for words.

“For us? Epic.” I help her to stand, keeping a steady hand on her waist. “For everyone else, humiliating, horrifying, degrading.”

Her knees are wobbly, and I help her back into her pants. “No one will know this happened except Miller,” I assure her, straightening her shirt. “The good news is that you don’t have to lie about what happened in here. I gave you a pounding. You survived. Now you’re one step closer to being a Zeta Sig.”

A small, strange smile tugs at her lips and I can tell she’s proud of herself. She should be, but all I can think of as I unlock the parlor door is how fucking ruined we’ll be if Royer finds out the truth.

TWENTY-FIVE

Reagan

As I exit the room, I catch sight of myself in the mirror hanging on the parlor wall. It’s not my red cheeks or glassy, well-fucked eyes that catch my attention. It’s the round circle of the pledge button. The camera. How much of that did Grayson see?

On one hand, I’d be enough to bring down the whole house, but it’ll also ruin me more than I already am. It would ruin what he and I have tentatively started.

Did that matter now? God, I’m so confused. My complicated life just got a million times worse. Three complicated men. None of whom I really trust. I sniff, wiping my nose with the edge of my shirt, wincing with every step. I’m spiraling, I can feel it; the pain and humiliation—now and coming—too much to bear.

None of that matters, though. Just outside the hall, I see the three of them waiting. Royer and Rat look skeptical. Miller, like he may want to snap Knox’s neck.

Knox stretches out the paddle by the flat end and points the handle at Rat. “You may want to wear gloves before you touch that.”

Rat wrinkles his nose and turns his gaze to me. “How’d he take it?” he asks.

“Like a Zeta Sig,” Knox answers. “Like a brother.”

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