Page 39 of Filthy Elites

She pulls away from me. “Why? So you can tell him where to find me?”

I capture her face between my hands. “No, so I can make sure he never hurts you again.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “Oh, so you’re the only one who can hurt me now. Is that it?”

“Yes.” I claim her lips before she can nudge another question in.

I’m not sure what I’m doing. The rules of my own game have changed, and I don’t know how to play it anymore. All I know is that I want Isabelle with as much fervor as I loathe her. There’s a fine line between hate and lust, and we’re past toying with it. It’s now blurred beyond recognition.

She kisses me back as if she wants to drown in me. Her hands find my shoulders, and her fingers dig in. I push her back until she’s lying on the floor and I’m between her legs. Her wet pussy rubs against my erection through my pants, driving me insane with need. I release her lips to place hungry kisses on her chin and down her neck. My hands are everywhere; I’m torn about what I want to explore first. I’m acting like a virgin who doesn’t know what he’s doing.

I lean back to take my shirt off. Then I reach for Isabelle’s pajama top and rip the fabric down the middle. Like a starved man, I pounce, sucking one of her nipples into my mouth hard while my hand reaches between her legs. She moans softly, and I guess she’s beyond words. So am I.

Her fingers are in my hair now, pulling at the strands. Mine are soaking wet, diving into her folds. If I keep at it, I’m going to explode in my briefs. I can’t let that happen. In a frenzy, I unzip my pants and free myself. It wasn’t the plan to fuck her so soon, but this will end in catastrophe one way or another, I might as well enjoy her while she’ll have me.

I lift her leg, resting it over my shoulder, and then I plunge into her hard. She cries out, throwing her head back with her eyes closed.

"Look at me when I fuck you, Isabelle.”

She does, and her eyes are like a purple storm. “You’re one sick bastard.”

I grab her by the neck and squeeze just enough to show her who’s the boss. “I know, and you love it.”

“I don’t.”

I pull back almost completely only to slam back again rougher than before. “The more you lie, the harder I get, darling.”

She becomes tighter around me, making it impossible to maintain control. I don’t want it to end, because she feels so fucking good. I move faster though, chasing the inevitable. Her hips buck as she climaxes first. She doesn’t scream or curse my name. Instead, she bites her lower lip and closes her eyes. Her cheeks become pink, and that’s my undoing. I come hard, and unlike her, I don’t keep it quiet. I groan savagely as I empty myself inside her heat.

A second before I’m completely spent, I lower my mouth to hers and kiss her tenderly for the first time. I’m surprised she not only lets me, but she cups my face. I don’t want to enjoy her caress, but I don’t stop her from doing it either.

ChapterEighteen

Nicola/Isabelle

I wake up and nothing makes sense. My brain is fuzzy as hell and shows no signs that it’ll get out of this daze. I’m in bed alone. Did I hallucinate that Jason was in my room yesterday and that we had sex?

I’m wearing underwear and a long shirt, so maybe it was just a dream. I roll over to look at the spot on the floor where Jason possibly fucked me. My ripped pajama top is there, torn in two pieces.Shit. It did happen. I touch myself and find the area tender.

“I can’t believe this.”

I throw my legs over the side of the bed and sit up. I’m so confused, I don’t know what to do or think anymore. Resting my elbows on my thighs, I hide my face in my hands. Sleeping with the enemy is the most fucked up thing I’ve ever done. I wasn’t so feverish that I didn’t know what was happening. I wanted him, and hell, I still do.

Jason’s mood swings make him unpredictable. One moment he treats me like he hates me, in the next, he seems to care about my well-being. Because of a glimpse of his kindness, I told him about Juan. I was tired of keeping that secret, but now I fear I only gave Jason more power over me.

I trudge to the bathroom and barely glance at my reflection in the mirror before I jump into the shower. I don’t feel as awful as I did yesterday. My body could use more rest, but not knowing what Jason is up to will raise my anxiety through the roof.

I’m too tired to bother with my contact lenses today. Let everyone believe my natural eye color is fake. My hair is already almost back to its natural light brown color, so going without the brown lenses is a risk. It seems now that Jason knows my secret, I’m less paranoid about others finding out. What are the chances that another student here knows who I am? He recognized me only because of who his mother is.

I leave for breakfast, but I don’t make it outside the building before my cell phone rings. I check the call, and it’s the same unsaved number as before. Only now I know it’s Jason’s.

“What do you want? It’s too early for your games.”

“I’m dying,” he replies in a raspy voice. “All thanks to you.”

“Wait. Are you sick too?”

“No, I like impersonating Don Corleone.”

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