Page 563 of Filthy Elites

“You had company?” She doesn’t deign to answer me, heading right into her en suite bathroom.

I act like I’m not bothered, but I am. I want to know what she’s done here, and with whom. I can feel a flare of possessiveness and jealousy creep in. Who is allowed in her bedroom? The bedding isn’t unmade, so presumably they weren’t in here to fuck. Though I guess we’ve just proven beds aren’t necessary for that. Still, it looks more like she had a sleepover with girlfriends than an orgy.

I want to know, but while I can fuck her to my heart’s content, I can’t make her tell me.

I follow her into the bathroom.

Erica’s already peeled off what’s left of her clothing, and she stands under the jets of the water. I watch her as I remove my clothing. She pretends I’m not here. This is just another game—moves and countermoves.

The stakes might have changed a little for me, however. Earlier, I wanted to remind her where her place was—under me, over me, any which way that leaves me in charge. Now, I want…more. Something more.

What, exactly, I can’t tell. Another taste, another touch, a glimpse into the mind she keeps hidden underneath all the posturing.

I join her in the shower, coming up behind her, and press my lips to her small, delicate shoulder. She flinches. Finally, a reaction. This kiss disarms her more than anything I’ve done. I do it again, closer to her ear, then at the nape of her neck.

“Don’t,” she breathes.

“It’s funny. You still think you’re in control.”

“Chase, don’t pretend. This is nothing more than sex. I don’t want kisses, flowers, or chocolate. You don’t like me, you don’t respect me, and I feel the same way about you. Fuck me or get out of here.”

My cock’s trembling, hard and heavy against my leg. I could take what she’s offering and call it a day. “When will you understand? I don’t take orders from you.” I keep kissing her under the water, sparing no part of her back, arms, and neck. When she turns, she’s frowning, so I kiss the spot between her eyes, too.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I don’t have an answer for her, so instead, I drop to my knees and kiss her foot, moving along her ankle, and then up her shin, knee, and the length of her thigh. When I reach the apex of her legs, I close my mouth over her pussy, looking straight at her as I feast.

She tries to stifle her moans, and I make it a point of pride to make her scream despite her best attempts. My tongue plays along her lips and flicks at her clit before I wrap my lips around it and suck. Then she finally makes a sound: a hiss I relish.

I tease her, drawing out every wail. Her thighs are quivering, so I hook my hands behind her knees to support her. Her hand reaches out to my head—to move me away, I think. I open my mouth to her fingertip and suck it, before moving my mouth back where it belongs.

I love this. I’ve never even wanted to lick out anyone, but I genuinely adore every single moment of this. She’s losing it, and I’m the one who made her feel like this.

When her entire body trembles and she coats my mouth with her cum, I feel invincible. I did this. I made her come by worshipping her like a goddess.

I get to my feet and gently turn her. She’s practically boneless, letting me move her like she’s nothing more than the doll I accuse her of being.

I bend her over, wait until she’s holding on to the wall, and I slam home again.

I can’t get enough. I don’t think I ever will.

ChapterNineteen

I don’t knowwhy I hate Chase more: because he made me feel so fucking much or because there’s a chance he won’t do it again. I don’t think I can live another day knowing it’s possible to feel this kind of pleasure but never experiencing it again. He called me desperate. I hate that he’s right. When I wake up on Sunday, I want him. I hate him, yet I want him more than I want anything else in the entire world. I couldkillhim for making me feel this way. Suddenly, I understand crimes of passion. They don’t seem quite so stupid when I’d do just about anything to be rid of Chase. To completely erase his existence from my mind and my body. He’s left his mark, indelibly stamping his name all over my flesh.

I thought Damian was good at sex. He made me come, and from what my friends have been saying, that in itself is an achievement. It was nothing compared to how I felt last night. Alive. Burning. Maybe dying a little.

Still in bed, not ready to face the day, I try to get myself off, and fail miserably. My fingers aren’t even taking the edge off. I might as well be rubbing my elbow, for all the good the friction does to me. What’s happening to me? I used to be able to make myself come.

Sighing, I give up and reluctantly drag myself out of bed. I check my phone on the way to the bathroom, surprised to find a message from my boss.

Ginny:Can you come in today? Ten to two.

The flower shop is open on weekends, but Ginny’s daughter, Sarah, is back from the college campus, and Ginny prefers to give her the hours. That suits me just fine: the ice rink has several freestyle slots, and I can catch up on school projects then.

Still, money’s money, and as far as jobs go, there are definitely worse ones than sweeping in this town.

Me:Sure, I’ll be there.

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