Page 53 of Cruel Elite (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 3)

As I unhook my bra and pull my shirt up, I wonder what it would be like for Noah to want me again.

To look at me—even if it is just my boobs—with desire.

I keep my face out of the picture and make sure my clothes aren’t visible—if the picture does end up online, I’d like plausible deniability—but my chest is front and center. I take two pictures from two different angles and then, before I can second guess what is obviously a terrible decision, I attach the photos to a text and hit send.

With this, my fate is sealed.

I’ve tied myself to Noah’s runaway train.

All I can hope for now is to work my way to the controls.

18

Noah

I didn’t know if Penny would send the pictures, but I wanted to gauge how much control I had over her.

How scared she was.

If she’d taken my threats seriously, she’d send them, in hopes to satiate my sick desires.

If she didn’t, then I’d know how much harder I had to work.

What I didn’t expect was how much control the photos would have overme.

Even the first picture—the one of Penny’s heart-shaped face, bright green eyes, and full pink lips—set my heart racing. No one should look that good under fluorescent bathroom lights.

I want to see your tits, I hammered into my phone.

I wanted faceless body parts, objectively sexual images so I could explain away the ball of heat forming in my stomach.

Then, the pictures came, and even with a pair of glorious, faceless breasts on my phone screen, my brain couldn’t help but fill in the rest of the image.

I imagined golden blonde waves tumbling over her shoulders, grass green eyes peering up at me suggestively, and pink lips puckered into a pout.

I adjusted in my seat, willing myself to stay calm. I couldn’t walk out of class with a boner.

“Shiiit.”

The hiss in my ear made me jump, and I turned to see J.C. peeking over my shoulder. “That’s why you got so mad in the car the other day. Penny is yours.”

“Shut the fuck up.” I click my phone screen off and shove it in my pocket.

“It’s fine,” J.C. whispers, his eyes at the front of the room where our math teacher is doing her best to keep us all engaged in her math problem by using celebrities and hip lingo.

Needless to say, it’s not working.

“No, it’s not. Because it’s bullshit. She isn’t mine.”

J.C. snorts. “I don’t get those kinds of pictures from girls who aren’t getting something from me.”

I scramble, trying to think of a lie. J.C. doesn’t really deserve one.

Usually, I’d ignore him and let him think what he wants.

But when it comes to Penny, I want things to be clear.

Not only is she off limits for fucking, but she’s also off limits for conversation.

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