Gant
My dove trapped herself in her gilded cage over the weekend where it’s safe, or so she thinks. I’d broken into the girls’ dorms a dozen times over, but I let her have her space to digest her new circumstances. Our new circumstances and our recurring pasts, too.
We’d both had near-death experiences. But her father, the fucker who had an affair with my mother, was the cause of her brush with death.
I bet he’s the cause of many things.
“What’s wrong with your father?”
“Everything.”
My mother had chosen to cheat with a man who tried to end his own daughter’s life. My father may have never put my life in jeopardy physically, but that’s solely because I’m his only heir.
A few days ago, my mother’s cheating had been easier to digest when I could pretend that Jarett must be better, in some way. But he wasn’t. He isn’t. I know from Elle’s haunted look. At the lake, she hadn’t seen me when I pushed her. She’d seen her father.
So ‘daddy’ isn’t a kink of hers, but I know what is.
During my forty-eight hours of grace following the lake incident, I’d found another way to satiate my appetite by joining Elle remotely via her phone. Turns out my little dove likes my finger necklaces. What’s more? She likes them from blokes who resemble me. Dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin. She’d even searched for men with undercuts.
“Even I don’t watch porn in public,” Hale says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and falling into step beside me.
“Elle watched this GIF twelve times last night,” I say, tilting my phone screen toward him. “Who does he look like?”
Hale’s eyes go wide as he grins at me. “You have a doppelg?nger.”
“I’ve infected her and now she’s sick with obsession.” I shake my head. Last night, I’d watched her surf through hours of throat grab and finger fuck content on mute. I bet she was hiding under the covers from Stassi and Aria, though they aren’t ones to judge. Aria was probably on a circuit of stepbro filth at the same time.
“And who could blame her?” Hale says, squeezing my shoulder.
I pause mid-step and eye his massaging fingers.
What the hell does he want this early in the morning?
“Doesn’t mean she’ll give in so soon,” Bae says, eyeing the screen as he joins us.
“It’s all an ebb and flow. We flowed and now it’s time that we ebb.”
Bae glances ahead to the dance studio. “Ten hours to break?”
“Maybe nine. Partner work is awfully intimate, isn’t it?” I ask, saving Elle’s smutty inspiration to my notes. I’m always willing to learn and improve.
“Romantic even. When we dance, it can create a love story. A fantasy. And we all give into our fantasies eventually,” Hale says, giving me another little squeeze.
“I’ve made so many of her dreams come true already. Who am I to deny her this?”
“Your charity is unparalleled,” Hale agrees.
“Just tell him what you want already.”
We turn to see Zedd and étienne. Of course, it’s Zedd who spoke.
étienne aside, I normally don’t have practical classes with any of them except for Stretch class that we’re all headed to now. It’s pretty common for students in figure skating and other forms of dance to partake in some lower-tier ballet classes to improve their flexibility and stability.
Hale wrinkles his brow and drapes his other arm around Zedd’s shoulders. “I’m offended.”
“There has to be a reason you’re kissing ass so early,” Zedd says flatly.
“You smell like spices,” Hale says, sniffing Zedd’s neck. Zedd swats him off, but Hale’s grip is relentless. “Where did you go so early this morning?”
“Food and Nutrition.”
“You were in Home Ec?” Hale asks incredulously.
“What are you, a dinosaur?”
“A Giganotosaurus.” Hale nods and wiggles his eyebrows. “Want to guess why?”
“Diplodocus,” étienne says thoughtfully, and Hale pauses before grinning like the schoolboy he is.
“Nice.”
“They don’t call it Home Economics anymore,” Zedd mutters, ignoring them.
“Since when have you been interested in cooking? Or nutrition?” Bae asks.
“Since I’ve wanted my cum to taste more like fruit,” Zedd snarks.
“How thoughtful,” Bae quips. “May I suggest pineapple?”
“Coconut,” étienne offers.
“Coconut cream,” Hale says, like it’s the best invention since the aeroplane. “How insightful. You’re ridiculously cultured, éti. A distinguished gentleman. I don’t know what we did to deserve you.”
éti blinks slowly in acknowledgement, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Have you been working with the kitchen staff then?” I ask. “The chefs?”
Zed nods. “It’s a part of the program. We get to pick the menu on Sundays and Wednesdays. I’m going to surprise Stassi with a few of her favourites.”
Curiosity gets the better of me. “Spit it out.”
“Well, since you’ve asked,” Hale begins. “I’ve got an exciting proposition. How would you boys like to become investors in the club? And Gant, how would you like to increase your holdings? It’s time for renovations.”
“That club needs a miracle that not even fifty grand can cover,” Zedd says.
“Seventy, collectively,” Hale corrects. “And I can’t believe you have zero faith in me. I’m wounded.”
“You’re not the one we have zero faith in, it’s the building,” Bae says.
“Demolish it,” éti says quietly.
“Listen to the distinguished gentleman. Besides,” Zedd goes on. “Most students go home on the weekends or party at Louie’s. It’ll be hard to convert them to a new spot.”
“That’s before the five horsemen had a club,” Hale says enthusiastically. “Zedd, I was thinking, we could host you and Stassi’s eighteenth birthday as the grand opening. It’ll draw in the entire senior year. Not just at Beaulieu, but at Bradley and Ennox Prep too.”
Stassi’s probably the most popular non-student at Bradley for Boys, thanks to her viral dance videos and ridiculous curves.
“That’s in a month,” Bae says apprehensively. “How are you going to renovate that dump so quickly?”
Hale looks at me with big ocean-blue eyes.
“I can’t,” I say flatly. “Bart already threatened to seal my accounts, and the end of the month is approaching. That means he’ll get a report from my accountant, who’s already flagged it again.”
Bae raises a brow. “Elle’s tuition?”
Zedd whistles. “That’s over two hundred grand. It won’t be a threat anymore. He’s definitely sealing it. Good thing you can still eat at the cafe.”
Hale looks shattered.
“Just ask your mother,” Bae says. “Put away your pride.”
“No.” Hale stomps his foot like a child and finally lets go of Zedd and me. “That’ll defeat the whole point and she’ll throw it back in my face. I can’t go crying to her and asking for money .... but I can cry to my besties.”
“Nope,” Zedd shakes his head. “I’m not a gambler.”
Of course, Zaddy Zedd isn’t.
“I’d have to see it turn a profit first.” Bae shrugs.
“No,” éti says simply, before heading into the dance studio behind Bae and Zedd.
“Fine! You’ll be begging me for a share once it blows up!” Hale barks before lowering his voice in defeat. “I thought if anyone Zedd would help me. He’s always helped me.”
Zedd and Hale had been the closest in the group, with Hale practically growing up with the twins, thanks to his absentee mother.
“It’s like we’re freaking estranged now or something. It’s like…I can barely recognise him anymore.”
“Why do you suppose that is?”
“I don’t know,” Hale says, and he seems utterly, hopelessly lost. “I haven’t done anything to him. Even in our dorm, he barely speaks to me now. He’s always sneaking off or whispering on the phone or digging through papers. I swear he barely sleeps. Maybe that’s why he’s always so fucking agitated lately, especially when it comes to Stassi.”
“Or maybe he’s finally catching on. It’s about damn time.”
Hale scrunches his brows. “Catching on to what?”
As if on cue, Stassi strolls by with Aria in tow, though the physical distance between the girls speaks volumes.
Stassi, all in pastel pink, gives us a little wave. When she does, everything, including her tits, shakes and recoils and Hale watches every move like he’s in heat.
I wave back, but it’s Aria I’m focused on. And she’s focused on me, her paranoid eyes darting from me to éti who’s waiting for her in the doorway.
So long as she does what I say, our little secret’s safe. The problem is Aria hates being told what to do. Unless it’s étienne instructing her.
“I have faith in you. I know you can make it work,” I say, clapping Hale on the shoulder and bringing him back to reality.
“Faith in which department?” Hale mumbles, still watching Stassi.
I dig my nails into his shoulder, squeezing it so hard that his knees begin to buckle, and his eyes fly to mine.
“What the—”
“I told Bart he’d see a good return. I told him to trust me for once. You know, ever since the incident, he hasn’t. So you understand how important it is that we succeed?”
He nods and swallows, and I slide my hand from his shoulder to the top of his head to rustle his hair like the little kid he is.
“Good. So for everyone’s sake, forget about everything and everyone else. Focus on making the club a hit.”
Hale shoves his hands into his pockets and nods determinately before following me into the studio.
Stretch is held in the largest dance studio on campus. There are so many seniors that it takes me a minute to locate my target, hiding in the back of the room and trying to make herself invisible. But I see her.
I always see her.
She’s looking everywhere but at me, pretending I don’t exist, but I know she feels my gaze burning through her skull.
“Okay, listen up,” Lee, one of the academy’s ballet masters, says, clapping his hands. “This class is about flexibility, balance, and posture. I expect to see an improvement in all three by the end of the term. That aside, this class is more than just warming up and cooling down before and after training. It’s also about recovery, which plays an important role in preventing injuries. So we’re going to learn some useful techniques I expect you to implement in your daily routines.”
He moves to the sound equipment in the corner and brings up a playlist of soft, relaxing music that filters through the room.
It doesn’t match my ravenous mood.
“This class is three times a week, seven thirty a.m. sharp, for thirty minutes. There’s a soft emphasis on ballet positions, but this isn’t a ballet class. Hence why we have our non-ballet dancers and figure skaters in attendance. Next period, however, advanced ballet begins in this same room. Ballet students, that means you’ll be all warmed up and ready to begin immediately. No time for clowning around. We have a busy year ahead of us, with the midterm and Christmas productions already in the works.”
A murmur breaks out as the ballet students buzz excitedly. I struggle to not roll my eyes. How many years in a row can the Nutcracker surprise them? Still, the midterm play is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for.
“Now that introductions are out of the way, everyone pair up for partner stretches.”
A smirk stretches my lips when Elle finally meets my gaze. Panic blooms in her emerald irises as she breaks our contact and begins searching the room for a potential partner.
But I’m already here.
“Remember, this isn’t a competition. If your partner can’t do the stretch fully, the point is to guide them and gently push them so that they eventually can. Do not force them or apply too much pressure to cause injury. At the same time, push yourselves past what’s comfortable, but never to the point of excruciating or snapping pain. Understood?”
More murmurs and nods.
“Coats, hats, scarves, off,” Lee says. “Grab a partner and get on the floor. We’ll start with a modified butterfly stretch to open up the hip flexors.”
I watch as Elle pulls off her sweater and my heart slowly thumps to a halt with my steps.
What the fuck is she wearing?
Her leotard is tiny with a swooping neckline that exposes half the swells of her pale breasts. Her hunched shoulders tell me she’s just as self-conscious about them as she was two years ago. As she was on the dock when she thought that somehow she’d managed to turn me off.
Impossible.
My eyes trail to her pastel pink tights that are practically sheer. She’s wearing her leotard over it, and I’m utterly transfixed by the way the plump swells of her ass are devouring the purple crotch. She knows it too, because when she turns around, she presses her back to the mirror wall as her hands protectively shield her pussy from my view.
She pulls at the neckline, desperately trying to cover a tit, but it doesn’t budge. If she’s so uncomfortable, then why did she wear it? And fuck her comfortability. Why would she wear a fuck me leotard where just anyone can see her? Where anyone can ogle what’s mine alone?
“Fuck me,” Hale whispers, and Bae grunts in seeming approval.
I turn to them slowly, feeling the deranged look in my eye without seeing it. “Don’t you have your bestie’s sister to go eye fuck?” I ask Hale, then to Bae, “And shouldn’t you go watch?”
“It won’t be much of a show,” Bae says coolly. “Zedd won’t let him lay a finger on Stassi. I’m more interested in what you’ll get away with doing to Eloisa.”
“You can listen while you guard. Turn around and I’ll use the blood from your stab wound as lube.”
“I wish someone was just as overprotective of my body,” Hale coos, rubbing his bare arms with his hands and biting his lip. “Look at all these predators waiting to sink their claws into me.”
“Shut up,” Bae and I hiss in unison, but Hale’s right.At the barre, dozens of hopefuls bat their eyelashes in our direction, but the boys already know the drill.
I watch as Elle scans the room, desperate to find someone, anyone willing to pair with her. Well, except for me. Her eyes fall on Aria and she’s about to open her mouth when éti swoops Aria into his arms. They’re always partners.
“étienne!” Rin’s voice rings out as she prances over. “Let’s stretch near the barre. We never got to finish our conversation.”
éti pauses.
I expect him to ignore Miss Priss entirely, but slowly, reluctantly, he mumbles something to Aria, presses a kiss to her forehead and follows Rin to the opposite side of the room.
What the hell was that about?
Before I can gauge Aria’s crestfallen expression, Bae swoops in, placing his arm around her shoulders before giving me a wink.
Next, Elle sets her sights on Stassi, who’s being approached by Hale and Zedd, the latter of which gets to her first. In the end, Hale finds some random brunette he’ll probably sink his cock into before sundown and that leaves my little dove all alone.
No one else will come within a foot of her. I’ve made sure of it.
As I stroll toward her, her eyes finally meet mine, but instead of fear, I find resolve. She knew this would happen.
Good.
“Well,” I say. “Get on the floor.”
“Why?” she whispers, her voice laced with confusion and weariness. “Why do you want to pair with me? You hate me.”
As if I need reminding. “How else can I get close enough to torture you?”
She swallows before licking her dry lips. “So what? You’re going to injure me and make it seem like an accident?”
I tsk. “Such paranoia. Do you really think I’m going to assault you in front of everyone?”
“You already did and I wouldn’t put anything past a wild animal.”
Fair enough.
“You shouldn’t.” I gesture to the hardwood. “Now get on the floor and spread your legs wide.”
She shakes her head slowly. “No.”
I merely roll my neck left and gaze at Lee pointedly. He’s glaring back at us as we’re the only ones still standing.
At his impatient expression, Elle sinks to the floor.
Hale, Zedd, and Bae have taken their dutiful positions around us in a semicircle. They’re facing forward, cocooning us in the corner against the mirrored wall.
“You go first—” Elle begins, but I shove her shoulders, and the shock of falling immediately makes her legs sprawl out wide as she tries to catch her balance.
I use the opportunity to slide between them before grabbing her knees and forcing her legs into the butterfly position.
Beneath the thin fabric of her tights, goosebumps bloom over her skin at my touch. She’s nervous now, her earlier defiance gone, but she won’t let me see the panic, the excitement, brewing in her eyes as she gazes up at the fluorescent lights.
The reflection of the bulbs in her irises reminds me so much of that downshot GIF she’s watched on repeat. The part when the girl looks up at the club lights only for her eyes to roll back into her head before fluttering close.
Is the same comparison running across Elle’s mind now?
Shit, her leotard is small. The wider I push her knees, the more the fabric rolls toward her smooth centre.
With each passing pulse and hold upon Lee’s instruction, more and more of her pussy peeks out. It’s puffy. Fat. So fucking fat and even more perfect than I could’ve imagined.
Her eyes are scrunched closed, but there’s no way she doesn’t feel the insane pressure of the fabric against her clit. Against her back hole as the swells of her ass devour the material.
Immediately I’m hard, and her little whimpers of pain as I try to get her knees as low to the floor as possible only makes me harder.
Fuck, her hip muscles are insanely tight, even for being cold. It makes me wonder about her dancing abilities. Has she improved since I saw her on the news last summer? If not, how could I exact my revenge?
I need her to be great.
“You’re so fucking tight,” I say, stretching her wider still and she lets out a louder grunt that sends a shot of heat straight to my cock, making it jump. “What kind of ballerina are you when you can barely accommodate my hips?”
“Mmm,” is all she can mutter as her hands shoot out to my shoulders as if to push me off, but every set goes by and she doesn’t. She doesn’t even realise what she’s doing, holding me so tightly, like she doesn’t ever want to let me go.
Such a warm invitation.
“Do you remember what I said the first time we met?”
She presses her lips tighter, ignoring me.
“I said your hips were made to accommodate someone else’s.” I slide closer to her core so that we’re touching my hardened front against hers. The moment I make contact with her slit, she jumps, her eyes flying open.
“What the hell do you think—”
“Have you ever had someone between your legs?” I ask, pressing harder until the crown of my cock pushes against her clit. Again she squirms, and it gives me exactly what I want. A full view of her cunt’s lips swallowing the crotch of her leotard. All that’s hidden now is her sweet little hole and clit. I push against her hard nub again, and immediately her knees fly open of their own accord, finally hitting the hardwood. I pin them down and she struggles to hold in her whimpers.
“You’re so responsive and I’m barely touching you… I’m the first one to touch you, aren’t I?”
Her nails dig into my shoulder harder as she tries to shove, then buck me off. “That’s none of your fucking business.”
“Everything about you is my business,” I say lazily, trailing my left hand from her knee to the apex of her thigh and massaging it. “All your tension is right here. Do you even stretch at all before you dance?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I stretch all the time.” Her words are meant to be snippy, but they sound breathy.
I lift a brow. “Then you must not be doing it correctly. Your hips should be opening up by now, but they’re as tight as your little virginal cunt.” I lock my eyes on hers, trying to find the answer in her wide green irises.
“I-I’m not—” she sputters, but never completes the sentence.
“You are, aren’t you?” I ask as something blooms in my chest. My thumb inches closer to the heat radiating from her core, sinking right into the groove where her pussy meets her inner thigh. She gasps, pulling at my wrists, but just like our first time at the studio, and just like on the dock when I’d massaged her thigh, she doesn’t actually push me away. She holds me. Sinks her useless little nails into my flesh, but that’s all. Because she’s weak when it comes to me.
She likes it, just like she likes all those little softcore domination videos.
Especially the ones where the couples are in public, hidden in some dark little corner.
“Is that what it is, Dove? I’m making you too nervous to relax and open up for me?”
“Like hell you do.” Again, she’s breathless.
I keep her ass pinned to the floor with my cock, as my other hand creeps over her stomach, up her ribcage, and over her left breast where the neckline of her leotard is digging into her flesh. “Then why is your heart beating so hard, your tit’s ready to pop out… Why the fuck are you wearing something so small anyway?”
“What’s it to you?” She grabs my wrist with delicate little fingers, actually trying to pry my hand away this time, but it only makes me more determined to keep touching what’s mine. I slide it beneath her leotard, catching her nipple between my index and middle finger before squeezing hard.
“Oh!” she whimpers, but this time, there’s more pain laced with her pleasure as my fingers glide over a raised patch of skin. At the contact, she tries to sit up but I drive my cock deeper, stabbing at that thin barrier separating me from her hot channel
“What is that?” I ask, fingering the rough patch.
Again, she tries to rip my hand from her breast.
“try to stop me again and I’ll rip your whole tit out.” I tug on her nipple for emphasis, rolling it between my fingers. “Not that I’m opposed to that. I’ve been waiting to see them again.”
The cute blush that’s spreading over her chest rises to her cheeks, the hue deepening.
“Your flush is so damn cute,” I blurt, wanting to stroke the colour on her cheeks, but the hardness of her nipple and the heat of her pussy where my thumb’s continuing its ministrations is just too good to leave. “It matches your rosy nipples perfectly. Your pussy’s the same colour too? Isn’t it?”
My thumb dips below the crotch of her leotard and over her stockings where I find her swollen, slippery clit.
She’s soaked.
Again, she bucks violently, but those little useless fingers don’t push me off. They only tighten around my wrist.
“You can’t do that, you can’t just touch me like that,” she rasps, fire burning in her eyes, but there’s a different kind of heat there too.
I snort. “I can do whatever the fuck I want with my doll. Whatever and whenever I feel like playing. We’ll play. Didn’t you learn that in the theatre?”
Her breath hitches but I don’t think it’s mere shock. Her eyes are so damn expressive, and there’s something else swirling in them.
Excitement.
“I’ll scream,” she licks her lips. “I’ll call instructor Lee over—”
“No, you won’t,” I say confidently, flicking her nub, and she fights to keep her eyes trained on me instead of rolling them into the back of her head. “I think you hate how much you like it. You like the rough way I touch you. Choke you. Pin you down. Just how you like it when I chase you.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“At the studio, when you sprinted into traffic to get away from me, yet you kept slowing down to look over your shoulder at me. At the lake, when you crawled around the greenhouse with your pussy exposed, and your skirt barely covering your ass. Now, as you’re trying to squirm away from me and yet rub your swollen clit on my dick at the same time.”
She gapes at me incredulously. “You’re delusional.”
“Am I? Is that why you marked me in front of the entire school? Claimed me?”
I grind into her.
“Mmm…”
“Because you hate me so much?”
“I do! I only did that because I had to do something—”
“But why that? I think there’s a primal part deep inside of you that’s desperate for everyone to know that I’m just as much yours as you are mine. It’s the same primal instinct that makes you want to be chased and hunted by me. It’s confusing, isn’t it? Trust me, I know.”
She sputters. “Y-you’re making all that up in your sick head. I don’t feel any of that.”
“If I’m making it up, why are you stalling now? That’s why you’re saying everything but stop. You don’t want me to stop because after the hunt and the chase, comes the reward. The devouring.”
I rub her clit faster, increasing the pressure with my thumb. Damn, I wish I could see it, swollen and glistening. It feels so fucking soft and hard at the same time. So swollen and wet.
“Mmm,” she muffles the sound against my throat, her fingers moving from my shoulders to sink into my nape, her knees caging in my hips as if to drive me deeper.
I should stop. I should edge her.
But then I’d be torturing myself too and haven’t I suffered enough?
I need to see her shatter.
I need to taste it.
I lift my head, leaving the softness of her hair that smells like honey and vanilla and peer into the mirror at our reflections.
Our reflections and everyone else’s that surround us.
“I think you like it even more, knowing so many people are around.”
She doesn’t even try to protest as a tremble racks her and she buries her face tighter against my neck.
“You like knowing they’re there, but you don’t want to get caught. That’s why you’re being such a good girl and trying to stay quiet.”
My knuckles sink into her hot hole, pushing the fabric as deep into her tight channel as I can, and when it’s not deep enough, I pull and twist the fabric until it breaks. Until I can finally touch her skin-to-skin and slip my middle finger deep inside of her.
Fuck, she’s tight.
Soft.
Wet.
“Gant.”
Her stomach tightens beneath me, her hips lifting.
“If I’m wrong, tell me to stop,” I hiss in her ear, curling my finger up against her G-spot and stroking it slowly. Painfully slow with just enough pressure to earn a strong contraction followed by a slick little rush that makes her coo. “Tell me how much you hate it. How much you hate me.”
“I…I…mmm.”
She shudders and her knees bang apart, hitting the hardwood with a thud that makes Bae, Zedd, and Hale’s backs go straight, but none of them turn around.
Still, I bend over her protectively, pressing my lips to her pillowy ones just as she moans, unable to control her volume. I swallow it in time, tangling my tongue with hers and as she rides a wave of ecstasy, she lets me until she’s sucking on my tongue like a damn pacifier.
No, like she would my cock.
I’ve been dreaming about kissing her again, ever since she’d marked me in the theatre in front of everyone.
If the softcore GIFs weren’t enough to convince me that my dove has a little exhibitionism kink, then the public kiss, and now her squirming on my fingertips in a packed classroom, confirms it.
I move my hand, then the tight fabric of her leotard aside before pressing the head of my cock against her throbbing tight entrance. I don’t want entry just yet. I only want to revel in the warmth of her pussy and mouth.
She grinds against me and the feel of her wet bare flesh against mine almost makes me shoot a load then and there.
“That’s it, Dove. Let your pussy kiss my cock too,” I say between kisses.
But when I suck on her bottom lip, the little pop as I release it brings her back down from her high and horror blooms in her irises as she grows deathly still beneath me.
“What the fuck did I just do?” It’s barely a whisper.
“Gushed on my fingers. Sprayed my cock,” I say, dropping my lips to her neck and then the top of her exposed breast that jumps wildly with her heartbeat. I’m about to kiss it and risk a bald spot as her fingers rip at my hair with a vengeance, but something stops me.
Peeking out from her leotard is a reddish-purple bruise.
In the shape of an oval.
Like a mouth.
Like a mouth that isn’t fucking mine.
Ice crawls through my veins as I peel the fabric of her leotard back to get a better look.
Immediately, I lean back, pulling my cock away from her wetness. The cool air of the studio hits it and brings me crashing back down from the high she’d just given us both.
“That better not be a hickey.”
She gazes from me to the red dot, her body growing rigid before she finally meets my eyes again. The defiance is back as she lifts her chin. “Well, it is. I got it yesterday.”
My spine stiffens, my jaw clenching. “What’s his name?”
“Why the hell would I tell you that?”
I grab her jaw with sticky fingers, forcing her to look at me as she tries to turn her head dismissively. As if she didn’t just come all over me.
As if I don’t own her.
“What don’t you fucking understand, Elle? I said—”
“I’m not yours!” she hisses, sitting up as much as she can so we’re almost nose to nose. “I’m not some cattle on your ranch. Like the other brainless heifers on campus you herd and tell what to do. Like your head cow, Rin. I don’t give a fuck what you say. There is no we. No, us. I don’t even understand why you’re doing this. Torturing me, like trying to drown me at least that I understand. But this—”
“What? You think me getting you off, me fucking you, can’t be tortuous?”
Her throat bobs, her expression laced with utter confusion. “Why would you even want to fuck someone you hate?”
So na?ve.
“Why wouldn’t I? I can still make you cry while I bounce you on my cock. I can hear your whimpers of pain like a lullaby in my ear as I tear your cunt apart and make you bleed.”
She shakes her head slowly, her eyes wide, but I don’t find horror. Just awe. Just thinly veiled excitement. “You’re repulsive.”
“Is that why you soaked my fingers? Why your cunt was just contracting? Trying desperately to grip and suck on my dick?”
Her face burns redder. “Why are you so crass?”
I sit back on my knees, hook her left leg over my arm and lift her like a ragdoll, turning her hips toward the mirror despite her squeal of protest. We both gaze at her reflection and pure joy blooms in my chest as I watch sheer horror contort her features. We zoom in on the gusset of her leotard together where a giant, dark purple stain blooms across her slit.
“See this? See how responsive you are to my crassness,” I say, leaning my chin against her knee and watching the beautiful, slow spread with her like it’s the best film I’ve ever seen.
It is.
I dip my middle finger under her leotard and back into her still-quivering pussy. When I slip it out again, it still clings to her lips for a few seconds by a shimmering string that soon breaks and dangles before sliding along my finger.
And still, Elle doesn’t stop me. She does nothing but watch as I bring itto my lips, savouring the first taste of my sweet little dove. Her eyes darken, practically glazing over as she watches me suck on each digit.
For someone so repulsive, she’s utterly transfixed watching me do whatever the fuck I want to her.
“Do you always let repulsive people touch you so freely?” I zone in on that red mark over her heart again, and I swear I feel the black of my irises bleed into the surrounding white. “Is that why you let some filth suck on my tit?”
“Maybe,” she taunts.
My blood boils. My eyes burn as everything other than Elle grows foggy.
“Name. Now.”
“No.”
That singular word makes me want to tear her leotard too and fuck the defiance out of her in front of everyone.
Everyone.
Who the fuck had the audacity to touch my baby? My little doll?
“Last chance, Dove. Tell me, or I’ll find out all on my own.”
“So go find out,” she huffs. “And why do you keep calling me Dove?”
“Because you remind me of one.”
I can tell she’s fighting her curiosity as she bites her lower lip. But in the end, it wins, and she asks, “How so?”“Remember when you rolled down the hill with Zoi and the cricket ball?”
“How could I forget,” she says dryly. “I didn’t even know we could have pets at the academy.”
“We can’t.” I ignore her inquisitive gaze and continue. “Anyway, as you spun around, your skirt billowed in the breeze. And all I could see were those massive, white fucking bloomers flying towards me. With the sag in the middle, and the sides high on your hips, it looked like two wings with your pussy in the middle as the body. Like a great white dove.”
“I hate you,” she spits, her face suddenly ashen. “I fucking hate you.”
You hate that you want me.
“I hate you too, Dovey.”