Page 492 of Filthy Elites

The more I tell her how perfect she is, how good she is, the more her hips move, her fingers gripping me tightly as her breath turns ragged and she seeks out my lips with her own, kissing me.

“Come for me, baby, come on my cock and soak me in your sweetness.”

“Sebastian,” she gasps, pushing up with her hips and then dropping back down, riding my cock as she chases her own release, my name on her lips.

“That’s it, don’t stop,” I encourage. Rubbing at her clit, I clench my teeth and deny my orgasm until her cunt clamps down on me so tightly, I think she might strangle my cock. She comes on a wailing cry, throwing her head back and gasping my name. I fuck her through her orgasm and follow her over the edge, filling her with my cum again, branding her from the inside out. “My good girl, so good, so perfect,” I coo, kissing and sucking at her neck as she calms, her body melting into mine, her head falling exhausted to my shoulder.

We stay like that for a long time, my dick inside of her and my arms wrapped around her, while her head is rested against my shoulder. Her stomach growls and chuckling, I lift her off my dick and lower her onto shaking legs. “You okay?”

Silently she nods.

Pushing up from the bed, I look down between her thighs to where her legs are wet and my dick gets hard again. “Fuck, little bird, I want you again.”

“Sebastian,” she whimpers.

“Don’t worry, as long as you behave I’ll keep my dick in my pants. You need to be able to walk in the morning.”

FOURTEEN

Starling

My body clencheswith fucked-up arousal at his words. I shouldn’t want him to touch me and I certainly shouldn’t want to have sex with him. My pussy is pulsing so hard it could probably register on the Richter scale, but even though I should, I don’t hate the idea of him fucking me again.

Tiny tremors of pleasure are still vibrating through me and I’m not sure if I want to smile or cry, or just curl into a ball and rock like a mental patient. My body is confused and I don’t know what to do or feel.

I’m naked, but I’m too exhausted to care, so I just stand while he opens a large wooden dresser and pulls something out. Crossing to the closet, he grabs a shirt and heads back over to me, shocking me when he sinks to his knees at my feet, holding out a familiar pair of panties. Dumbstruck, I stare down at him, until he taps one of my ankles.

“Lift your foot, baby.”

I do as he asks and once both feet are through, he pulls my panties up my thighs.

“I need to go clean up.”

“No you don’t,” he smiles, pulling the panties over my hips, then sliding his hand over the fabric between my thighs, pressing it into the mess that’s between my legs. “I’m going to fuck you so often your panties will always be soaked, I’ll make you so desperate for me that your pussy will cream just at the sound of my voice when I tell you it’s time to be my good little bird and take my cock.”

I shudder at his words. I don’t know what it is about him calling me good girl, or good little bird that makes me want to part my thighs and offer myself up to him. I hate him, I really do, but when he says those words to me, his breath heating my skin, I forget all about loathing him and all I can feel is want.

Soft jersey fabric drops over my head, the shirt long enough to cover me to midthigh. Pushing my arms through the sleeve, I glance down at the Kingsacre crest on the front.

“You look good in my clothes, little bird. Let’s go eat.”

At some point he must have pulled on sweatpants, but his feet are bare and so is his torso. There’s a tattoo over his heart that I hadn’t noticed and as he waits for me to move, I take a closer look, then suck in a sharp gasp.

“When did you get that?” I ask, shakily pointing to the ornate cage with the beautiful bird inside that’s inked into his flesh.

“After you left.”

It’s beautiful, the cage so gorgeous and real it feels like I could reach out and touch metal, but it’s the heart-shaped lock that draws my eye. “Why?” I ask, reaching out a trembling finger and running it over the lock.

“Because I was always going to bring you back to me and I promised myself when I did, I’d lock your cage so you can never run from me again.”

Closing my eyes, I squeeze them tightly and drag in a shuddering breath.

“Come on, baby, I need to feed you,” he says, ushering me from the room with a hand on the base of my spine.

I let him guide me down the stairs, too shell-shocked to protest until he’s sitting in a chair and placing me in his lap. It takes me a moment to realize the others are all in the room too, the plates still lying on the table.

Without saying anything, Clay gets up from his seat and bustles around the kitchen, pulling a pan from the oven and placing it in the center of the table before removing the foil from the top, revealing a steaming pile of pasta coated in what looks like tomato sauce and cheese.

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