Home > Pride (The Elite Seven #2)(10)

Pride (The Elite Seven #2)(10)
Author: J.D. Hollyfield

Give up everything.

“Whatever got in my way,” I reply. Seems like a fitting enough answer, being Pride and all. We both stare off into the crowd, catching Envy who’s already locked himself in between two women, getting ready to spring his dick free.

“Well, looks like I need to get myself into some trouble. Good luck tonight, bro.” He pats me on the back, then he’s off, wrapping his arm around a girl holding a tray of white powder. I’m trying to take the whole scene in, but my vision is starting to blur.

“Fuck,” I grunt wiping my hand down my face, realizing those drinks were laced with something. The farther I walk into the house, the louder the sounds of sex and pleasure get. Rooms filled with women on their knees, and men fucking ’em while they sniff coke off their backs, tits, pussies. I locate everyone in a room sitting in a circle of chairs, women, bobbing, sucking.

“Mason, get the fuck over here. Got her twin sister ready for you.” I see Micah, who’s getting a lap dance from a blonde. The room spins, and I swear the ground underneath me sways. I grab onto a girl walking past me.

“Hello there, handsome. Can I bring you pleasure?” My eyes land on her, then the mound of coke piled on her tray. The echo of Micah’s laugh has my attention back on him. He’s laughing at me while pushing a chick’s head into his lap.


I don’t know what comes over me as I dip low, shoving my nose into the mountain of blow.

I stumble into a shithole bar located far from campus and even farther from the place I just left my new brothers. I’m drunk and coked out of my mind, not to mention whatever was in that drink. Apparently, being part of The Elite allows easy access to any and everything. A mind-numbing release for starters. A text from Lillian ordered me to stay ‘til the party ended, but I needed to get the fuck away. All the sex, the drugs. My new brotherhood. It all took a quick toll and sent me racing to be free of all the chaos happening around me.

I should have gone back to Evelyn, but I can’t have her see me in the shape I’m in.

I’ve been clean for years. Minus the few joints Micah and I used to smoke back in high school. Since I’ve been out, I’ve kept it that way. I needed to be on alert and have my mind clear when it came to Lillian and whatever she had in store for me. But tonight, I gave in and flooded my body with booze and drugs to drown out the reality she’s brought down on me.

I throw myself on an open stool at the bar and scan the place around me. The joint is packed with people like me. Trash. Thugs. A group of bikers in the corner, who continue to harass a woman, uncaring of her pleas for them to stop.

“What’ll it be?” the rugged bartender asks, throwing his bar towel over his shoulder.

“Five shots of tequila,” I say, and slam a hundred-dollar bill on the bar. The last of the tainted money Lillian gave me. The scholarship, the housing, the status—it’s all a ruse. Phony image of what she wants me to portray. To the blind, they see prestige, power, an alpha. And in my part of the game, I let them. Because my sinful pride won’t allow them to see the real person behind the mask Lillian forces me to wear.

The Elite Seven.

A secret society run by a fucking psychopath. But was Lillian the real mastermind? Or was she just another pawn in The Elite? And what do my new band of brothers really know? They all seem pumped to be a part of it. Which confirms they don’t know shit behind the masquerade. Being the alpha, I can’t let them be fooled. They all need to know and I’m going to be the one to uncover the truth.

I swear to that.

But right now, I need to play nice and do what I need to do to guarantee my sister’s safety.

Which is ruin fucking lives.

My head begins to spin and my elbows land on the surface of the bar as I run my fingers through my hair. And what about Micah? Why the fuck is he wrapped up in this shit? I should tell him to get the fuck out now. He has no idea what’s in store for him.

Five shots appear in front of me, and I waste no time going down the line, downing each one with urgency, welcoming the burn as the liquid slides down my throat.

“You good, man?” the bartender asks. I nod and tap my finger on the bar, requesting another round. Seeing Micah again brought up too many unwanted memories. The shit past I wanted to forget. Dahlia. My fingers tighten around the shot glass at the memory of the video. Nights when I just wanted to give in to the weakness, I would think of that video. Let the rage consume any urge to surrender. I’d work my muscles ‘til they burned. Work my mind with revenge until it almost blinded me. And I would plot. One day, when I was out, if that day ever came, I would get my revenge on Lillian, Dahlia, and anyone who ever dared lay a hand on my sister.

“Hulk smash.”

A soft feminine voice to my right tickles at my eardrum. The sweet scent of cherries and vanilla surrounds me, and I turn to sneak a quick glimpse of the chick who’s taken the seat next to me. My eyes start at her breasts, full and perked in a skin-tight black halter-top dress. They rise to her bare shoulders, thin neck, and plump red lips. When I make it to her eyes, my cock stirs.


“Say again?” My tone’s blank, hiding the jolt of electricity in my pants.

“I said Hulk smash. You look like you’re about to crush that shot glass with your fist.”

I glance down at my white knuckles and the veins bulging from the top of my hand. The coke is flowing heavily though my blood. Quickly, I release the shot glass, pushing it away. My eyes stay locked forward on the wall of shelved liquor. Not sure why I’ve piqued her curiosity, but I’m not interested. The last thing I need right now in my fucked-up, complicated situation is to throw a chick into the mix. If I wanted pussy, I’d have indulged back at the party, I tell myself, but my sudden alive and throbbing cock disagrees. Unlike the abundance of women back at the house, this one seems to stir life into the guy below.

I turn back to the girl, her hazel eyes glowing behind all the smoky eye makeup. Her plump lips part and spread across her heart shaped face, accentuating her cheekbones. Her smile suddenly warms a dormant part of me that’s been cold and shut off. My thoughts quickly turn to the guys, how content they all appeared. Happy. Numb to the world around them. Fuck, maybe some random pussy is the perfect way to drown some of my troubles.

But that warmth triggers the reminder of why. Dahlia. That deceiving whore who broke my heart. I rip my eyes away from her, bringing them back to the wall. “Not interested,” I grumble and reach for the shot of tequila the bartender sets down in front of me.

Before I grab the glass, a tiny set of fingers snatch it. My furrowed brows follow the glass and I watch in mild shock as the girl slams it. Without a wince from the strong alcohol, she tosses back the shot. Who the fuck? My flaring nostrils and darkened sneer would cause most grown men to piss themselves, but this girl ain’t the least bit intimidated by my size or death stare.

She only giggles and pats her sexy lips with a bar napkin. “She-Hulk like tequila.” Her laughter fills the air, and it fucks with me. I want her to laugh more. Smile more. Fuck. I need another bump. I scout the crowd, searching out a junkie, hoping to score a bag and snort it all, until I’m completely numb.

“Listen, Betty Ross, said I wasn’t interested. Now, run along before Hulk smash you.” I give her the cold shoulder, waving down the bartender for another shot.

“Ahhh, you know your comics. Betty Ross was Hulk’s love interest, though. Later, his wife. I said She-Hulk. Technically, I’d be your daughter.” Again, she laughs.

The five shots swirling in my stomach are kicking in, and the warmth of the tequila is chipping away at the tension in my shoulders. I swivel my bar stool toward her, and my legs weave in and out of hers. There’s a sharp intake of breath at the intrusion of my thick thighs trapping hers in place. She sure as fuck has me intrigued. “You want me to be your daddy?” I ask, my grin growing. “You into that kinky shit, Lyra?” I say, using her marvel origin name.

Her facial expression becomes serious as she leans forward, threatening to spill her pretty little tits out of her tight top. Scooting to the end of her chair, she doesn’t stop until her mini skirt is hiked so far up her creamy thighs, her barely covered pussy rubs against my knee. “I’m into a lot of things. Just depends on how playful I’m feeling and how adventurous my fellow player is.”

She makes another bold move by reaching forward and grabbing my thigh. Her hand may be small, but there’s no hiding the power in it. Her thumb tickles the inside of my thigh and she calmly slides her hand up, nearly grazing my cock. The amused countenance shining across her face is no doubt caused by the acknowledgment that I’m fucking hard.

“I think someone wants to play.” She giggles, making it harder for me to tame the beast in my pants. “Did you know Lyra’s ability, amongst many others, is stamina and durability?” She leans in farther, practically sitting on my lap, and cups my fucking cock to whisper in my ear. “I might be small, but big things come in small packages. My tight cunt would be heaven for this large dick.” She squeezes me, and my eyes threaten to shut from the pleasure of her hand. “And trust me, when I take you in my mouth and my cunt, it will be hours until we’re done playing.”

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