Home > Pride (The Elite Seven #2)(13)

Pride (The Elite Seven #2)(13)
Author: J.D. Hollyfield

“What do you want, Lillian? I’m busy doing your bidding.” I really should meet Rhett and get it over with.

“Yes, yes. And you’re about to do more. Time for you to get your own task,” she says, no hiding the venom suddenly in her tone. “My office. Now.” Then, she hangs up.

I hate her with all my being. I wasn’t sure I would have a task. Just assumed all the dirty work she has me doing was my penance. I shove my phone back into my pocket and change directions. My mood darkens along with the weather as the clouds roll in taking the bright sun with it leaving the sky fierce and ominous.

I barge into Lillian’s office without knocking. She looks startled when the door whips open, her eyes wild. Rage is it? Shock? Definitely different from the normal sadistic smile she carries. Sometimes I wonder what sin she would be. If I had to guess, I’d say her demise is envy—the one thing I think she drowns in.

“You’re late,” she snaps, throwing a folder onto her desk.

“Have you seen it outside? It’s a monsoon.”

“I don’t give a shit. Sit down,” she orders and walks to the other side of her desk. Sitting, she unlocks the bottom drawer, pulling out a manila folder—same folder she’s pulled out with every other task that’s been given.

“You’re a little bit bitchier today than normal. Not getting any from the husband?” I say, sitting and crossing my arms over my chest.

“It seems you have, though.” She tosses the folder at me. It opens as photographs litter her desk, some falling at my feet. I already recognize what they’re of before picking them up.

“You fucking following me?” I growl, holding up a photo from last week at the bar. With her. She-Hulk. I woke up in the shithole motel the next day alone. After hours of the best sex of my life, I must have passed out. And in the morning, she was gone. No note or thank you for using me. And that she did, dirty little girl. Her toys…I’d never been so hard. We fucked and played, toys and games. It was nothing I’ve ever experienced. The best way to describe her was simple. Fucking amazing. She was also in the wind. Which was for the best. I didn’t need the added headache. Despite the tightening in my pants any time that night came to mind.

“You think I don’t keep my pets on a tight leash? You were supposed to stay at the party. Instead, you leave and go fuck your brains out,” she spits out. “You don’t get to play around, pet.” She stands and rounds her desk, coming into my personal space. Using her hands, she spreads my legs and makes her way between my open thighs. “If kink is what you like, I’m more than willing to show you a thing or two. Or was that little whore a good enough teacher?”

My hands clutch the armchair, fighting not to take a closed fist to her face. The random girl may be nobody to me, but having Lillian call her degrading names immediately gets under my skin. Staring down at the photos of her, I’m reminded of how damn beautiful she was. “What is this shit anyway? So, I got my dick sucked. What’s it to you?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me. I’m sure you got more than what you bargained for.” She doesn’t care about the malevolent look I give her or how my skin vibrates with disgust when she positions her body in my lap. “We can make this so easy.” She brings her hand between our laps and grabs at me. Unlike the reaction I had with the girl from the bar, my cock doesn’t even stir. “Well, that’s disappointing,” she pouts, dragging her hand away. “I guess you require a ball gag and whip.” She leans in and grabs my face, her nails digging into my cheeks. She presses her lips quickly to mine, then pushes off me and stands to make her way back to her seat. “Everyone has a lesson to learn. Even you, Mason. And it seems this one will be perfect for you. It takes a lot of pride to put yourself before others.” She picks up a gold card, just like the other tasks. “And I’m gonna have fun teaching you your lesson.”

“Aren’t you already doing that?” I growl. “Just get to the fucking point, Lillian. I have class.”

Her evil laugh chills my blood. “Oh, come on. Are you actually pretending to be a college student?” Her laughter gets louder. “Did you forget you didn’t graduate high school? A GED from a prison facility doesn’t constitute entrance into a low-grade community college, let alone one of the best colleges in New Orleans. You’re only here because I put you here. Don’t waste your energy trying to play smart. As I told you, I’ll adjust your grades. You just do what you’re here to do.”

I’m barely hanging on by a thread, fighting from throwing myself out of my chair and cutting off her airways until she’s blue and dead. “You’re a fucking wretched bitch.”

“Thanks for the compliment.” She gets up, adjusting her skirt. “Well, this has been fun, but I have other students to see. I assume you can see yourself out.” She tosses me the golden card, and I barely catch it before a knock on the door sounds and another student pops her head in. I get up without another glance her way. When I reach the quad, I stand behind the communications building, rip open the seal, and read my task:


Your task is sin of perverse

Megan Benedict

St. Augustine’s fresh new Theology professor

Lack of vanity is far from humility

For the sinner who is beneath no one. Expose and ruin at no cost. Teach her secrets are no fun… Secrets will ruin someone.

I finish reading the card, fighting the bile rising in my throat. I need to expose this woman’s secret? What her secret is, I don’t know. Is it that bad I have to destroy her for it? I pull a lighter from my pocket and enflame the corner but stop myself. The rule is cards must be destroyed once the task is read. But there’s a nudging feeling I may need this for collateral. I snub out the flame and stuff it in my backpack when my phone dings. Reaching in my back pocket, I see a text from Lillian.

Cunt Griffin: Schedule Change. You’re now enrolled in Theology 101. English building. Room 201. Class begins in seven minutes. Better hurry.

By the time I make it to the English building, I’m soaked to the bone. My backpack hangs heavy on my shoulders, and my shirt is matted to my chest. Unfamiliar with the building, I head down the south hallway and up the stairs. Luckily, I pop out right at the room number, but when I locate the clock on the wall, I’m almost fifteen minutes late. Great. I waste no more time and thrust the door open.

Megan Benedict.

First year college Theology professor.

And now I’ve been placed in her class to get close to her. I push the guilt of knowing my intentions to the back of my mind. I’m doing this for Evelyn. I’ll expose whatever secret she’s hiding and be done. I won’t have any thought about the consequences or how this will affect her. Because this isn’t about her—a nobody to me. It’s only about Evelyn and myself. Her sick but true words burn down my walls of morality, and nothing, especially not my pride, will stop me.

The door to the classroom flies open and slams against the wall as I walk in. The entire lecture hall of eyes whip to the entrance to acknowledge my presence. Professor Benedict, still busy scribbling on the chalkboard, doesn’t even bother to turn and address me when she speaks.

“Plato once said, the direction in which education starts a man, will determine his future in life. Translation, lateness is not a good start to success,” she says, finishing up some chart on the board.

“Yeah, sorry. Last minute schedule change,” I mumble, searching for a seat. Fuck, there’s nothing open but one in the front row. I hurry to it, needing the class to stop fucking ogling me. It makes me uncomfortable. All these rich assholes. Some want to be here. Some, like God, are here because Daddy’s money put them here. Some, like me, have no business in a place like this.

I drop my bag and sit, tugging at my soaked shirt sticking to my skin. My eyes settle on the back of my professor who’s still rapidly scribbling some shit on the board. It’s hard not to notice her cute little ass in her tight grey skirt. Makes sense why her class is full. I’d show up every day just for the view. Her legs are on full display, with nude heels to boost her height.

Finishing, she drops the chalk and dusts off her hands. A soft sigh fills the room as she observes her handy work, and my excitement hitches to see the face that comes with such a bangin’ body. She turns to address the class—

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” I growl loudly in disbelief.

My outburst grabs her attention. Her eyes, the most tantalizing color of hazel, go wide as saucers as the recognition almost throws her off her balance. “Oh hell.” Her high-pitched squeal echoes throughout the huge lecture room as she runs into the corner of her desk. The class erupts into laughter, but I’m far from smiling. Missing are the red lips and black fuck-me outfit, and in their place is a tight grey pencil skirt and white blouse.


Her name is Megan. The fierce little spitfire I spent an entire night with, getting to know every nuance of her body, every touch, curve, and dip. Megan Benedict, my professor, who I have to destroy and teach a lesson. This has to be some kind of joke.

What the fuck is Lillian up to?

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