Page 61 of Twisted Elites

Late one night, a few weeks after her return, the sound of a key turning in the lock yanked me out of my dream. My heart exploded into action, and I reached under my pillow, picked up the smartphone, and set it to record a video.

“Three-thirty-seven, Saturday the first of June, three weeks into the return of Miss Claymore,” I whispered into the smartphone.

The door opened about four inches and caught on the stop we had left to jam its progression.

“Bloody hell,” muttered Miss Claymore’s dry voice.

Keeping the phone directed at the door, I placed my hand over Leopold’s mouth, our signal to wake up quietly so as not to scare Miss Claymore away. When his eyes blinked open, I gave Sebastian a gentle kick in the side.

With a groan, Sebastian sat up and stretched.

“Seb!” she hissed. “Open the bloody door, or I’ll make things worse for you.”

Excitement surged in my chest, making my heart skip several beats. I tried to calm my breathing, so the camera didn’t pick it up. This footage was priceless. I gave Sebastian a nudge, encouraging him to give our movie a little context.

“How many times do I need to apologize?” he said. “It’s over, and I don’t want to have sex with you anymore.”

“I just want to talk,” she said in a wheedling tone.

“At three in the morning, Miss Claymore?” said Sebastian.

“Let me in,” she snapped.

“We can speak at breakfast,” he replied.

The sound of a metal object scraping wood filled the silence, making the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Had the woman really come equipped with tools to break into a boy’s room? The threat of her making things worse for Sebastian now held a new, more sinister promise.

“Sebastian Garraway,” she said in a blood-curdling whisper. “Let me in this instant, or I’ll hurt you.”

Nausea rose to the back of my throat. Regardless of what had happened between them in the past, no adult should enter the bedroom of a student while they slept. I knelt on the mattress, bracing my elbow into my torso and holding my forearm steady to stop the cameraphone from shaking.

“Go away, Miss Claymore!” Sebastian said. I gave him an encouraging nod to continue talking so that whoever watched this video knew exactly what was happening. “Please, I’m not having sex with you anymore.”

Whatever Miss Claymore had done with her metal implement had worked because the door opened several more inches. Enough to slide her hand through the gap and switch on the light. Squinting against the burn on my retinas, I clenched my teeth and held my breath. This was all the better for me to capture her.

It took her another several more seconds to squeeze part of her body through the door. A broad shoulder entered first, covered in the fluffy dressing gown she wore worn the day she had dumped me in that cave, with her long, black hair flowed and loose.

“This is your last warning,” said Sebastian.

A throaty laugh was her answer. “Consider this your last warning. If you make me file down any more of this doorstop, you won’t like your punishment.”

My nose wrinkled. Did she turn dominatrix before or after she discovered she’d been pigged?

“Get up and stand by the bathroom door,” Sebastian whispered to me.

Leopold pulled me to my feet and backed me toward the other end of the room. I didn’t resist. If Miss Claymore had any sense, she would come after the smartphone in my hand before ripping off Sebastian’s boxers. Once he was sure I was in position, Leopold stood in front of the door, giving me an excellent shot of his sculpted chest and the thin, white briefs that barely covered his modesty.

Moments later, Miss Claymore filed down enough of the stop to push the door open and stepped inside. Her thick dressing gown gaped, revealing a babydoll nightgown that barely covered her muscular thighs. Her black hair flowed over her shoulders, softening her made-up features.

Leopold clapped a hand over his pecs. “Miss Claymore! How inappropriate of you to sneak into a boy’s bedroom in the middle of the night.” His gaze flickered down her form. “And dressed for sex, too!”

The lustful gleam in her eyes dimmed to a dull horror, and the muscles in her face drooped. Pulling her robe closed, she turned to Sebastian, eyes gleaming with betrayal. “What is the meaning of this?”

“A sleepover with two friends,” said Sebastian.

Her gaze fixed on my smartphone, and I zoomed into her disappointed features. Baring her teeth, she snarled, “This is entrapment.”

“Sebastian didn’t invite you into his room,” I said.