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How the fuck had I caved so easily? As soon as his lips touched mine, it was as if I had no control over my body - my actions. Which was ridiculous because I wasn't the flighty one in the family - that honor had belonged to Chantal. I was the level headed one, the one that planned and fought, the one who was meticulous abouteverything. And if I was going to get swept up with a boy, it most certainly wouldn't be someone from The Society.
He isn't a boy. My mind still whispered traitorous thoughts to me, and I was resolute in my decision to ignore them.
And he was an asshole. Which was only further proof that my brain was indeed broken becausewhy- for the love of GodWHY- was I attracted to assholes? Not that I had a string of conquests under my belt, but the few men I’d slept with fit the bill exactly. Granted, in the crowd I normally ran in, finding someone whowasn’tan outright asshole was a feat. I had every intention of telling himexactlywhat I thought of him - it was theonlyreason I followed him into his room. I hadn’t expected him to be in the shower - hadn't expected him to be naked and hard - and I certainly hadn't expected him to be working himself the way he had.
Was it me he was thinking of?
It didn’t matter, and those thoughts had no business growing roots in my mind. Memories washed over me - how helookedstanding naked beneath the spray of droplets - how hard he had been - the sound he made as he came. And then,of course, he was blessed by the gods who determined the size of one’s cock because he was enormous. In truth, every other time I had been with someone, it had beentoo darkto see them properly - to appreciate what they were working with. But then, the sex I had experienced had never been the luxurious kind - it had always been the sweat dripping, sordid kind that happened in back alleys and bar store rooms. There had never been much time for romance and exploration, and yet even still, Iknewthat my roommate was packing.
The way he kissed was nothing like I had ever experienced. It was as if he was determined to kiss methoroughly, ensuring that I felt his heat - his tongue - his taste -everywhere. It started off slow - exploratory, even, which had been a novelty for me, but before I could sink into the tempo he set, he adjusted, increasing his pace, adding more pressure, little bit by little bit until, finally,Iwas the one sinkingmyteeth intohim.
I still didn’t know how it happened, only that a small - averysmall - part of me, wanted to do it again.
And after I saw him come, the bathroom echoing with his groan - a sound that ignited my own veins with a desire that didn’t simply throb dully in the background, content to be ignored - no, itburned. Even as I stood there, taking in his physique - his abs - the scars that seemed to glint beneath the bathroom lights. Even while he was coated in his own goddamn cum, I couldn’t leave, and the asshole knew it because he simply stood there andsmiledat me, forcing me to flee like a coward.
I hated that because I was nobody’s coward. I hated the fact that I fled to my own room, only to strip out of that goddamn dress so I could sink my own damn fingers into myself, grinding against a pillow for the smallest semblance of friction. I hated that it washimthat I thought of -himthat I smelled -himthat I still tasted. And if this was day one of being with The Society, then I needed to change my strategy because I couldn’t afford to lose - least of all to someone like him. It wouldn’t take long for The Warden to come knocking on my door - to start questioning how I wasprogressing. And if I had nothing to show for my efforts except the tale of my blubbering kiss, then I was as good as dead. The Warden didn’t just back anybody, so the fact that he chose to backme,spoke volumes. It also meant that I needed to deliver.
I rolled over, forcing myself to stare at the brightly lit window - to face the consequences of my actions - to take stock of where I was and what I needed to be doing. The sun was harsh, but sometimes you needed a good dose of brightly lit reality to keep you on your chosen path. Today was one of the few days that wasn’t planned or structured by The Society’s schedule. It was our first weekend here, and to make sure that everyone felt more at ease with one another, they gave us “free” weekends. Of course it was probably to give members space to harvest the relationships they needed to keep The Society’s precious breeding program ticking over, but I was under no such illusions that this was an adult summer camp - I knew it for what it was. Which meant I needed to make the most use of my time - needed to take this weekend to scope out this basecamp - to learn about any unknown players in the game - to figure out who the fuck my roommate was.
I showered and dressed with the efficiency of someone accustomed to surviving on the bare minimum before stepping out into the common area. I still looked the part - still looked like a Society doll, but the thump in my chest and the knife strapped to my thigh gave me away. It was Saturday, which for me would normally have meant a day in my hole-in-the-wall apartment dressed in a hoodie and bootie shorts, but even I understood that the term ‘casual’ meant something entirely different in Society terms. That was the reason I stepped out looking like a goddamn Stepford wife dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a navy polo shirt. It could have been worse, but I still felt as if I wanted to crawl out of my own skin. But it didn’t matter what I felt, it only mattered what other’s saw. I stilled my body as I took in my roommate seated at the kitchen counter, a bowl of cheerios in hand, along with a carton of milk on the counter. It should have been ridiculous, really, but somehow he managed to even make eating cereal look good. I fucking hated him. A gash on his cheek was open and raw, and as I took in his appearances, I noticed the red knuckles and sweats he wore. Lover boy here had been fighting.
“You ready to beg yet?” He didn’t look up as he spoke, indicating that he knew exactly where I was - and he knew that I had been hanging back, observing him.
“Depends on what I’m begging for,” I shrugged, giving the illusion of nonchalance.
He pivoted in his chair, his green gaze honing in on me as a smile ghosted across his lips. He grunted as if surprised I’d even ask him such a question, which only emboldened me further.
“Should I beg foryour hands?” It was more taunt than question. “Or your tongue, perhaps?” I shook my head, giggling a little in that self-deprecating way that rich girls were accustomed to. “Oh! I know!” I clapped my hands with mock enthusiasm. “You want me to beg for your cock, right?” His gaze turned from amused to thunderous, but still I pushed forward.
“If you’re waiting for me to beg, you better get used to the feel of your hand.”
“You think you’re the only Society girl here that is interested in me?” His question was all challenge, and suddenly the thought of him with someone else pained me. But I didn’t have time for such girlish frivolities.
“Then by all means, go and find someone to dip your cock into becauseIwon’t beg.” I flung my hand towards the door, making a show of gesturing himout.
“You know, that doesn’t sound like a bad fucking plan, actually.” A hint of a Boston accent slipped through his speech, giving me more information on my roommate than he probably realized. He was an Irish Boston kid, and I still had no idea what he was doing in a place like The Society. I could almost imagine him growing up in a pub of sorts, and yet, here we were. “At least whoever I end up hooking up with wouldn’t throw aknifeat me.” He sounded incredulous, as if the act itself actually offended him, and it was all I could do not to laugh - I snorted, instead.
“You still sore about that, huh?”
I watched the anger dissolve from his expression almost instantaneously as he threw his head back, offering me a deep, throaty chuckle. It was the kind of sound you could feel straight to your toes. “I suppose it’s a story for the grandkids.” His green gaze met mine, offering me a wink in camaraderie in return. Yup, that was all Irish charm right there.
“Tell me, once you fled from my bathroom, did you strip down and rub your clit like you meant it, or did you simply flick the bean like a Society princess?”
And just like that, the charm was diminished and he was back to being an asshole.
“Fuck you.” I flung the words at him as if they were blades in a battle, and yet the man before me simply chuckled harder as I let myself out, content to explore the basecamp and determine exactly what I was up against.
I spent my day skirting the grounds and exploring the basecamp that moonlighted as a hotel of sorts. The Society folk were in their element, soaking up the sun by the pool, drinking beers at the bar, and throwing darts at the board. It was all sopredictable. The only things worth noting was that there was an enormous gym in the basement, complete with a boxing ring; there seemed to be some medical suites on the lower floors, but without fingerprint recognition or akey, I couldn’t get in; and there were far too many alcoves and crevices in this place, which just made me feel watched in continuation. Of course, I knew that they were watching us - that this was our own hell-like version of The Truman Show, but knowing something and experiencing it firsthand brought about vastly different emotions.
I eventually seated myself outdoors, sticking to the shaded areas, thankful that at this time of day, most were already drunk or hooking up, leaving me mostly free and un-harassed. It didn’t take long for my gaze to find him, his hair lit up like flames beneath the sunlight. I couldn’t tell if he was my savior or my demise, and I imagined most felt that way about any addiction. Even from this distance, I heard them - heard him joke with his friends. He mingled and integrated with such ease, and I couldn’t help but beenviousbecause it was so simple for him. He was charismatic and good-looking, and likable. Everyone seemed to like him, and those that didn’t simply left him alone. I knew that I didn’t do that - didn’t have the ability to put others at ease. I was unable to offer simple smiles and words of affection that meant nothing. I couldn’t do it - couldn’t be fake, which was bound to be my downfall here.
And then I heard it - heard them call his name.Mack. I heard his name in orientation yesterday, and as I sat there watching him, I realized that the name fit. It wasn’t a rich kids name that was full of pomp and prestige. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but I just knew that he belonged in this world as much as I did.
Chapter Seven : Easy Rhythms Create Discord
Mack
Theweekendwasablur of activity, mostly consisting of card playing, dart throwing, and drinking. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was still back at home, shooting the shit with my friends, but this wasn’t Kansas anymore, and I didn’t have red shoes that I could tap three times to spirit me away, only so I could hide behind my mother’s skirt tails.
