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I can barely breathe. Once again, the handle begins to move. Once again, I start to see spots in front of my eyes out of pure fear of being found out. Fuck. They’re really going to blow my cover now.
All of a sudden, my stomach rumbles to life. I’m so fucking hungry I can’t stop it, and I make a face, clutching my belly as it warns me it’s going to need to be fed soon.
“Little bitch,” the voice says now, chuckling deeply as he tests the handle again. “I know you’re in there, so you might as well give up now. If you come out now, I promise to call Dexter right away. I won’t even torture you a little bit.”
I weigh up my choices, then admit defeat, sighing heavily and getting up from the toilet. I unlock the door and come face-to-face with Caspian who’s grinning at me like the cat that got the cream.
“Well, well, well,” he says, his voice holding a dark promise. “I knew you were here, you little slut.”
“Aren’t you going to call Dexter?” I demand, narrowing my eyes at him. “You know… like you promised?”
“Oh, I think we’ve still got some time,” he goes on cruelly, winking at me. “Or are you that afraid of me? You don’t want to spend a minute in my company, is that fucking it, Pandora? Such a shame, because I’d treat you so damn well, and you fucking know it.”
I open my mouth to speak up, but he stops me, holding up his hand.
“I don’t need to hear it,” he says. “You’re Dexter’s property, yadda yadda yadda. But as far as I know, you and Booth aren’t engaged anymore, which means I have free reign just like any other Firstborn. Isn’t that right?”
“No,” I hiss at him. “I’m sure Dexter wouldn’t be too thrilled to find you making a move on me. You know how he gets.”
“Jealous?” he laughs out loud. “Possessive? Yeah, I know how he gets. Not that it changes things. Why don’t you come out here, Pandora? I want to take a good look at you.”
“No, I don’t think so,” I mutter stubbornly, crossing my arms in front of my body. “Maybe when you call Dexter I’ll come out.”
He shows me his cellphone, typing something in before smirking at me as he shows me his screen.
Nobody here, his text reads. All the cubicles are empty. I’ll meet you in the cafeteria in 10.
“See that?” he asks me. “That means we have ten minutes to ourselves, bitch, and I get to do whatever the hell I want to you in that time without anyone knowing.”
“Don’t you dare,” I hiss at him. “I’m going to tell Dexter if you fucking hurt me.”
“Why are you so convinced I’m going to hurt you?” he asks me easily as he advances on me, sending me stumbling back into the cubicle I just came out of. “Maybe I want to do something else with you. I’m not all about the pain, you know, I have other fucking interests.”
“Like what?” I demand.
“Like your fucking mouth,” he mutters, advancing on me. “Like that perfect little hole in your face that keeps talking back to me like it doesn’t know any fucking better. And before you tell me I can’t have it, why don’t we weigh up your options here?”
He takes a step forward, blocking my exit from the cubicle with his strong, lean body.
“There’s no one to save you now, is there?” he asks me. “We’re all alone in here, and I can do whatever the fuck I want with you. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do, Pandora. We may only have ten minutes, but I’m going to take advantage of every fucking second we have.”
My lips form a thin line as I stare him down, and I raise my chin up defiantly, almost daring him to go through with what he’s saying he’ll do.
He stretches an arm out, touching his fingers to my neck. But his touch is different than Dexter’s, more impatient, harsher. He grabs me by the throat, pulling me up against him and glaring at me as if I did something to piss him off.
“I see the way you look at me,” he mutters. “You don’t think I notice? I can tell you’re fucking afraid of me, bitch. But you know what? I fucking like it. I love that you’re afraid. It gets me right the fuck off. I want more.”
He squeezes his fingers around my throat, and I choke out a please, only making him grip me harder. He doesn’t give a shit that he’s hurting me – in fact, I think he likes it, relishing the fact that I’m in pain.
“Why don’t you kneel,” he suggests with a cruel smirk. “I want to see how good you look on your knees. I’ve almost forgotten what you look like all scared and needy for more.”
I don’t move, but he doesn’t give a shit about my hesitation. H
e forces me down himself, and I cry out as my knees land on the floor for the second time that day. His fingers touch my cheeks, and he hooks a thumb in my mouth, making me drool on the tile floor. God, I fucking hate him. And I hate that I get wet for his evil touch, even knowing what a piece of shit he is.
But I know his secret now. I know exactly why he is the way he is, and I’m ready to blow his cover.
“You know I like it rough, don’t you?” he asks me sweetly. “It must be in my blood.”
