Page 70 of Dulce

“Damn you, Scott, and your ten-inch dick. So what if you’re the best sex I’ve ever had? I don’t even care about that thing you do with your tongue that makes me see stars. You might be able to fuck for hours on end and make me lose my mind, but I refuse to go steady with you. I’m too young to want to be tied down in a serious relationship. You’ll have to look elsewhere, you and your dirty-talking sweet mouth.” I turn and storm off in the most dramatic fashion possible.

I head upstairs, knowing when he gets his hands on me, he’ll kill me. I jog to the bathroom, and when I find it empty, I lock myself inside before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

I couldn’t resist channeling my inner Elle Woods. Not because Scott can’t get girls on his own. He can. The man is attractive as hell, but he’s not big on being pawed over.

Touching up my makeup where my tears of laughter have smudged my mascara, I swipe another coat of gloss on my lips and smooth down my hair before stepping back and looking myself over.

My short black skirt skims my tanned thighs, but it’s quite demure until I spin around or turn too quickly. Then it swishes enough to flash my underwear.

Instead of wearing stilettos, I went for knee-high biker boots with lots of silver buckles, giving the outfit an edgy vibe while also providing me space to hide my knife. My top is a simple low-cut red T-shirt that molds to the shape of my body, and around my neck is a simple black choker.

Dark smoky eyes and red glossy lips finish the vampy look I have going on. I wanted to attract attention tonight, needing to see if someone would approach me that sets off my radar. Failing that, I’m hoping I’ll bait a fish.

This outfit screams attention. I’m hoping it also screams next victim because if they catch me in their sights, it means they aren’t looking at other girls.

I wash my hands and dry them before heading to the door and pulling it open. The hallway is quiet, so I decide to do some investigating.

There are no cameras in this building. There are none in any of them, besides the public areas such as the cafeteria and the library. The dorms are considered off-limits, which, given what’s going on, seems like the most ridiculous thing to me. If people don’t fuck in the hallways, why should it matter to them if there are cameras? I don’t dwell on it. As stupid as it is, it works in my favor right now.

I make my way to the last room on the floor and check to see if it’s open.

Sarah pointed out earlier that they have an open-door policy. Locked doors mean no entry. Doors left open mean you are invited in to fuck.

“Asking for trouble, but what do I know?” I ask myself if I was ever this stupid. As I play back a montage of my memories, I realize yes. Yes, I was. Apparently, stupidity is just a side effect of being a teenager that most people grow out of. Although it tends to take men longer than women.

I don’t linger too long. I stop at the first room with an open door and make sure the room is empty before I sneak in and do a search of the place. My saving grace is that the rooms aren’t huge. They are what regular dorm rooms are like, I guess, only there is a lone double bed in these, not two singles.

I rummage through drawers and the closet. I even do a quick peek of the bathroom, but nothing.

I leave and repeat the process with the next three rooms before bypassing Sarah’s.

I might have slightly skewed morals, more so than the next person, but I don’t feel comfortable checking out my friend’s private domain without a valid reason. She would not be okay with me wading through her sex toys. Although, knowing Sarah, that might not strictly be true.

The next door is one I’m already familiar with. The door is not open, and a turn of the knob proves it’s locked tight. But since when has that stopped me?

Pulling out one of the bobby pins that I used to pin a few curls back from my face, I bend it until it’s the right shape for me to use as a lock pick. It takes me three minutes, making me grumble under my breath. I must be losing my touch.

Eventually, it clicks, and the door unlocks. I turn the knob and use my skirt to wipe the prints off the handle, opening it the rest of the way with my elbow.

It looks the same as before, only a little more chaotic. There are clothes everywhere, as if Cassandra couldn’t decide what to wear tonight, so she tried everything on before leaving them all out.

I check the drawer that held the photos before, but it’s now empty, holding only her vibrator and a sheet of paper underneath. I lift the fun stick and it makes a sound, not a gets my pussy wet sound, but an odd one.

Frowning, I look it over before unscrewing the end and pouring out the contents.

Pills.

Shit. I snag a few and slip them into the little zip pocket of my skirt before putting the rest back and twisting the end back on.

I pick up the sheet of paper and flip it open but it’s blank on both sides. I’m disappointed. I had hoped for a map and a clue. Wouldn’t that have been awesome?

Using a discarded sock from the clothes pile, I wipe everything down before closing the drawer. The sock slips to the floor, so I bend to pick it up on the off-chance Cassandra will notice it’s moved when I hear the knob turn.

I drop and roll under the bed before the door is pushed open.

“I told you to fucking lock it,” a male voice snaps.

“I did.”

“Yeah, then why the fuck is it open now?”

She whimpers. I tighten my hands into fists, not because someone is hurting her. Not if the sound of her moan is anything to go by. No, my fists are because I recognize the voice of the man, and now I have even more questions than I started with.

Like, who the fuck is Luke Gavin, really? And how long has he been fucking Cassandra?

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