Her body arches on the screen and I struggle with myself.
“God, I can feel where you ripped me open,” she moans. “It feels so fucking good to touch it… To feel it… To fuck it.”
“Stop,” I demand. “I’m leaving if you keep this up, toy.”
“As if,” she laughs melodically. “Tell me you won’t speak to her again, and I’ll stay away from Easton, too. Or else… I’ll just have to give myself the orgasms you’ve been refusing me.”
“Fuck you,” I grit out, then end the call.
I toss my phone to the desk, my eyes stuck to the screen. She repeats my name several times before glancing at the phone’s screen, sighing in frustration when she sees I’ve actually ended the call. Her fingers linger over her pussy, as if she’s undecided whether she should make herself come or stop now that I’m gone.
I close my eyes tightly, then click out of the screen. I don’t even want to fucking know.
My next move is telling the guys to make sure she’s nowhere near Brantley. That guy has an agenda, and I’m not letting him fuck up the toy I’ve spent weeks training. She’s not done serving me.
I only notice how badly my hands are shaking hours later, as I bring myself to an explosive orgasm and spray the shower walls with ropes of cum meant for the girl I don’t intend on keeping.
Sweet, stupid Pandora.
She still thinks she’s the queen of our match…
Too bad she’s just a goddamn pawn.
Seven
Pandora
I doodle absent-mindedly in my notebook, trying to forget the fact that my heart is still pounding in my chest. Dexter was a no-show again. The school feels different without him here. It makes me nervous as hell.
There's the sound of the door opening and closing, and I look up, my eyes widening when I take in the scene before me. Easton Brantley stands in front of the class, his eyes slowly scanning the room until they zero in on me. Then, he smirks, never looking away as the professor strides up to him, addressing him in an annoyed tone.
"You're not in this class, Mr. Brantley," the professor says. "We'd appreciate if you didn't interrupt the lesson."
"I'll interrupt all I want," Easton says confidently. "And besides, I fancy a lesson in modern art, anyway."
"This is a class about Greek antiquity," the teacher interrupts sounding scandalized. "Not modern-"
"Whatever," Easton waves his hand dismissively. "I'm staying."
The teacher huffs and puffs but Easton gives him a long, meaningful look that seems to be enough to convince him. He makes his way back to his desk, muttering something under his breath while Easton comfortably strides to the desk behind mine, flopping down on the seat. My skin prickles when I feel his gaze on me. He knows my secret... Though he's done nothing to give it away. I'm so grateful for it, but still questioning his agenda.
I try to listen to the teacher, Mr. Rogers, drone on, but my thoughts are anywhere but on the Acropolis in Athens. I'm preoccupied with thoughts of Dexter and the other Firstborns, absent-mindedly turning my engagement ring this way and that on my finger. I'm biting my lower lip, nearly digging my teeth in deep enough to draw blood when someone taps me on the shoulder.
I look over my shoulder to find Easton staring at me intently.
"What's on your mind?" he whisper-asks, and I shrug, pointing to the blackboard in front of us where Mr. Rogers is drawing the three types of Greek columns.
"Pay attention," I tell him. "You don't want to get in trouble with him again, do you?"
"Mr. Rogers?" Easton laughs easily. "Oh, I won't get in trouble with him.”
I narrow my eyes at him, wondering out loud, "How so?"
"Let's just say I have some dirt on him," Easton winks at me, his jaw setting and making him look even more devastatingly handsome. "You know that girl that got expelled last week?"
I vaguely remember a lower-ranking girl leaving the school for reasons that weren't quite explained, so I give him a short nod.
"He slept with her," Easton grins. "Knocked her up. And since he's part of Julian's family, he got to stay. She wasn't quite as lucky."