Page 54 of Web of Lies
“I beat my fucking head against the wall, trying to figure out who the fuck had the balls to take my shit. And wouldn’t you fucking know it? My little troll has some big goddamn balls.” He moves into my personal space, learning from his previous ball kick.
Leaning his tight body into mine, his fist exudes a tiny amount of pressure around my throat. Angling my face towards his, so I’m staring up at his ugly, sneering face. Well, ugly isn’t exactly the way to describe him. No, Carter’s hot. In that,I’m bad for your health,kind of way. Kind of like a drug you shouldn’t consume, knowing how addictive it is. But you do it, anyway, facing the dire consequences. Yup! That’s Cruel Carter.
“How far did you get, Little Troll? Did your beady little eyes feast on all my secrets?” He smirks through his words, roughly pressing his hips into mine.
My breath hitches in my throat as our noses brush. “Not very far.AntiEyesis a bitch,” I say as the color drains from his face.
For one tiny minuscule moment, his confidence dies. Leaving me with a gaping idiot and for the first time since coming here, he looks like he’s about to shit his pants. Pride puffs out my chest at my massive achievement. Hell yes, give me a trophy! I’ve stumped your cruel bully.Kaycee! Kaycee! Kaycee!I can hear the crowd now, chanting my name.
“I fucking knew it,” he whispers, flexing his hot fingers around my throat. “I fucking knew you pulled that shit with Hadley and as hilarious as it fucking was, you are as fucking stupid as you look.”
I frown at his use of words. Stupid? Who’s he calling stupid? “I resent that,” I mutter, “I’m not stupid.”
“Oh no, obviously fucking not, Troll. You fucking—” He cracks a smile at that, brown eyes darting away until he composes himself. Is he laughing? The psycho is actually laughing! Call the presses, spread the news! Cruel Carter can laugh. Who knew?
“You fucking hacked her FlashGram and made up that disgusting gonorrhea bullshit.” He chuckles through that, shaking his head like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard.
“That wasn’t bullshit,” I say, scrunching my nose.
“No shit?” his grin grows, and I swear respect glimmers in the depths of his eyes.
“No shit.”
“Enlighten me. How the fuck did you get her medical shit?” He asks, raising his brows.
“Patient portal.” My neck stiffens from the force of having to look up at his giant ass. I wish he’d let go of my throat. But then again….
“And?” he raises a brow. “How the fuck did you do that? That shits impossible unless you have the right tools.”
Ah—crap, he’s fishing for answers.Avoid, avoid, avoid! If only his body wasn’t pressing into mine, I’d get the fuck away from here, and run in the other direction. The way I see it, something awful is about to happen. He’s too observant for his own good, and it’s about to bend me over without lube. I feel it in my bones—or vagina—but no, no, not that.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I guessed the password, simple.” My eyes trail off away from his face, tracing the books on the tall bookshelves. Row after row of beautiful spines, enchanted by words that would take me to another world. Damn, I need a good book to read.
His eyes narrow suspiciously. “Normal people don’t know shit aboutAntiEyesor how to get into a two-step verified FlashGram account, and they definitely don’t guess passwords to Patient Portals to view vile as fuck test results.” He eyes my face, shaking his head. “You’re a goddamned computer genius locked in the body of a fucking troll,” he grumbles, losing his hold on my throat.
Stepping back, he runs a hand nervously through his hair. “I’ll ask again, how fucking far did you make it into my phone?” Fuck my life, he knows. He freaking knows exactly what I did. I could tell him everything or I could get the answers I need. I need him to play my game of twenty questions. Now to see if he’ll cooperate.
“Who is the Apoco—” His hand covers my mouth in a second.
“You shut the fuck up,” he hisses. “Don’t you say that name aloud again.” I grunt, using the tip of my tongue to decorate his palm with my spit. But he doesn’t budge, if anything he pushes in closer, caging me in.
“Well… who is he?” my muffled voice vibrates against his palm, but instead of answering me like a normal person, he spins my body around, pulling me back into his hard chest.
Every taut muscle in his body strains with tension at my back. Heat flares inside my body like a confusing tornado of flames wreaking havoc on my insides. Breathing through my nose, I count to ten in my mind. He won’t kill me—one. He won’t hurt me on school grounds—two. I’ll be okay—three.
One warm hand stays firmly over my lips, keeping me quiet as his heavy arm rests beneath my breasts. He lifts me in the air like I’m as light as a feather. I kick my feet, pout, and whine, but nothing I do gets my point across. With every kick I give, I secretly hope I nail him in the nuts. He’d deserve it, too, after manhandling me like this.
“For fuck’s sakes, don’t kick my god damned dick again. You know how fucking long it took to get over your last wicked knee jab? Stay fucking still,” he grumbles in my ear. “We’re going to talk, where cameras aren’t, because if you haven’t fucking realized they follow everything you do,” he grumbles more.
Kicking open the boy’s bathroom off the library, he tosses me inside. Stumbling over my damn feet, I collide with the wall with an involuntary “oomph” leaving my lips. I grunt as his hand presses in between my shoulder blades, shoving me against the cold cement more, squishing my cheek flat against the damn wall—a wall that’s probably covered in disgusting boy pee and boogers. Ew! My nostrils flare, scenting the putrid urine, burning my nose hairs clean off. Right under my nose are four urinals lining the wall, piss stains everywhere. Scrunching my nose, my eyes drift to the puddles on the floor. Jesus, do they clean in here at all?
“I’m going to lock this door, you fucking check the stalls, then we chat,” he says, pointing toward the three puke-green bathroom stalls across the room.
I duck my head, checking each stall for signs of life, but there’s no one in here. So, to double check, I nudge the doors open, and still, no one is in here. Thank God, this is humiliating enough, I don’t need an audience. Again.
“It’s clear,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “Was all this necessary?” I ask, gesturing towards the bathroom. “I’m really tired of getting thrown into the guy’s disgusting bathrooms. Our parents pay a ton of money and it’s so gross here. It smells like piss and—ew—shit.” My nose wrinkles at the disgusting smells. This one is way dingier than the last one the twins threw me in. How do I keep getting myself into these types of situations?
He rubs his fingers over his palm, wiping away my spit. Secretly sending an odd thrill through me, I at least got him riled up a bit. I could have bit his fingers off for that stunt, he’s lucky he has any digits left and only got a tongue lick to the palm. Wait—where has that palm been? Ew. He could have touched himself.
