Corrupt
Page 112

He grabbed my hand, damn near pulling it out of its socket as he shook it. “Well, come on, kid,” he urged, turning around and putting on his mask.
Kid? I wasn’t sure if it was my voice or my smaller frame, but at least he didn’t think I was a girl.
We stepped onto the sparring floor, and I glanced around, finding Michael sitting in a chair at a table to my right. A waiter brought a drink, and he looked up at me as he took a sip.
The rough threads of my fencing suit rubbed against my skin, and I started breathing harder, feeling the seam in the pants graze my clit.
I held back a groan, a drop of sweat gliding down my back.
“I don’t think I know you, do I?” the guy, Collins, asked.
I whipped my head back around, assuming the on-guard position. “We going to fence or what?” I bit out, holding up my foil.
He chucked and got into position as well. “Okay.”
I immediately advanced, using the footwork I’d been taught and had practiced for years as I challenged him, taking the offense. I parried, moving my foil in small circles and forcing him to defend as I pushed further and further. His arms were longer as well as his legs, so I moved fast, trying to be bold.
Trying to be the little dog with a big bark.
I circled and played, and just when I thought he was caught up with trying to keep up, I lunged and darted out my sword, sticking it into his chest.
“Whoa!” he exclaimed. “Nice.”
The thin blade bent, and I pulled back, breathing out, “Thanks.”
I backed up, setting us in position again and continued to advance or retreat as we bouted, him getting more comfortable and more aggressive.
He continued to challenge me, and I retreated, backing up as he advanced. But then I surprised him when I shot out and scored, stabbing him in the stomach.
“Dammit!” he growled.
And I stood up tall, tense that I might have pissed him off.
He pulled off his mask, his hair wet with sweat as he laughed, and I relaxed.
“Nice job, kid,” he granted, breathing hard. “Now I need a drink.”
I nodded, smiling as I let him walk off the floor. My mouth was also parched, but I wasn’t ready to take off my mask to get a drink yet
I turned my head right, realizing I’d forgotten Michael was even watching. He swirled his amber drink as he stared at me with heat in his eyes, and I couldn’t get my breathing to calm down. At that moment, every inch of my skin was aware of him.
I was damp with sweat, and the clothes stuck to my body. Every little hair was sensitive, and I wanted his mouth everywhere.
“Care for a match?” a man asked.
I twisted my head, seeing another guy with tousled black hair and dark eyes.
I nodded, not saying anything.
Positioning my feet, careful of the other fencers around us, I began sparring with him, but I was no longer thinking about fencing.
Michael. Michael, Michael. Always on my mind. Always inside of me.
I could feel his eyes on me now, and all I wanted was to strip out of these clothes and feel his skin on mine.
Forever.
What was I going to do?
“Hey, hey, hey…ease up,” the guy demanded. “I’m trying to enjoy myself here.”
I slowed my advance, breathing hard. “Sorry.”
I scored two times and he once, but I could barely concentrate anymore. Michael was watching, and now, instead of sparring and scoring, I wanted something else. The sweat on my bare skin under the clothes made the fabric chafe, and the threads rubbing my clit made me wet. I could feel my pulse between my legs throbbing, and I turned my head quickly to see Michael’s jaw flex and his chest rising and falling faster.
The corner of his mouth lifted smugly, and he knew I was getting worked up.
But then I grunted, feeling the flat tip of a sword digging into my stomach.
“Ugh,” I growled, backing away. “Dammit!”
The guy laughed at me, and I scowled at Michael, seeing him smile to himself.
My skin was so hot, and frustration nipped at every nerve on my body. The suit and mask felt like a pile of blankets on top of me, weighting me down so much that I was suffocating, and I wanted to rip everything off just to breathe.
I clenched my fists, seeing the challenge in Michael’s eyes. Oh, no. It’s my way this time.
“Good match,” I ground out to the guy, and then I walked away, leaving the floor.
“Hey?” I heard the guy exclaim.
But I didn’t turn around.
Tossing my sword at Michael, I saw him catch it before passing his table and walking out of the room, knowing he’d follow.
I made my way through the gym and into locker room, turning my head and seeing him come up behind me with fire in his eyes. He didn’t have the sword, so he must’ve left it at the table.
Twisting back around, I headed for the showers again, knowing we’d have privacy in the separate stalls, but he grabbed me by the hips, stopping me instead. Swinging open the door to the steam room, he forced me inside, and I glanced around quickly, making sure it was empty.
Steam hung in the air of the huge beige-tiled room, several areas difficult to see with all the water in the air. The rectangular area was scaffolded like a movie theater with four levels of seating and plenty of room to lie out.
But it was empty. The door didn’t lock, but we were alone for the moment.
I spun around and grabbed the bottom of my mask, tearing it off my head and letting it fall to the floor.
“Games, games, games…” I scolded, unzipping my jacket. “You’re driving me crazy.”