But then a cry rang out, and I jerked my head to the right, hearing the high-pitched moan traveling toward me.
Hushed whispers seemed to spill out of the walls, groans and breaths floated around me, and I twisted my head to my other side, hearing bellows and cheers ring out from my left.
I slid my foot forward along the ground, feeling dirt instead of stone now, and listening for any sound I could grasp.
A woman’s moans carried down the tunnel, vibrating off the walls, and I licked my lips, my chest rising and falling faster.
Other kinds of fun.
Michael’s hand slid into mine again, making my skin tingle. “So how far you want to go?” he asked, his voice thick and husky.
The girl cried out again, sounding high and euphoric, and laughter and groans followed.
I rubbed my palm up and down my thigh, trying to distract from the heat building between my legs. God, what was happening to her?
I pulled my hand out of Michael’s. How far would I go?
I held out my hands, stepped toward the noises, and shook my head, wondering instead if I’d ever stop.
I knew from pictures that the catacombs were a small collection of tunnels and vaults, or rooms, underneath the church, and I wasn’t waiting for an invitation from him or his permission. He brought me down here, he wanted to play with my head, but I wasn’t playing anymore. I’d do it myself.
And he seemed to finally realize that. He hooked the inside of my elbow and jerked me back. I let out a small gasp as I stumbled.
“You stay with me down here, you understand?”
I stood still and remained silent as I swallowed the lump in my throat. He’d suddenly become more protective than he had been upstairs. Why?
He took my hand, pulling me gently along down the tunnel. My legs broke out in chills, but my neck and face heated up as the moaning and deep male voices got closer and louder.
Michael made a turn, taking me with him as we rounded a corner—or a doorway, I couldn’t be sure—and slowed our walk as the air suddenly changed, smelling of sweat, hunger, and men. My heart pumped in my chest so hard it hurt, and I couldn’t slow my breathing.
A young woman’s moans and pleasure-filled panting filled the air, and I instantly touched my blindfold, the urge to take it off strong.
But I held back. I didn’t want to give him an excuse to send me back upstairs.
I dropped my hand and let Michael take me further into the room. At least I thought it was a room. He stopped, both of us facing the sounds, and my whole face warmed with embarrassment. I turned my head, my nose touching the sleeve of his sweatshirt.
“Ah, Christ,” a guy groaned. “Fuck, she feels good. You like that, don’t you, baby?”
I heard her sexy, lustful laugh as she breathed hard, and my stomach flipped, hearing the sounds of approval and laughter around the room.
From all the men. Oh, God.
I opened my mouth in shock, speaking quietly to Michael. “Are they hurting her?” I asked, knowing he could see everything.
“No.”
I licked my lips, listening to the grunting and kissing, the gasping and growls. Was she the only girl in here?
I faced the noises again. “Are they…?” I trailed off, not sure how to ask what I wanted to know.
“Are they what?” Michael’s low voice taunted.
I opened and closed my mouth, hating the amusement I caught in his tone. He was laughing at me.
I cleared my throat. “Are they….” I inched out, “Are they fucking?”
I rarely ever used that word, but it felt appropriate.
The sound of skin hitting skin, hard and fast, filled the room, with the girl’s moans matching the rhythm, and I gritted my teeth to stifle the groan in my own throat, feeling the heat grow between my thighs.
“Michael?” I called when he didn’t answer me.
But he still said nothing. A white-hot heat fell on my left cheek, and I turned my head to face him.
“Are you staring at me?” I whispered.
“Yes.”
My breathing got shallower, and I adjusted my hand in his, not sure if it was his sweat or mine I was feeling.
“Why?” I asked.
He hesitated a moment before answering. “You surprised me,” he said quietly. “Do you use the word ‘fucking’ a lot?”
My shoulders started to drop. Was I too crude?
“No,” I admitted, looking away. “I—”
“It sounds good on you, Rika,” he cut me off, putting me at ease. “Use it more often.”
Excitement rushed under my skin, and I wasn’t sure I would heed his request, but I smirked anyway. I didn’t care if he saw it.
The men in the room started to roar, and I wasn’t sure what was happening, but they were getting more excited.
“They are, aren’t they?” I asked again, but I really didn’t need Michael to confirm.
If the panting and the dirty words weren’t enough to give it away, I couldn’t mistake the pleasure in her hot, sweet whimpers that picked up rhythm, going faster and louder as the heated vibes of the onlookers surrounded me. I could only picture what was happening to her.
“Why are people watching them?” I asked.
“For the same reason you want to,” he shot back. “It gets us excited.”
I paused, thinking about that one. Did I want to watch?
No.
No, I didn’t want to see her on display for anyone that cared to look. I didn’t want to see all these guys—and a few girls, from the voices I heard—watching her do something that should be private. And no, I didn’t want to know who she was or the guy she was fucking, so I wouldn’t have to think about what I’d seen every time I ran into them in the halls at school.
But…
“Fuck,” she whispered, sounding so desperate and high. “Oh, God. Harder.”
But maybe Michael was a little right. Maybe I wanted to see what she looked like and what she was feeling written all over her face. Maybe I did want to see the men watching her, because I wanted to know what turned them on, see the lust in their eyes, and feel a measure of it when I looked at them.
And maybe I wanted to see Michael watching her. To see if there was need and hunger there, and how hot it would feel to be her and have his eyes on me like that.
Did I want to be screwed in front of a room full of people? No. Not ever.
But I wanted to lose the blindfold and see some of what I had yet to experience. To live through her and imagine what she was feeling.
And imagine that it was Michael’s hands on me.
The pulse in my clit started to throb, and I bit my bottom lip, trying to resist the urge to lean into him.
“Sex is an unnecessary need, Rika,” Michael spoke low next to me. “Do you know what that means?”
I shook my head, too weary to do anything more.
“We don’t need sex to survive, but we need it to live,” he explained. “It’s a high, and one of the few things in life where all five senses are at their absolute peek.”
I felt him brush my arm and knew he’d moved behind me, the warmth of his chest blanketing my back.
“They see her,” he whispered in my ear, still not touching me, “that beautiful body moving and panting underneath him as he fucks her.”
I breathed harder, closing my fists around the hem of my skirt.
“They hear her moans,” he went on, “and it’s like music, because it shows that she’s loving everything that’s happening to her right now. He can smell her skin, feel her sweat, and taste her mouth.”
He leaned into my back, pushing his chest into me, but I still couldn’t feel his hands. I squeezed my eyes shut behind my blindfold. Touch me.
“It’s a feast for his body,” Michael’s sultry voice breathed out above my ear, “and that’s exactly why, next to money, sex is the one thing that drives the world, Rika. That’s why they’re watching. That’s why you want to watch. Nothing compares to h
aving someone own you like that, even if it’s just for an hour.”
I slowly twisted my head, speaking to him. “And what about love?” I challenged. “Isn’t that better than sex?”
“Have you ever had sex?”
“Have you ever been in love?” I threw back.
He remained silent, and I wondered if he was playing with my head again or if he didn’t want to tell me yes. I ignored the latter, choosing to believe the former. Please tell me he hadn’t been in love with anyone. Or worse, loved someone now.
I felt him move back to my side, and chills spread over my body at the loss of his heat.
“Isn’t she afraid people will find out?” I asked quietly. “Like at school?”
“Do you think she should be?”
Well, I would be. I may be inexperienced, but that didn’t mean I was innocent. Things done in the dark hours of night, behind closed doors, or in the heat of the moment looked a lot different in the morning, out in the open, and with a clear head. Yeah, there were things we wanted, impulses we felt, but acting on those desires brought consequences we weren’t always willing to accept, either. And maybe they were consequences we shouldn’t have to accept, but they existed nonetheless.
The girl, whoever she was, was acting of her own rules, but she’d suffer according to everyone else’s.
Which sucked.
Maybe that’s what Michael wanted me to see. Down here, in the dark, in an underground tomb with him, I got a taste of a different reality. One where the only things taboo were the rules, and to see all the things people dared to do in an environment where they had freedom.
Reaching up, I slid my fingers under the necktie secured around my eyes, ready to slip it off, but he took my hand, pulling it away from my face.
I turned my head, speaking to him at my side. “I want to see.”
“No.”
I exhaled a sigh and turned forward again, hearing the girl’s panting getting faster and louder. “You think I’m too young,” I stated, turning my head to speak to him at my side. “But I’m not.”
“Did I say that?” he snapped, his tone suddenly gone hard. “You keep putting words into my mouth.”
“Then why did you let me come down here?”
He paused, and then answered in a flat tone, “Who am I to deny you anything?”
I drew in a sharp breath, anger seeping into every muscle in my body. “I’m sick of your vague responses,” I bit out. “Why did you let me come down here?”
What did he want with me? Why press that I could do what I wanted and handle myself, and then keep me restrained, still tethered on a leash?
Did he even know what he was doing?
Screw this. I didn’t need his permission.
I reached up and whipped off the blindfold. But instead of checking out the room and the display being put on like I’d originally wanted, I immediately spun around and came to stand directly in front of him, looking up.
His hazel eyes, all that was visible behind his crimson mask that made my heart pump with fear, locked on mine, not blinking or reacting.
“Why did you bring me down here?” I pressed again, searching his eyes for any sign of emotion. “Did you think it would be funny? Get your kicks by seeing how far you could push me before I’d run away?”
But he just stood there. He didn’t speak, move, and it didn’t even look like he was breathing. He was a machine.
I shook my head, an ache settling behind my eyes. After years of fucking waiting for him to look at me and finally see me, he’d given me something—just one part of a single day—and now he’d taken it away as if I were a void standing in front of him. I was transparent and of no consequence. I didn’t know what was going on in his head, and I finally realized I never would.
“I’ll find my own way out,” I told him, turning away and heading for the door before he could see my lips tremble.
But then he caught the inside of my elbow and yanked me backward, and I gasped as my back crashed into his chest.
“Don’t go.” His voice shook.
Tears pooled in my eyes, and he wrapped an arm around my waist, keeping me glued to his chest as he walked us to the right, rushing into another dark room, this one empty.
My eyes darted around me, but I could barely see anything, the only light coming from the candles in the other room.
“Michael, stop,” I breathed out. Everything was happening too fast. What the hell was he doing?
He walked us across the room, and I dug in my heels to stop him from pushing me, but it was too late. I was pressed into the wall, my chest meeting the stone, and I immediately felt something hit my foot. I looked down to see his red mask lying on the ground as he hovered over my back.
I opened my mouth to protest, but then I froze, feeling his arm tighten around my waist and his breath fall on my neck, over my scar. I stopped breathing, letting my eyes fall closed as my skin burned and my head swam with pleasure. His face and lips nestled into my skin as he held me caged between him and the wall, but he didn’t move further. No kissing, no caressing, just holding as he breathed in and out against my skin.
“You want to know why you’re here?” he asked me, sounding strained in my ear. “You’re here, because you’re like me, Rika. You’re here, because there are enough people who try to tell us what to do and try to keep us in a box.”
He grazed his lips up my neck as he spoke. “They tell us that what we want is wrong and that freedom is dirty. They see chaos, madness, and fucking as ugly, and the older you get, the smaller that box gets. You feel it closing in already, don’t you?”
My lungs tightened, and I finally sucked in a breath, forcing myself to breathe. His hand dropped from the wall and gripped the front of my neck, bending it back to him.
“I’m hungry, Rika,” he said, pressing his hard body into my back, his lips hovering over mine. “I want everything they tell me I can’t have, and I see that hunger in you, too.”
I blinked up, trying to make out the outline of his face in the near-darkness. All I could see, though, was the straight ridge of his nose and the angle of his strong jaw.
“There are too many people that try to change us,” he went on, “and not enough people who want us to be who we really are. Someone once made me see that, and I wanted to give that to you.”
I stared up at him, my heart racing but so happy I wanted to cry. He knew. He understood what I wanted more than anything.
Freedom.
“Own who you are,” he commanded. “And don’t apologize. Do you understand? Own it or it will own you.”
Relief flooded me. For the first time in my entire life, someone told me it was okay to want what I wanted. To get into messes and to dive in head-first.
To have a little fucking fun before I died.
I dropped my hands from the wall and slowly turned around, feeling his arm around my waist loosen to let me move.
“Is that all you wanted to give me?” I asked quietly.
He dipped his head down, his heat and scent only inches away.
“I’m not sure you’re ready for more,” he said in a low voice.
And my breath shook, feeling his fingertips trail up my thigh, dragging my skirt up with them. His fingers grazed over the intimate curve where my leg met my hip, and I whimpered, clutching his sweatshirt.
Give me everything you have.
“Rika!”
I sucked in a breath and straightened, hearing my name.
Who…I tried to peer around Michael, but he was too tall, and he had me locked in.
And he made no effort to move, staying in front of me and letting his fingers linger on the
skin of my hipbone.
But after a moment, he dropped his hand and stood up, turning around and giving me room to see who was behind him.
Trevor stood in the light of the doorway between the two rooms, having probably witnessed the public display over there before making it into here.
He still wore
his school uniform, khaki pants with a light blue oxford and a navy and green necktie.
“Rika, what the hell were you thinking?” He barged over and grabbed my hand, making me stumble as he hauled me over to his side. “Your mother is worried sick. I’ll take you home.”
But before I got a chance to say anything, he stepped up to Michael. “And you stay the fuck away from her,” he ordered. “There are a dozen other chicks here. She’s not your toy.”
And without waiting for Michael to respond, Trevor squeezed my hand and pulled me toward the door. I looked back, catching one last glimpse of Michael’s eyes as he watched me leave.
Present
MY PHONE VIBRATED, and I let out a low groan as I opened my eyes and reached behind my head, fumbling for it on the end table. Grabbing it, I yanked it off the cord, my mouth stretching in a yawn as I swiped the screen and saw that I’d missed the call.
Three missed calls, actually. Trevor, Noah, and Mrs. Crist.
Jesus. Why so early? But then I blinked again, widening my eyes, as I saw the time in the top right-hand corner.
Ten o’clock!
“Shit!” I gasped, popping my head up off the sofa. “Dammit!”
I jumped to my feet, knowing I wouldn’t have time for a shower. I was supposed to be meeting with my advisor right now.
Son of a bitch! I hated being late.
I dashed into the hallway, but then I caught myself, halting as I spotted the massive splash of red in front of me and remembering what I’d done last night.
That was why I’d been up so late. I straightened, gazing at the wall I’d painted and decorated.
After Michael had sauntered out of here, I’d been so angry I had a fit. But unlike a kid that cries, screams, and hits, I’d painted, pounded, and wore myself out instead. I wasn’t even sure if I was allowed to change the wall color, but I hadn’t cared.
Michael’s smug assumption that I was at the mercy of everyone else in my life—and how fragile I was—had gotten under my skin, and I’d needed to change something. Maybe he thought I was still a school girl, naïve and inexperienced, but he didn’t have me pegged as well as he thought he did.
I hoped I wouldn’t see him today. Or regularly for that matter.
Corrupt Page 8