Corrupt

by Penelope Douglas

  Without hesitation, he reached out and lifted the mask up, seeing my lips twist to hide my smile.

  “Nice.” He laughed, dropping my mask back down. “Well, this should be fun.”

  Shaking his head in amusement, he walked around us into the locker room, and Michael stepped forward, opening the door to the gym.

  Leading me through the maze of treadmills, weight machines, and the large boxing ring and supply of punching bags, he entered another room, a little darker, with a large wooden floor and a few fencers already sparring and lunging. Cushioned brown leather chairs sat around the floor, while some men enjoyed the bouting while drinking and talking.

  Michael led me to the wall where a plethora of epees, foils, and sabers were displayed and gesturing for me to choose one. Glancing back at the men on the floor, I noticed most were using foils.

  My heart started racing, hearing the clang of swords in the background, and I reached out, taking a foil with a pistol grip.

  “Hey, are you up for sparring?” a man’s voice said at my back, and I whipped around, my heart jumping into my throat.

  “Uh…” I looked to Michael.

  But he just smirked and leaned in. “Have fun,” he whispered in my ear and walked off.

  What? I straightened, suddenly nervous and feeling alone.

  “Collins,” the guy said, holding out his hand.

  He had light red hair, balding on top, with a shiny, pale face. He offered a wide, close-lipped smile, and I noticed he had a mask secured under one arm and a foil in his hand.

  “Uh,” I stammered and then shot out my hand. “I’m Erik.” And then I lowered my voice, repeating for extra measure, “Erik.”

  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.”

  He grabbed me, pulling the white fencing jacket down my arms and coming down on my lips hard. The jacket fell to the floor, and I gripped his shoulders as he pulled me up and into him, covering my mouth with his taste and heat. His tongue slid in, flicking mine as he moved strong and powerful, devouring me.

  “I like you crazy,” he gasped, pulling back an inch. “And I like you wet. How are you feeling down here?” He pushed his hand down the front of my pants, having no problem finding how slick I was. “Yeah. These pants rubbed against you good, huh? I knew they would.”

  I shot back up, meeting him full force as we continued to kiss, bite, and pl
ay. I worked the rubber band out of my hair, finally freeing it and letting the long tendrils fall down my back.

  His needy hands covered my skin, damp with sweat, and then slid down my pants, cupping my ass and pulling me into him.

  The thick ridge of his cock nudged my clit, and I groaned, it felt so good.

  “Somebody could come in,” I whispered against his neck as I pushed his black jacket down his arms. “We should go to the shower.”

  “No,” he growled low, ripping open his shirt, the buttons flying. “I want to see you sweat.”

  I glanced nervously at the frosted door, knowing someone could enter at any second, but my pussy was throbbing, my nipples were so hard from brushing against his clothes, and I didn’t care about anything except having him inside me.

  Within seconds, my pants, shoes, and socks were gone, and Michael had shed his shirt before picking me up and wrapping my legs around him.

  He stood there, in the center of the room, gripping my ass and kissing my neck, my jaw, and then my lips. I could feel my hair sticking to my back, and the air in the room grew thick, every inch of my skin coming alive as I tilted my head back.

  “Rika,” he whispered against my neck. “I need you. I need you every day, every hour, every minute…”

  I brought my head back up, hugging him close and wishing time would stand still.

  He was everything.

  My entire life, I only felt completely alive when he was close, and while I knew nothing would ever be easy with him, I also knew nothing would ever be good without him, either.

  Dipping my head into his neck and closing my eyes, I whispered, “I love you, Michael.”

  He remained still, his hold on me not changing, but it felt like he’d stopped breathing.

  Tears sprang to my eyes when he didn’t say anything, and I held him tight. Please don’t push me away.

  I wasn’t sorry I’d said it. I’d owned it, and there was no other choice. But I couldn’t face his silence. Or the truth that what was in his heart might not be what was in mine.

  But I wasn’t sorry.

  “Rika…” he said, sounding like he was searching for words.

  But I shook my head, dropping my legs and forcing him to let me down. “Don’t say anything,” I told him, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t expect you to.”

  His hands stayed on my hips, and I knew he was staring at me.

  “Tell her you love her,” a deep voice echoed. “Jesus Christ.”

  I shot my head up, Michael doing the same as we scanned the billows of steam and finally made out a pair of legs on the top level swinging over the edge as he sat up.

  “Is it that fucking hard?” Kai set his feet on the tile of the next level and leaned down on his elbows, staring at Michael. “You’re so tortured. Had it real tough, haven’t you, Michael?”

  I sucked in a breath and dived down, picking up Michael’s black shirt and covering myself.

  Oh, my God. He’d been here the whole time? What the hell?

  “A beautiful girl looks at you like you’re God her entire life,” Kai continued, shifting something small and red from one hand to the other over and over again, “and you’re never going to get anything better, because there is nothing better, and you still can’t say it? Do you know how lucky you are?”

  Michael stood silent, his eyes narrowed on Kai. He wasn’t going to argue with him. He never would. Giving Kai’s accusation any attention would give it credibility.

  Kai dropped his eyes, still spilling the small red items from hand to hand and looking solemn.

  Do you know how lucky you are? Had it real tough, haven’t you?

  “What are those?” I asked, tightening the shirt around my chest.

  “Shells,” he answered.

  Shells? I peered more closely at them, seeing the gold ends and tattered heads, scrappy and blown out.

  Shells. Shotgun shells.

  And they’d been fired. My heart started thumping.

  “Why do you have them?” Michael demanded.

  But Kai just shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Why do you have them?” I demanded, stepping in.

  I knew Kai was struggling, but why the hell did he have shotgun shells?

  “They’re from the last time my grandfather took me shooting clay pigeons,” he explained, no emotion in his voice. “I was thirteen. It was the last time I remember being a kid.”

  He stood up and walked down the levels, a white towel wrapped around his waist and his black hair slicked back.

  “Sorry I didn’t make myself known sooner,” he said, approaching us. “I guess I…”

  He trailed off as if thinking better of what he was about to say.

  “You guess you what?” I asked.

  He shot a glance at Michael before averting his eyes, admitting, “I guess I wanted to see if it would turn me on.”

  Heat spread up my face, and I remembered what he’d said about not touching a woman in three years.

  Had it really been that long?

  He moved to walk around us, but I instantly stepped in front of him, not sure why.

  He was so fucking lost and guarded, and if he was going to talk, I didn’t want him to stop until…

  Until he felt good again.

  “Did it?” I asked, barely audible. “Did it turn you on?”

  His eyes shifted, and I saw him swallow like he wasn’t sure what to say. Maybe he was afraid of Michael. Maybe he was afraid of me.

  I didn’t know why I did it, but I slipped off Michael’s shirt and let it fall to floor, feeling Michael tense next to me.

  Kai kept his head level but his eyes were on the floor, staring at the shirt.

  Every hair on my neck stood up, and I worried about what Michael would say or do or if he’d hate me, but something made my push forward.

  I inched closer to Kai, the steam sitting like a cloth on my skin as he refused to look up.

  “Why won’t you look at me?” I asked softly.

  He breathed out a small laugh, looking nervous. “Because you’re the first woman I’ve said shit to since I got out, and I’m afraid…” His chest rose and fell faster, “I’m afraid I’ll want to touch you.”

  I turned my head slowly, looking at Michael. Droplets sat on his chest, and his piercing eyes watched me as if waiting for what I was going to do next.

  I faced Kai again, trying to catch his eyes. “Look at me.”

  But he just shook his head and tried to veer around me. “I should get out of here.”

  I put a hand up, touching his chest and stopping him. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  His chest rose and fell under my palm, and his whole body was rigid as he continued to avoid my eyes.

  I didn’t know what I was doing or how far this was going to go, but I knew Michael wouldn’t hold me back.

  And I wasn’t so sure I wanted him to.

  “Why are you doing this?” Kai finally raised his eyes, looking down at me.

  “Because it feels right,” I told him. “Do you feel comfortable with me?”

  He glanced at Michael who had inched closer to us, and then turned his eyes back on me. “Yeah.”

  But he didn’t say anything else, and I wondered what he wouldn’t talk about? Where was the old Kai?

  He looked so alone all the time, and tears lodged in my throat, because we’d all been changed forever. Michael had hated, because he couldn’t take being helpless. Kai had suffered, because his limits had been pushed, I’d gathered. And I had struggled to find out who I was and where I belonged for so long.

  We’d all been so alone and so lost, wandering aimlessly, because none of us could admit that—not only were we not alone, but we couldn’t be happy alone. I needed Michael, Kai needed his friends, and Michael needed…

  I wasn’t sure what he needed. But I knew he felt. He felt a lot, and I wanted that from him, and I wanted Kai to release everything that was holding him back, and I wanted the three of us to vent the
pain and frustration, because it had been bottled up inside of us for so damn long.

  I reached out and wrapped my arms Kai’s neck.

  Burying my face in his neck, I held back the tears pooling in my eyes as I pressed my body into his and hung onto him like I was the one that needed him.

  “Touch me,” I whispered. “Please.”

  I heard his heavy breathing, and the pulse in his neck throbbed against my lips. His skin smelled like the salt from the spas, and the wet heat of his body melted to mine as he slowly relaxed.

  He swallowed, and then I felt his hands rest on my hips. He stayed still for a few moments, catching his breath, but then I felt his fingers spread out over my back, his fingertips digging into my skin, growing stronger and more urgent.

  His touch lowered, his hands running down my ass, and I started to follow suit. My hands came down over his shoulders, gliding down his chest, feeling the smooth skin of his collarbone and the ridges of his abs and slim waist.

  “Does this hurt?” he asked.

  I brought my head up to look at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at Michael.

  I twisted my head, seeing Michael’s mouth open a little, taking in quick, shallow breaths.

  “Yeah,” he said in a low voice, his eyes meeting mine.

  “But you like it,” I stated, feeling one of Kai’s hands trail up my belly between us. “You like the sting. It turns you on.”

  Taking Kai’s hand, I hung onto him with one arm around his neck and pressed my forehead to his as I brought his hand up and put it on my bare breast.

  He immediately exhaled a hard breath and started slowly kneading the skin, my nipple tightening and tingling under his touch.

  I closed my eyes, the pleasure seeping into my muscles and making them float. “That feels so good,” I told him.

  And then I opened my eyes, feeling a chest at my back.

  Michael took hold of my hair, and my head jerked back as he wound the strands around his fist. He then pulled, forcing my neck to bend back and my eyes up to him.

  “You’re fucking perfect,” he said and then reached around in front of me, sliding his hand between my legs.

  His mouth came down on mine, Kai dived into my neck, and I moaned in surprise, the sound getting lost in Michael’s throat.