Corrupt(115)

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.