Corrupt
Page 111
He led me past the steam room, the sauna, and the spas, their water vapor winding up out of the pools like a witch’s brew, and led me past the lockers and the few male voices I could hear lurking about in the vast room. Curving to the right, we stepped into a row of frosted glass doors. Michael grabbed the handle of one and pushed me inside, stepping behind me and closing the door.
Looking up, I spun around, seeing that it was a shower. The rainfall head sat directly above me on the ceiling, and a built in soap dish on the wall held three large bottles with pumps—shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.
Michael took my bag and opened it, pulling out my pants, jacket, gloves, socks, and shoes.
Tossing the bag down, he dropped to a knee and started unfastening my pants.
I laughed under my breath, grabbing at his hands. “I can do it,” I protested.
“But I want to,” he said, sounding playful and making my heart flutter.
I heaved a sigh and stood up straight, letting him take off my shoes and socks before pulling down my jeans and slipping them over my feet. I stripping off my sweatshirt and T-shirt together, dropping them to the floor.
I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for him to get out my white fencing pants and dress me, but instead, his eyes locked on mine as he slid his fingertips up my legs.
His lips quirked, and heat spread into his hazel eyes.
Curling his fingers under the hem of my panties, he pulled them down my legs, and I simply watched, trying to stay calm despite the butterflies on my belly.
I loved it when he watched me.
His rudeness and course attitude made the rare times he was soft so captivating that I wanted to slap myself. He was a sadist, and my little heart just had to go pitter-patter the second his yanks, grabs, and pulls turned into gentle caresses and his frowns, scowls, and snarls turned into whispers.
I fell, and I never even tried to stop myself.
Lust and logic sat on my shoulders like the modern day angel and devil, one telling me to trust my heart and the other telling me that I would never be able to trust his.
Michael slid his hands up my thighs, and I stood there, completely naked for him as his hot eyes drank me in and his fingers kneaded my skin.
“Don’t even think about it,” I scolded. “I want to fence.”
He broke out in a smile, knowing he was caught. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, sliding his hands up my ass and holding my hips as he looked up at me.
I couldn’t believe it. Michael Crist was on his knees, telling me I was beautiful.
I pushed his hands, heaving a sigh. “Just get me dressed.”
I wasn’t sure why he wanted me completely naked—no bra or panties—but arguing would tell him I was nervous, and screw that.
If he wanted me naked under my gear, it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.
He helped me get into my socks and then my pants. I slipped into my jacket that zipped up the front and then twisted my hair into a bun on the top of my head and wrapped a rubber band around it, securing it before sliding on my white gloves.
We got my shoes and mask on, making sure any stray hairs were tucked in.
“Let’s go,” Michael stood up and turned for the door, grabbing my hand.
But I yanked it out, smiling even though he couldn’t see my face under the mask. “Do you normally hold Will’s hand?”
He paused, as if realizing what he’d done. “Good point.”
He opened the shower door, I followed him out, past the lockers, spas, and steam room and sauna again. Just as we were heading for the door leading back into the gym, Kai walked through, entering the locker room with a bag over his shoulder.
“Hey, what are you doing?” he asked, stopping in front of Michael.
Michael shook his head, blowing him off, but then Kai’s eyes flashed to me and instantly narrowed.
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.”
Looking up, I spun around, seeing that it was a shower. The rainfall head sat directly above me on the ceiling, and a built in soap dish on the wall held three large bottles with pumps—shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.
Michael took my bag and opened it, pulling out my pants, jacket, gloves, socks, and shoes.
Tossing the bag down, he dropped to a knee and started unfastening my pants.
I laughed under my breath, grabbing at his hands. “I can do it,” I protested.
“But I want to,” he said, sounding playful and making my heart flutter.
I heaved a sigh and stood up straight, letting him take off my shoes and socks before pulling down my jeans and slipping them over my feet. I stripping off my sweatshirt and T-shirt together, dropping them to the floor.
I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for him to get out my white fencing pants and dress me, but instead, his eyes locked on mine as he slid his fingertips up my legs.
His lips quirked, and heat spread into his hazel eyes.
Curling his fingers under the hem of my panties, he pulled them down my legs, and I simply watched, trying to stay calm despite the butterflies on my belly.
I loved it when he watched me.
His rudeness and course attitude made the rare times he was soft so captivating that I wanted to slap myself. He was a sadist, and my little heart just had to go pitter-patter the second his yanks, grabs, and pulls turned into gentle caresses and his frowns, scowls, and snarls turned into whispers.
I fell, and I never even tried to stop myself.
Lust and logic sat on my shoulders like the modern day angel and devil, one telling me to trust my heart and the other telling me that I would never be able to trust his.
Michael slid his hands up my thighs, and I stood there, completely naked for him as his hot eyes drank me in and his fingers kneaded my skin.
“Don’t even think about it,” I scolded. “I want to fence.”
He broke out in a smile, knowing he was caught. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, sliding his hands up my ass and holding my hips as he looked up at me.
I couldn’t believe it. Michael Crist was on his knees, telling me I was beautiful.
I pushed his hands, heaving a sigh. “Just get me dressed.”
I wasn’t sure why he wanted me completely naked—no bra or panties—but arguing would tell him I was nervous, and screw that.
If he wanted me naked under my gear, it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.
He helped me get into my socks and then my pants. I slipped into my jacket that zipped up the front and then twisted my hair into a bun on the top of my head and wrapped a rubber band around it, securing it before sliding on my white gloves.
We got my shoes and mask on, making sure any stray hairs were tucked in.
“Let’s go,” Michael stood up and turned for the door, grabbing my hand.
But I yanked it out, smiling even though he couldn’t see my face under the mask. “Do you normally hold Will’s hand?”
He paused, as if realizing what he’d done. “Good point.”
He opened the shower door, I followed him out, past the lockers, spas, and steam room and sauna again. Just as we were heading for the door leading back into the gym, Kai walked through, entering the locker room with a bag over his shoulder.
“Hey, what are you doing?” he asked, stopping in front of Michael.
Michael shook his head, blowing him off, but then Kai’s eyes flashed to me and instantly narrowed.
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.”
