Текст книги "Corrupt "

Автор книги: Penelope Douglas

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

Three Years Ago

THE CAR TURNED, AND I ROCKED BACK and forth on the floor of the G-Class, the drive turning from smooth to bumpy. The ground underneath the tires suddenly sounded like a grinder, and I knew that we’d hit gravel.

Car stereos blasted outside, and I heard honking, telling me that the whole parade was in tow. We stopped, and before I knew what was happening, doors opened, the engine died, and howls filled the air as all the passengers joined each other outside.

I stayed put, resisting the urge to peek out the windows and hoping Michael didn’t need to open the back door to get anything. Within a few minutes, though, the chatter and laughter began to fade, and then it disappeared altogether.

I slowly pushed myself up, keeping my head low as I peered out the window.

Scanning the area, tall trees dotted the clearing where everyone had parked. Cars, trucks, and SUVs cluttered the space, and I narrowed my eyes, noticing we were in the forest.

Why the hell were we out here?

But then I turned around and immediately spotted a massive stone structure ahead of me.

I tilted my head back, following the spears of the old, abandoned church peeking out through the bare autumn tree branches as it sat broken, dead, and silent in the woods.

St. Killian’s. I’d never been here, but I knew it from the pictures I’d seen in the newspaper over the years. It was an old landmark, dating back to the 1700s when Thunder Bay was first settled.

In 1938, however, it suffered structural damage due to a hurricane, and it closed, never reopening.

Everyone must’ve gone inside.

I ventured one more glance around the area, making sure no one was around, and quickly climbed over the back seat, opening one of the back doors and hopping out.

The brisk October air hit my legs, and I felt the brittle fallen leaves brush against my bare ankles. I was in my school skirt and flats, my legs completely bare, and chills broke out all over my body.

I jogged across the clearing, seeing the massive, wooden doors of the cathedral boarded shut, and rounded the corner, heading to the side. The grass was overgrown with weeds, and stones from the foundation were dislodged and broken, lying along the cathedral walls.

Music poured out of the broken stained glass windows, and I reached up, grabbing the bottom of the windowsill and stepping up on one of the three-foot high arches carved into the bottom of the church wall. Pulling myself up, I peered into the church and let out a small smile.

Damn.

Speakers were set up around the room, blasting music, while two guys—one of them Kai, shirtless and without his mask—battled bare-fisted in the center of the wide-open floor, surrounded by male and female students cheering him and the other guy on.

Judging by the relaxed crowd and the grin on Kai’s face as he jabbed at his opponent, I guessed it wasn’t a fight fight.

More like sport.

While the music blared and small groups of students wandered about, talking, laughing, and drinking from their beer bottles, I saw a few people disappearing behind the sanctuary and down some stairs.

Did old buildings like this have basements? Or—no—I thought to myself, St. Killian’s had catacombs. I’d heard about that.

Shifting my eyes up, I noticed the vast space above, the balcony section of the old church forming a semi-circle that looked down over where the altar would’ve once sat. Most of the hardwood pews had been torn out and sat in piles around the room, while the old cast-iron chandelier, reminiscent of medieval times with its candle holders and ornate design, still hung above the unholy debauchery of fighting and drinking going on below.

I spotted Miles Anderson making out with his girlfriend on a pew, and I immediately dipped my head down. I didn’t like him or her, and I didn’t want them to see me.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

I widened my eyes, my stomach instantly knotting as I turned my head to the right.

Michael stood a few feet away, his chin tipped up, staring at me through his mask.

Gripping the sill, I felt my heart pick up pace. “I…” I started to speak but felt too stupid

to say anything. I knew I shouldn’t have come. “I wanted to see.”

He cocked his head, but I had no idea what he was thinking. I wished he’d take off that

damn mask.

I held my breath, watching as he climbed up behind me, gripping the windowsill at my sides and planting his black boots on the two arches to my left and right.

What was he doing?

The heat of his body covered my back, and I braved a glance up, watching him gaze through the broken cathedral window, seeing what I saw.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I finally spoke up. “If you want me to leave—”

“Did I say that?”

I snapped my mouth shut, watching his fingers tighten around the bottle of Kirin in his hand. Michael had big hands, like most basketball players, but they were nothing compared to his height. He was nearly a foot taller than me, and I hoped he was done growing. I already had to look up at him.

I closed my eyes for a moment, desperate to just lean back and relax into him, but I held back. Instead, I dug my nails into the stone, forcing my eyes forward and watching Kai take the other guy to the ground, both of them wrestling like an MMA fight on the concrete floor.

Michael brought the beer up to his lips, and he must’ve lifted his mask, because I heard him take a drink. But then my eyebrows shot up, seeing the bottle appear in front of my chest.

Befuddled, I hesitated only a moment before I took it, keeping my smile to myself as I tipped it up and drank. I held it between my lips, letting the bitter taste sit on my tongue and then swallowing.

When I tried handing back the bottle, he waved me off. I relaxed, taking a few more sips, content that he wasn’t kicking me out. Yet.

“That door leads to the catacombs, right?” I asked, gesturing to the students inside that were heading through the darkened doorway behind the sanctuary.

I held the bottle to my chest, turning my head up to Michael.

He nodded.

I turned back, watching the two guys and girls disappear. “What are they doing down there?”

“Having other kinds of fun.”

I tightened my jaw, frustrated with his brief, cryptic response. I wanted to go inside.

But then I heard him breathe out a small, quiet laugh and felt his mask brush against my ear, his low voice whispering in my ear, “No one knows about you, do they?”

I pinched my eyebrows together, wondering what he meant. He took the bottle out of my hands and set it down on the sill.

“You’re such a good little girl, aren’t you, Rika? Good girl for mommy, good girl for teachers…” He trailed off before continuing, “You’re a good girl on the outside, but no one knows who the hell you are on the inside, do they?”

I clenched my teeth, staring ahead at nothing.

His hot breath fell on my neck as he spoke, “I know what you want to watch, Rika,” he gritted out. “I know you like to watch me. School girls shouldn’t be so naughty.”

My eyes rounded, and I sucked in a breath, pushing out from between his arms and jumping to the ground.

Embarrassment warmed my face as I dashed for the parking lot, but a hand suddenly caught mine, and I was pulled back in the opposite direction.

“Michael,” I gasped, my throat thick with fear. “Let me go.”

He stepped closer. “How do you know I’m Michael?”

I blinked, dropping my head, unable to look at him. My eyes fell on his hand holding mine. My skin burned so hot, I wasn’t sure if I was on fire or freezing.

I swallowed the tightness in my throat. “It feels like you.”

But he leaned in, making my violent heart pound even harder, and whispered, “You don’t know what I feel like.”

Then he reached up and grabbed my school necktie, yanking my body in as he pulled the tie roughly, loosening it, and slipping it over my head.

“What are you doing?” I breathed out.

But he didn’t answer.

I narrowed my eyes, watching him as he pulled the tie apart and walked around behind me, holding it over my eyes.

But I pushed it down, turning to look at him. “Why?”

Why did I need a blindfold?

“Because you’ll see more with your eyes closed,” he answered.

And I stood still as he fastened my tie around my eyes, his fingers touching my hair.

He let go of the tie, but I still felt his chest at my back, and I swayed an inch, feeling my equilibrium shift. I almost wanted to smile, feeling the butterflies in my stomach.

“Michael?” I said softly.

But he remained silent.

I breathed faster, feeling overwhelmed with the sensations. The scent of the hemlocks and red maples mixed with the cool sea air and dying leaves rushed me along with the light breeze that chilled my cheeks.

My nipples hardened, and every hair on the back of my neck stood up. What was he doing?

“Michael?” I said more quietly. I was starting to feel dumb.

But he still didn’t say anything.

My heart started pounding, and I clutched the hem of my skirt, fighting the heat between my thighs.

I swallowed, slowly turning around and holding up my hands, finding his chest and placing my palms on him.

“You can’t scare me,” I told him.

I felt his hand take mine and pull it off his chest. “I already do.”

And he walked around me, pulling me after him. I jogged a few steps, coming up to his side and holding onto his arm, trying not to stumble as we waded through the weeds, rocks, and uneven ground.

I tightened my fingers around his hand, the coarse skin of his palms feeling so good. What would his hands feel like on the rest of me?

“There’s stairs,” he warned, cutting off my thoughts. I slowed, stepping up and finding my footing.

“Come on,” he urged, leading me up. After several steps, the sunlight coming through the blindfold faded, and I knew we were inside.

The dank smell of rain and rot from years of neglect surrounded me, and I turned my head, trying to locate the echoes of voices all around. I followed Michael, walking slowly as I figured the floors were filled with debris.

Male shouts and cheers came at me from the left, and I listened, hearing them laughing and cheering. Grunts and groans followed, and I gauged that the fight was still going on.

I followed Michael, still holding onto him, but I raised my other hand, touching the blindfold. I didn’t like not being able to see, not knowing whether or not someone was coming at me. I felt like everyone was staring at me.

“Why won’t you let me see?” I asked, coming to a stop next to him.

“Would that be more exciting for you?”

I twisted my head to him, even though I couldn’t see him. “Is having me blindfolded more exciting for you?”

But then I turned my head forward again, stunned at how flippant I’d sounded. I’d always been nervous around Michael, and I was shocked—and maybe a little proud—that it had come out so easily.

I heard a couple of quick breaths come out of him, and I thought that he had laughed, although I couldn’t tell for sure.

“I want you to do something for me.” He let go of my hand, and I felt him brush against my shoulder as he came to stand behind me. “I want you to keep the blindfold on and don’t take it off. I’ll be back.”

“Be back? What?” I pinched my eyebrows together, feeling chills sweep up my legs and worry knotting my stomach.

I felt him touch the middle of my back, and his breath fell across my temple. “Show me what you’re made of.”

And then he pushed me.

I gasped, stumbling forward, my flats grinding against the dirt and dust-ridden stone floor as my arms shot out, trying to keep me from falling as I breathed quickly.

“Wha—” I choked out. “Michael?” I called, turning my head side to side.

Where the hell was he? I reached up and grabbed the blindfold. Screw this.

But then I stilled, his words playing back at me in my head. Show me what you’re made of.

He was testing me. Or playing with me. I inhaled a deep breath, steeling myself.

I could wait a little longer. You’re okay. You can do this. I wasn’t tapping out yet.

The grunts and growls of the fight were only a few feet away, and I could hear people talking and laughing. I wasn’t sure if it was because of me or the fight, but my face burned anyway, embarrassment making me want to hide. It felt like I had a thousand eyes on me, watching my every move.

My bottom lip trembled, and I held out my arms, my chest rising and falling a mile a minute as I tried to see if anyone was near me. I felt exposed, and I didn’t like it.

I took small steps, touching nothing but air as I felt my way.

“Michael?” I called again, a small cry stretching my throat that I refused to let out.

“Ah, fuck!” someone shouted, and I listened, gauging that it was coming from the fight.

I heard scuffling and a punch landing, and then cheers rang out, echoing in the vast space above.

“Woo!” a male voice shouted while others laughed.

I heard a couple of girls giggle not far off, and I sucked in a breath, hearing footsteps near me.

“Not sure what they have planned for you, honey,” a female voice teased, “but I’m jealous.”

Another girl laughed, and I scowled under the blindfold, anger warming my skin.

I straightened my back and touched the blindfold again, just wanting to peel it away.

But I curled my fists around the fabric, resisting. If I took it off, he would win. Michael would’ve kept it on, because he didn’t care. Who’s looking at me? Are they whispering about me? Are they laughing at me? Michael wouldn’t care.

I could do this.

I dropped my hands and squared my shoulders, my pulse still throbbing in my neck.

Nothing was wrong. I was embarrassed, insecure, and uncomfortable, but it was in my head.

Until someone brushed my shoulder, and I stilled, feeling a hand graze my ass.

“Mmm, I know you,” the male voice said. “Rika Fane, Trevor’s girlfriend, right?”

No. Not right, I immediately thought.

But then I froze, recognizing the menacing tone that always seemed to carry a double meaning no matter what he said.

Damon.

“What are you doing here without your man?” he taunted. “And who got you all trussed up like this?”

The skin on my arms hummed, and I wanted to rip the blindfold off. I didn’t like him looking at me when I couldn’t see.

Damon wasn’t safe.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, holding my ground. “Trevor’s not my boyfriend.”

“Too bad. I like playing with shit that’s not mine.”

And then his finger grazed my bottom lip, and I twisted my head away. “Stop,” I demanded.

But then he wrapped a hand around the back of my neck and pulled me in. “You sleep over at the Crist’s sometimes, huh?” he growled low, his breath falling on my lips. “You’ve got your own room there?”

I planted my hands on his chest, trying to push away, but he gripped my hip with the other hand, holding me in place.

“Damon!” I heard a bark come from behind him. “Fuck off and leave her alone!”

It wasn’t Michael’s voice.

Damon sighed and challenged in a bored tone, “I take what I want when I want it, Kai. We’re not in high school anymore.”

I ground my teeth together, struggling against him, but he wrapped both arms around my waist like a steel band, and I felt his whisper above my ear.

“How about I visit your room tonight, huh?” His hands dropped to my ass, and I squirmed, pushing against him, but he was too strong.

“Will you open the door for me?” he whispered against my lips. “Will you open other things for me?”

And then his hand dropped between us, sliding between my legs and rubbing me over my skirt. I let out a scream, but he cut me off, covering my mouth with his. I couldn’t breathe as I squirmed and cried out, the sound muffled under his lips.

Michael, where the fuck are you?

I balled my fists against his chest and grabbed his bottom lip between my teeth, biting down hard until he released me and shot backward.

“Fuck!” he yelled, and I drew in ragged breaths, holding out my hands, because I didn’t know where he was or if he was coming back at me.

I felt a small breeze, sensing someone else coming up.

“I said back off!” Kai yelled, sounding as if he was in front of me.

“She bit me!” Damon raged.

“Then you got less than you deserved!” Kai shot back. “Go downstairs and blow off some steam. It’s going to be a long fucking night.”

I reached up, grabbing the blindfold and wanting to see, but instead, I dropped my hands, curling my fists in anger.

“You okay, Rika?” Kai asked.

I heaved breath after breath, my body swaying as my head swam.

I bit him. I suddenly wanted to laugh. My hands tingled, and I straightened, feeling a little stronger.

“I wish I could say he was all bark and no bite, but…” Kai trailed off, letting the thought sit.

Yeah. We both knew that wasn’t true.

I inhaled, his heady body wash with only a hint of sweat hitting me. “I’m fine,” I answered. “Thanks.”

I pulled away and turned to my right, fed up with standing here like a target.

“Where are you going?”

“To the catacombs,” I replied.

“You can’t.”

I pursed my lips, twisting my head to face him. “I’m not a kid. You got that?”

“Yeah, I got it.” His deep voice held a hint of humor. “But you’re facing the wrong direction.”

I sucked in a quick breath, feeling him take my shoulders and spin me further to the right.

“Oh,” I mumbled, embarrassment heating my face. “Okay. Thanks.”

“No problem, kid,” he said, his voice thick with a laugh I could tell he was trying to hold back.

I held out my hands just a bit, still refusing to let Michael win by taking off the mask as I took a hesitant step forward. But then I stopped and turned my head again.

“You knew my name,” I stated, remembering that he’d called me Rika. In fact, Damon had said my name, too.

“Yeah.” Kai approached my back. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Why wouldn’t he?

Why would he? I’d never spoken to these guys. It at least made sense that Michael knew of me, since I spent so much time at his house, but I was sure the others had never even noticed me.

“You study fencing,” Kai started, “you’re heir to a fortune in diamonds, and you’ve been on Honor Roll since birth.”

I smiled to myself, finding his sarcasm a hell of a lot easier to deal with than Damon’s hands.

“And,” he continued behind me, his voice lowering, “You wore an amazing black bikini at the Fourth of July cookout at the beach this past summer. I looked longer than I should have.”

My cheeks instantly warmed. What did he just say?

Kai Mori was as handsome as Michael and as equally sought after by women. He could

have anyone. Why would he even have given me a second glance?

Not that I ever held out hope he would. He wasn’t Michael, of course.

“Michael shouldn’t have let you come in here,” Kai warned. “And I don’t think you should go down there.”

I felt a smile pull at my lips. “I know. That’s the same thing everyone else would tell me.”

I turned around, adding under my breath, “Except Michael.”

I held my hands out a few inches in front of me, spreading out my fingers and stepping slowly forward, moving toward the dull hum of the music and howls coming from deep below.

I shouldn’t go down by myself.

Kai had sent Damon down there, and even though I wasn’t sure he would try anything again, I did know I wasn’t safe with him.

Michael had told me to wait—he’d take me down—but…

But something inside of me hated being at anyone’s mercy. I didn’t want to follow, I didn’t want to wait, and I didn’t want to wonder. All of those things made me feel uncomfortable, like someone else was leading me around by the nose, and I didn’t like being controlled.

That’s what I admired about the Four Horsemen. They were always in control and always visible. Why wait for Michael when I could do it myself?

Cool wind blew across my bare legs, and I inhaled the smell of earth, water, and old wood drifting up through the door from the catacombs. I was close.

But then someone grabbed one of my outstretched hands, and I sucked in a quick breath, planting both of my palms on his chest and clutching the soft cotton of his sweatshirt.

“Michael?” I moved my hands up, noticing that his shoulders were nearly level with the top of my head. “Have you been here the whole time?”

But he remained silent.

I breathed in and out, trying to calm my heartbeat. The full length of his legs and torso was flush with nearly every inch of mine, and my skin warmed.

I stepped back.

“Why did you do that?” I asked. “If you’ve been here the whole time, why would you let Damon handle me like that?”

“Why didn’t you just take off the blindfold and run away?”

I straightened my back, steeling my spine. Was that what he had wanted? For me to tap out and run away? Why was he testing me?

It didn’t matter. How could he just stand there—see what was going on—and not step in? Kai had put a stop to it, and I thought Michael…

I dropped my head, afraid he could see my face heating. I guess I thought more of Michael than I should.

I tipped my chin back up, trying to keep emotion out of my voice. “You shouldn’t have been okay with it.”

“Why?” he retorted. “Who are you to me?”

I clenched my fist at my side.

“Toughen up,” he bit out in a whisper as his breath fell across my cheeks. “You’re not a victim, and I’m not your savior. You handled it. End of story.”

What the hell was the matter with him? What did he want from me? I would’ve thought he’d show concern. Jesus.

All of the men in my life—my father, Noah, Mr. Crist, and even Trevor—hovered over my life like I was a baby learning how to walk. I never cared so much for their concern, and even found it stifling at times, but from Michael…I might’ve liked it. Even just once.

He placed a finger under my chin, tipping my head up as his voice softened. “You did well. Did it feel good? To fight back?”

I caught the hint of amusement in his tone, and my stomach fluttered.

Michael had been right. I wasn’t a victim, and even though the thought of him showing up to save the day would’ve given me some kind of hint as to what he felt about me—if anything—the fact remained that I never wanted to be someone who couldn’t fight their own battles.

Hell, yes, it felt good.

I felt him move away, but his fingers slid between mine.

“So you want to go downstairs?” he asked in a low voice.

My lips quirked despite my agitation.

I let him lead the way as we continued in the direction Kai set. Howls echoed up from deep below, and my chest shook with anticipation.

Any bit of light from the other side of the blindfold disappeared and everything turned black as the air around me became cooler, thicker, and filled with the scent of earth and water, like a cave.

“There are stairs,” he warned.

I immediately slowed my step. “Can I take off the blindfold then?”

“No.”

I pushed down the anger boiling up and stuck out my other hand, finding the rough and bumpy rocks of the stone wall to my right. Michael slowed down, letting me cautiously feel my way down the stairs as we traveled in a spiral.

The grains of dirt grinded under my flats, and chills spread up my thighs, reminding me that it was getting colder and darker…

And that I was too unaware of my surroundings.

I didn’t know who was down here, what they were doing, and depending on how deep we travelled into the maze, I might not be able to find my way out, either.

Michael had made it very clear that, while he may have my hand right now, he didn’t have my back. So why didn’t any of that make me want to stop?

I slid cautious steps down the stairs, travelling deeper and deeper and feeling like the walls were getting closer to me. I inhaled a hard breath, the thin air under the earth weighing on my skin like a heavy blanket.

Michael took another step, and I followed, coming up to his side where he’d stopped.

Like a Storm’s Love the Way You Hate Me played all around me, and I gathered that all the tunnels were wired with speakers, the music probably filling every room.

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.”