Corrupt

And I yanked my arm free, high on rage and energy as I hurriedly swiped the End Call button.

I threw my head back, whimpering, “Oh, God.” Grinding harder, I fucked his hand, needing to come so bad.

But then he pulled his fingers out of my panties, and I shot my head up, confused.

What the hell?

He flipped me over and then came back down on me again, pinning my hands above my head.

The throbbing between my legs ached, and the orgasm was right there. Shit!

“Michael, no!” I cried, squirming underneath him. “Oh, God, why did you stop?”

The weight of his body between my spread legs felt so good. I rolled my hips, chasing the orgasm.

“Don’t you fucking grind on me,” he growled. “You don’t get to come until you tell me the truth.”

“What truth?” I burst out. “You mean what you want to hear?”

Jesus! Did he ever stop?

“Being scared turns you on, doesn’t it?” he pressed.

No. Screw him. He needed to know he couldn’t push me around and do this to me anymore.

I clenched my teeth and scowled, shaking my head.

No, Michael. Your mask doesn’t scare me. It didn’t get me hot, and I hated it when you wore it.

His piercing eyes turned angry, and I saw his jaw flex. He pushed up off me and looked down with contempt.

“Go to bed,” he ordered.

And I fought to hide my smile as I peeled myself up off the couch. My body was tight and tense, and I was so fucking needy, I ached.

But I’d won. He hadn’t gotten what he wanted.

I stormed out of the media room and made my way down the hall, running up the stairs to the second floor. I wasn’t trying to get away from him, but I was fucking angry and pleased and turned on, and now I had energy to spare.

Slamming my bedroom door closed behind me, I crashed onto my bed and buried my face in my pillow. But the cool fabric of the fresh sheets did nothing to soothe my burning skin.

I was a wreck.

I needed him deep inside, to feel him and taste him and see him lose control over me for once.

I wanted him to use me and fuck me and go at me with a desperation he never showed for anything or anyone.

How did he manage to stop just then? He wasn’t a machine. I hadn’t mistaken what I’d seen in his eyes and the heat I’d felt from his mouth. He wanted me, didn’t he?

I let out a sigh, trying to get my breathing to even out.

Circling, circling, circling…He pulled, I pulled. He pushed, I pushed. We fought and played, toyed and challenged, but he never gave in. We never came together, fused, and seized what was there.

And I was so tired. There was something holding him back.

I stared at my alarm clock, wondering if I should even bother to set it. I had classes tomorrow, but I wouldn’t make it. I knew that. It was already after two in the morning, and I still hadn’t slept.

I gazed at the red numbers, wondering what I was going to do. Would he act like none of this had happened tomorrow?

But then I blinked, my brain going on alert. The numbers on the screen disappeared, the clock went dead, and I jerked my head up, pinching my eyebrows together.

What the…?

I turned around to see the small lights along the bottom of the bathroom walls—which were always kept on as a type of night-light—dark as well.

I pushed myself up, turning the knob on the bedside lamp, but that didn’t work, either.

“Shit.”

I twisted my head, looking out the window and seeing a light breeze. It wasn’t anything major, but the power could’ve gone out, I guessed.

Climbing off the bed, I walked to my door and opened it a crack. The hallway was nearly pitch black. I couldn’t see five feet in front of me.

My heart started to race, and I inched the door open all the way, peering out. “Michael?”

But the only sound I heard was the low howl of the wind outside. My toes curled into the carpet.

Stepping out of my room, I walked slowly, looking around and keeping my ears peeled as I made my way down the hallway.

“Michael?” I called again. “Where are you?”

I clenched my fists, the eerie darkness of the house vibrating off every inch of my skin. I felt like someone was behind me and I was being watched.

The grandfather clock chimed for the quarter hour, still working since it ran off a battery, and I stepped lightly down the stairs and into the foyer, twisting my head side to side and breathing hard.

But then someone grabbed my arm, and I sucked in a sharp breath. A large, dark form picked me up and wrapped my legs around his waist, holding me tight.

“No!” I cried out.

He slammed me into a wall next to a small table, the mirror above it shaking as I gripped his shoulders and he dug his fingers into my thighs.

I stared wide-eyed, coming face to face with a vicious red mask.

Michael.

The dark, violent gouges sent shivers down my spine, and his eyes stared out through the small holes like a chained monster. I stopped breathing.

Fear swirled in my gut, warming my insides and making every muscle clench. I tightened my thighs around his waist, feeling the slickness between my legs and my nipples chafe against my tank top.

Oh, God. He was right.

My eyes burned, and I wanted to cry. Goddammit, he was right.

I locked my ankles behind his back and held his shoulders as his hazel eyes stared at me. He wore jeans and a black hoodie, just like in the past.

I stared into his eyes and slowly slid my arms around his neck, the drumming in my chest charging every muscle in my body, making me strong.

“Yes,” I breathed out, bringing my lips close to his mask and taunting him. “Yes, it turns me on.”