Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“You know who.” His voice lowers. “If he came to you, I don’t think you’d deny him.”
I’m practically pulsing with the need to scream yes.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He finally turns away. “Let’s find out then.” And when he walks out of the basement, I’m sitting there trembling with anticipation, frustrated that he can knock me off-balance so easily.
Chapter 23
Carmie
I’m wide awake when I finally force myself to get into bed. It’s past midnight. I’ve been sitting around in my gym clothes waiting for a masked man to show up at my door. Except that’s stupid, and he’s clearly not coming.
Time to give up. I crawl under the covers, but I’m still burning with adrenaline thinking about Lev in that fencer’s mask. And it’s only after I’ve basically decided that this isn’t going to happen when I finally hear the creak of footsteps in the hall.
My mind goes to filthy places. Lev pinning me down and fucking me violently. His hot breath on my back and neck as he plunges deep between my legs. The pure bliss of an orgasm ripping through my skin. His cock in my mouth as my spit rolls down his shaft.
When the door opens, I expect a mostly naked godlike creature.
Instead, it’s him, fully clothed in fencing gear.
“Get up, princess.”
I sit and stare, my mouth open. What the fuck is happening right now?
Lev tilts his head, but I can’t read his expression through the mask. He grabs my fencing gear from the floor and throws it at me.
“Get dressed,” he says.
“Are you serious?”
“Put it on.” There’s no question. His tone is pure demand.
I should tell him off. I’ve been waiting for this, and now he’s really trying to spar with me? But the competitive demon roars deep in my veins, and fuck it, fuck him, if he wants this, then I won’t hold back.
I get out of bed and snatch up my clothes. “Turn around.” He doesn’t move, though, and I don’t even know why I bothered.
I let him watch. Screw him to hell. I strip completely naked, pull on my sports bra and comfortable underwear, and drag on the fencing costume. He stands still the whole time, staring at my body as I do it. I’m blushing like crazy and feeling exposed, but my heart’s hammering in my chest and my hands are shaking, and I don’t know what’s going to happen from here.
But I do know I’m going to shred him.
I’m going to rip him to fucking pieces.
Lev walks out of my room. The masked man stalks down the hall as I follow after him. I roll my shoulders and my neck, loosening up as he takes me into the basement. Everything’s been cleared away already, and a space has been designated for the bout.
My foil and mask are both waiting for me. I lift the sword first and balance it in my hand, taking a few warm-up lunges before putting the mask on but leaving it tilted up.
“You sure about this?” I ask.
Lev falls into a passable fencing stance. “Come on. Don’t make me fucking wait.”
A shiver runs down my spine. Excitement slams into my chest.
“Rules?” He doesn’t answer. “First touch then. Epee style.” I figure that’s easiest since any touch on any part of the body counts in epee. It’ll give him a very slight chance since it’s my worst discipline. I prefer the raw aggression of saber to the measured testing and attack/riposte of epee.
“Ready,” he says, holding up his blade.
I shove down my mask, give him a quick salute, and stand opposite him. “Ready,” I say, dancing on the balls of my feet. “Let’s go.”
Not exactly standard, but it works.
He comes toward me. Lev’s strong and quick, but his footwork is absolutely terrible. I test him with a few quick swipes of my foil, our blades clashing, and this feels good. It feels so fucking good.
My nerves burn away. The moment shrinks. I’m entirely in this bout. Even if it’s the furthest thing from a real fencing match and really just a basement swordfight, it feels incredible.
I want to fucking crush him.
Instead, I take my time. I move through a few forms and pull back before touching him at least twice. I can almost feel his frustration as I tease him into an awkward lunge, parry his blade, and dance backwards instead of finishing him.
“Don’t fucking hold back,” he snarls at me.
“Or else what? I thought you could take me.”
“I can.” He comes at me. It’s a furious attack as he swipes wildly. I easily evade backwards, excitement singing, my breath coming fast, and I quickly knock his blade sideways before executing a decent lunge into a touch right on his chest.
He grunts and backs away as I release a primal scream.
It’s overkill. I know it’s too much. But fuck, it feels so good to win again. It’s been so long since I scored a touch on an opponent on the piste and even though Lev’s trash and this isn’t a real bout, it feels incredible.