The Writing Retreat(45)

I gasped at the intensity. “Fuck.”

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Wow. You’re already wet, Al.” Her fingers circled my clit, gentle and insistent. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?” The intensity melted into a new, desperate need. Something began to build, a rumbling of energy from my tailbone.

“Aren’t you?” she asked again.

“I’m not your anything,” I managed to say, still swooning.

“But I want you to be. Let’s get back together. Wouldn’t you like that?” Her voice was low and hypnotic. “I’ll win this contest and then we’ll have all the money we need.”

The words cut through the sudden desire. I shook my head. “You’re not going to win. Not with your stupid actress story. I’m going to win.”

“Al.” She chuckled, and now her voice was threatening, tinged with malice. “I always win. You know that.” She kissed my neck, grinding her hips against me, bending me over the railing. I clutched at it. The marble floor was so far below.

“Say it.” She bit my shoulder hard. “Say I win.”

I gasped at the sharp, sweet pain, then laughed. “No.”

“Say it.” Her fingers swirled faster and I pushed against them, the energy lifting in my belly like a tsunami.

“No,” I moaned. “Never.”

She pushed me harder, forcing my upper body over the bannister. I dangled, feeling deliciously weak and helpless. I was suddenly scared of the railing breaking under our combined weight, of falling two floors below, but that, too, added to the rising tension: the raw mixture of lust and fear and anger and submission and even hate, all swelling under her firm, swift movements.

“Say it.” With her other hand she grabbed my hair, cranked my head back.

“Fuck you,” I spit out, grinning.

She pulled so hard, I thought my head might pop off like a doll’s. My breath was ragged and I couldn’t stop making noises, somewhere between a laugh and a whimper.

“Al…” Teasing, threatening. “Say it or I’ll stop.”

She slowed and I didn’t want her to. “No, don’t.”

“Say please.”

“Please!”

Her fingers resumed their pace. I was moaning loudly now, caught in a dark energy that seeped into my pores. My whole body was on fire, every cell throbbing, a dam about to burst.

“Say I win.” Her voice was a growl.

I couldn’t speak. My moans were my true nature, my true self: her toy, her pet.

“Say I win.” Her nails dug into my scalp, bright points of pain. The railing creaked.

“Yes,” I whispered. The pleasure enveloped me, placental, whole.

“Say it!” The order thundered in my ears. I was there, on the brink, on the edge of a great cliff. I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.

“You win!” I wailed. I’d wake everyone up but I didn’t fucking care. “You win! You win!”

The orgasm that engulfed me was like a nuclear explosion, white light filling my vision, an eruption so powerful that I didn’t realize I was falling until I was already in the air.

The back of my skull slammed into the round marble table. My vision shattered into a billion stars, a heavenly pattern that disappeared when my body hit the floor. I landed on my back, struggling for breath, bolts of lightning still jerking my arms and legs.

At first, I could see only faint outlines. I felt no pain. Actually, I couldn’t feel my body at all. Had I broken my neck?

Then my vision sharpened. There was Wren far above me, leaning on the railing with her elbows. Somehow, in the instant I’d started to come, she’d shoved me over the railing. Now she grinned and waved, like a parent spotting their child onstage. She straightened and stretched. Suddenly done with me, she sauntered away, back where I could no longer see her.

I tried to call her name. All that came out was a weak huff of air.

Black spots began to dance at the edges of my vision. I felt nothing, physically or otherwise. I couldn’t move. It was, in a peculiar way, peaceful.

Faintly, brisk footsteps came tapping towards me.

Yana, of all people, came into view, wearing a white velour tracksuit. She peered down at me, scowling.

I mouthed Help, but she rolled her eyes.

“What a mess,” she muttered, then stood. “I’ll come back in the morning.”

I tried to scream as she walked off. But of course nothing came out.





Chapter 17




“It’s a little expected.” Roza flung down the piece of paper. “A little boring. I don’t feel like I’m really getting a feel for these other characters. Alex, do you understand?”

“Yes.” I dutifully scribbled down notes.

We were nearing the end of our daily group meeting. It was day seven of the retreat, and ever since the bizarre basement situation four days ago, I’d thrown myself into the writing, trying my best to ignore Wren. I thought I’d done an admirable job, especially after the sex dream.

It had disturbed me in a deep, visceral way, especially since I’d never had an orgasm in my sleep before. The dream itself had been so lifelike. I could remember every vivid detail, which left me both horrified and aroused.

After Wren and I had hooked up in real life, I’d spent about a day in a confused, liminal space. I’d always considered our friendship purely platonic. I’d been attracted to Wren’s energy, sure, and I’d admired her beauty many times. But I’d never felt a physical desire for her—or for any other woman, for that matter. After watching Ursula meet her girlfriend, I’d briefly wondered if I should expand my dating horizons. But I just hadn’t been able to imagine myself with a woman.