Se7en

by Sky Corgan

What happens now? I mean, obviously he’s ready to go to sleep. But after that? What happens tomorrow and the next day and the one after? How will I make it through the week if he treats me coldly after this?

  “I’ll have Susan bring you a cocktail in a little while.” He makes his way to the door, opening it before turning back to me. “Do you remember how to get back to your room?”

  “Yes.” I nod.

  “Good. Then I’ll see you in the morning.” He offers me a smile before leaving, and it feels like a piece of my soul goes with him.

  With Chandler gone, I take my time getting dressed. I sit on the side of the bed and sigh, running my fingers over the fur. It was a little scratchy against my skin during sex, but I didn’t really think much of it until now.

  Rose petals are strewn all over the place. Some of them have even made their way onto the floor. Chandler’s perfect circle is completely destroyed.

  There’s another shade of red on the fur. It’s barely visible, a simple spot here and there, but I know what it is. The sign that my purity is gone. I squeeze my thighs together, feeling my muscles strain from the labor of being held open for so long with Chandler between them. Everything is going to hurt tomorrow, including my heart. Like a hapless idiot, I’ve already allowed myself to become attached to Chandler. I’m afraid of what the rest of the week will hold for me and how I’ll handle things once it’s all over. But I suppose I shouldn’t linger on it for long right now… because this is only the beginning.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Susan delivers my cocktail as promised. She's polite and emotionless, reminding me of a robot. The glass she offers me looks like it contains nothing but water. When I ask what's inside, she simply tells me that it's something to help me sleep. The vagueness is a bit unsettling, but I suppose Chandler knows that I'm not allergic to any medications because of my medical screening.

  I nod in thanks as I take the glass from her and send her on her way—wherever it is she goes when she's not busy tending to Chandler's needs. Hopefully, not to his bedroom, I think selfishly. If they have sex tonight, I should be able to hear it. And it would shatter me completely. I shouldn't feel this possessive of him, but I have no control over it. After all, what we just did together was kind of a big deal for me.

  I sit on the side of my bed and drink down the cocktail. It's flavorless, which makes it easy to stomach. Within a few minutes, my eyelids begin to grow heavy. The sleepiness comes on with a disturbing rapidness. One minute I'm fine. The next, I'm on my side struggling to keep my eyes open. And then… darkness.

  I wake to something poking me. At least, I think I wake. I'm so deliriously groggy that I can barely open my eyes—that I can't tell what's real and what's not.

  Darkness surrounds me. I close my eyes because I don't have the strength to keep them open. Then I feel a hand massaging my hip and the stinging of something pressing between my legs. It takes me a moment to put the pieces together—that someone is in my room trying to fuck me.

  I groan to let whoever it is know that I'm awake. It's Chandler. It has to be. There are no other men here.

  Just knowing he's with me instantly revs my core. I push my hips back, ready to receive him but too tired to actually move. Whatever was in that cocktail still has me in its iron grip. If not for the discomfort of his cock tunneling into my sore pussy, I'd probably pass right back out.

  A soft moan when he's all the way inside confirms that it's Chandler, and I instantly feel my body relax. What time is it? Did he wake up in the middle of the night and come into my room to have sex with me? He must have. Not that I can tell what time of day it is in here with no windows.

  I glance at the clock on the bedside table, confused when I realize there's no light coming from it. I could have sworn it was digital. I raise my head and look around for any other small lights from plugged-in electronic devices, but there's nothing. Chandler's grip tightens on me. He bucks his hips, the compressed position making him feel extra large inside of me.

  Where are all the lights?

  Chandler wraps his arms around me, one of his palms cupping my breast as he pulls me back against him, moaning into my ear. He picks up the pace, and my mouth falls open in a torrent of soft pleasure noises. I was not ready for this. Not prepared. But it's a most welcome intrusion.

  “Oh yes,” I breathe out, consumed by the spreading sensation every time he thrusts. My clit pulses in approval.

  This is what I wanted, isn't it? To have him again. Barely being able to stay awake makes the experience a bit bizarre, though. The cocktail is messing up my mental focus, but my body feels everything. Somehow, my physical senses are on high alert, able to enjoy everything he does. I still don't know whether this is real or not.

  “Oh fuck,” he curses, sending a dose of comfort to me from the recognition of his voice. To be honest, I'm so out of it that I'm not even sure I'm imagining things correctly. It could be anyone behind me. My senses aren't reliable right now.

  “It feels so good,” I mutter.

  Chandler pistons into me a few more times before he pulls out. And the next thing I know there's a knock on the door, and I'm opening my eyes to the sound of birds chirping in the artificial landscape. I'm alone in bed, completely clothed. Did I dream the sex from last night?

  “What in the hell?” I tear my fingers through my hair as I sit up.

  There's a slight lingering drowsiness from the cocktail. I gaze down at the empty glass on the bedside table. Whatever Susan gave me, it had too much medicine in it. While it worked to knock me out, I don't want that again. I look at the digital face of the clock on my bedside table and sigh. The sex was a dream. It had to have been.

  My legs feel wobbly as I stand and head to the door. Susan is on the other side, announcing that it's time for breakfast. I ask her to give me a few minutes as I rub the sleep from my eyes. For as long as I napped yesterday, I can't believe I slept all night. It's 9 AM. Hopefully, Chandler hasn't been waiting for me. Whatever the case, he's going to have to wait a little longer because I need a bath.

  Not being able to shower is annoying. Normally, I enjoy baths, but not when I'm rushed. My body is still wrought with exhaustion. I want to sink into the water and sleep forever. Not in the suicidal sense. Just that it's too comfortable and I'm still sleepy.

  I explore my curves, thinking about how Chandler's hands were all over me last night. Will it be weird facing him today? We're no longer just artist and muse. Now we're something more. Will he see it that way or am I just being a naive, hopeful girl? There's really no way to predict how he's going to react to me now.

  The warm water helps to soothe my sore muscles. I emerge from the bath feeling relaxed but guilty for taking so long. By the time I finish getting dressed and do my hair and makeup, it's almost 10 AM. Chandler is probably annoyed by my lateness. I should plan on setting the alarm for the rest of the week so that this doesn't happen again.

  I head into the dining room, the backdrop of the glass window a pleasant view. The sun is streaming in, and the outside scenery looks inviting. The scenery inside isn't bad either. Chandler is sitting at the table with his cell phone in his hand. He's wearing a muscle shirt that shows off his amazingly toned arms. To think that they were wrapped around me last night. That he was inside of me… My body is already hungering for something more substantial than the bowl of fruit set out on my side of the table.

  I try to push back my arousal, tearing my eyes away from him to assess my breakfast as I take my seat. “What's this?” I ask, noticing a bunch of unidentifiable things in the bowl.

  “It's pitaya shaved ice and granola on the bottom with fresh strawberries, bananas, and blackberries. There's bee pollen, chia seeds, and agave nectar on top,” he informs me.

  “Fancy.” My eyes widen for effect before I realize that there's no plate in front of him. “Did you eat already?”

  “Yes. A while ago.” He puts his phone in his pocket.

  “Sorry.” I shrink down in my chair. “I d
idn't mean to keep you waiting, but I desperately needed a bath. I made the mistake of drinking that cocktail before I could take one last night. It really knocked me out. What was in that, by the way?” I glance up at him.

  “Sleeping medicine,” he replies plainly.

  “I know, but what kind? I had some pretty…intense dreams.” I nod at the memory.

  Chandler grins at me, crossing his arms on top of the table as he leans forward. “What kind of dreams?”

  “Wouldn't you like to know?” I blush, averting my gaze and stirring the mixture in the bowl.

  “I would. That's why I asked.”

  When I look up at him, the expression he's wearing makes my pussy clench. My God is he ever sexy.

  “Naughty dreams,” I say vaguely.

  “Did you dream of me fucking you?”

  His boldness makes my cheeks flame. Plus the way he said it was super seductive. I wonder if he knows he's driving me crazy.

  “Maybe.” I tilt my head to the side, playing coy.

  “Would you like to workout with me today?” Chandler leans back and relaxes in his chair, throwing ice on the intensely flirty conversation we were just having.

  “I don't really workout, but if you want to show me the ropes, then sure.” I scoop up a bite of the weird breakfast mix and stuff it into my mouth. It tastes heavenly, like fruit on sweetness steroids. “Wow, this is really good,” I tell him around the mouthful of food, totally forgetting my manners.

  He chuckles. “I'm glad you enjoy it. I hope you enjoy everything while you stay here.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Working out mainly consists of me watching Chandler. When he performs flawless push-ups, I imagine being beneath him. As he pumps out pull-ups on the bar on the deck, every uplift makes me think that his dick is mouth level. I feel like just that one romp between the sheets with him has made me insatiable.

  I put in a little effort following his lead. I do five push-ups to his fifty. I'm not even able to perform one pull-up. I just hang on the bar for a few seconds and then we both laugh when I fall. To be honest, I had half expected him to judge me for my lack of fitness. He makes exercising fun, and the more time we spend together, the more I fall for him despite rationality telling me that I need to keep our relationship as professional as possible.

  Finally, we hit the bag. Chandler stands behind me to show me proper form, putting his hands on top of my fists to make adjustments. He presses his hard body against me, and I shiver with arousal. His hot breath on my cheek as he speaks softly into my ear makes me drunk with lust. There's no doubt that he's trying to seduce me, and it's working. It worked way before he even laid a finger on me. I'm really growing to love the sexual tension between us. This is beginning to feel a lot more like a romantic retreat than an artist's project.

  You're getting too close too fast, Emma. You're just going to get hurt. That's what my brain is telling me, but my heart is fluttering like mad every time he looks at me. Hurt me, Chandler. I'm yours, and I don't care if I'm destroyed after this as long as I get to enjoy every second with you.

  After working out, Chandler sends me back to my room to bathe again, telling me that he'll come retrieve me in an hour. I do as I'm told then wait patiently, wondering what else he has planned. He's right on time, and I'm happy that he came for me himself for once instead of sending Susan.

  “Are you ready?” He leans against the door frame, looking into my room as if it's forbidden territory.

  I think of making a joke about him being a vampire that needs permission to cross over the threshold, but there's no reason to invite him into my room right now, so it seems kind of pointless.

  “What should I be ready for?” I slip between him and the door, hoping that I dressed appropriately for whatever he has planned. I put on a simple red skater dress with strappy beige sandals. The fact that he's not even wearing shoes tells me that we won't be going for a hike in the woods.

  “No questions, remember.” He grins at me, and I surrender to his will, following him down the hall.

  We don't get very far before he stops in front of a door. His eyes rake over me before he speaks. “We take our clothes off here.”

  “Excuse me?” I'm not sure I heard him right. Does he really want us to get naked in the hallway? What if Susan comes?

  Chandler doesn't answer me. Instead, he pulls his shirt over his head and begins folding it. Now I know why he has so little on; just a skin tight gray t-shirt and a pair of baggy black pants similar to the ones he was wearing when we were working out. When he pulls them down, and I realize he went commando, my cheeks flush.

  “Chop chop,” he gently rushes me along. I was so busy lecherously watching him strip that I haven't even started moving yet.

  Hesitantly, I unzip my dress, wondering what's inside of the room that we're not allowed to wear clothes. When we're both naked, and he unlocks the door, I get my answer.

  “Whoa,” I say as I take an apprehensive step inside. All the walls and ceiling and floor are paneled with mirrors. But they're not regular mirrors. My reflection seems to go on endlessly no matter where I stand.

  The glass is cold against my feet, and there's no comfortable place to sit. No furniture. I have no idea what we're going to do in here.

  “This is pretty crazy,” I tell Chandler when he's inside with the door closed behind us.

  “You think so?” He gazes around at all the mirrors, probably less self-conscious about his body.

  “It reminds me of a fun house,” I confess.

  “Except this fun house has cameras everywhere.”

  My stomach twists from the reminder that he's capturing every unpleasant imperfection of my body. That's never been more clear to me than it is in this room. Now I'm glad he's a painter instead of a photographer. He can paint all my flaws away.

  “So what now?” I turn to face him.

  “Now,” he drags out the word as he closes the distance between us, wrapping his arms around me and bending to kiss my shoulder.

  My nipples instantly bead as I realize what's going on. At least, I think I realize what's going on. He wants to have sex in here, too. Why else would we both be naked?

  Chandler presses his forehead against mine, smiling that soft, brilliant smile he wears so well. He runs his fingertips up and down my sides, his affectionate touch sending warm swirls to my stomach. There's a romanticism about him that lights every fire inside of me. He's so devastatingly perfect that it kills me to think that I'll only get a few tastes of him here. I want him forever.

  I caress his cheek, far more comfortable with him than I feel I should be. He leans into my touch, and I take his face in my hands and gently pull him down to me for a kiss. The first few are chaste, but it's not long before he's seeking entry into my mouth. Our tongues dance, tasting and exploring.

  His fingertips move down my body, lightly tracing over my breasts before they settle on my waist. I can feel his erection between us, the head of his cock already wet with arousal. I grab the heat between his legs, giving it a few cursory strokes. He's so thick and hard against my palm, like steel with a soft covering.

  Chandler pulls away from me, taking my hand in his and sits on the floor. “Come down here,” he tells me as he lies on his back.

  I want to screw my face at the thought of being on the hard floor, but I don't want to show him that the idea displeases me. Just being with him is a gift, and I should accept it in any form.

  I follow him down, planting a knee a safe distance between his legs and gliding my hand up his stomach to his chest. So much muscle. His body is delicious. I want to devour every inch of him. But his eyes are even more amazing; the heated way in which he looks at me.

  I rest my hand on his hip, bending to kiss him. He pinches my nipple, sending a pulse of electricity straight to my clit. Having not seen his hand coming to tease me, I blush from the bit of stimulation.

  Seeing him look at me so seductively makes me want to please him, so I grab his cock and
start stroking. My mouth soon follows, and I take him between my lips, sucking like I'm starving. He gathers my hair in one hand, holding it to the side so he can watch me. I pull out all the tricks I know, gazing into his eyes when I pop him out of my mouth to tease my tongue rapidly across his tip.

  He groans, closing his eyes and resting his head back on the floor. I know it's not comfortable, but the fact that he's willing to sacrifice his comfort for the sake of his art is part of what makes him a great artist.

  When my jaw gets tired, I move forward, rubbing his dick between my tits. Hovering over him, there's very little pressure to bring him pleasure, so I compensate by kissing him every time I rock up. He grins at me, and it makes me feel a little self-conscious, but there's still heat in his eyes so I must be doing something right.

  “Come here.” Chandler grabs my hand, giving it a gentle tug. I'm not really sure what he wants, so I straddle him. “Closer.”

  I give him a confused look as I crawl up his body, my legs spreading wide to make room for his broad torso. When I'm chest level with him, he places both hands on my ass, urging me up until I'm over his face. Oh my God. Really?

  I blush madly as he cranes his neck, his tongue pushing past his lips to spread my pussy. The look he gives me makes me shiver as the tip of his tongue finds my opening and spears up into me.

  I slide my fingers into his hair, more resting my hand on his head than holding him against me. When his mouth circles my clit and he applies suction, I whimper, feeling my impending climax being drawn to the surface.

  I rock my body, gently riding his face with one hand in his hair, the other lazily stroking his cock. I barely even feel the discomfort in my knees anymore, the pleasure usurping all my other senses.

  I'm loving everything. How he grips my ass to keep me in place. The way his skin moves over his shaft when I stroke him. The wetness of his saliva soothing my heated parts and the firmness of his tongue as it dances around my cleft.