Page 13 of Look What You Made Me Do

Alexis just blinks at me. “You’re not ditching us for anarticle,Wyn. Get AI to write it or something.”

“M’kay, that’sunethical,” I say in a lecturing tone. “But…” Damn, my blood is still buzzing from Lucas finger fucking me. Maybe Alexis is right. I need somerealdick. “Okay. Let’s do it. Maybe it’ll clear my head.”

“Yes, girl.Yes!” she squeaks, clapping. “It’ll make you feel better. You’ll see.”

The rest of the day is kinda chill. I try to forget about the flower on my desk, and Lucas, and the mind-blowing orgasm I had in the women’s restroom this morning.

When I head back home, though, anxiety knots in my stomach. Will there be another flower waiting on my bed? Ora severed horse head this time? With the breath snagged in my lungs, I unlock my door and push it open.

My bed is empty, and a quick look around reveals nothing has been moved or disturbed inside my apartment. Pushing out a relieved breath, I set my backpack down, and step inside, shutting my door, and locking it behind me.

I immediately strip off my dress and get into leggings and an oversized shirt. I can’t sit around in my outside clothes. Yeah, no. The literalsecondI step into my apartment, I’m getting my comfy clothes on.

Pulling my laptop out of my backpack, I toss it onto my bed and grab a bottle of iced tea from my fridge. I drink half of it as I crawl onto the mattress. If I’m clubbing tomorrow night, then I’d better start my article now.

Setting my tea down, I open my laptop and a new document, staring at the flashing cursor. What could I write about? I blink, and a sudden sense of tiredness comes over me. How weird. I’ve had a long day, I guess.

Shaking my head, I yawn, and open my browser to search relevant topics to write about. “Ten Tips for Snagging a Beach Boy,” maybe? The subject is just lame enough to pass with minimal effort. I could bullshit 500 words on that.

I’m looking up a couple of sources when I start feeling dizzy. The words on the screen are blurred, and I blink again to clear my vision. Still blurred. Actually, it’s a little worse now.

My body sways, moving of its own accord, and I might feel panicked about that, but whatever is happening is making me feel oddly calm, almost euphoric.

What…the…fuck?

In what feels like slow motion, I glance over at my iced tea. Was it sealed when I opened it? It’s the only thing I’ve consumed since being home. Did someone put something in it? The thought drifts through my mind, like an abstract thing. Likea piece of lint floating into my line of vision before drifting off again.

My head feels heavy, and I lie back on the pile of pillows behind me.Yasss.That’s nice. My eyelids drift closed, and my body relaxes.

Wow,that’s some good tea. I like. Ten out of ten would absolutely recommend.

I’m floating like that for…I don’t know how long, just enjoying the slight vibration in my veins. I’m not aware of time, really, but at some point, I realize someone is standing at the foot of my bed.

It occurs to me that Ishouldbe afraid, but I can’t summon up the feeling. I blink down at the figure. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a black mask that covers everything but his eyes.

How strange.

Why is he here?

I’m still so tired, I can barely keep my eyes open, but I manage to hold his gaze. The light in my apartment has been switched off, but there’s still just enough light to see.

“You…shouldn’t…” God, I can’t get the words out. My tongue feels like a giant cotton ball.

Reaching out, he grabs my ankle and drags me down to the end of the bed. I jerk back when he touches me, “fight or flight” kicking in, instinct muscling past the effects of the drug I’ve been given. I’m guessing it was added to my tea by this guy, whoever he is. Even my murky mind can work that little puzzle out.

The flowers.

I pull against his iron grip, but doesn’t do any good. My legs dangle off the edge of the mattress, and roughly, he pulls my leggings off, followed quickly by my panties.

I can’t even wrap my head around what’s happening. It almost feels like a dream, and if it weren’t for thevery realfeelof his warm hand on my skin, I might chalk it up to that. But his grip is hard, painful, and definitely not a dream.

The masked man kneels between my open thighs, one hand on each knee, spreading me wide. I’m completely open to him, my pussy exposed to a fucking stranger who just broke into my apartment.

This isn’t good.

I summon every scrap of energy I can, fighting through the drugs. It’s so hard, but I manage to twist my body, so I’m half on my stomach, trying to wriggle out of his grip.

I hear him laugh behind his mask like this is all a fucking joke. The fury that bubbles up inside me is instantaneous, and I whip around, swiping at his face. My movements are too slow, though, so he dodges me easily.

---