Write Your Own Script

by A. L. Brooks

  It was too much, all of it—the feel of Maggie inside her, the sounds she was making, the heat between their bodies, and the fast circles Tamsyn was making against her own clit. Her orgasm wrenched a long, guttural cry from her throat as her hips thrust upwards, taking more of Maggie inside her as wave after wave of intense pleasure lit her up from the inside out.

  “Okay, bath is ready!” Tamsyn called from the other side of the cottage.

  Maggie smiled, yet groaned as she knew that meant she had to get her butt off the sofa. She was rather comfy here, wrapped up in a soft fleece throw, the material sensuous against her naked skin. She raised her arms above her head and stretched languidly. Damn, she felt good. It was amazing what a couple of hours of sofa sex could do to a woman.

  “Come on, where are you?” Tamsyn sounded impatient and it had Maggie chuckling as she finally hauled herself upright.

  “All right, diva, give me a minute.”

  Tamsyn’s bark of a laugh told Maggie her cheeky nickname had hit its mark. She wandered into the kitchen, Gizmo at her heels. She let him out the back door to take care of business, then opened the fridge. Just as she’d hoped—and expected—there was a bottle of champagne in there. Actually, there were three. She shook her head. Oh, how the other half lives.

  She poured out two glasses, stoppered the bottle, and returned it to the fridge. Gizmo barked, and she let him back in, then found a shallow bowl that could be filled with water for him. Once he seemed happy with her care for his welfare, she picked up the glasses and walked through to the bathroom.

  “I thought it was about this time,” she said, nudging the door closed behind her. Then she stopped, taking in the sight before her.

  Tamsyn had already climbed into the bath. The bubbles, of which there were many, frothed up to her chest and that cute, sexy view made Maggie’s breath catch in her throat. Tamsyn’s arms were draped on the sides of the bath, her slender fingers hanging loosely, her head leaning back against the rim of the tub. Her eyes were closed and a small, relaxed smile played across her lips. Maggie’s heart—and other parts of her anatomy—thumped in response to the visual.

  Tamsyn opened her eyes and widened her smile. “Ooh, I like your thinking,” she said as her gaze alighted on the glasses in Maggie’s hands.

  Maggie smiled and sauntered over to the bath. She placed a glass at each end, then carefully stepped into the huge tub, sitting opposite Tamsyn and wriggling until her legs were lined up on the outside of Tamsyn’s.

  “Comfy?” Tamsyn arched one eyebrow, smirking.

  Maggie wriggled a little more, simply for effect. “Yes. Thank you.” The hot, bubbly water was divine against her skin. She grinned and reached for her champagne. “To hedonistic times,” she said, reaching forward with her glass.

  “Indeed.” Tamsyn raised her glass and met her toast.

  They sipped, then simultaneously placed their glasses back on the side of the bath.

  “You’re a long way away.” Tamsyn rolled her bottom lip. “How can I kiss you if you’re over there?”

  “I would have thought you needed a rest from all that,” Maggie said, grinning. “We did rather out-do ourselves this afternoon.”

  Tamsyn laughed, the sound rich and musical. “Well, that’s true. But it’s also true that I can’t seem to get enough of you today.” Without warning she stood, sloshing water over the sides of the tub but not giving the spillage a single glance as she knelt before Maggie, pushing Maggie’s legs apart with her knees, which triggered another rush of wetness from Maggie’s pussy. Her mouth was on Maggie’s before she could comment or protest, not that she wanted to do either. The kiss started slow, but moments later Maggie was moaning, her arms wrapped around Tamsyn’s shoulders as Tamsyn’s tongue, deep in her mouth, brought her to a height of arousal she would have thought was gone for the day. Tamsyn slipped one hand beneath the water, letting her fingertips trail over the swollen lips of Maggie’s pussy. The touch jerked her hips, sending yet more water sloshing up the sides of the bath and causing Maggie to slump down into the bath from where she’d been braced against its end. A small tidal wave of water hit the opposite end of the bath before ricocheting back at twice the height and swamping over Tamsyn’s lower back, splashing into Maggie’s stomach and up into her chin. She spluttered; Tamsyn looked horrified.

  “Shit, I’m sorry!” Tamsyn said, sitting back and removing her hand from between Maggie’s legs before stretching out her legs again, wrapping them around Maggie’s thighs.

  Maggie laughed, shaking her head. “It always looks so easy in the movies, doesn’t it?”

  Tamsyn dropped her head, sighing. “Yes, but actually, you’d think I’d have known better. I’ve done a couple of these scenes and they’re a bloody nightmare. And cold too.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yes—they keep topping up the hot water, but just sitting around in a tub, half-naked, while you wait for the director to have the scene set just as they want it, you soon get chilled on the, um, exposed parts.”

  Maggie snorted, carefully wriggled forwards, and reached out her hands to cup Tamsyn’s damp breasts, which were centred with deliciously hard, deep pink nipples. “Would these be the exposed parts you are referring to?” She ran her thumbs over the nipples, revelling in the sharp intake of Tamsyn’s breath, the way her teeth bit down slowly on her bottom lip. God, this woman was sexy all over.

  “Uh-huh.” Tamsyn seemed to be struggling to speak, and the tightness in Maggie’s pussy increased at the thought that she was responsible for that. She pinched Tamsyn’s nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, then pulled them, which was something she remembered engendering a lovely reaction earlier; she wasn’t disappointed now. Tamsyn’s head dropped back, her chest pushed forward so that even more of her breasts were cupped in Maggie’s hands and she moaned, long and low. Maggie carefully sat up until her mouth could replace her fingers, then licked and teased at the full breasts as if her life depended on it. Her own pussy was throbbing, aching to be filled, simply from what she was doing to Tamsyn. This was what had happened between them all afternoon—a constant, never-ending cycle of cause and effect.

  She lifted her head for just a moment, long enough to see where Tamsyn’s right hand was and pull it from its position on her own hip to under the water.

  “Go inside me,” she murmured, and Tamsyn gasped as Maggie guided her hand to where she needed it.

  Tamsyn obeyed, slipping two fingers inside, the action slow and gentle, sending another shockwave of pleasure up and down Maggie’s spine. This time she controlled her hips—just—and simply pushed slowly forward onto Tamsyn’s fingers, making sure they were buried as deep as they could go. As Tamsyn filled her, Maggie returned her mouth to Tamsyn’s breasts, licking between the two in a random pattern that had Tamsyn gasping above her. At the same time, Tamsyn was doing an extraordinary job of maintaining a perfect pace with her thrusts. The warm water around them rocked in gentle waves that added to the sensation across Maggie’s thighs. She continued her ministrations on Tamsyn’s breasts but now brought her own hand between Tamsyn’s legs, and didn’t hesitate, when she discovered thick slickness there, to push inside with a single finger.

  “Yes!” Tamsyn hissed, and Maggie added another digit.

  How long they rocked each other like that Maggie couldn’t say. It seemed endless and yet it also seemed that within moments her pleasure was increasing to the point of climax. Everywhere throbbed and pulsed. With her mouth full of breasts and nipples, her fingers wrapped in Tamsyn’s hot pussy, it didn’t actually take much stimulation from Tamsyn’s fingers inside her to bring her to the edge. As if reading her mind, Tamsyn twisted her hand slightly so that her thumb could glide over Maggie’s wet and swollen clit. Maggie tried to concentrate on still setting a good rhythm for Tamsyn, but it was impossible as her orgasm neared and then tipped her over into that place where she was falling and
floating all at the same time. She cried out and clung to Tamsyn with her spare hand, her face now pressed tight against Tamsyn’s chest, Tamsyn’s heartbeat thumping in her ear.

  It took a couple of minutes for her own heart to slow to a manageable rate, and for her to be able to lift her head and gaze up at Tamsyn. She was flushed but looked rather proud of herself, and Maggie smirked.

  “Feeling good about something?”

  Tamsyn nodded, but her voice, when it came, was husky and shy, which startled Maggie. “I’ve…I’ve always wanted to do that. It was as delicious as I thought it would be.”

  “Sex in a bath?”

  “Yes.” Tamsyn seemed to shake herself out of her momentary wistful place, and now grinned. “Tick that off the list.”

  Maggie chuckled, but somewhere down inside a speck of hurt made itself known. She pushed it away; she’d agreed to the terms, and she’d stick with them. But it niggled, she had to admit.

  Tamsyn leaned down to kiss her, and it was easy then to banish those darker thoughts and simply focus on that hot mouth. Which reminded her of somewhere else hot and warm, and she wiggled her fingers inside Tamsyn, who shuddered and tore her mouth away.

  “Maggie, please…don’t play…I’m…”

  “Shhh. I’ve got you.”

  She lost herself then, in wetness and warmth, and breathy cries and a hard clit that begged for her attention. Lost herself in Tamsyn’s climax, in the stunning beauty it presented to her: Tamsyn spread open before her, her back arched, her head thrown back as her pussy clenched tight around Maggie’s fingers. Lost herself in this moment, right now, where everything was perfect and there were no deals and no tomorrow.

  Chapter 11

  Maggie closed the lid of her Mac and arched her arms above her head, easing out her spine. Three hours, with only one pause to use the bathroom and freshen up her tea, and five thousand words written. The total now was over sixteen thousand in only four days; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d written at that pace.

  Must be something about the inspiration for these characters.

  She smirked. Was it wrong to be using hers and Tamsyn’s story as the basis for this book, especially as they were still ‘living’ that story? Although, she really was only using the basis—the fundamental premise was there, but she’d mapped out a completely different pathway for the imaginary Maggie and Tamsyn to follow compared to the reality. Which wasn’t to say she wasn’t having a good time. A great time, in fact. Tamsyn was wonderful company, for the few hours a day they spent together.

  It was just that most of that time was spent in bed, and as much as that was satisfying Maggie in so many ways, there was an emptiness about it, a void of knowledge that left her feeling jaded every night they said goodbye. Tamsyn still wouldn’t stay the night, and Maggie had stopped asking. She had wondered, last night, if Tamsyn’s resolve might be crumbling. She’d taken longer to pull away, dressed a little slower, and there had been a long look back before she’d finally pulled the bedroom door open and departed. But was that just wishful thinking on Maggie’s part? Was her yearning for more a real thing, a real need, or was she merely letting the romance of the story she was writing colour her judgement?

  She stood up from the table, did some stretches to ease out the ache in her left hip, and walked into the living room. Gizmo, with Snakey, was asleep in front of the fire, which had died down to a red glow. Maggie banked it up and added some more logs. Her woodpile was dwindling so she’d need to either call up to the main house or take the car down to load up. Given she needed some groceries soon, perhaps a day of domesticity should be planned. And, if the weather held up the way the forecasters were anticipating, perhaps she could combine that with a drive up to the coast and a long walk on a beach. She gazed down at Gizmo. He’d love that.

  I wonder if Tamsyn would too.

  Maggie shook her head. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to get herself hurt before Tamsyn’s two weeks were up. They only had a few days left, so she just needed to stick with the deal and make the most of the incredible sex they were having. And definitely try to stop wishing it was more than just sex.

  After lunch, Maggie pulled on her coat and boots and led Gizmo out of the house. She and Tamsyn had agreed to dinner at Tamsyn’s cottage later, so they had plenty of time for a romp in the woods. Gizmo trotted along the path in front of her, tail held high, nose sniffing the air, and she smiled. While meeting Tamsyn had unblocked her writing flow, it was being tucked away in this beautiful spot with her beloved Gizmo that had really started the calming process that she’d needed so badly. So yes, saying goodbye to Tamsyn later in the week probably would hurt, and she’d probably be a bit of a mess for a few days after, but she’d still be here, and so would Gizmo, and with a new book that had her mind so excited to work on, she would be fine. More than fine.

  Tamsyn threw the Maddie Jones book down on the sofa beside her; even something that good couldn’t soothe her mood. Sure, it was one she’d read before, but it was one of her favourites, and it always calmed her down, so why wasn’t it working today?

  She snorted as the answer came quickly and far too easily: Maggie.

  Leaving her the night before had been a wrench stronger than Tamsyn was willing to acknowledge until this morning, when she’d woken after a fitful sleep with an aching head and her mind whirling. A light breakfast and a long yoga session hadn’t had the effect she’d wanted, and now reading wasn’t working either.

  “This is ridiculous. We said it was just a fling. Just sex.” She stood and moved to build up the fire. “So why can’t I stop bloody thinking about her?”

  Because she couldn’t. Thoughts and images of Maggie seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her brain. She found herself wondering what Maggie was doing at any given moment of a day, and—much to her disbelief—had begun counting down the hours until they’d see each other again.

  Maybe the problem was seeing each other every day. Perhaps they shouldn’t be so…regular with their liaisons. If they only saw each other haphazardly, then the dependency would ease, yes? Except… The thought of not seeing Maggie, touching and kissing her, as much as possible in the little time they had left, sat like lead in Tamsyn’s stomach. She wanted to see her that much, wanted to make the most of this extraordinary connection. She’d even caught herself pondering the logistics of them seeing each other after this trip, of somehow carrying this on whenever Tamsyn was in London. But then the fears she’d been carrying for the last three decades would rear their ugly heads and she’d shake her head and return to contemplating only what pleasure she could bring Maggie in the next few days.

  After making a large mug of coffee, she hauled her laptop out of its bag and propped it on her legs, which were stretched out along the length of the sofa. She sipped her drink as her emails loaded, and continued to sip as she deleted all the ones that didn’t need her attention or response. Two or three she read and marked for follow-up after next week, but Carmen’s she opened and read fully.

  Hi Tamsyn,

  So, how’s it going? Has the break done you good? Have you been doing that thinking we were talking about? I’m still fielding calls from the production company, and still maintaining you’ll be back with them on the 20th, so I need to know if you think that’s unrealistic. Let me know as soon as you can so that if damage control is needed, Tony and I can get on it sooner rather than later. I hope it isn’t, but I meant what I said when I saw you last: I want what is best for you, not that film. If working with Don really isn’t something you want to pursue, we’ll deal with that. But you do need to think what it will cost, and I’m not just talking about money.

  Call me, or reply to this, when you can.

  Carmen

  Tamsyn closed the lid of the laptop, placed it on the coffee table, and sighed. Had she been doing that thinking? No, not really. She’d buried herself in books, yoga, and
fantastic sex. Don Speed hadn’t entered her thoughts once, and while on the one hand that was good, Tamsyn knew it wasn’t sustainable. She had to think about this, and make some decisions.

  Her phone pinged as a text message was received. Lesley.

  Hey you! Long time no speak. I called the house but no answer. Thought you were done filming? Where are you? We need to get together. I have news!

  Tamsyn grimaced. She didn’t want to have to talk to anyone while she was here on retreat, but Lesley was her closest friend and would see through any half-hearted excuse to explain her absence from London. Sucking in a deep breath, she stood, walked over to the window where the signal strength bars moved up a notch, and dialled Lesley’s number.

  “Well, hello stranger!” Lesley’s voice boomed down the surprisingly clear line. She had one of those voices that always caught people’s attention, loud but not shouting, beautifully enunciated with more than a hint of her public-school background, and random words emphasised in nearly every sentence.

  In spite of herself, Tamsyn smiled. She missed Lesley.

  “Hello you. How’s things?”

  “Oh, I’m fine! But where the hell are you? You sound like you’re at the end of a long tunnel.”

  Tamsyn chuckled. “I’m not in London, as you may have guessed.” She sighed. If there was anyone she could trust with this secret, it was Lesley. God knew Lesley had kept Tamsyn’s biggest secret all these years. “How long have you got?”

  “Ages. Tell me everything.”

  Slowly, Tamsyn recounted the events that had led to her hiding out in the wilds of Norfolk.

  “That filthy bastard!” Lesley roared. “How dare he talk to you like that? And with no bloody apology either! You should sue him or something.”

  Grinning, Tamsyn leaned against the window sill, idly gazing out at the lake as Lesley’s warm support washed over her. “I knew I could count on you to get up in arms on my behalf.”