“But I … I,” I stammered.
“Rub your clit, Daphne,” he said as he got to his feet and started stripping off his clothes.
“Oh, fuck,” I moaned when my fingers made contact with my clit.
Dice climbed back onto the bed with a foil packet in his hands. He reached between my legs and slowly slipped one finger inside me. I was doing everything I could to wait for him, but he was not making it easy. Then he removed his fingerand pressed it against my rear entrance. And that was it. The tension that was building snapped, and waves of pleasure pulsed through me. Right as the orgasm hit, Dice pushed his condom-covered cock inside me and fucked me through it. A stream of incoherent words came from my mouth as I relished in every sensation. By the time it was over, I felt like a limp noodle.
Dice chuckled. “Not yet.” Pulling out, he flipped me over and raised my hips before he plunged back inside. “Rub your clit. I want you to come again.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“The fuck you can’t,” he said and picked up his pace.
Reaching between my legs, I started circling my sensitive clit with my fingers. Then his sneaky finger was back, pressing against that forbidden spot. It didn’t take long before I was on the brink again. “I’m,” I panted. “Oh, fuck. Dice, I’m?—”
“You’re going to come,” he said. The pressure of his finger increased, as did his thrusts. The second orgasm hit me with a force I wasn’t prepared for. My hands fisted in the sheets as pleasure took over my body. I was vaguely aware of him finding his own release while I was still reeling from the sensations.
I’m not sure how much time had passed when he gently turned me over and took my hand. “Come on, baby. Let’s take a shower.”
He pulled me to my feet and reached into his nightstand for another condom.
“I don’t think I can handle another round.”
“You sure about that?”
No, I wasn’t.
As it turned out, after Dice washed my entire body, paying special attention to my most sensitive areas, I was more than ready for another round.
And that was how my suggestion of a leisurely weekend in bed turned into a weekend of marathon sex that only stopped because we both had to go back to work.
I had just finished eatinglunch at my desk when Jan knocked on my door. “This was just delivered for you,” she said and handed me a white box with a cute bow on top.
“Thanks,” I replied and took the box from her.
“I have the afternoon off, so I’m heading out now. You’ll be the only one here for the rest of the day.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” I said and waved goodbye.
I opened the attached envelope to find a card from the Potters thanking me for helping them find their dream home. Inside the box were a dozen chocolate mint cookies from a local gourmet bakery, according to the label.
The cookies looked delicious, and I was a sucker for sweets. Picking up a cookie, I briefly inspected it before bringing it to my mouth and taking a large bite. “Mmm,” I moaned and swallowed the chocolaty goodness. I opened my mouth to take another bite, but stopped when a strange aftertaste hit me. It wasn’t bad, but definitely not what I expected. Frowning at the cookie, I took a drink of water and tried another bite. After the same strange taste filled my mouth, I dropped the cookie back into the box and pushed it to the side.
“Well, that was disappointing,” I mumbled to myself and got back to work.
I was almost finished for the day when I started to feel sick. At first, I dismissed it and continued with what I was doing. Before long, I couldn’t ignore the way I was feeling. I was dizzyand felt like I was going to throw up. My stomach was hurting and so was my head.
I decided to call it a day and got up to use the restroom before I left. The room swayed when I got to my feet, and my vision darkened around the edges. Reaching for my desk, I steadied myself and dropped back into my chair. I waited for a few minutes to see if things would get better, but they only seemed to worsen.
When another wave of nausea hit me, I barely managed to grab my trash can in time to catch the vomit that spewed from my lips. Knowing I needed help, I picked up my phone and called Dice to see if he could pick me up earlier than planned.
“Hey, Daphne,” he answered.
“Dice,” I croaked. “Can you pick me up from work?”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m sick. I must have picked up a virus or something.”