by Nora Flite
Approaching my fridge nervously, I pull out the bag. I set it gently on my kitchen table, as if it might explode. Thomas must love this game of giving me mystery packages. Unfurling the top, I squint inside at the two items; one is a slip of paper, the other looks white, round, glossy. At first I think it's a vanilla frosted cake-bomb. I quickly open the note for answers.
Alice,
I've made you a special present. Can you guess? That's right, it's my cum wrapped safely in a special condom. Slide it inside of you. It's cold, but it'll warm up very fast... enjoy.
—Thomas
I'm trembling as I realize I'm not holding a dessert. He gave me his cum, and he wants me to put it inside of me? My lower belly tingles at the idea of following his instructions. It's a perverted request... but it's turning me on. Thomas has a twisted mind, and yet, his creative perversion is enticing. It makes me want to know what he'll do next. Still, I'm not sure I'm ready to stuff this cold ball inside of me.
Get ready for dinner, then worry about this after. I blink. Is this a date? Oh, god. It definitely is. It's a bit of a relief. I'd suspected he was mad at me after our last meet-up, especially after I kissed him. He'd acted so cold. A dinner-date means he doesn't hate me.
I shake myself, walking over to look at the piles of fancy clothes. I still haven't hung any of them; my closet isn't big enough. Fingering the dresses, I stop when I come across a knee-length one that looks blue as the sea and feels like butter.
Holding it to my chest, I study myself in my bedroom mirror. The color makes the flecks of gold in my eyes glow. Stripping down, I slip into the dress, zipping it tight. It clings to me in a way that I'm positive Thomas will love. I grip my hips, shifting them, satisfied with the idea of driving him crazy. He deserves a little torture.
Speaking of... I drag my feet as I enter my kitchen. The cum-ball sits on my table, taunting me with the filthiness of it. I give it a squeeze; the latex surface yields, like it's dough that's unthawing. And he wants this inside of me? Shivering, I run my palm down my belly over the smooth dress until I'm underneath the ruffles, brushing the elastic of my panties.
My clit is throbbing as I stroke the cold sphere over the front of my panties. I slide it under the lace, lubing it up with my excited juices.
Leaning over my table, I let out a soft moan. If I wasn't already turned on by following his instructions, it would have taken some work to get the ball inside my pussy. I pull it inside of my walls hungrily.
It's still cold; I rock my hips, squeezing, gasping in delight. Have I always been so depraved, or did I just need an opportunity to indulge? I take a few experimental steps. Each one makes the object inside of me feel bigger. Sweat collects under my breasts. I worry I might come before I leave my apartment, how will I survive a whole dinner?
Take a breath and relax. Strapping on a pair of heels, I snatch my purse and walk in short steps out my door. I'm red faced at the bottom when I see the headlights of the black car waiting for me. The driver door opens—it's Thomas and not his chauffeur.
“Evening,” he says, looking me up and down. He's wearing a stylish suit the color of freshly poured tar. His knowing smile lights up his face in a charming way.
My whole being tightens in a split second. My pussy convulses on the sphere.
“You look nice,” he whispers.
“So do you.”
He offers a hand; I take it without a second thought. His thumb caresses my sensitive wrist, sending ripples down my spine. “Let's get going,” he says, helping me into the car. I let him guide me, and when I stumble on a patch of loose gravel, he cradles my elbow. The motion buries the ball deeper in my cunt and I cry out in pleasure.
Thomas groans in my ear. “Someone is good at following instructions.”
I blush furiously as I sit gently in the passenger seat.
We drive in heavy silence. I'm unsure how to make conversation. Everything about this is bizarre—do I talk to him like he's my boss, my lover, my enemy? I don't know what our relationship is anymore and that's terrifying. One thing is clear; he's burrowed his way into the dirty part of my psyche... and I love it.
Pushing my knees together, I notice the ball isn't cold anymore. My inner warmth has made it softer, less invasive, and my pussy throbs angrily at this. It wants something thick and hard.
“Are you alright?” he asks.
Maybe he noticed I was fidgeting. I smile weakly. “Oh, uh, sure, fine.”
He drums his nails on the wheel. “Is it distracting?”
I stare, mouth agape. “Excuse me?”
Thomas turns the wheel sharply, guiding is into a full parking lot in front of the Hyatt hotel. His eyes lock on mine as he kills the engine. “The gift I left with you. I imagine you can't help but notice it.”
Flames dance up my neck. “It's getting less cold, so that's better,” I admit.
He chuckles thickly. “You might not think that later.” He doesn't explain what he means, he just climbs out of the car, opening my door to let me out. When he bends close, I'm hit by his delicious scent. It leaves me foggy. I want to get closer to him and fill my lungs.
Thomas places his hand on the small of my back, just above my ass, like he's trying to remind me of what we did last time we were alone. My ass still has a few red marks from the spanking.
The hotel lobby is brightly lit, a beautiful crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. He leads us to the side towards a restaurant contained in the building, a shiny silver sign stamped with the name Rodeo. Unlike the lobby, the restaurant is dimly lit. Everything is ebony and gold. I've never dined in a place like this, I'm more of a home cook or 'whatever is about to go bad so it's on sale at the grocery store' girl.
The waiter takes one look at Thomas before ushering us to a booth in the corner. All of this screams romance. My heart beats faster. The waiter is waiting for me to sit; I do so as gingerly as I can, the condom shifting in my slippery walls. Thomas meets my eyes across the table. His wicked smile reminds me that I'm his entertainment tonight.
The waiter brings us menus. “Good evening,” he says, indicating the wooden-backed drink menu. “Can I get you two something, or do you need more time?”
I definitely need some alcohol. “The Vanilla Cream,” I say. “With whiskey in it, please.”
Thomas doesn't look at the menu. “A scotch on the rocks. Top shelf.” Once we're alone, I bury my face in the entree choices, unable to handle his fierce stare.
“Have the salmon,” he says. “Trust me, it's wonderful here.”
“I would prefer to make my own choices.”
“That isn't what you agreed to.”
Squinting at him over the top of the menu, I make a face. “I know what I like.”
“I'm pretty excellent at figuring out what you like, too, Alice.” He winks, and I bite the corner of my lip. Something nudges my ankle under the table; his foot. He strokes up my bare leg, sending bolts of pleasure to my clit.
I'm smoldering with need for him. I can't even pretend to be mad anymore. My pussy quivers, and I notice the object inside of me is losing its shape.
His foot keeps rubbing casually. “I saw photos of you on instagram today.”
“You did?” I perk up.
“Yes, a few influencers were very excited by the cake-bombs you were making. It was a great idea to do that out in the open.”
“Well, it was your idea,” I say carefully. “Honestly, your ideas for the bakery seemed strange at first. I can't pretend they aren't helping the business, though.”
Thomas shrugs with a small laugh. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I still don't love the pink chef jacket.”
He props his sharp chin on his fist. “It's an inviting color.”
“It's not my favorite. I'm more of a purple girl. Or aqua, or even orange.”
“You like those better than white?”
He drawls that word out—white—and I know he's reminding me about the ball inside of my pussy. I
rock side to side, whispering, “When I first saw it, I thought it was a vanilla cake-bomb.”
His eyebrows arch up. “You think I gave you a dessert to put in your cute little pussy?”
A new rush of arousal floods me. I love his dirty mouth. “No one would have guessed what it was without your note.”
His voice is a whisper of silk and thorny barbs. “If I hadn't told you...” He pulls my leg it into his lap. “I think you'd have obeyed and slid it inside anyway. Or maybe knowing it's my cum made you want it stuffed inside you even more.”
I lean back into the booth and whimper as he massages my calf muscle. His fingers move from firm to light. The tension in my belly grows, my clit swelling helplessly.
“I know you love it,” he chuckles. “You drank it up eagerly when we were in my basement.”
My brain feels swaddled by clouds, making it hard to focus. The dampness between my thighs grows rapidly. My pussy hugs around the softened condom. The fact I have his sperm inside of me is turning me on like crazy. I should be furious, but I'm just sweaty with arousal.
Reaching out, he slides his palm up my inner thigh under the table until he reaches my soaked panties. He inhales sharply at the discovery. “Holy hell, you're dripping. You love knowing my cum is inside of you, don't you?”
I try to pull my leg away, but he holds tight. “Wait, I could get pregnant!”
Thomas grinds his thumb over my clitoris through my panties until I'm covering my mouth to muffle my moans. I have to remember, even if we're secluded, we're in a public restaurant. “I'm not that risky. The condom is sealed, nothing will slip out. Though...” He rubs my clit, then dips his fingers inside my panties, fingering me. “I suspect you'd love to have my cum pouring out of you for real.”
The booth below my thighs is soaked. “My dress,” I whimper. “I can't stand up and leave here, everyone will see the mess.”
“I'll give you my jacket,” he says. “It'll cover you. In exchange, I want something.”
“What?”
“Rub yourself off, right here. If you're careful, no one will even notice.” He lets my knee go, linking his fingers casually on top of the table. “I want to see you come in public with all my sperm inside of you, Alice.”
My ribs could crack from how violently my heart is beating. I take a sip of water to calm myself. What he's asking me to do is crazy... and incredibly sexy. I never imagined such an erotic scene, not even in my wildest fantasies.
Slowly, I slip a hand under the table. I'm panting with exertion. Thomas watches me closely. Being the center of his attention is overwhelming. I start to shut my eyes, but his sharp words stop me. “No, look at me.”
I do as he asks.
Trailing my fingers low, I explore my drenched panties. Arousal coats my inner thighs. I shouldn't be so damn turned on... I should be panicked, but instead, I'm eager to play his dirty game. This man has opened up a dark part of my soul and I love it.
Trying to be subtle, I massage my clit. Soon, though, I'm stroking myself frantically. My hips gyrate into my own palm; Thomas eats up the show. I'm seconds away from orgasm.
“Your drinks,” the waiter announces.
I lock up on the seat, mouth wide open, eyes straining in my head. The waiter is grinning as he sets my cocktail in front of me, clearly oblivious to the erotic scene he's walked in on. “Thank you,” Thomas says, holding his scotch high. “We're ready to order. We'll both have the salmon, please.”
Unable to argue, I give a tiny nod. The waiter flashes his teeth then hurries off. I breathe out loudly, eyeing Thomas in disbelief, but he doesn't look concerned, only amused. His pupils are dilated with lust. “Keep going,” he commands me.
Licking my lips, I dip my fingers into my pussy. My muscles clench tight, making me hiss. Soon I'm chasing the sensation. Quicker and quicker I grind my clit with my thumb, stuffing my fingers inside my pussy to the knuckles. Beads of sweat glisten down my cleavage. Thomas looks at my hard nipples through my dress, making me squirm in the booth. Another wickedly hot tingle assaults me.
My pussy hugs tight to the sperm-filled condom inside of me... and I'm done for.
Every muscle ripples with pleasure. The climax is rough, I cover my mouth to muffle my groan. A new rush of juice drenches my fingers, my panties, and I give my sensitive clit a few more helpless strokes. Shivering in disbelief, I pull my hand free and wipe it on a napkin. “Holy fuck,” I whisper hoarsely, grabbing my drink, taking a huge gulp.
“That was incredible,” Thomas says, his shoe stroking my ankle again. “You're already beautiful, but when you come, you're a goddess.”
Blushing from throat to scalp, I take another deep drink. Ice clinks on my teeth—I drained my glass. Gasping for air, I study his tense expression. “How hard are you?” I whisper.
Thomas arches his eyebrows in surprise. “Dirty girl. How hard do you think?”
Casting a glance around the restaurant, I reach under the table. He shifts himself closer to me, forcing his bulge into my hand. His cock is rock-solid in his trousers, and that makes my heart race anew. “Wow.”
His chuckle is warm, but strained. “Look out. The waiter is back.”
I yank my hand away just as the waiter arrives with our food. I don't think he saw anything, but if he did, he says nothing as he places hot food and new drinks on our table. “If you need anything else, let me know.” Then he bows his head and walks away.
Thomas laughs as I bite my tongue. “I need to go freshen up,” I say. “You promised me your jacket.”
True to his word, he offers it to me. “Hurry back before your food gets cold.”
I'm sure he doesn't care about the food, his appetite is all about me. And I can't think about filling my stomach when my damn pussy is screaming to be stuffed. Wrapping the coat around my bare shoulders, I hurry to the restroom.
Stumbling inside, I look around to make sure I'm alone. Good. Gripping one of the many sinks, I gaze at my red face in the mirror. The jacket can hide the stain on the bottom of my dress, but my expression... my energy... is screaming that I need sex.
“Fuck,” I groan, running my hands through my hair. “What should I do?” My body wants Thomas Volt. My mind knows getting close to him—or staying close, at this point—is too dangerous. He's my boss, we're supposed to have a professional relationship.
But I want more, I realize with a start. Running cold water, I cup my hands and rinse my face, then dampen a few paper towels and wipe down my cleavage. Feeling a little less hot, I enter a stall and quickly peel down my panties. They're useless, the lace one big wet knot. Frowning, I throw them in the trash.
I have one last thing to do.
Inhaling, I steady myself, then fish out the semen filled condom. I can't believe I put this inside of me. I'm not upset, though—the sight of it makes me horny. Before I do something dumb, I flush it.
As I leave the restroom I see myself in the mirror once more. I look the same, but somehow, I know Thomas has changed me. Or maybe not changed.. Maybe he stripped away my layers to reveal who I was all along.
Chapter Five
ALICE
THOMAS WATCHES ME AS I cross the restaurant back to our booth. He didn't touch his food yet, he waited for me. “Hi,” I say, sitting down.
He gives a half-smile, pointedly looking at his jacket on me. “Hi.”
I notice I'm clutching the sleeves. Easing my grip, I clear my throat and lift my fork. “You didn't have to wait for me.”
“It's only polite.”
“I never took you for a polite guy.”
His eyes narrow. “Maybe you don't know me as well as you think.”
“How could I? We're strangers.” I stab the salmon almost angrily. I just reminded myself that I know nothing about the man I'm falling for. Shoving a forkful of salmon into my mouth, I gasp. It's tangy and spicy and a little sweet. “Oh, that's good.” I crinkle my nose. “You were right, I love it.”
“I'm glad.” Thomas sips his drink thoughtf
ully. “You make a good point, Alice. We're essentially strangers. But...” he hesitates, something I'm not used to seeing. “We seem to understand each other very well.”
“In some areas,” I mumble. I chew my food slowly so I can think of how to explain myself. “How do you know so much about making my bakery succeed? Your ideas about the colorful chef coat, the cake-bombs, you came up with those so fast and they're working.”
“I'm a business man.”
“It's more than that,” I argue. “You figured it out so fast!”
Thomas pushes his spine into the back of the booth. His gorgeous face is full of sharp shadows because of how far he is from the candles on the table. “I didn't buy the bakery on a whim. I researched it for a few weeks before deciding to buy it. My ideas... I'd been evolving them, tweaking, thinking.” He shakes his head. “When you brought me that pink box of pastries you'd baked, it helped solidify the concepts.”
“I don't understand,” I say quietly. “I brought you those pastries, then you had the chef coat ready for me the very next morning. That's impossibly fast.”
“Yes,” he agrees. “It took me most of the night to finalize the fit of the jacket for you.”
My eyes fly open as wide as they can. “You mean you made that yourself? How?”
Thomas finishes his drink, setting the empty glass down gently. “You want to know more about me, so I'll tell you a little fact. My mother was a seamstress. She worked for a very big name brand before my father married her. Even though she didn't need to work after that—my dad was quite rich—she kept sewing. When I was old enough, she took me under her wing. It's thanks to her I'm as good as I am, though she's still leagues ahead of my skills.” He stares into his empty glass. “We spent a lot of time together. Especially after she got hurt and could barely leave the house.”
“What happened to her?”
“A car accident. She's lucky to be alive.” He hesitates. “I'm lucky she's alive.”
