26. Penelope
Chapter 26
Penelope
I spend the next couple of days just feeling… off. Strange and kind of icky, just not like myself. My emotions are all over the place, bouncing back and forth and refusing to settle, and it leaves me out of sorts, I guess. It’s a struggle.
One morning I wake up and before my eyes are even open, I know something’s not right. My head hurts with a pounding behind my eyes, and my stomach rolls uncomfortably when I move to sit up.
Trying to get out of bed just leaves me feeling exhausted and bad, and I groan and flop back amongst the pillows. My eyes are heavy, and it’s the sort of feeling that goes along with being sick.
Maybe I’ve got the flu.
One of the other assistants was out because her kid was sick recently, so maybe the bug followed her back to the office?
Either way, I feel awful.
I lose track of time, drifting in and out of sleep, until a knock on the door rouses me.
“Come in,” I call, wincing at how miserable I sound.
Dominic walks in and takes one look at me. He crosses to the bed, arms folded. I can only imagine how pathetic I look, hair a mess, pale and sick.
“What’s wrong?” he demands, sounding gruff.
“I don’t know,” I reply. “I just don’t feel good.”
“Don’t feel good how?” His tone is sharp, but there’s a protective quality to it, like he wants to make sure I’m okay.
“My head hurts. And I just feel… bad.”
“You look bad,” he says.
“Wow, thanks.”
“You know what I mean. You look sick. You should take it easy today.”
I shake my head and immediately regret it when it just makes me feel dizzy. “No, I’m okay. I can work. I need to go to work.”
Dominic narrows his eyes. “You just said you feel bad, little bird.”
“I know, but?—”
“But nothing. You need to get some rest if you’re going to feel better.”
“There’s a lot that needs to get done, though,” I argue. “You have that meeting with the new client next week, and I’m still working on getting all the notes prepared. I don’t want to fall behind on that.”
“We managed before we hired you. We can handle it.”
I can feel myself start to pout at that, not liking the almost dismissive way he said it. Dominic picks up on it though, sighing and rubbing a hand through his hair.
“I didn’t mean it like that, don’t give me that face. We want you there, but we want you to be healthy more. Okay?”
“Okay,” I mumble sliding down more in the blankets so they cover me up to my nose.
“Good,” he says gruffly. “Now you stay here, and I’ll be right back.”
He marches out of the room with the same determined strides that he walked in with, and I watch him go. I doze off a bit, losing track of time while he’s gone. It must have been longer than I thought because when he comes back, he has one of the reusable shopping bags in his hand, and it’s loaded up with stuff.
Before I can ask what it all is, he starts unloading things. Not one, but two thermoses come out and he settles them on my nightstand. “Tea,” he says, tapping the top of the first one. “And soup. It’s store bought, since there’s no time for homemade and I couldn’t make it even if there was, but it’ll be hot when you’re ready for it.”
All I can do is stare as he pulls out the book I tend to leave downstairs so I can read it on the couch, some painkillers and cold medicine, a box of tissues, and the blanket from the couch in the living room. He arranges everything so I can reach it all, and drapes the blanket over me, adding to the warmth.
Then he stands back, casting critical eyes over the set up like he’s trying to make sure he didn’t miss anything.
It’s brusque and matter of fact, but it’s Dominic’s way of showing he cares, and my cheeks warm with pleasure.
“What’s the hold up?” Xavier’s voice comes from the open door, and I peek around Dominic to see him standing there, dressed for work.
“Penelope is sick,” Dominic says.
“Oh, shit.” Xavier comes into the room and right over to the side of the bed. “Sick how?”
“My head hurts, and my stomach isn’t happy with me right now,” I tell him.
He nods. “Classic. Definitely take the day off then. I see Dr. Dominic already got you a bunch of stuff.”
“Watch it,” Dominic says, sounding unimpressed.
Movement draws my attention back to the doorway, and I see Tristan standing there, watching me. He keeps his distance, not coming fully into the room to join the other two, but there’s a tightening around his eyes that could be concern.
I give him what I hope is a convincing smile, but his expression doesn’t change.
“Do you need anything else before we head out?” Xavier asks, and I refocus on him.
I shake my head. “I think I’ll be okay. Are you sure you don’t need me to come into the office?”
Dominic gives Xavier a look that clearly says ‘reason with her’, and Xavier puts his hands on his hips. “I know Dom’s already told you this, but we’ll be fine without you for one day. Just focus on getting better. For us. Please.”
“Okay,” I mumble, trying not to blush at the way he said that. It’s easier said than done.
“Call if you need anything, little bird,” Dominic tells me.
“Yeah. Even if it’s just another soup delivery,” Xavier agrees.
He leans over to tuck me in better and then the three of them withdraw, heading off to work.
The house is quiet with all three of them gone, and I lie there, soaking in the silence. It’s weird, being here without them. Usually at least one of them is here, and just knowing there’s another presence in the house does something to make it feel less looming and empty.
I push myself up onto my elbows after a while, enough to reach for the thermos of tea and try a tentative sip. It’s still hot enough that it burns my tongue a little, but after blowing on it and letting it cool in the air, I manage to gulp down a mouthful or two.
I can taste the lemon ginger blend I bought myself, and I smile when I realized it’s sweetened perfectly with honey. Like Dominic was watching all the times I made it for myself. Usually that would make me feel better, knowing he was so considerate and observant, but now I just feel foggy and unfocused.
I feel too restless to sleep, so I grab the book and open it to the last place I was reading. I’ve been impressed with the way it manages to explain a lot of ideas about business that might be hard to understand in a way that’s easier to digest, but trying to read it now just feels like forcing my brain to move through molasses. Every word just gets stuck before I can retain anything, and that restless feeling just grows under my skin.
Finally I give up, putting the book down with a huff. I consider going downstairs to watch a movie on the massive TV in the living room, but the thought of moving makes my already achy limbs feel worse.
So I end up just lying in bed, feeling useless and tired but like I can’t fall asleep. After a while, the covers start to feel heavy and suffocating. Heat climbs up my body, making everything hurt more. I kick my way out from under everything, but even the cooler air on my skin doesn’t do anything to lessen the heat pressing down on me.
Every part of me feels heavy, and when I move, there’s a slow quality to it. The more I lie there, the worse I feel, and it hits me all of a sudden that this… is probably not the flu. It came on way too quickly for one, and I’ve had fevers before from the flu, but they’ve never felt so hot like this. It’s never been this intense, all-consuming heat .
And that’s the operative word isn’t it?
With a soft gasp I realize that I’m not actually sick.
I’m in heat.
I groan because it’s like that revelation has opened the floodgates in my body. My lower half throbs with need, and my head swims, focused only on one thing. It’s a burning feeling, making me clench around nothing, and now that my brain is fixated on what I need for this, it wants it with a passion.
“Okay,” I mumble under my breath. “Okay, okay. I can handle this. I can?—”
I force myself up and out of bed, stumbling over to the drawer where the items Tristan mentioned getting are all stashed. Surely something in there will do something to relieve this pressure. This terrible discomfort.
I grab the first thing I find, a vibrator with a bulbous head that’s clearly not meant to go inside me, and I go back to bed with it.
When I shuck myself out of my shorts and panties, I’m already soaking wet. My core aches, like it knows it’s about to get something close to relief, and as soon as I touch myself down there, the heat flares higher.
It’s like being caught in an inferno, and I gasp out loud, arching against my own hand. It comes away wet and sticky, and I wrap the other hand around the vibrator, pressing it between my legs and turning it on.
It starts on the lowest setting, a small rumble that ordinarily would probably send a thrill up my spine. Now it’s nothing close to being enough, and I flick through the settings until it’s on full speed, the buzz echoing in the bedroom.
I grind on the silicone covered head, pressing the vibrations against my sensitive flesh. It feels good, I can admit that. The vibrations send the pleasure arcing higher, and when I move my hips, the sparks of sensation make me moan out loud.
But it’s not enough .
No matter how I chase that feeling, no matter how hard or fast I grind on the toy, the crest of orgasm is just out of my reach.
Frustrated, I shove two fingers into myself, surprised when the slickness manages to make it completely easy for me to fill myself up.
That’s a little bit better, but it’s even more maddening.
I hump my hand desperately, whining in the back of my throat, but it’s like having an itch that needs scratching and only being able to scratch near it. So close to relief, but not close enough to do anything useful about the problem.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath. “Please, come on.”
I can feel tears gathering in the corners of my eyes, and I blink them away as I keep moving my hips. My feet are flat on the bed, knees bent, giving me more leverage, but it’s still not enough.
I end up panting hard, my walls clenching around my fingers, which may as well not even be inside me for all they’re helping.
I need more. I need something deeper, harder. I need to be filled to the brim, until there’s no room for anything else other than the intense pleasure my body craves.
I feel so empty inside, and it twists inside me sharp as a knife. The heat won’t let up, and I can’t reach my pleasure, so I stop trying, turning the vibrator off and tossing it across the room in a huff.
Something about being so close but not there just makes my emotions tip into a fever pitch. My body feels like it’s going haywire, everything on the fritz. I want to cry. I want to get fucked. I want to scream.
The restlessness is under my skin, and there’s nothing I can do to sate it. Not on my own anyway.
It’s overwhelming, and it makes me feel like I’m drowning in all these feelings.
My phone ends up in my hand before I even register the thought to grab it. Dominic did tell me to call if I needed anything, and right now I am just one big ball of need. All there is inside me is need .
This has to count.
I find his number and his call, curling up on my side in a ball as the agony of being unfulfilled lances through me.
The phone rings once, twice, three times.
Please answer. Please, please, please.