Fevered Fantasies

Estella & Dominic (3)

♡⁠‿⁠♡⁠) Estella and Dominic 3 (♡‿ ♡⁠)

I saw the look she shot at Chris when he saw me out of the dance hall days earlier. I should’ve been annoyed if he was my boyfriend—but who in their right mind would take Chris as a boyfriend?

Funny.

Chris was a total nincompoop. His glasses were practically glued to his face, and his nose was buried in some science book almost 24/7. The only time he let go of them was during dance practice.

And yes, I stuck around him not because I liked him romantically, but because he actually helped me perfect those impossible dance moves and recommended the best videos to improve.

My first crush had been back in senior year—Harry Cornfield, the undisputed basketball king of our school.

He didn’t feel the same way I did. Most times, he ignored me, sidestepping whenever I tried talking to him. Funny enough, the girlfriend he thought was in love with him ended up crushing his ego, and only then did he realize how much I had cared.

I didn’t refuse his apology. I accepted it, and we started as friends. Slowly, he began to reciprocate my feelings, but fate had other plans.

Harry died of cancer the next year. I was shattered.

And then there was Bryan…

He ghosted me after graduation. No calls, no texts, no warning, just gone. His parents told me he had moved out of state to pursue his career. That was his father’s explanation.

I wasn’t so lucky with guys.

So I remained a loner, quietly admiring cute guys from afar, never letting them reach my heart.

My weakness? Tall stature, dreamy eyes, and a sweet voice. I’d resisted countless boys until the day I saw Mr. Dominic.

Well… you know the rest.

By the time I finished replaying all those memories, I stretched my arms wide. This was me. Always buried in my thoughts. Somehow, thinking like this seemed the only way to push Dominic out of my mind.

In a sec, he is back in my head. My eyes are shut, wondering what he would feel like. I tried to imagine his c**k grinding into my…

“Estella!” my mom’s voice cut through my reverie.

Gosh! She does this all the time.

I made my way to the sitting room.

“Dinner is ready,” she announced, a smile lighting up her face.

Weird.

I was the one who usually prepared our meals except when we were ordering in; then, she had never been this cheerful about it. Still, she would shut me out each time I requested we hire help.

“Sit, sit, darling! Why are you staring like that?” she said, still grinning

.

I moved to a chair, my mind wandering.

Was it because of Mr. Dominic?

People often act ridiculously happy when they are in love. I had experienced that briefly with Harry. I could remember even looking forward to school on Saturdays.

“The pasta tastes amazing, and the chili’s perfect, just the way I like it,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“Pasta's always been your favorite," she said, laughing softly.

I ate quickly, and soon I found myself saying, “Goodnight, Mom.”

“Sleep well, Estella,” she replied.

*****

The next morning I woke up feeling an intense migraine.

“I don't think I can come with you to the store, mummy. My head hurts like crazy. "I revealed.

Her forehead creased. She assessed my temperature before she spoke.

“Then take a rest. No dance classes today..." She ordered gently, and I nodded.

I said goodbye and shut the door, curling up on my bed after taking the pain relief from the cabinet.

By afternoon, the sun was out, but my head still pounded, making even the idea of bathing exhausting. I blinked at the clock—1 p.m. already.

Grabbing a towel, I wrapped it around myself and stepped into the shower. The warm water eased the ache, and by the time I finished, I felt refreshed and relieved that my migraine had subsided.

The doorbell rang just when I was about to apply my lotion.

Who was that?

I tried sourcing for clothes to put on before answering the door, but the caller was insistent. I decided to peek, planning to stay hidden behind the door.

When I reached the living room, my heart skipped. Dominic stood there, smiling warmly, two drinks in his hands—the Tequila and Brandy he’d promised to restock.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice casual, but something in it made me swallow.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Dominic,” "I managed," my voice tighter than intended.

“Can I come in?”

“Y-yeah… sure,” I said, holding the half-open door.

I ran my fingers on my forehead.

My towel felt far too small.

“How’s your head?” he asked, and I couldn’t help the surprised look I shot him.

He gave that low, knowing chuckle that always sent heat creeping through me.

“Your mom told me you weren’t feeling well, Estella,” he said, lifting the bottles. “So I thought I’d deliver these myself.”

“Uh… thanks,” I murmured, feeling my cheeks warm.

“Just leave them on the dining table,” I instructed, but in my fluster, I pointed too directly, and the towel slipped to the floor.

I gasped, frozen at what just happened.

Dominic’s eyes widened; they darted hungrily to my stark nakedness.

The bottle of tequila was wobbling in his arms before they fell off.

“I-I’m… so sorry,” I stammered, scrambling for the towel, my hands shaking.

Our eyes met. We were both almost out of breath, and I could see just how red his cheeks were turning.

“I’ll… clean this up,” I said quickly.

“And I’ll replace the drinks. I—” he started, but I cut him off.

“It’s… okay, Dominic. Really,” I said, trying to steady my voice.

I stood there, consumed with nervousness. His gaze lingered before he left, and my hands shook as I slammed the door shut behind me, bolting it.

I sank over to the floor. Hands over my face, my heart racing like a speeding train.

The towel loosened again, but this time, I let it fall. I felt a sensation between my legs, and then I saw it—my cunt throbbing, too frustrated from being starved.