Page 72 of Show Me

I lifted my eyes to find Jesse’s, and he quivered in my hands, clenching the roots of my hair so hard it stung before he flooded my tongue with his seed.

My head rested heavily against his abdomen, buoyed up and down by his breaths, and his hand splayed hot on the top of my hair. My breath slowed, and then my pulse. When Jesse touched my elbow lightly, I accepted the hand he extended and pulled myself up, then slid my hands along his jaw and kissed him again, still dazed.

The water turned off in the kitchen, and we held still as Chet spoke. “You need to tell your roommates not to leave stuff in the dryer when no one’s here. That shit’s a fire hazard.”

“Know what else is a fire hazard?”

“Think I’ve got an idea. Good thing one of us has a big hose.”

Jesse met my eyes and rolled his, and we both held our laughter until I nodded a confirmation that they’d left the room. Then we collapsed onto the laundry room floor and let it out quietly, just the grounding moment I needed after an orgasm that’d had me orbiting the sun.

Jesse shoved himself up and leaned back against the dryer, eyeing the bendable tripod on top of the washer and then looking around until he found the other handheld that’d fallen on the floor. “God only knows what’s on this video.”

That was the least of my worries. As far as I was concerned, this one had been for him and me.

I rolled upright with a grin. “I guess if it’s a bust, we’ll just have to do it again.”

26

Sam

Istared at the ingredients spread all over the kitchen island, then consulted the recipe on my phone screen. A recipe was basically a playbook, and I had hundreds of plays memorized that I was able to execute with no problem, so this shouldn’t be any trouble. But maybe it would’ve been wiser to pick something easy for my first go rather than chicken cordon bleu. Since I couldn’t ask Jesse and didn’t trust any of my other roommates, I’d googled “fancy” chicken recipes and picked the one that sounded the most delicious. Plus, it was a French dish, which I figured was promising.

Ansel banged through the back door, stopped and stared for a moment, then immediately made a grab for the cheese.

I swatted his hand away. “Fuck off, I’m making something.”

He managed to grab a carrot before I could stop him. Now I knew how Jesse felt.

“Why?” He sounded bewildered.

“Just…because.” I realized I didn’t have a good answer. At least not one I wanted to give him.

“Did you get a damage deposit from Sam?” Ansel asked Mark as he came in from the front. “He says he’s cooking.”

“Oh fuck. I probably should’ve doubled it in that case.” Mark poked around my groceries. “Are you making enough for everyone?” That was always the fucking question in this house. Once again, I felt Jesse’s pain. The answer was no, but it didn’t feel safe to reveal that yet.

“I need to get past the first step to begin with, which I can’t when you assholes are messing with my stuff.”

“Step one: call for takeout instead.” Mark smirked.

I ignored them and unwrapped the chicken, set it on the cutting board, then washed my hands and flicked my screen awake to read the recipe again.

“It’s like watching a caveman trying to figure out how to read a pictogram,” Ansel joked.

“The primitive man examines his stores after a long day of hunting and gathering,” Mark said in a Morgan Freeman-style narrator voice as I picked up the cheese and then put it down again. “Unsure of what certain food items are, he might be better off sticking to grilling small vermin over the fire.” I picked up a knife. “Ahh, he wields a rudimentary instrument with which he will…he willlllll….” Mark paused dramatically, waiting to see what I was going to do next.

“With which he will murder his roommate if he doesn’t quit fucking distracting him,” I warned as I swiveled toward him and stabbed the knife in the air.

He and Ansel burst into laughter. The front door opened and shut, and Jesse appeared in the kitchen a second later. So there was my element of surprise ruined. “Great, the gang’s all here,” I deadpanned.

“We’re watching Sam cook.”

“Attempting to cook,” Ansel corrected.

“What’s on tap?” Jesse glanced at the mess on the counter. The sideways smile he gave me made me tingle from the top of my head to my toes. “Chicken cordon bleu?”

“I’m thinking of downgrading to chicken nuggets,” I confessed.