Page 13 of The Roommate Subtext

But what if he did? asked the filthy part of her mind, the one still wrapped up in the story. If he opened that door, he’d see her naked with her legs spread, touching herself. Would he leave, stammering apologies, or would he come closer to watch?

Maggie bit her lip and closed her eyes, fingers flying. Already a climax was welling up, making her want to rub faster. She forced herself to delay, twitching on the edge of arousal. The Pimpernel was going to ask her what turned her on, and the list rolled through her mind. The helplessness. The risk: controlled but also dangerous. Being blindfolded and bound and used for someone else’s pleasure. The public aspect, too, where anyone could see them. She could answer with any number of those qualities.

She couldn’t answer, though, that what really turned her on was thinking of her roommate watching her come.

Out in the living room, the kettle whistled for a moment before settling into silence. Blake was making tea, oblivious to the energy humming through her as she brought herself to the edge once more. Sweat beaded on her skin, the window fan doing nothing to combat her soaring body temperature. She was going to come, inevitability bearing down on her, and she rubbed harder and faster and gasped for air as she climbed that peak and finally crashed over.

Maggie pressed her lips together to stifle her whimper, hips lifting reflexively off the bed as her orgasm raced through her. Incredible, sharp spasms radiated outward and the indescribable headiness washed through her in equal measure. Finally, her peak ebbed away, the sensation subsiding into rippling aftershocks, and she sagged onto the bed. Holy shit.

She got up and turned off the light. Somewhere, the Pimpernel had gotten off tonight thinking of her, too.

FIVE

Maggie checked her reflection in the mirrored windows at the front of Cora’s building. The crease between her brows was no good, and she practiced consciously relaxing her facial muscles until the visible tension eased. Better. She smiled, making sure it reached her eyes. Nothing to worry about. Maintaining that thought, she rang the bell to Cora’s apartment and got buzzed in.

Cora was opening the door when Maggie reached the top of the third-floor stairs, and she wrapped her sister in a hug. “Mags! How are you?”

“Good, I’m good.” Maggie returned Cora’s hug before holding her sister at arm’s length for inspection. Cora’s baby face made her look younger than twenty-three, and her pajama pants and slippers exaggerated the effect. With her blonde hair escaping its messy bun in long wisps, she could almost pass for a teenager, although she wore the weary look of someone who’d put in too many long days in a row. Maggie frowned. “You’re working too hard. Are you eating? You can’t live on hospital cafeteria food, you know.”

Cora rolled her eyes, which didn’t do much for reminding Maggie she wasn’t a teenager. “You literally can live on hospital cafeteria food, but I swear I’ve been eating more than that. Stop mothering me and come inside.” She led Maggie into her apartment. “Sorry it’s a mess. I got in late last night and slept late today.” Cora stifled a yawn behind her hand.

Maggie raised her eyebrows. Cora’s apartment was never a mess. Cora organized her clothes by multiple metrics. (Season, style, color.) She had a four-person dish set but washed each dish immediately after use. She was a minimalist through and through, and there generally wasn’t enough in the apartment to actually get messy. Maggie scanned the room: apparently messy meant Cora hadn’t made the bed to her usual high standards. “No hospital corners, huh?”

Cora followed Maggie’s gaze to the bed and smiled. “Couldn’t be bothered. I know, shocking.” She went to peer in the fridge as Maggie settled down on the couch. Her voice was muffled by the fridge. “What do you want to drink? I’ve got water, Coke, grape juice … and beer.”

“You have beer? You hate beer.”

Cora emerged from the fridge to answer. “I had some work people over and they brought beer.” She held up a green bottle. “This is pretty good. It doesn’t taste as much like feet as the others I’ve tried.”

“I’ll take one.” Maggie tried not to let the surprise show in her voice. “I thought you hated having people over.” Back when they lived together, Cora had always resisted when Maggie wanted to invite friends to the house, preferring to meet at a restaurant instead. Of course, that was years ago.

Cora shrugged. “Maybe I’m mellowing out.” She handed her a cold bottle of beer.

Maggie knew Cora better than she knew anyone: her habits, her likes and dislikes, the way she took her coffee and her bedtime routine. Having Cora surprise her was … unsettling. It rubbed against her like a pebble in her shoe. She drank some of the beer to wash down that feeling as Cora joined her with a handful of takeout menus. While they chose what to order, Maggie surreptitiously watched her sister. At first glance, Cora had looked young, but now that she took time to observe more closely, Cora seemed older than when Maggie visited last month. It was most likely the disconnect between the Cora in Maggie’s mind and the girl in front of her. She didn’t really look like a teenager, even with her baby face. In Maggie’s mind, Cora was frozen in time, but in reality, she was an independent young woman with an excellent career in medical research … no matter how often Maggie forgot.

While they waited for dinner to arrive, Maggie kept the conversation on Cora as much as she could, prying her for highlights from her research—most of which Maggie could barely understand—and stories about her colleagues. But Cora turned on her as soon as there was a lull in her narrative. “Enough about me. You met with Arnold Chauvel, right? How did that go?”

“It went well.” Maggie kept her voice as casual as she could. “He was interested in my writing and wanted to hire me for a special project.”

“Ooh.” Cora leaned in closer, resting her forearms on her knees. “A special project. Is he paying you well?”

Maggie could at least answer that truthfully. “Yes.”

“Not that you need it.” Cora took her beer from the coffee table and swigged from it. Her nonchalance made Maggie’s stomach twist. “What’s he like? We reached out to him for lab funding, but we reached out to a lot of people. Things are a little desperate.” She chuckled without humor.

“I know.” Maggie wished she didn’t know. “Did you get any bites?”

“Not yet, but we’re hopeful.” Cora returned the bottle to its coaster. “Vanessa thinks Chauvel’s the best bet. He’s one of the richest guys in Boston.”

Maggie didn’t miss the new name. “Who’s Vanessa?”

Cora shrugged one shoulder. “One of the other researchers. We’ve gotten to be pretty good friends lately. Work most of the same shifts.” She looked away, her voice too casual.

“Cora, are you blushing?”

“What?” Cora looked to Maggie, then away again, and the color deepened. “No. Stop it.”

Maggie’s grin widened. Sometimes it was fun to be the big sister. “You gonna ask her out?”