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“Yes.” Such a simple statement. He says it with complete confidence, as though it was a natural truth like the sun rising in the east or that every cookie could use a little extra vanilla.
“Well, I think I’ve decided that our arrangement needs some altering,” I say through a gasp as he thrusts again. Even though he’s gone soft, he’s still deep inside me, still sending little lightning bolts through my body with every move.
“Oh yeah? Do I get a say in these changes?”
I grin at him and then my back arches reactively as he thrusts yet again. “Maybe,” I say. “But I’m hoping that you’ll enthusiastically agree with them.”
Phillip's kisses move down my neck to my breasts. “Mmm. I’m all ears. And lips.”
He flicks his tongue over my nipple, and it sends a shiver through me. How can I still be this turned on after all that? “I was thinking that maybe…” I let out a moan as he pinches my nipple with his lips. “Maybe we could have a little more intimate roommate agreement.”
He looks up, a sparkle in those blue eyes. “Are you asking me to do this to you more often?”
“All the time,” I moan.
“I think I can agree with that.” He finally sits up, and it’s like I can breathe again. “But I have a condition before I can sign such a demanding roommate agreement.”
It feels strange to have this conversation with his cock still inside me, even though I was just trying to be sexy. Maybe I’m terrible at dirty talk because this is beginning to feel like an actual negotiation.
“What kind of condition?” I ask cautiously.
Phillip runs his fingers between my breasts and says, “Oh, nothing too difficult. I just want you to teach me to cook. I like the thought of making dinners for you occasionally.”
That brings a grin to my lips. A man that wants to give me earth-shattering orgasmsandcook for me? Yeah, I think I can work that into our roommate agreement. “Deal. But if you keep this up, I’m going to be too sore to walk tomorrow.”
“You’re turning me on. The thought of a naked woman with a swollen pussy with nothing to do except lie in bed might be a fantasy come true.”
His fingers move down my stomach, and just as they’re about to touch my lips, I push my knees together in front of him. “Hey now, tomorrow we have a date with my friends at the karaoke bar…”
His eyes go wide, and he rolls off me. “That wasn’t part of the roommate agreement at all. I am the worst singer in the world, and those friends of yours are my employees. How can I expect them to respect me?”
I grin at him. “They’re not your employees, Junior Editor Extraordinaire. And every new editor has to go through their rite of passage. Singing a terrible 80s song in front of thirty people they don’t know. It’s a rule.”
He sighs. “I didn’t know that you were a sadist, Addison. I might not have signed that imaginary roommate agreement if I’d known.”
Twenty-Seven
PHILLIP
I don’t knowhow to rationalize the way I feel about Addison. Being attracted to her makes all the sense in the world. She’s gorgeous. A nice round ass. Breasts that beg to be squeezed and held. A smile that can push away any bad mood. Eyes that I can’t look away from.
But I don’t just want to look at her. I want to be near her. Like being around her makes the storm clouds go away. The simplest things that would be just another task to be completed are enjoyable because I’m standing next to her.
She’s wearing an apron right now. That’s all. Her cute little ass is sticking out under the tie-string, but I can’t reach out to grab it. Instead, I’m stirring a pot of alfredo that she made from scratch, something that I believe might make her a witch. Her knife is damn near invisible as she chops parsley and mushrooms and chicken for our dinner.
“How the hell did you learn to do all of this? Did you take classes in college or something?” I ask as the spoon makes lazy motions through the white sauce. Bits of parmesan cheese are half-melted to the spoon, and I have to scrape them off occasionally.
She doesn’t look up as she says, “I got tired of not being able to afford good food, so I learned to cook.”
“That’s so strange to me. I don’t know if I’ve had to start from square one in learning anything since I can remember. Everything revolved around work, so it was all so connected to other things I already knew.”
She stops chopping and looks at me. “You’ve never picked up a hobby? You’ve never been intrigued about something and just pursued it? Aren’t all rich guys into cigars or whiskey tasting or something? I mean, maybe Daddy Loughton had you drinking Scotch since you could walk like a good billionaire, but I doubt you were puffing on cigars at four years old.”
I chuckle at the stereotyping, since it’s probably not all that wrong. Except for the fact that my father doesn’t drink. “Well, I picked up disc golf at one point when a lot of people were talking about it becoming the new racquetball.”
“Disc golf? Where you go to a park and throw frisbees at metal baskets?”
I nod to her, grinning as I think about all the times I threw my disc into the rough just so I could get away from the people I’d gone with. “Yeah, it was a short period of time. My father didn’t think it was worth doing, but he couldn’t argue that I managed to close a few deals with younger clients because of it. I was never very good, but it was nice to get some time away from the office.”
