Something So Perfect (Something So 2)

“Number one, thank you for calling me Ron Jeremy. You know he’s like the biggest porn star out there because his dick is so big, right?” I wink at her while she takes a pillow and throws it at me. I knock it away, continuing, “I can make a bet with you right now that any red-blooded male you ask, if a girl walks in front of them, the first thing they think of is sex.” I shrug my shoulders. She leans back again and shrugs, too. “I’m hungry.” I get up. “I’m going to make myself an omelet. You want some?”

“When aren’t you hungry?” she says, putting the blanket up to her neck and returning her gaze to the television.

I look back down at her. She must feel my stare because she turns to me.

“Whenever you’re around, I’m suddenly famished. Like I haven’t eaten for days.” I wink at her, walking out, giving her that to think about. Meanwhile I cup my cock and tell him soon, very fucking soon.

Chapter Six

Karrie

Holy. Fucking. Shit. I take my phone out from under the blanket and text Vivienne.

I think Matthew just said he wanted to eat my vagina!!

Her text comes back right away.

What do you mean?

He said that ‘Whenever you’re around, I’m suddenly famished. Like I haven’t eaten for days.’ Does that mean he wants to eat my vagina?

I don’t know. Hey, go to the kitchen table, get on it, and lie down naked and see what happens!

Are you insane?

No, I’m trying to get my best friend laid and find out if he’s packing.

Oh, he’s definitely packing. He ‘dropped’ his towel today. NAKED.

Jesus, it’s not even fucking eight o’clock in the morning and you’ve had more action than I’ve had in a month. And I’m French.

“Come and eat, your highness.” I hear from the back of the house.

I drop my phone like I’m holding a hot potato. I get up, walking into the kitchen where he’s standing buttering toast. “I made more coffee,” he tells me, pointing to my plate that he put on the counter.

I assess the omelet on the plate. It looks mouthwatering. “What’s inside?” I ask, sitting on one of the stools at the counter nook.

“Onions, spinach, asparagus, mushrooms, Swiss cheese, some ham.” He sits next to me, digging in.

“I’ve never had a man cook for me. Well, except my dad, but that was few and far between.” I cut a piece and groan the minute I chew into it. “It’s so good.” I don’t even look over at him. I just continue eating.

“I’ve never cooked for a woman. Well, except my sisters and on occasion my mom.” He laughs. “Mother’s Day.”

We continue eating in silence, both of us just enjoying the meal. When he gets up, he takes my plate and puts it in the dishwasher. He also starts cleaning up the mess he made, but I get up.

“Okay, new rule, if you cook you don’t clean. So beat it, Grant.” I motion with my thumb toward the door. I’m expecting him to go back to the living room, but he surprises me by sitting on the stool. “What are you doing?” I ask him while I start throwing the things in the garbage.

“I’m going to enjoy my coffee while I watch you clean.” He takes a sip of coffee, then smiles and puts it down. “I might also hope you bend over.”

I stop what I’m doing to glare at him.

“What?” he asks when I continue glaring at him, but all he does is shrug his shoulders.

I start mumbling under my breath. “Pig.” While I wet a rag, “asshole,” squeezing the water out, “like I’m a piece of meat,” turning to wipe down the counter, “just going to sit there. Staring.”

“You know I can hear you, right?” he asks me, but I ignore him and the laugh that comes out of him. When I finally finish everything, I start the dishwasher. “We leave at four,” he says right before he gets up and walks out of the room.

I watch his retreating back.

I throw the wet rag in the laundry basket before going back to the living room to continue watching television. I open my Instagram and start scrolling through the feed. I type in Matthew’s name, but since it’s set to private I can’t see anything. I try to zoom in on the little circle picture in the corner, but I can’t see anything. It looks like he’s in his equipment, but I’m not sure.

“Babe!” I hear him yell from upstairs, making me close the app in case he comes down the stairs.

I pick up the remote, flipping through the channels till I hear him yell again.

“Babe!”

I shake my head. I don’t know who he’s talking to, so I turn the television louder and giggle to myself when I hear him running down the stairs.