“Stop... luring me into your sad and horny vortex!” she said, flapping her hands. “This is some real shit, Isaac. I don’t know much about muses, but I sawGirl with a Pearl EarringaaaandShakespeare in Love, and I’m pretty sure the point of a muse is that you’re obsessed with them and them alone.Notyour admittedly bangable roommate.”
I braced my hands on the edge of the table and leaned forward. “Is that all we are? Roommates?”
She blinked at me, eyes huge and dark and lips parted, a hot deer in the headlights. “I—what else would we be?”
I lifted a shoulder without moving my hand. “Roommates with benefits, maybe?”
“I’m not going to deny that my favorite hobbit-slash is a roommates-with-bennies fic, but you have a job right now. Which is to find a muse in order to save youractualjob.”
“...do I want to know what hobbit-slash is?”
“Hobbit-slash is forgood boys only. No hobbit-slash for you until you find your muse! You only get Théoden/Wormtongue until then.”
“Well, I don’t like the sound of someone named Wormtongue.” I considered. “If finding a muse is my job, do I get vacation?”
Sunny gave me a suspicious look. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, for every hour I work at my job, I accrue some vacation hours, right? So maybe if I’m very,verydiligent about finding my muse, that also entitles me to some recreation? Some leisure time, if you will?”
Her eyes were still narrowed, but she was chewing on her lip again. And unconsciously, she’d stepped closer. “I guess...” she murmured, nearly close enough for me to grab now. “If you were working really hard, you’d have earned some time off...”
“That’s right,” I coaxed. “And I put in like a whole hour last night, two if you count the getting ready part. That’s at least thirty minutes of muse-vacation.”
Aha! She’d just drifted within my reach! I seized her by the overalls and hauled her between my thighs.
Our mouths found each other’s immediately, my hands going to her neck and her hands going greedily to my ass. “You are so wrong about vacation accrual rates,” she whispered against my lips. “But luckily for you, there’s plenty I can get done in five minutes.”
“Five—” But my protest died as soon as I felt her fingers slip under my Henley and pull at the waistband of my joggers. Her fingers found me hot and mostly ready, and within a few rough pulls, I was straining between the hips for her.
I could feel her smirk against my mouth, and then she hinged at the waist and bent down. There were soft lips at my head, followed by a wet suction that had me gasping.
“Shit, maybe five minutes is fine,” I amended between pants. “Oh my God, sunshine, your mouth.”
It was criminal. No one should be able to suck that hard. And then when she pulled off to lick me with long stripes and then teasing flutters, I was pretty sure I was about to astrally project into another plane.
“What if we did three minutes now and two minutes another time?” I suggested in a voice that was somewhere between a rasp and a whine.
She gave me a wicked grin and swallowed my length all the way to the back of her throat, where it was hot and slick and—
Ting-a-ling! Ting-a-ling!
She stood up straight so quickly that my cock released from her lips with a slipperypop.
“Was that the servants’ bell fromDownton Abbey?” she asked.
My dick was shiny and throbbing between us, and with some misery, I pointed at the ancient bell hanging above the door of the laundry room as it rang again.
“They’re all over the house, connected to the front entrance. I decided to keep the original Victorian system because I was counting on no one ever ringing the doorbell.” And I hoped that would be the end of any non-blow-job-related dialogue.
“It would come in handy for a house-wide séance.” A very Sunny way to think about it. “Wait...” She paused. “So someone’s at the front door right now?”
“Yeah, I guess.” I tried to reach for her, but she batted me away.
“Isaac! It could be one of our friends! Or the silicone camel-toe concealer I ordered! Or a frostbitten postal carrier in need!”
I gestured to my lap. “I’m in need!”
She was unmoved. “I’m going to answer the door. De-turgid-ify and meet me at the front door.”
