I flushed with power when I took Jackson deep into my mouth and he clenched his teeth with pleasure, the planes of his face harsh with desire. It was pure satisfaction to slide his rock hard erection in and out of my mouth until he could take no more, grabbing my head and pumping his release into my mouth, his teeth bared as he cried out. His eyes glittered as he watched me lapping up every bit, greedy for the taste of him.

"You are trying to kill me," Jackson rasped as he fell onto the bed. He dragged me close so that I was nuzzled next to him.

I giggled and kissed his neck. "It was just payback for all the times you've made me lose control."

Jackson grinned down at me, his dimples deep and looking absurdly happy. "Luckily, I'm okay with that kind of revenge."

We woke up Sunday morning to an overcast day, but that did nothing to put a dent in our cheerful mood. I told Jackson that I would make lunch today since it was my turn to cook for him so we went grocery shopping. It felt domestic to wheel a cart around the market, picking out groceries and debating what the rules were in determining if fruit was ripe.

It was raining by the time we were done shopping so we ducked into a cab, laughing as we narrowly missed being splashed by cars whizzing past us.

"Hi, Sam," I greeted as we rushed into Jackson's apartment building with our bags of groceries.

Sam nodded in response. "Mr. Reynard. Emma." I had insisted that he call me Emma because it felt too weird being called Ms. Mills. He then smiled at me. "I'm glad to see you didn't get too wet. It's supposed to rain all day."

I grimaced. "It's hell on my hair. It frizzes like crazy in the humidity."

"You look beautiful, wet hair and all," Jackson said with a smile. He then winked at Sam. "I keep trying to convince her not to cut her hair."

I shook my head in disapproval. "I'm way overdue for a cut. I'm starting to resemble Medusa."

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Sam smiled in amusement. "I think Mr. Reynard is right. Your hair is beautiful."

"I'll have to keep both of you around," I replied grinning. "You're good for the ego."

After the quick ride up the elevator, we unpacked the groceries, but then I shooed Jackson out of the kitchen.

"Go watch TV or something. I can't concentrate with you in here."

Jackson gave me an indulgent smile and obliged, grabbing a beer and turning on a baseball game in the living room.

I busied myself in the kitchen, putting a pot of water to boil on the stove and grating Parmesan cheese. I had decided to make a cold pesto pasta salad with peas and grilled chicken, one of my old standbys and one of the few things I could make with no recipe.

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" Jackson called out from the living room.

"I'm fine, don't come in here!" I answered back. I wasn't exactly skilled in the kitchen and I didn't want Jackson to see the mess I was making, let alone the frantic pace of my cooking. I had admired his easy and effortless grace when he had made me dinner, but I was more like a chicken with its head cut off, rushing over to the stove when the water started boiling over and cursing softly when I spilled my first batch of pesto on the floor.

I heaved a sigh of relief when I was done, having avoided any major mishaps. I surveyed the kitchen, cringing at the mess. It looked like a hurricane had gone through it, but I would clean it after lunch, before Jackson could see it.

"Lunch is served," I announced as I carried our two plates into the living room. Jackson took his plate, his eyes lighting up at the pasta salad.

"You've been holding out on me," Jackson said after he took his first bite. "This is great."

"Don't be expecting too much," I warned with a laugh. "I can only make a few things without burning down the kitchen. This is one of them."

We watched the rest of the baseball game while we ate. More accurately, Jackson watched the rest of the game and I watched Jackson. It pleased me more than I thought possible that he was eating my pasta salad with such relish. When he asked if there was any more, I jumped up to get him a second serving, not wanting him to see the kitchen.

"I'm going to start cleaning up," I said after I gave Jackson his second helping.

"I'll clean up after I finish this," Jackson said. "You cooked."

"It's okay," I insisted vehemently. "Watch the rest of the baseball game."

Back in the kitchen, I tackled the task of cleaning up. I was in the middle of wiping up pesto that had dripped down the cabinets when I heard footsteps behind me.

"Why don't you go relax, I'll-"

I wheeled around as Jackson stopped in mid-sentence, his mouth gaping open as he surveyed the kitchen. I winced, knowing how bad it looked. In addition to the pesto on the cabinets, there were puddles of pesto on the floor. When I had ripped open the package of frozen peas, handfuls had spilled out and were now rolling around on the counter. I had somehow gotten pasta stuck to the refrigerator, although for the life of me I couldn't remember how that had happened.

"Sorry," I squeaked in embarrassment. "I can be kind of messy while I'm cooking."

Jackson looked at me nonplussed, and then burst out laughing. "I've gotta watch you the next time you cook to see how this all happens."

I frowned at Jackson in mock annoyance, but I couldn't suppress my laughter.

"I know, I know. I'm a bit of a mess. I'm just lucky that I didn't get anything on your ceiling. It's happened before, usually when there's a blender involved."

Jackson grinned and wordlessly helped me clean up the kitchen. Between the two of us, we were able to make quick work of it.

We settled back into the living room after we were done. Jackson peered out the sliding glass doors at the rain.

"It doesn't look like it's going to let up any time soon. Wanna just watch a movie until it's time to leave for Nathan's showing?"

"Sure," I agreed, liking the sound of snuggling together and watching a movie, cozy inside while the rain poured steadily outside "What's the selection?"

Jackson got up and pulled a box out of the closet full of DVD's, setting it in front of my feet. "Take a look."

"Interesting storage solution," I commented, indicating the cardboard box. "How come you have so little furniture in here?"

Jackson shrugged. "I just never got around to buying anything more after I got the essentials. I always meant to buy a coffee table and all that other junk you're supposed to have but I never got motivated enough." His face brightened as he looked at me. "Maybe we can go furniture shopping together. I could use some help. My taste tends to run to the utilitarian."




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