the time those slip-ups had put me through the fucking wringer, and I was pretty sure that had he actually spoken my whole name, I would have instantly busted in my pants. “It’s fine. We can fix it.”
He extended his hand. “Can I see it?”
“If you’re lucky.” I smiled. “Oh, did I say that out loud?”
Sam chuckled. “You’re a huge flirt, you know that?”
“I’m really not.” Well, usually I wasn’t. On a scale of one to restraining order, I typically registered in the earnestly-attempted-but-unremarkable range, so maybe it was all the testosterone floating freely in the air. “Flirting’s fun anyway, and I figure you’re a super-safe bet. You’ve serviced the merchandise before and declared it not for you.” His smile faltered, and I blanched. “I mean, unless me teasing you makes you uncomfortable. Then I would totally stop.”
“It doesn’t. Or, you don’t. I feel really comfortable around you. Which is kinda surprising given what we’re doing. But there it is.” He flashed me a crooked grin, then took the phone from my hand when I offered it out. He pressed Play on the video, brows pinching together studiously as he watched.
“It’d probably be even better with a legit camera, but for an iPhone, I think it looks pretty good. What do you think?”
One hand had strayed to his chest, and he made a funny little repetitive scratching motion as he watched. “It’s…wow. That’s really good. I don’t mean that in a narcissistic way. I mean you were right about the lighting and the chair and…” He glanced up at me, eyes bright. “It’s about fifty million times better than anything I’ve done before.” He looked down at the screen again, shaking his head. “Seriously, thanks.”
“Your followers are going to love it.”
“Yeah?” God, why was he so cute? Even the way he said it wasn’t like he was fishing for a compliment but was genuinely delighted at the prospect.
“Oh yeah. I wore my tightest pair of underwear and…yeah. That was insanely hot.”
Sam’s gaze strayed toward my crotch as he wiped himself down and cleaned off his hand, then tossed the towel aside and ran a hand over the top of his head, mussing the already messy strands into complete pandemonium. “I had this crazy idea in the middle of filming that I’d tell you you could jerk off if you wanted to, but then I thought maybe that would be weird.”
“It would definitely be weird.” I paused, thinking. “I mean, wouldn’t it?” I had no idea what kind of parameters were supposed to accompany filming your roommate jerking off, but I’d racked up quite the laundry list of events and people that seemed like a good idea when I was all horned up only to become regrets later when the orgasm haze had worn off. This probably fell squarely into that category.
“I guess. Didn’t seem weird at all at the time,” Sam replied carefully, echoing my thoughts. “But yeah. Whatever.” He grinned. “I got nervous for a minute at the start—”
“I couldn’t tell at all.”
“Okay, good. But after that, it was great. Totally different from trying to do it myself and trying to stay aware of how I’m holding my hand at all times, trying not to shake the camera.” His brows flickered together. “Was it too weird for you, though? I understand if you want to renege.”
My brain screamed, Save yourself from a future of blue balls on the regular. My mouth said, “No way, it was fine.”
He seemed relieved, his expression tinged with shyness. “Okay, good, because all kinds of ideas are popping into my head now. Some more risqué stuff, like public restrooms or…okay, maybe not public restrooms, we’ll see about that, but like semipublic places.”
He chattered on, and I nodded like a bobblehead, completely taken by his open enthusiasm and wondering how he’d slipped under my radar for the past few months. Part of that was just due to summer and his football practices, but dang, Sam was pretty great.
I mentally smacked myself. No. No more roommate crushes.
“I think we should make a list,” I ventured, and he nodded agreeably.
“A list is a great idea.”
A list was probably the worst idea.
10
Sam
Once we’d gotten over the hump, so to speak, of that first scene together, we started down a list of ideas we’d compiled in no particular order in an effort to amass a backlog of scenes. Over the next week and a half, I’d jerked off in the woods at Washburne Park—because Jesse said I’d underutilized outdoors