Page 51 of Pucking the Grump

Not even last weekend.

Clothes disappear, skin meets skin, but this isn’t just about desire or even comfort. This is about connection, about being seen and accepted and welcomed into the deepest parts of each other. With Remy, I can drop the social mask and just…be.

Be myself, be the Stone who isn’t always funny or easy or perfectly presented for maximum enjoyment and acceptance. In the past eighteen months, Remy has seen me pissed off and sick with a nasty head cold and needy and freaking out about the end of my career and she keeps coming back for more. We’ve finally reached the place where neither of us is pushing this away or pretending it’s not real. Or rare. Or worth fighting like hell for.

When she finally lowers down on my dick, hot and tight and perfect, my heart hammers and my head spins. The sensation is almost too much—not just physically, but emotionally. It feels like she’s inside me as much as I’m inside her. Like we’re sharing the same skin as we begin to move.

She surrounds me, changes me, makes me better.

Makes me hers…

Her fingers dig into my shoulders as I hold her close, one hand splayed across her lower back, the other tangled in her hair. We gaze deep into each other’s eyes, completely locked in, and for the first time in my life, the intimacy of a moment like this isn’t scary. It’s epic and beautiful and hot as fucking hell.

She comes fast. I do, too. I don’t even try to fight it or draw things out. That isn’t what this is about. This is deeper than getting off or sexual gymnastics. This is about what we value, what we need, who we are.

It’s about us.

Us…

As we catch our breath after, her head on my shoulder, I don’t even try to hold back the words rising inside. “I love you.”

She pulls back, gazing at me with a peace that proves we’re on the exact same page. “I love you, too.” She sighs as she brushes a lock of hair from my forehead. “I wish you didn’t have to leave. But I know Barb needs you.”

“Come with me.” I squeeze her bare hip. “Barb’s okay for a little longer. I can wait while you pack a little bag. Or a big bag.” I shrug, “Maybe a really big bag.”

Her grin makes me want to kiss her again, but if I do, I won’t be able to hear her tell me she’s off to grab her suitcase. “Tyler Stone, are you asking me to move in with you?”

“Would I do something crazy like that?” I ask with a matching grin. “But, I mean…you could just come stay with me for as long as you wanted without leaving. And then when you wanted to go, you could go. And if you never wanted to go… Well, that would be okay, too.”

She cocks her head as she asks in a teasing voice, “What about when you get sick of me hanging around and want alone time with Barb?”

“Never getting sick of you, Lauder.” I pat her bottom, doing my best not to get hard again, even though I’m still buried deep in her sweetness. We don’t have time for another quickie, and I want her to know I’m serious about this. “And Barb knows how to share. She’s a class act and she loves you, you know that.”

“I do. And you’re the best.” She leans in, pressing a kiss to my cheek. As she pulls back, she adds, “Can I think about it? See if it still feels like a good call when I’m not emotionally exhausted?”

“Absolutely, no rush and no pressure,” I say, honestly surprised to hear that she’s even going to think about it. Yes, we both dropped the “L” word, but the “L” word doesn’t magically dissolve all the obstacles in a couple’s path, and we’ve still got plenty of those.

She sighs as she glances over at the mess on the floor. “And I should probably stay here and take care of all this.”

“But don’t throw anything away,” I urge. “Not yet. Think about that, too. And if you decide you’re still ready to get rid of stuff later, I’ll help you deal with it before the season starts.”

She nods. “Thank you. That sounds smart.”

We dress slowly, easily, and she walks me to the door, where I pull her in for a long hug. “Glad to be on your team, Bossy.”

“Yours, too. Give Barb a kiss for me.”

“Will do,” I say before practically floating down the stairs and out to my Range Rover.

I’m a happy, happy man.

Still, as I drive home, I start to wonder how exactly I’m going to manage being on Remy’s team and Coach Lauder’s. I still have almost an entire year left with the Badgers. I can’t afford to tell my coach that he needs to pull his head out of his ass and be the kind of parent his adult daughter needs before it’s too late.

But how can I keep my mouth shut when deep down I know that he loves Remy as much as she loves him? I honestly think he’s just…clueless. Well, clueless and kind of an asshole, but mostly clueless.

Maybe I’m a tragic optimist, but I think there’s still hope for them.

Where there’s love, there’s hope.

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