by Pippa Grant
“You are seriously hot.”
“I am seriously horny. Let’s go home.”
Home.
Definitely not ruining this moment with questions. Not when my heart’s sprouted wings and is acting like a fighter jet at an air show in my chest.
“Have fun, Jaeggy,” Rooster calls.
“Don’t encourage him,” Duncan says, loud enough for us to hear.
A few people look our way, but Tyler’s here, and he’s solid, and he’s sexy as hell, and he’s taking me home.
I don’t care who looks.
We reach the edge of the parking lot and he glances around. “Where’s my car?”
“At home.” Holy crap, does that word feel weird.
He shoots me a what? look.
“I grove. Got. Grove. Drove. My car.” Dammit. I stop, pat my bag, and manage to dig into it to grab my keychain with a rubber Thrusty hanging off of it, and dangle it in front of his face. “My conda.”
His lips are twitching because I can’t say car or Honda.
Screw this talking baloney.
I go up on my tiptoes and press my mouth to his.
Nothing else matters. I’m kissing Tyler. He’s holding me so tight against his body that if I were a little less solid mass and a little more actual putty, we’d be melding into one goopy mass of overheated slime.
And I mean that in the sexy way. I swear that could be sexy.
It would still be a shame, though, because I wouldn’t want anything to lessen that solid bulge pressing into my belly.
“My car,” I say on a gasp as I break the kiss. “Drive. Broken.”
His breath is coming unevenly too. “Your car’s broken?”
“No. Me.”
That earns me another grin, and then I’m being tossed over his shoulder. My car alarm goes off three rows over, and I realize he’s using my fob’s panic button to find it.
Smart, smart man.
I kiss him when he puts me down and tries to open the passenger door for me. He kisses me back as he tries to make me sit so we can leave.
I squeeze his ass.
He squeezes my breast.
I am no longer a woman with insecurities and complexities and a cat.
I am one flaming ball of hormones about to strip in a parking lot so I can have sex with my boyfriend in public.
“Back seat,” Tyler says.
“Oh, god, yes. I can’t wait until home.”
“Back seat so I can’t touch you while I drive.”
“I don’t like that plan.”
“Cross my heart, Muffy, I’ll get arrested with you for public indecency, but not until after the season.”
“You clearly don’t want me badly enough.”
He growls, shoves me into the back seat, and shuts the door.
I’m fogging up my own window before he makes it to the driver’s seat.
“Tyler?” I pant.
His gaze flicks to mine in the rearview mirror.
“I’m going to masturbate in the back seat while you drive.”
My keys hit the floorboard, and he bangs his head on the steering wheel when he bends to pick them up. “No more talking. And if you don’t save that pussy for me, I’m locking you out of the house.”
“Spoilsport.” God, I want to touch myself so bad.
“Keely’s meatloaf. Staci’s feet. Allie’s hairbrush…”
“What are you talking about?”
“Things that don’t make me too hard to drive. I need my brain so I don’t drive us into a lamppost. West’s gym socks. Brit’s poetry. Dad loves liverwurst.”
“We both just saw my mother.”
“No good. I saw your mother and then I kissed you. Fuck, I missed you.”
If my panties weren’t already soaked, they would be now. But they’re joined by a glow in my chest that’s so unfamiliar it hurts. “That goal you scored last night? The one where you sent the puck between your legs? That was so hot.”
His beard is twitching like he’s clenching his jaw again, and I want to lean forward and run my hands through his hair.
I don’t, because he’s right.
We need to get home and get naked.
“Dirty diapers,” he mutters. “Episiotomies. Allie’s morning breath…”
He’s hilarious and sexy and wrong all at the same time. I squirm in my seat, letting my hand fall between my legs and telling myself it doesn’t count if I’m only pressing on my clit through my jeans. “Litter boxes,” I offer.
“Losing.”
“Grease traps.”
“Atomic wedgies.”
“Banana-flavored pudding.”
He shudders. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Banana flavoring is too far?”
“Bananas.”
“You hate bananas?”
“They smell like my grandfather.”
Oh my god, I love this man.
I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. He’s smart and athletic and kind and everything a guy should be to have his pick of any woman in the entire world.
There’s no way this can last.
But I can’t cut myself off of him. Not when being with him feels so damn good.
And if there’s any chance he’d be hurt simply because I’m afraid—nope.
Won’t do it.
Seize the day. It’s what I tell my clients. Even knowing I basically learned it from my mother and have always used it wrong, I still tell people that, and I should take my own bad advice.
Not bad though?
All the lessons from therapy.
You are worthy, and any man lucky enough to get the opportunity to know you had better recognize what he has.
With Tyler, I feel like he knows what he has. The bad and the good.
He’s seen me at my worst. He’s seen me trying to be my best. And he’s seen me everywhere between.
So I’ll seize the day.
I’ll put everything I have into this unexpected gift of having Tyler in my life, for however long it lasts.
36
Tyler
Eggplant milkshakes. Frozen pipes. All four of my sisters talking at once about The Bachelor.
Almost there.
Almost. There.
I reserved a second parking spot in the garage for Muffy’s car, but it’s not nearly as convenient as my spot on the first level next to the elevator, so it takes for-fucking-ever to park the car and drag Muffy to the building.
As soon as the elevator doors shut us in, we’re making out like the fate of the whole damn galaxy depends on us banging it out right now.
“You are so sexy when you wear my purse,” she gasps while I suck on her neck.
“You’re fucking sexy no matter what.”
She thrusts her hands down my pants. “I need your cock.”
“I can smell you and I need to taste you too.” I stroke her between her thighs, and hello, the denim is soaked.
She is so hot and horny for me, and it’s making my dick strain impossibly hard again.
“Oh, god, I think I just came a little,” she pants.
“Good. I’m gonna make you come all day long.”
The elevator dings open.
I don’t care if we dropped something in here. I’ll replace it. I need her in my apartment. Naked. Riding me.
Now.
We bumble down the hallway, kissing and groping until we hit my door. I almost can’t get the damn thing open, but the minute I do, Muffy flings her shirt off.
Right there.
In the hallway.
I shove her inside and haul off my own shirt, shucking my pants before the door slams shut.
She’s stripped out of her own pants too, and there she is.
My Muffy, all soft curves and delicious breasts with pink lace covering her tits and pussy.
“Christ, you’re gorgeous,” I breathe while I trace the edges of her lingerie and stroke between her legs.
“You’re just horny.”
&nb
sp; “Only for you.”
Her hands are roaming all over my body, setting my skin on fire and making Mr. Wonder Cock strut like nobody’s business. When she grips him and strokes, I go cross-eyed. “Fuck, Muffy—”
“Yes. Fuck Muffy. Right here against the wall, because I swear I’m going to implode if I don’t have your cock in me right now.” She drops my dick and shimmies out of her soaked lace panties, pauses at eye-level with my crotch to lick Mr. Happy, and if she puts her mouth on my cock once more, I’ll be coming in her face.
I haul her up and spin her against the wall. Her legs go around my hips like she’s an Olympic sex gymnast, and I don’t think, I don’t pause, I just slam into her.
“Oh, god, Tyler, I missed this,” she gasps.
Have to be good.
Last time we tried fast and vertical, she faked it.
Won’t let her need to fake it again.
But god, I can’t slow down.
I’m pumping into her faster and faster while she bounces on my cock, breathless and needy. “More,” she gasps. “Yes, more there.”
Hazy darkness is creeping into the edges of my vision. If I don’t come soon, I might never come again. Gonna break my dick.
Worth it.
So worth it.
I shift angles to make sure I’m grinding her clit with every thrust, and she arches her head back, knocking it on the wall. “Tyler.”
“Fuck, Muffy, you’re so damn sexy.” I love you. “Come for me, baby. Come all over my cock.”
“I—I—Oh, god, Tyler, I’m so close.”
Her thighs are quaking. I squeeze her flesh and drive into her again and again, my own release right there too. “Muffy, baby, I’m gonna—”
“Tyler!” She screams my name, her hips buck, her legs go straight out, and she’s suddenly coming all over me, squeezing my cock so hard with her magic pussy as the spasms of her orgasm take hold. “Yes, yes, yes yes yes, oh god, Tyler!”
I come with a roar, letting the dam break, so, so fucking good.
It’s pain and perfection and pleasure, from the pit of my gut to the tip of my dick. It’s euphoria.
This.
This is what I was put on this earth to do.
My vision is clearing, and oh god, she’s gorgeous.
Grinding down on my cock while we both come, eyes unfocused, beautiful pink tongue touching her upper lip, neck straining, breasts heaving.
We’re in a bubble of ecstasy, and I’m never leaving.
Never. Ever. Fucking. Leaving.
It’s Muffy.
Muffy laughing. Muffy sassing. Muffy sexing.
Her body sags, and I barely catch her as the last of my own orgasm subsides. “You’re the queen of all the goddesses,” I murmur to her shoulder.
She doesn’t answer, but she buries her head in the crook of my neck, arms wrapped loosely around my shoulders, her breath tickling my skin in that perfect way that makes my oversensitive cock twitch.
“Muffy?”
“Shh. Just be.”
Just be.
Fuck, yes.
I can just be.
So long as it’s with Muffy.
37
Muffy
It’s not weird to be living with a guy without defining your relationship, is it?
Because it’s been two solid weeks of living with Tyler, with Rufus getting into everything from his tea supply—who knew he was a tea guy?—to deciding to sleep in his underwear drawer, and Tyler has yet to kick me or my cat out.
He’s stopped by Cod Pieces every time he’s been in town when I’ve had a shift that didn’t overlap with a game. I’ve been at every home game that I haven’t been scheduled to work. Given that it’s only been two weeks, that means one game and two visits at Cod Pieces, but still.
I believe we’ll be keeping this up for the foreseeable future.
He’s suggested different motivational quotes and topics for me to email my clients about. And I’ve been sucked into group messages with his sisters.
This is basically a real relationship.
And every day, I wonder if things are about to fall apart, or if they’ll keep getting better and better.
Take right now, for instance.
Right now, it’s Friday morning. Tyler got home from a quick road trip so late last night that he doesn’t have to be at the arena for anything team-related until late this afternoon. We’re on the rug in front of his fireplace, soft jazz music playing in the background, playing strip poker.
He’s on his side, shirtless but still in his gray sweatpants, and I’m sitting cross-legged, down to my one and only pair of lace panties.
Side note: I am not a very good poker player. Darts, yes. Poker, no. Not enough experience. Yet.
Not that I mind.
When I lose this round, I have to strip off my panties and roll the sex dice.
I really hope I don’t roll to give his lips a massage, because I know for a fact that if I can get my hands on his cock, we’ll end up having marathon sex for the next three hours no matter what the dice or the cards say.
“Are you in?” I ask him as I rub my own nipple with one hand and wiggle my cards at him with the other.
His gaze is trained on my nipple, naturally. “All in.”
“Are you sure? I have a really good hand. You might lose.”
“I’m not wearing underwear.”
I fake indignation. “You came to this game in just a T-shirt and sweatpants? I’m a very serious poker player, Mr. Jaeger. I expect my opponents to want to win.”
“I’m a very serious sex player, Ms. Periwinkle. I expect my opponent to want me to bang her senseless more than she wants to show up wearing nineteen layers of clothing to drag this out.”
That wolfish smile tells me he’s enjoying every bit of dragging this out.
“There were ten layers, and only if you count my hair tie.” Yes, yes, I did count my socks and earrings each individually.
Also, I only put on earrings to slow things down if necessary.
I like basking in being turned on by Tyler and his magnificently talented body.
“So when you lose this round, I still don’t get to see that pussy?” he asks.
“You saw it this morning in the shower. It hasn’t changed.”
“I’m gonna need to see proof of that myself.” He throws his cards down. “I win. Strip and grab the dice.”
There’s a high likelihood that I’m playing wrong, since I don’t even look at his cards to verify he’s beat me before rising to my feet and hooking my thumbs in my panties. “Like this?”
I wiggle my hips and tease him.
His cock pulses, making the tent in his sweatpants move. “Exactly like that.”
I turn so he gets a full view of my ass, stick it out at him, and sway while I slowly inch my panties down, glancing over my shoulder to watch his eyes going darker and darker with every little bit of my skin that’s revealed.
The door beeps with the someone’s unlocking me sound, and we both freeze.
That was not the door lock.
Was it?
Are his housekeepers coming today?
The door swings open. I squeak and drop to the floor. He bolts to his feet, lunges for the couch, and throws a throw pillow at me like that’s going to cover me up.
“Ah, nothing like the smell of a bachelor pad in the morning,” a woman’s voice says.
“Out,” Tyler snarls.
“Oh, please, like we’ve never seen you whacking off before,” another woman says.
He throws a second throw pillow at me, then yanks on the curtains Rufus shredded and tosses the whole thing at me, curtain rod too.
“Thank you,” I gasp as I crawl under the fabric.
“Oh, shit, you’re here,” the first woman says.
“We tried to call. Your phone says you’re in the mountains. Oh my god! You found a way to trick our find-a-friend app! We thought you were hiking with Muffy.” There’s a pause. “That is Muffy, rig
ht? I can’t see her clearly. Or did this just get next-level awkward?”
“Out,” Tyler repeats.
I peer through the shreds in the curtain and see two women, both average size, one with short brown hair, the other with brown hair tucked up in a ponytail, and my heart hiccups.
His sisters.
His sisters are here.
“Told you it was a good idea to leave the kids at the hotel with the men,” one says.
“Probably a good thing Mom’s not here too,” the other replies. “This would definitely lead to curtains matching the drapes jokes in her next show.”
I trip over the curtains as I rise, wrapping them around myself. “Hi,” I say.
Tyler twists his head and skewers me with a what the fuck is wrong with you? look.
I don’t blame him.
Our options are kicking his sisters out and me rolling the sex dice to see what part of his body I have to lick, kiss, stroke, or massage, or letting his sisters stay.
This should be a no-brainer.
But my vagina isn’t making this decision for me.
And the matching smiles blossoming on his sisters’ faces are hitting me in the feels. “Muffy?” one asks.
“That’s me.”
The one with the short hair points to herself, then her sister, introducing themselves like we didn’t do the same on a group video chat like ten days ago. “Allie and Keely. And we’re both so glad you aren’t an actress Tyler hired to make up a good story. Sweetie, your nipple’s showing.”
I bend and snag a throw pillow and cover my breast.
“Other one,” Keely says.
Tyler squeezes his eyes shut and sighs a deep sigh. “What. Are you. Doing. Here?” he says through gritted teeth.
“The kids wanted to go to the planetarium and the aquarium.”
“And you couldn’t go to the ones in Chicago?”
His sisters share a look.
“No,” Allie says.
Keely nods in agreement. “You’re not playing the Indies in Chicago tomorrow night.”
“And you know we don’t miss Indies games.”
“He used to date Gator Cranford’s little sister,” Keely explains to me.
“We’re here to booby trap the Indianapolis bus if Gator tries to knock him out again,” Allie agrees.