Page 163 of Heartbreak Hockey

I shake my head. “No. Just Meyer. No shade to my parents, but I only want one last name and I know how much it means to you for us to be Meyers.”

“Did you think that once we’re married, I was gonna let you be anything other than a Meyer? Fuck that. Meyer-Leslie Bunch was supposed to be a halfway point thing. When I make you official, I want it to be clear that that’s what happened. On that day.”

We might joke and prank and try to scare the emotional hell out of each other—in the most loving way possible—but we don’t touch the marriage thing in that way. Instinctively, we know it means a lot to both of us and we keep it sacred.

He plants his lips on mine, kissing the breath from me. It doesn’t take long for us to really start sucking face and my dick recalls what we were doing in that dream.

“I’d pay a million dollars right now just for you to suck my dick or let me sit on yours. I’m not picky.”

“Yeah? You need it, baby?”

“I’m so fucking horny, Merc.”

He raises an amused brow. “Talking about family problems makes you horny?”

“No. There was this dream I had, you see …” I describe it to him in great detail and his face morphs into the predator I know and love.

Merc hooks a leg around my hips and pulls me to the bed.Ourbed. I’m only on top of him for a second before he spins us. “We’re wearing too many clothes he says.”

At the same time, we glance to Stanley—is he still fast asleep?—and then rip our clothes off like madmen when we deem there’s enough time for fucking. How much time do we have? We never know anymore. We have no choice but to skip foreplay, else we might risk the orgasms we so desire.

“I didn’t have a dream like you did, but I’ve been daydreaming about sticking my cock into you for three days now. Every time I fucking look at you.”

His hands are everywhere, mapping my body like a lost man, like he’s discovering me for the first time. It’s a quick way of reacquainting himself with me, well, this intimately. It’s not as if we don’t touch each other. We never stop touching each other. There are many tender touches throughout the day.

When he hands me a bottle for Stan, he makes sure our fingers touch with a little pause even if he’s doing something else at the same time. When I walk in the door from somewhere, he acts like I’ve been off to war instead of gone to the corner store for twenty minutes, gripping me, spinning me, and kissing me stupid against the porch door.

“Miss me, eh?” I usually say.

“Missing doesn’t begin to describe the ache when you’re outta my sight for five seconds.”

Sometimes we’re too fucking tired for anything more than watching TV like zombies on the couch and I lay with my head in his lap—yeah, without shoving his cock into my mouth—and he combs fingers through my hair, and all the aches body wide are soothed.

We catch ourselves tryna sneak an eye fuck or in the midst of a love-sick gaze that’s now the standard Merc and Jack look of marvel when we’re doing it at the same time. People catch us and make fun of us, but only because they’re jealous and they actually love it.

Our life is filled with so many soft moments and hot as fuck moments that when we finally get to do this, we’ve already done all the foreplay we can handle and just want to be joined at long last as we should be—the true thing we yearn for every day.

His dick, slippery with precum and the lube he drizzled over it, slides against my hip, next to my sizable appendage. It aches, fighting with the laws of physics to remain a size that won’t burst through the skin.

With a wet hand, Merc glides over my penis only enough to drive me wild and send jolts of pleasure all the way to the base. “How bad do you want it, baby?”

“Bad enough to scream, but I won’t because …” I point with my eyeballs to the babe sleeping in his bassinet.

“Then you’re gonna have to be very quiet, aren’t you?”

“Fuckin’, yeah,” I whisper to prove my compliance.

Merc slides his way inside, stretching me with his dick until I’ve adjusted for him and then he lays on top of me. He does that sometimes. “What’cha thinking, Merc?”

He traces my furrowed brow with his pointer finger and relaxes his jaw as he considers me with utter adoration. “About how I’m gonna end my journal.”

“I must be losing my charm if you’re thinking about that while you’re gearing up to fuck me.”

“No. Not at all, it just happened to hit me in this moment why I never feel close enough to you.”

“Why?”

“Forget it, Leslie. It’s too sappy to say out loud. You’ll have to read it later.”