Page 45

I t was a Wednesday and Remi woke up to her phone buzzing on her bedside table at 4 a.m. She reached over, trying to grab the phone without waking Max. They slept at her house last night after watching the game at the local bar. Max had been incognito in a hat and sunglasses as they watched the Condors advance to the second round of the playoffs after absolutely destroying the San Jose Threshers in the first round.

“Hello?” Remi answered.

On the other line one of her cleaners, Miriam, responded, “Hey, Remi, I can’t come in today. Sebastian is running a fever, and my mom is out of town. I don’t have anyone to watch him and there’s no way I can send him to school like this.”

“Yeah, yeah. Family first,” Remi said. This was her golden rule as a small business owner.

“I know it’s your light day. I’m so sorry to do this,” Miriam said on the other line.

“No, it’s fine. The house I clean on Wednesdays is flexible,” Remi said with a smile, looking over at Max, whose house was her Wednesday morning house. He looked up at her through sleepy, hooded eyes and mouthed, “ Everything okay ?” She patted his shoulder, gave him a reassuring smile, and went on. “Keep me posted. If you need tomorrow off as well, I can cover it between me and Maria.”

“Okay, thank you, Remi,” Miriam said.

“No worries, girl. Go take care of your baby.”

She reached over and put her phone down on the bedside table right before Max pulled her into his body, nuzzling his face into her neck.

“I have to cover a few houses today,” Remi said as Max began to trail slow kisses across her collarbone.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll come with you.”

She leaned her head back, making room for his lips. “You going to help me clean, or just cheer me on?”

“Both?” he asked, the heat of his mouth warming her skin.

“Deal. But we need to leave right meow,” she said.

Max grumbled. “You kitten me? It’s too early, and I’m a little hungover.”

“Nope, I’m not kitten. We have to be at this house by five.”

Max pulled her on top of him. “Who gets their house cleaned that early?”

“A doctor who works graveyard shifts,” she said, rolling her hips against his morning wood despite knowing they didn’t have time for this.

“Makes sense,” he said, reaching down to push his hand below her panties, slipping a finger against her clit, rubbing it gently.

“Max Miller,” she said in a low purr.

“Real quick?” he asked, but his hips were already lifting below her, making room to pull his boxer briefs down his thighs.

Who was she to say no to a morning quickie?

“Fine,” she agreed, rolling her eyes, but really, she wanted him too. Their sex was electric, needy, and silly, and most times, it was really passionate. A million unsaid words seemed to play out between them when he was inside her.

Remi slipped off her panties and climbed on top of Max, his chest heaving with deep breaths as he watched her pull her shirt over her head before taking his erection in her hand, lining him up to enter her, and taking him with one drop of her body.

They both moaned at the same time, their voices deep and raspy with sleep.

Remi circled her hips, grinding her body flush against his, her sex shaved with a small beauty mark resting on the skin above the sharp point of her hip bone. She had tan lines, dark and distinct, from long days at the beach. Max was pale in contrast, with trails of red freckles spattered across his naked skin, his body hair well-kept for a hairy man. She loved it.

His hands found her hips and gripped them tight as she began to move her body up and down his length with the roll of her body. She always came so fast when she was on top, with Max’s girth stretching her in the best way possible.

She wanted to take her time and draw this out; ride him fast and hard, then slow and steady. Make him beg. But they had houses to clean. Using his chest to brace herself as she quickened her pace, his hands gripped her tight, forcing her to take him deep with each thrust.

Remi felt her body contracting around him, the muscles in her legs tightening, her toes beginning to curl as her orgasm came on strong.

Max, without hesitation, moved her off his body, repositioning her onto her stomach, lifting her ass up in one swift motion before pushing back into her with a punishing thrust.

“Oh. Fuck,” she cried out. Another orgasm was already building as he fucked her like they were on a time limit—and they were.

He pulled her body against his with each thrust. The slapping of their skin, groans, and deep breaths filled the room. Remi felt herself about to come again. Twice before work, not a bad way to start your day.

“Keep going,” she managed. “So good.”

Max’s athletic strength proved to be a complete game changer in the bedroom, his stamina never wavering as he thrust against her from behind, good and hard.

Remi’s head fell and she gripped the sheets tight, coming for a second time.

“Are you?” he asked, his words short.

“Yes,” she moaned.

“Again?” he asked, never missing a thrust.

“Yes,” she said, this time laughing a hint.

“Damn, Remi,” he said, somehow managing to fuck her harder, the sound of his body against hers echoing through her small bedroom. “So. Good,” he said, slamming his body flush against hers one last time as he came; the heat of his orgasm spreading deep inside her.

She wouldn’t be able to walk, let alone clean after that.

Max slowly pulled out, leaning down to kiss the center of her back.

“You sure we have to clean these houses today?” he asked, and she knew why.

She knew he asked because that was the kind of sex that needed a follow-up, and after the follow-up, a shower. And then after the shower some heavy petting. That was the kind of sex that could have very easily led to an entire day of making love on every surface of her tiny house.

“We have to clean these houses,” she said, rolling over onto her back, her legs still shaking and her body aching in the best way. With the throb between her legs, she could feel phantom thrusts against her entrance even with him gone.

“I guess we should get ready,” Max said, looking over at her, his smile still managing to be a little groggy and his beard lopsided from sleeping on his stomach.

“I have a Busy Bee shirt for you here,” she said, and his face lit up.

“I like wearing your company shirt. It makes me feel official.”

Remi leaned over and kissed his smiling mouth, then his nose, then his eyes that fluttered shut under her lips, then his forehead.

“I like seeing you in it,” she said.

“I want to see you in my jersey… before the season is over.”

“I would love that.”

His hands trailed across her bare skin, down her breast, over her nipple, then outlined her tan lines in a non-sexual nature, in a “just because I can” kind of way.

“It’s going to be hard,” he said.

“Seeing me in your jersey?” she asked.

His hands stopped moving. “Seeing you in my jersey knowing it’s the last year that number is mine.”

She leaned over, draping her body across his in a blanketing hug. “Thirty-one will always be Max Miller’s number to me.”

“What if they win the Cup?” he asked, his question lined with some kind of heavy meaning.

“Then you celebrate with them. You’re still a part of the team.”

Max went silent, it still wasn’t an uncommon thing for him to do, to go completely quiet, but this was a different kind of silence.

“If I don’t play a game in the playoffs, or at least get dressed as a backup goalie, I don’t get my name on the Cup.”

Remi sat up, her face twisted with irritation. “Why? That’s so stupid and entirely unfair.”

Max brought his hands up to rub his eyes. “It’s just the rules.”

“Well fuck the rules,” she said, standing aggressively to head to the bathroom.