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19. Remington

NINETEEN

REMINGTON

My adult life has been marked by a number of surreal moments. Signing my first contract with the Nighthawks, my extension, and then my second contract; winning the World Series, then winning it again; the day Ma was diagnosed with cancer, when she passed, and every day after leading into her funeral. Another one is laying here on the back deck with Scar as she rolls her eyes and angrily types away on her laptop, her textbooks and journals scattered around us, the fading sun enhancing the glow she's been floating around with since our shower.

Somehow she's made what should have been the worst moment of my career something I'm thankful for. These weeks of recovery are the highlight of my whole year. Without it, I wouldn't have the unfettered access to her that I do. I wouldn't get to see all the little moments of playfulness and goofiness she exhibits throughout the day, like when she hides after I leave the room and attempts to scare me upon my return only to give herself away by giggling. The cute way she dances whenever she takes a bite of her favorite foods or the way her eyes grow wide in excitement with a sip of coffee that has a little extra kick of flavored syrup. The random moments when she starts singing mid-song, punching the air and bobbing her head around before resuming whatever task she was previously hyper-focused on. All these small facets of her that are carefully kept under lock and key when exposed to the world that make me fall just a little more each day.

Slowly yet all at once, things with her have gone from a possibility to an inevitability. Her time, her words, her thoughts, her touch, every second of it I covet. Possessively latching on to each one, wanting to hold and savor it, until I can be gifted with the next. Everything has shifted since living with Scarlet—my priorities, my goals, my entire world—all of it falling apart to reshape and rebuild around her.

Piece by piece, layer by layer, day by day, I fall more in love with not just the idea of her but the reality. I love the fractures in her sunshiny disposition. How they make her wake up and choose to be happy and see the world for what it could be instead of what it is. The way that at twenty-one she is already so unapologetically herself, refusing to accept anything in her life but what makes her happy and fulfilled. I love how she's shy and timid but assertive when and where it counts, taking charge to remove the blockades between her and what she wants. That she's soft, gentle, and delicate but without sacrificing an ounce of strength, will, and resilience. And I love how fiercely she loves her family. The way she makes them the center of her world and views nothing as sacrifice when it comes to them.

She's it. She's the one. The one who comes before baseball. The one I think of first. The one who the very idea of being without leaves me feeling hollow. The one I want to marry, to raise a family with. The one I want to think of last before I die. She's the one I love.

I love her.

I'm in love with her.

Sitting up with a start, I look at Scarlet, her tongue pushing her cheek out as she glares at her computer, and the realization hits me again. I'm in love with her. It's no longer inevitable. I'm no longer falling. I'm there; I'm in love with her. I'm sitting across from the woman I'm going to marry. The woman who will be the mother of my children. The woman who makes it all make sense and worthwhile.

I'm in love with her.

Putting her Kindle with the hot as fuck book I've been reading aside, I lean forward and slowly begin to close her laptop. When her blue eyes pop up to mine, the little wrinkle in her brow relaxes, and that soft smile she only ever gives me and makes my breath catch takes over her face.

"Hi," she breathes, removing her fingers from the keyboard.

Closing her computer the rest of the way, I lift it from her lap and deposit it on the coffee table, quietly returning, "Hi."

As I rise to my knees, her eyes catch on what her books and most especially my revelation have done to me. Instead of concealing the bulge of my hardening dick, my sweatpants draw attention to it, the material tenting and providing no restraint as I come fully to attention for her.

Scarlet's teeth sink into her glossy lip as her smile grows and she begins to open her legs. Legs that are covered in the most innocently arousing gray, knitted socks that stretch over her knees and have little pink velvet bows at the back. My own vision is transfixed between her toned thighs, watching the hem of her matching pink sweater push up to pool around her hips and expose the sweetest little white lace thong. It's already so sheer it provides a perfectly unobstructed view of her pussy, but as wetness blooms, it becomes nearly translucent.

Wetting my lips, I swallow back a groan, the want and need to bury my face in her and taste every part of her from clit to ass visceral. Lowering myself over her, I murmur, "I think you need a break," before licking her exposed shoulder and up her neck, her resulting keen sending Winnie scampering inside for safety.

"I take it my interest in certain things is lining up with your own," she hums, hooking her feet to the inside of my knees as I settle into the cradle she's created for me.

Twinging my fingers around her loose braid and using it to better expose her neck to me, I answer noncommittally, "Somethin' like that." I seal my lips around her pulse and suck until her back arches under me. "Though I doubt anything in your books will top the surprise I had when I saw your little collection titled, ‘Breeding Kink.' Or when you called me Daddy."

Running her fingers up my Henley and tugging it over my head, she drops it on the ground and causes me to hiss when her tongue circles my nipples before her teeth nibble.

"You don't think it's weird?"

"Was what happened in the shower not proof enough?"

Giggling as her hips rise to meet the thrusting roll of mine, the sound dies off into a moan as my covered cock kisses her covered clit. Repeating the action and groaning into the crook of her neck as she chases after me, I press my lips against her skin, kissing my way across to her mouth, saying, "No baby girl, I don't think it's weird; I like it. I like it so much that when I would jerk off thinking of you, it almost always ended with me picturing you locking your legs around me to keep me and my cum inside of you. And knowing you get off on fantasies about getting pregnant has me wanting to fuck you into this couch until it becomes reality. The Daddy thing is just an added bonus I didn't know I needed."

"Fuck," she pants, tightening her legs and rubbing her pussy over me. "Remi, please."

"Not yet, baby. But soon," I promise, plunging my tongue into her mouth, fucking her to the rythm of my humping.

In the days since she first kissed me, my girl has proven to be a quick study. She matches each touch, lick, and twine of my tongue with her own. Her hands are bold as they wander my body, petting, stroking, and caressing the lines and planes of my muscles. Her fingers daring as they dance and toy along the waistband of my sweatpants, dipping in but not quite reaching for my dick just yet. Parts of her remain shy and in need of coaxing, but the proof of how much she trusts me is evident in how freely she's beginning to express and claim her desire, in how she's relinquishing her initial need for control, surrendering herself to my guide.

Moving my hands to her hips, I start pushing her sweater up to expose her tight, trim stomach. Hit as suddenly as I was with the realization I'm in love with her, the image of her stomach round, breasts heavy, hips flared, barrels into me.

I'm a man possessed by the fantasy of seeing it through, to will the vision into existence. I want to rut into her as deep as I can until I'm coming against her cervix, filling her with my seed. Claiming her as mine from the inside out. Removing all questions about who she belongs to, who loves her, and who satisfies each and every one of her secretly filthy whims.

I break away from her mouth only long enough to rip the sweater over her head and leave it somewhere on the deck forgotten. Returning to her, I map the curves of her body with my hands, my teeth gently pulling at her puffy bottom lip. When it comes free, our foreheads touch, heavy breaths mingling between as her arms cling to me by threading under mine and up the back of my shoulders, the press of her bare breasts to my chest exquisite.

"Fuck baby, I lo–" I nearly confess, stopping myself by hooking her thigh higher up my hip and instead saying, "I'm close," uncaring of the fact that at thirty years old I'm about to come from simply dry humping my girlfriend.

Stretching so her hips push more firmly against my own, her back arching off the couch, neck long and inviting my tongue to lick, she breathlessly encourages, "On me. Come on me; please."

Quickly kissing her, I sweep my hand down the center of her chest, the need to play with her nipples and palm the small swells fading as I make my way to her stomach. Stopping to spread my hand over her abdomen, I kiss her temple as she watches me through hooded eyes.

"You'll look so beautiful stretching to grow our baby," I whisper reverently.

"Our baby," she either confirms or asks. Regardless, I respond, "Yeah Scarlet, our baby— my baby," and I reach for the panties I desperately want to tear away from her cunt but show restraint by opting to slowly peel them down.

The moment I start to remove them however, her body tenses and her hand shoots out to stop me, nails digging into the inside of my wrist.

Just as quickly, she loosens her hold but doesn't yet let me go, apologizing, "I'm sorry, I don't, I don't know why that happened. I like this. I want this, I don't?—"

"Shh… it's okay," I soothe, already checking how secure her leg is around me with my free hand. "We'll just change position. Don't worry. Ready?"

As soon as she nods her head and the prying hold she has on me releases, I grip her other hip, locking both legs around my waist. Then with her clinging on to me, I rotate us so I'm on my back with her on top before sitting up so she's wrapped around me and in my lap.

Unhooking her legs, Scarlet shifts to her knees, the earlier tension receding.

"Better?"

"I think so," she tentatively answers. Giving several experimental rocks along my cock, she nods and brings my hand back to her panties, prompting, "Try again."

I watch her intently as I hook my finger on the side and begin to peel the delicate fabric away from her wet pussy. As I hook it on the other side leaving her exposed but with her panties still on, the last of her tension melts away, a relieved sigh blowing free.

"See, baby girl? We've got this. It's just a patience game. We'll learn together."

Nodding her head again, her thighs beginning to squeeze me, she repeats, "We've got this." Then reaching behind her, she leverages her weight and grinds along my cock, her breasts and puckered nipples displayed for my eyes as she fully brings us back into the moment by whimpering, "I want to feel you come on my pussy."

Snaking an arm around her lower back and pressing her into me, I thrust up as I growl, "Whose pussy?"

"Daddy's pussy."

"Good girl. It is my pussy," I praise before nipping her neck in warning. "And don't forget that. Now take out Daddy's cock."

"Oh God," she moans, eagerly reaching for my waistband.

Lifting my hips as she pulls my sweatpants down, my dick springs free, pre-cum leaking from the tip. And with the given permission to touch me, my girl wastes no time swiping a finger over the top, collecting the fluid and bringing it to her lips.

Watching her lick her finger and feeling her hips give off their happy little dance, I groan, "You're too fuckin' sweet, baby girl."

Beginning to pull her closer, her bare cunt and my weeping cock nearly kissing, I ask, "Is this okay?" She answers by jerking forward the last bit, a sharp intake of breath filling us both at the contact.

God, she's so close. My dick nestled in her lips, her opening hot and wet, waiting for me. It wouldn't take much to slip inside her. Stretch her. Mold her pussy to me. And from there it would take an embarrassingly low count of thrusts before I'm spilling myself and praying it takes root.

Gliding herself over my shaft, the feeling drawing my eyes closed as I turn my head heavenward and moan, Scarlet declares with short breath, "We have to do this every single day. Promise me." Then moaning as she circles her clit along the flare of my head, she amends, "Twice a day, minimum."

Gripping her ass, I begin to control her movements just enough to prevent her from sinking onto me before we're ready and say, "Baby, if you let me, I would keep your sweet ass in bed all fuckin' day, lovin' you with my tongue, fingers, and dick until you pass out."

"Oh my God, Remington, yes!" she shouts, her movements growing short and rapid.

Fisting my cock and beginning to jerk off at the base, I encourage, "That's it baby girl, come for me. Come all over me so I can paint your pretty pussy with my cum and—" the rest of my words are stolen from me as her head falls back with a loud scream of pleasure, her hips rocking and rolling over my dick with each cresting wave of her wet orgasm, the sweet lips of her twitching cunt trying to suck me in the last bit I need.

I come with a shout, one arm banded around her lower back to keep her on top of me as I flood the space between us, and the other cupping the back of her head as I kiss her. Her tongue wrapped with mine is the only thing stopping me from telling her I love her.

But I do. I love her. And as surely as her family is the nucleus of her existence, she's become mine.

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