Catching Maggie

by Hayley Faiman

  “His persistence was well worth it and he grew every single time he picked up a ball or a bat. He became better the harder he worked, so he worked harder and harder and pushed himself until, at the age of twenty, he was picked up by this team. Sammy accepted the position as catcher without ever looking back. He was reborn the day he signed his contract, welcomed with open arms into this family.

  “Sammy played the game not because he loved it, but because without it, he couldn’t live – couldn’t breathe. Every year, during the off season, he lost himself. I would beg him to go to the batting cages and hit balls. Without practice, without the games he would question life itself. But, as long as he had the game he was content.

  “If Sammy were here he’d say that he doesn’t deserve to have a permanent spot up on these walls, or anywhere near the greats - DiMaggio, the Babe, or Yogi. Sammy would tell you to stick him in the dugout, maybe write his name with a sharpie on the warming bench. He would give his jersey to some green kid who is ready to live his dream.”

  I take a moment to take a deep breath before continuing. I grip the jersey, that I am still holding, tightly in my hands and try not to smile at the vision running through my mind of cutting it into pieces.

  “He would say that, but he would be honored just the same. If he is looking down on us from that diamond in the sky, I know that he would want to send a hearty thank you. To every single man who has shared this piece of dirt, or a fraction of his love for the game, he would be eternally grateful. So, on behalf of Sammy, I wholeheartedly thank you.” My speech ends without a single tear shed. I take a step back and wait for them to let us leave.

  The National Anthem is announced, sung, and we all walk off of the field. For the last time, I look around the stadium. I thought I would be glad to never see another game again, to never sit in the bleachers with all those bitches and sluts, but that means I won’t be sitting with my friends either. It makes me sad, considering I had some great times up in those stands.

  I take myself home, unable to sit through the game. I would love to stay with the girls but the thought of sitting in the bleachers and picturing Sammy down there in his full gear, the cheating lying bastard, I can’t do it. I need to go home. I don’t want to be angry when Jackson comes over later.

  I try to unwind with a nice, long bath, refusing to allow the sadness of the evening to take over. Or my loneliness. Not that the feeling of loneliness is new. After my bath, I feel much better. I have let go the resentment toward the game, it wasn’t the game that tore my life into shards, it was the man Sammy. I hope that one day soon I will be able to watch a game and enjoy it again. I believe that this dedication was a closure I needed, my final goodbye to the game and the man who loved it so much.

  I dress in a pair of leggings and an extra-long tank top, not bothering with shoes or my hair, which is still in my bathtub knot. I know that Jackson is supposed to come over and I should try and look sexy for him, but I can’t muster up the energy. My emotions have been all over the place. I have felt anxiety, nervousness, anger, and finally relief all in the span of a few hours. I am drained. I lie down on the couch and rest my eyes for just a moment, or at least that’s what it feels like.

  The soft knocking on the door, coupled with the alert on my phone, is what eventually wakes me up from cozy dreamland. Bleary eyed, I walk toward the door and open it to find Jackson standing there. He’s in a pair of sweatpants and a tank top with a ball cap pulled down low.

  I try so very hard to look at his face, but my eyes are honed onto his massive and extremely cut chest. The tank top is so thin I can see every single ripple of muscle underneath the sheer material. My mouth actually waters at the sight.

  “Let me inside, beautiful,” he orders huskily. Still in a daze, I step aside so that he can walk through the front door.

  “Go sit down.” His voice is gentle but his words are no less of an order to be followed. Apparently, my body knows the importance of following his orders, because I walk over to the sofa and sit down.

  Long seconds tick by before Jackson walks over and sinks down into the sofa next to me. I feel his thigh press against mine, warmth radiates through him and through my thin leggings. My breath hitches as goosebumps travel over my skin at the slight contact. I feel like a girl with her first crush, in a way I am that girl. I have never been so drawn to another person as I am to Jackson right now.

  “How was your commitment this evening?” Jackson’s finger slowly trails up my arm, sending shivers throughout my body, raising my core temperature by at least ten degrees.

  “Difficult, but thankfully over. It was the last of my duties to that bastard.” My voice waivers making me sound as if I may cry; I don’t feel like I am going to cry from sadness. No, I feel as if I am going to cry out of sexual frustration.

  Jackson wraps his arm around me and pulls me into his side. I lie there for a second trying to relax, but I can’t. I don’t know what to expect. Jackson’s hand slides lazily up and down my arm.

  “I want to just hold you. Relax, gorgeous,” he whispers and I obey.

  Inside my mind, I‘m screaming for him to make a move. I want more of his lips on mine, on my neck, and anywhere else he wants to put them. I am scared though. I don’t trust myself around him, I want too much from him too soon. I shake slightly in his arms and Jackson must sense my fear because he just holds me in his arms. Waiting for me to relax and eventually I fall asleep in his strong arms.

  I wake with a jerk and find my leg is hooked around Jackson’s thigh. For some strange reason I’m shamelessly humping his leg, my hips rubbing against him as I wake from a dream about his fingers stroking my center. I feel so… wrong… Jackson just grins and kisses the tip of my nose.

  “Lie back, Marguerite.” I do as he asks, confusion clearly written all over my face. Without warning, my leggings along with my panties are wrenched from my body. I scramble to try and sit up, but Jackson places his hand at the center of my chest.

  “You’ll feel better after I make you come, Marguerite. You’re wound up, let me take care of you.” His words are smooth, like freshly churned butter - not that I have ever tasted freshly churned butter. I wasn’t raised in Amish country, but I imagine it is extremely smooth. I don’t know why I started thinking about butter but when I have the most beautiful man on earth touching me but I can’t keep my thoughts from hysterically darting around.

  I lay back, my body stiff anxiously waiting for Jackson’s next move. Then I feel Jackson’s lips on my inner thigh, at the juncture between my center and my leg. As if my body and lustful nature completely take over, my mind. I find myself spreading my legs farther apart to fit his massive shoulders between them.

  “So eager. So beautiful,” he whispers as his breath tickles my wet core.

  “Please,” I whimper.

  I try to get myself under control, I am seconds away from tackling this man. I try to recall the last time it was that a man’s face was between my thighs as a distraction. It hits me, Sammy had done this four years ago on my birthday after a particularly long trip away. He probably felt guilty.

  “Fuck yeah, beg me, baby,” he growls. Jackson’s voice alone brings me back to the present. With one long swipe of his tongue, he licks me, the sensation causing me to gasp, rolling my eyes into the back of my head, and arch my back.

  I feel his teeth clamp down on my clit as he sucks me inside of his mouth. My hands fly to his head, knocking his hat off as I sink my fingers into his shaggy dark hair. I cry out in surprise and elation at the sensations that are running through my body.

  “Jackson,” I gasp, trying to push myself closer to him as he releases my clit. He thrusts his tongue inside of my center, leaving my clit to pulse with need.

  His hands grab tightly onto my hips, holding my body still, dominating me. His rough hands dig into my flesh, causing my nipples to pebble, as they deliver the slightest bit of pain.

  Jackson repeats the act of sucking on my clit through clamped teeth, th
en fucking me with his tongue, over and over again. He brings me to the brink of orgasm more times than my brain can keep up with. My poor body is humming with the need for release so badly, it hurts. I know my hips will bear his fingerprints, bruised in my flesh, and I don’t even care. In fact, I think that I will be proud to wear any bruises inflicted by his touch.

  He is showing off the control of his dominance, but also his restraint.

  “Now, I want you to come on my tongue, Marguerite. I want to taste your release. I want to fucking drown in it, do you understand me?” His words are clear, but his voice is husky and rough; his nose nuzzles my clit as he hums.

  “Answer me,” he barks.

  “Yes, Jackson, oh god, please.”

  I will say whatever he wants me to say, and I will do whatever he wants me to do, as long as he makes me come.

  “You smell so good,” he groans before he begins to eat me roughly - sucking, licking, biting and thrusting his tongue deep inside of me. I come hard, so hard that I close my eyes and see nothing but bursting light all around me. Jackson doesn’t stop. He licks me thoroughly, and without ceasing, until I am nothing but a pile of skin and bones.

  “Fucking delicious, just as I knew you would be,” he murmurs as he drapes his body over mine. His hard length presses into my side as he nuzzle his lips behind my ear.

  “What do you need?” I ask shyly, knowing that pink embarrassment is creeping up my neck and staining my cheeks.

  “To hold you all night,” his voice rumbles through his chest, against me.

  I am bare from the waist down, and he’s fully clothed, but he holds me on that couch until I fall asleep again.

  I slowly strip Marguerite of her clothes after I carry her to the master bedroom. She is fucking stunning, naked and sated, her lips pouting in sleep. I want to bite and lick them before sliding my cock right through them into her hot mouth. I do none of those things, instead I wrap my body around hers from behind.

  Holding this woman, this beautiful woman, is more than I could have ever asked for. I feel like a pussy admitting that, but after standing so close to her during the dedication ceremony for Sammy, and listening to the breathtaking words she spoke about a man I now know treated her despicably, it made me want her for myself even more.

  Marguerite is truly gorgeous inside and out. She could have refused the dedication and the speech, but she didn’t. It wasn’t required at all, and yet she did it in a way that was truly for the fans; for the young boys living in poverty that only have hard work and hope on their side. I gather her body closer to mine. Taking her thick honey blonde hair out of its confining knot, I slide my fingers through the silky strands.

  I feel like a complete ass. Guilt claws through me. I haven’t told her what I do for a living or who I really am. I have a feeling she will run far away from me once she finds out my occupation is the exact occupation of her deceased husband - a husband that treated her like shit and cheated on her every chance he had.

  What she doesn’t know is that I would cherish her, dominate her, and fuck only her until the end of my days. The goodness that flows from her assures me that no matter what happens in my life, she is the type of woman that would proudly stand by her man’s side. I sure as fuck want to be that man.

  Can she accept my career?

  Can she fully submit herself to me?

  These are questions that will take time to answer; but with my traveling schedule over the next two weeks, I feel like the clock is ticking. I know that I will have to confess before the team leaves which doesn’t give me much time to prove that I’m different than Sammy.

  It makes my whole body ache to think that I may not ever have her completely, that I won’t be able to watch her come a million times. I want to see her find her release so many different ways. It has had me hard for days just thinking about it. I want to tie her arms and legs, clamp her tits with dazzling jeweled nipple clamps, and lick her until she comes. I want to send bites of pain throughout her body with each tug on the chain between her full tits.

  I want to make her come with my fingers when she is tied and bent over the bed. I want to wrap ribbon around her entire body, leaving her pussy exposed, and make her come again, without ever actually touching her flesh with any part of mine, except my cock. I want to feel only the satin of the ribbon against my skin. I wish for the chance to cherish her and show her what making love means. I crave to hold her for hours and just be there for her. It’s soon, too soon, but I’m already hers. I need her to be mine as well.

  Marguerite is so perfect. My track record isn’t the greatest with relationships, so the faith I have in myself is very little, but I feel so connected to her. Needing her more than I need anything in this life. It’s a fucking preposterous statement. How can I need her when I have only watched her from afar – when all I know about her is a glimmer of a promise? We’ve had mere moments together and I already know that she is the one for me - my submissive, my future, just plain fucking mine.

  I feel like I would kill if somebody ever harmed her. I would do anything to protect her and, if I could, I would go to wherever Sammy is and beat the ever-loving shit out of him for hurting her the way that he did. Closing my eyes, I eventually fall asleep with my face buried in her sweet smelling hair, my cock so hard I could pound nails with it. It doesn’t bother me though. Maggie offered me release but I refused because it wasn’t about me – it’s about her and what she needs. Denying myself is worth it because right now her soft body is aligned with mine and my cock knows it will be home soon.

  “HELLO,” I HEAR FROM BESIDE me in a rough, sexy, sleepy voice. I roll over to find Jackson leaning against the headboard of my bed. He’s shirtless with the sheet pulled up to his waist. His hair is rumpled from sleep, his face relaxed, and he’s never looked sexier.

  “Yeah, man, no problem… uh yeah, but no biggie. See you in a few.” He grumbles his last words as his eyes focus on me. He looks hungry and I feel like a meal for the starving man.

  “Do you have to leave?” I feel whiny but I want him to stay. I want to spend time with him and get to know him better. I like being around him and I like the way he makes me feel. I haven’t felt good about myself around a man in a long time.

  “I do. a buddy of mine needs some help. How about I come back and we do a late lunch?” I feel the warmth of his hand as he cups my cheek before sliding his fingers around the back of my neck, giving me a light squeeze.

  “All right.” I am disappointed, but I try my hardest not to let it show.

  We didn’t make plans for the day, so I shouldn’t care that he has had something come up, but I just want to be with him. As needy and pathetic as that sounds, I can’t help it. I try not to let the feelings show on my face, but I’m a horrible liar. Jackson has changed me – in one night. For the first time a man as held me not wanting anything from me but my presence. My walls crumble and I can feel myself allowing him inside one step at a time. Somehow between my uncertainty yesterday and the fantastic way he brought me to an orgasm last night he has made me crave a little more of him. I want the darkness I know he holds. I want a taste of what he can offer me. I want to move toward the relationship I know that he needs. I want all of this because Jackson is proving himself worthy

  “Don’t be sad. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” His thumb traces my bottom lip, gently tugging on it before slipping inside of my mouth. I slide my tongue over the pad of his thumb and suck him into my mouth further, enjoying the way his dark eyes glitter with need.

  “Enough,” he rasps before he pulls his hand away from my face.

  “I want more Jackson,” I admit shamelessly.

  “No,” he commands, standing up and starting to walk toward his discarded sweats.

  “Please,” I beg. My insides throb as I witness his resolve crumble.

  “Get on the ground. On your knees.” The order is sharp and laced with need. I feel my body light up with excitement as I scramble across the bed and onto my knees. />
  “Put your hands behind your back and clasp them together. Push those beautiful tits out for me, Marguerite,” he demands. My nipples pebble and my body shivers as I do exactly what he instructs.

  I watch with rapt anticipation as he begins to stroke himself. He is long and thick and my eyes focus solely on that piece of him. I want that part of him between my legs so badly. Not to say that the rest of his muscle ripped body is anything but gorgeous; but this hard, piece of flesh, is what dreams are made of. For the first time in my life, Jackson makes me feel wanton, horny and needy - constantly. I find that I like it. I am enjoying the sexual desire I have toward this man.

  “Open that pretty little mouth, beautiful. You’re going to be a good girl and take all of me, now.” He rasps.

  I gasp as my eyebrows shoot for the sky and my eyes meet his smiling face.

  “You can and you will, now not another sound, unless you’re moaning for my cock,” he growls. I nod once, taking a deep breath as I open my mouth as wide as I can.

  He moves so that my body is between his thick thighs. One of his hands holds onto his rigid length while the other one wraps around the back of my head, guiding me forward. If he weren't holding onto my hair, I would surely fall flat on my face. Once I have taken as much of him as I possibly can inside of my mouth, Jackson stills, his fingers flexing in my hair as a hiss escapes his lips.

  Not a word is spoken, but he looks into my eyes the entire time, his black gaze never leaving mine. The way he is intensely staring at me makes me feel like I am beautiful – right here, right now, just like this, with him filling my mouth. Jackson watches me intently as he slowly eases my body back with a tug on my hair. The he thrusts closer, simultaneously pulling me closer to him, his hard length choking and gagging me. He repeats the action over and over again until tears are spilling from my eyes, down my cheeks, and onto my bare breasts.