“You have a game coming up,” I point out. Jackson hums against the top of my hair.
“Do you want me to paint your nails?” I chance and Jackson suddenly rolls me over onto my back.
“For the game?” he asks, his brows furrowed.
“Yeah. Sammy used to paint his all the time.”
He grins before he asks, “You ever paint them for him?”
“No, he wouldn’t let me.”
“Then, yeah, babe. Paint my nails for me.” He smiles widely, kissing the tip of my nose.
I try to reach for a shirt to cover my body, but Jackson shakes his head and throws it across the room. I sit cross-legged, naked as the day I was born, and paint my boyfriend’s fingernails neon yellow. It is a bonding and closeness I have never felt with another human being. This man owns me, heart and soul.
I HAVEN’T BEEN TO SAMMY’S grave since the day I numbly watched his casket slowly lower into the ground. I had no desire to visit the bastard after I found out about his recreational activities throughout our marriage, but now I need the closure and I need to forgive him. His journal entry opened my eyes to the turmoil he felt; it wasn’t an excuse for the way he behaved, but I at least understand his reasons a bit more.
It isn’t completely either of our faults that we failed. I need to forgive myself, too, because I had a part in it as well. I’m not sure I would have accepted his needs or been able to facilitate them at that time in my life. As my husband, he thought he knew that about me. Maybe he was right to protect me from himself. I will never know.
Sinking down to my knees in the cool grass, I look at his headstone.
“You bastard,” I cry out.
I let a few tears fall as I trace his name on the cold granite before slamming my open palm down on the stone.
“I forgive you, Sammy. I wish you would have trusted me enough to talk to me about what you needed. I wish you wouldn’t have made the decision that I could or couldn’t handle your needs without me. I hate the fact that you sought out other women when I needed you. I would have done anything for you. Maybe that’s why you didn’t tell me, because you knew that no matter how much I liked or hated it, I would have done it for you.
“I think you would be proud of me now, though. I’m stronger than I was when you died. I’ve made some mistakes along the way but I’m living; for the first time in my life I am standing on my own two feet. I’m making my own decisions and finally living. I probably won’t come back here to visit you, but I just wanted to thank you.
“Thank you for taking me away from Vegas and thank you for giving me a beautiful life. We may not have always been blissfully happy, but you were good to me in your own way, and I appreciate you always taking care of me, even in death. So, thank you, Sammy. A part of me will always love you.”
I stand, wiping my tears as I walk back toward my car.
I feel good.
The life I shared with Sammy has finally concluded. I drive away, leaving him in my past. Now, I am truly ready to move on.
When Amalie swings her door open, a huge smile lights up her face and she immediately launches at me, wrapping me in a hug. My face is practically smashed into her gigantic breasts and I find it hard to breath. When she lets me go, I can’t help myself; I throw back my head and laugh. The guys are on the road for the end of the playoffs and she’s invited me over for cocktails and dinner. I am thankful that I don’t have to go back to an empty apartment after my time at Sammy’s gravesite.
“What’s so funny?” She narrows her eyes, a smile firmly planted on her lips as she moves over, allowing me to walk through the door.
“You almost suffocated me with your huge boobs,” I chuckle.
“They’re big, they’re beautiful, and they’re lethal,” Paul, the owner of the lingerie company Amalie models for, bellows from the living room. Everybody else joins in on my laughter. I inhale the positivity surrounding me and smile.
Looking around, I notice that Libby is missing. I ask Victoria and Amalie where she is, but they just shrug. Victoria’s brow furrow as she looks down at her phone and then the door, as if she is waiting for her to arrive. All thoughts of Libby escape me when I look up at Amalie’s big screen television and see Jackson standing there. His hand over his heart singing the National Anthem. Tears form in my eyes as I take him in. He looks tired but good. He is so beautiful that it makes my heart ache.
“He’s happy now, even with that horrible fucking tape,” Amalie comments. I nod, looking at the man who owns my heart. He always will, too.
“Adam disappeared two days ago and he can’t get ahold of him,” I admit, sipping the mojito Victoria passes me.
“Are you serious? Maggie, that looks really fucking bad. He was alone in Jackson’s place a lot,” Victoria comments. She’s right. It looks fucking horrible and guilty as shit.
“He owed a bookie a bunch of money, too. He was hiding out, trying to figure out how to get some cash, and now he’s gone and that tape… that fucking tape is everywhere,” I confess. Amalie makes a whining sound in the back of her throat before she closes her eyes, pain etched on her face.
“Do you think? I mean, it looks suspicious, but really? Do you think he would do that to his own brother?” Asks David, Paul’s business partner and lover. I shrug and flick my eyes over to the television. Jackson is crouched down, giving Jarrod a hand signal. A flash of his neon yellow nails captures my attention and I smile. He catches the ball and stands to throw it back to Jarrod. His arms look strong, his body big and beautiful.
“I saw that tape, honey. It was fucking shit-hot, don’t be embarrassed at all. I had David fuck me against our windows the other night. I had to try that shit,” Paul admits, making my eyes go wide. Amalie bursts out laughing and it lightens the mood.
“Sometimes the people we are the closest to can hurt us the most,” Libby whispers. Confused by the sudden sound of her voice, I turn around. When did she show up? Her blank eyes worry me, and they are haunted, so fucking haunted.
“Libby?” I ask.
“Hey, girl.” She gives me a weak smile and walks away, toward the kitchen as quietly as she appeared.
“I expected her to whisper some shit about seeing dead people. That was creepy as fuck,” says Victoria in a hushed voice. I nod, unable to laugh at the joke.
“Oh, shit. Did you see how they zoomed in on Pete? Fuck, that man is gorgeous; and you’re to die for, Libby. When are you guys going to come to my studio so we can take some sexy as shit pictures of you both?” David expresses. Libby shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips, but she doesn’t say anything.
“I bet his cock is pierced,” Paul chimes in. and Libby’s face turns beat read.
“It is, isn’t it? Fuck, I bet that boy is fucking sin in the sheets,” Victoria cries out. We all laugh, making comments about each of our men while we watch the game.
I can’t take my eyes off of Jackson the entire time. Crouched down, his face hidden behind that mask, I know those black eyes gleam for me alone. Just the image of him on the screen sends a chill of desire down my spine.
I want him.
I want all of him.
I need him - flaws and all.
We are all fucking exhausted, but the locker room is buzzing. We’re on goddamned fucking fire. We made it, again. We’ve won and we’re going to the World Series. I remember the last time we went, my first time. I was so fucking nervous and excited all at once. I remember the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I didn’t even play in one inning, but I was still on edge the entire time - then we partied afterward.
Fuck, that party was fucking stellar. I remember calling a couple subs from the club to meet me there. I tied them up, spanking, fucking, and shoving my cock down their throats all fucking night. This year, though - this year I’ll have my Maggie at my side. When we go home, I’ll spend the whole night doing those things to her, repeatedly. I smile at the thought of tying her up and spanking her.
“Got an envelope he
re for you,” says Ricky, one of the new guys, shoving a plain manila envelope at me. I take it with a shrug and throw it into my duffle bag.
I’m not going to worry about shit right now and that manila envelope looks like shit, probably just another something from a freaky ass fan. Tonight, I’m going to celebrate with my team by eating a steak the size of my face, and then I’m going to call my girl and tell her that I love her.
“Let’s go. I have to call Amalie and Axel after dinner and I don’t plan on doing anything after that,” Jarrod calls out from behind me.
“Whipped as shit man,” I murmur, slinging my duffle over my shoulder.
“I’m not the only one, fucker,” says Jarrod, punching me lightly in my arm. I shrug. He’s right. We’re a couple of whipped fuckers but it’s perfect.
I talk to Maggie and make sure she’s tucked in safe and sound in her apartment. I wish she would have stayed at my place but she claimed she wasn’t comfortable without me there. My next step in this relationship is to make sure there is no hers and mine – only ours. Then, I go through my duffle and reorganize for tomorrow’s ride home. I’m beat to shit and I want to sleep in as late as possible without having to pack my bags. The envelope sitting on top of my duffle catches my eyes and I rip it open. Inside, on thick, plain white paper, is a typewritten note.
Lexington
-It would be in your best interest and that, of your Marguerite’s, if you made sure the Yankees were not the victors in the World Series. Take this seriously, as the repercussions will be dire. If you wish to keep your little whore safe, then you will do as I ask. If you involve the police at all, you will never see your fucktoy again.
-E
My heart stops. My breathing stops. All I can see are the words typed neatly on the page. Blind rage fills my body as a few photos slip out of the envelope. Every single one is of Maggie. There is a picture of her and Amalie out shopping, a gorgeous smile on her lips as her arm swings with a package dangling from her fingers.
A second photo is of her alone, her hair tumbling around her shoulders, all messy and wavy just the way I love it: she’s smiling, her eyes cast down as she types something on her phone..
The last picture is of the two of us. My arms are wrapped around her, my hands on her ass as I kiss her neck. We had been out to dinner and we were both drunk, waiting for a cab.
I’m going to fucking kill Elliot. I know it’s him. He’s already threatened her and now he’s doing it again, in a way that is not only detrimental to her safety, but to my career as well. I’m not going to play his games. No way would I let Maggie be in danger. No way would I let my team down.
Fuck this asshole.
I spend the whole flight back to the city texting Maggie. I’m in a panic. I didn’t sleep last night and all I could think about was Elliot hurting my little bunny.
I couldn’t sleep.
I couldn’t function.
I need to see her.
I need to touch her.
I need to know she is safe.
I need to be inside of her.
I need her like my next breath.
Maggie.
My fucking Maggie.
She makes my heart beat. I know that if anything happens to her, I won’t be able to survive it. I am a fucking love sick, pussy whipped fool, and I don’t want it any other damn way.
I pound on her door, my duffle bag and suitcase at my feet. Maggie pulls the door open and I suck in a breath. Her hair is piled high in a messy bun on top of her head and she’s dressed in leggings and an old, oversized Yankee’s shirt – my shirt – swallowing her curvy body. I love her like this, comfortable and natural. Her face and her feet are bare and she’s never looked so fucking sexy. Without a word, I pick up my shit and push past her. I don’t go far, dropping my bags in the living room before I turn to face her once more. She looks confused, her eyes searching mine as she walks toward me.
“Come here,” I say gruffly. She doesn’t hesitate, speeding up her steps as she closes the distance between us. Her body collides with mine and her arms wrap around my neck as her hips push against me.
“Missed you, Jackson,” she whispers, her lips brushing against my neck. So fucking soft and so fucking perfect. She makes my heart and my cock ache simultaneously.
“I need you,” I sigh against her temple before picking her up and carrying her tiny, lush body to her bedroom.
My initial instinct was to fuck her against the first surface I could find. Then she wrapped her arms around me, her lips touched mine, her sweet voice whispered that she missed me, and I knew – my woman needed soft and sweet. She has been without my touch for too many days and she needs me to show her how much I missed her and love her. No matter what I want, that shit takes a back burner to what she needs.
I lie Maggie down on her bed and pull the hair tie out of her long locks, watching as her hair fans out around her on the delicate bedding. She looks like a fucking angel. She’s too good for me and I know it. I slowly take my shirt off and drop my jeans as I toe off my shoes, standing before her in absolutely nothing.
I watch as her pretty tongue wets her puffy pink lips and my cock twitches at the sight. As much as I want to shove myself down her throat and make her take all of me, right now isn’t the time for rough and dirty. She grabs the hem of her shirt and starts to pull it over her head but then stops with one shake of my head.
“Let me,” I say roughly.
I strip her of the clothes covering her delicious body and stare once she’s naked. I could stare at her gorgeous full tits, firm stomach, and rounded hips all goddamned day. Maggie squirms under my perusal, obviously bothered by my penetrating gaze.
“Spread for me, babe,” I growl. She spreads her thighs without hesitation, her chest heaving with her short, panting breaths.
“Do you know how beautiful you are, Marguerite?” I ask, my finger slowly trailing through her damp center.
So fucking perfect.
“N-No,” she whispers closing her eyes and shaking her head.
“Open your eyes. Get up on your elbows and look at me.” The request is simple and she obliges as I pull her legs closer to the edge of the bed. Maggie’s white teeth sink into her thick lips and I groan at the sight.
“Jackson.” She sucks in a breath as I slide the head of my cock inside of her tight entrance.
“Look right here, babe. Watch me fuck you. See how pretty your pussy looks while it takes me,” I instruct. A deep moan escapes her lips as her head tips down.
Maggie’s heavy breasts are descending forward and I can’t help myself; I lean down, swirling my tongue around one of her nipples before drawing it into my mouth. My tongue slides over the hard candy that’s begging to be tasted. She gasps as I bite down, savoring her sweetness. Every part of her body tastes so fucking good.
“Please,” she whines as her thick thighs shake in my hands. I take my time sliding my way into her tight, wet heat – admiring her as she watches obediently.
“Maggie,” I cry out once I’m seated deep inside of her. My whole body trembles at the feel of her, narrow and blazing around me - fucking perfect. She moans falling back and wrapping her arms around my back.
“I missed you, Jackson, so much.” Her nails dig into my back, but the bite of pain is too much. I take her wrists and slide them onto the bed.
“On your elbows, babe.” It isn’t an order. I’m not feeling particularly controlling at the moment. I just want her to watch as my cock slides deep in and out of her. I want her to see just how beautiful she is when she’s consuming my cock with her pussy.
I pull out slowly and fight the urge to slam back inside of her, hard.
“Do you see just how fucking perfect you are, Maggie? Do you see just how perfectly we fit together?” I ask as I slowly plunge back inside of her. She groans when I repeat the motion, making sure she feels every single part of my cock dragging out and pushing back inside of her.
“Jackson,” she murmurs. It isn’t eno
ugh.
I want her to admit she’s perfect, that we’re perfect. After the note from Elliot, after the sex tape, I need to know that she sees how gorgeous she is, how I am the only one for her, and how she cannot be happy without me. This is as much for me as it is for her.
“Really look, Maggie. Answer me,” I urge, my voice holding an edge that she probably doesn’t understand.
“We fit,” she admits hesitantly. “We are perfectly fitted to each other, Jackson. You fill me and I take all of you until I am full.” Her last word comes out in a moan as her hips roll toward me. My fingers bite into her thighs even harder, bruising her pretty, cream flesh
“Damn straight, we fit,” I growl, spreading her thighs wider as I push her down on the bed with my chest, pumping into her pussy with more force.
One of my hands leaves her thigh to wrap around her long, messy blonde hair; the other slides between us so that I can bring her closer to the edge. I need her to come around me. I need to feel her squeeze me. I just plain need her.
“Jacks, baby,” she cries out the second my thumb presses against her clit.
“Come for me, gorgeous,” I murmur, loving this new nickname she’s come up with, before my lips touch hers. I kiss her softly, sweetly, gently.
Our hips collide a few more times before I feel her pussy flutter and then clamp down around me. I moan as I rip my lips from hers and take her hard, my thrusts erratic, my hand tightening in her hair, pulling her head back.
Wrapping my mouth around one of her hard nipples, I bite down as I come deep inside of her. I give her all of me. Every single fucking piece. I would bare all for this girl - everything that is mine is hers, because she is fucking everything to me.
Catching Maggie Page 19
