Right?
"Yeah, about that..."
She reaches over and covers my hand with hers. "As far as I'm concerned, we're still friends. How about you?"
I sit taller. "Still friends, and you were right, by the way."
"I was? About what?"
I turn my hand over so our palms meet and give her hand a squeeze. "Honey, you're a great lay."
Sami shakes her head as pink fills her cheeks. "You know, I'm not sad. I should be. I know my parents will be furious, but for lack of a better word, I'm relieved."
"Good. You should be. You were right about something else. You deserve better than that asshole."
"I do."
Sitting in the deli, Sami takes a drink of her sweet tea and leans across the table toward me. Unconsciously, I catch a glimpse of her tits from the neckline of her blouse.
"Eyes up here, friend," she says with a glint to her green orbs, emphasizing the last word.
Reluctantly, I lift my gaze. "I don't know how I've never really paid attention.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “They're fucking awesome."
"Well, I could say the same about your monster cock.” A cute hue of pink comes to her cheeks. “But I don't want to give you a bigger head than you already have."
I shrug. "It wouldn't be any different than the millions of other testimonials. I could pull them up for you on my website if you'd like."
"You're so bad."
I pull out my phone. "No, I'm serious. Let me show you."
Sami laughs. "You're a jerk and you already showed me everything in real life. I don't need to see the website, thank you very much."
I tilt my head to the side. "Yes, that's what they all say. Every one of the testimonials is a thank-you. A few are engraved."
“I could give you some flowers.” She shrugs. “I seem to have a lot of them.”
“I’ll pass.”
Suddenly, she sits taller. "I'm going to go to my parents' house tonight to tell them in person that the wedding is off. I think they deserve to hear it straight from me. I'm afraid it's not going to go well."
"Would you like some company?"
"Seriously?" Her tone lightens.
If I wasn't before, I am now. "Seriously," I confirm.
Sami
* * *
Back at my condo, after carting all the flowers down to the dumpster, I change out of the slacks and blouse I wore to work and into a pair of jeans, the kind that already had holes when I bought them. Just as I pull the bright green concert tank top over my head, a knock comes from my condo door. I'd told Marshal to meet me here before we went to see my parents. I'm not sure why I like the idea of having him with me to tell my parents, but I do. It is as if when he offered, another weight was taken from my shoulders.
Another knock.
"Just a minute," I call out as I get closer.
Sliding back the deadbolt, I open the door. Instead of baby-blue eyes and light brown hair, all atop of a kick-ass body, I'm met with darker hair, dark brown eyes, and a so-so body. All right, an okay body.
My gaze meets Jack’s. "Leave," I say, placing my hand on my hip.
"Samantha," Jack says as he glances over my shoulder into the living room of the condominium we shared a mere twenty-four hours ago.
"I'm not talking to you, ever."
"Where are the flowers I left you? Did you get the ones I sent to your work?"
"Just stop, Jack. I almost had to go to the emergency room from anaphylactic shock from so many flowers."
"Then maybe you'll like this better?" he asks as he pulls my ring from the pocket of his sports jacket. It wouldn't kill him to wear jeans and a t-shirt, but he rarely does.
My skin itches with irritation as I cross my arms over my breasts. "No."
"You can't throw us away. Not now. Not so close to our wedding. We have plans and people traveling. People who made reservations. You can't ruin it for everyone."
"She didn't, asshole."
My scowl turns to a smile at the sound of Marshal's voice.
Jack turns, coming nearly chest to chest with Marshal, who too has changed from work clothes into something more comfortable. I take a moment to appreciate the way his biceps flex under the tight Under Armour material of his shirt.
"This isn't any of your business, Michaels," Jack says. "Get lost."
I step back and before Jack realizes what happens, Marshal is inside, leaving Jack still on the outside looking in.
"Obviously," Marshal says, "Sami disagrees."
Jack's jaw tightens. "You know, I allowed the friendship thing between the two of you, but don't put your nose where it doesn't belong. Samantha is my fiancée."
“You allowed,” I repeat his word. “Well, I have news for you. I didn’t need nor do I appreciate your permission. You sure as shit didn’t ask for mine before you screwed your intern, and as for the title of fiancée, that’s no longer accurate. And one more thing, I didn't ruin anything. You did. You're the reason the wedding's off."
I look up at Marshal.
My heart flutters as he runs his hand through his hair and shines one of his cockiest grins.
Flutters.
Really?
It's like I'm fifteen again, and I'm just seeing my best friend for the whole package that he is. And boy oh boy, what a package.
"Really, man," Marshal says, "thanks."
Jack shakes his head. "What? Why are you thanking me?"
"For showing your true colors. For helping Sami see the light."
Jack pulls his gaze away from Marshal and brings it back to me. He scans my body. "Change into something appropriate and we’ll go to dinner. We can work this out."
I look down at my green concert tank top and holey jeans. "I like what I'm wearing and" —I lift my left hand— "what I'm not wearing."
"Samantha."
His tone is one that says he isn't happy. I stand taller. "Can't."
"Why not?"
Marshal's arm encircles my waist. "She has plans."
"Samantha Ann," Jack repeats, using my full name like I'm a child being reprimanded.
I lean toward Marshal and shrug. "You heard him, plans."
Just then Jack pulls his phone from his pocket and grins. "I just received this text message from your mom. She's asking what time we'll be there. She said you aren't answering your phone."
Shit. I plugged my phone in and haven't unmuted it.
"We aren't going to my mom's," I correct. "Besides you don't like going there. And after they know the truth, you'll never be welcome there again."
Jack shrugs. "I can slum it for an evening for my future wife.”
How did I not see what a presumptuous, arrogant asshole he is?
“If you insist,” he says, “we can drive separately." He looks me up and down and scoffs. "Your outfit is fine for Johnson."
I clench my teeth as he turns and walks away. Stiffening my neck, I turn to Marshal. “Gah, and I was going to marry that asshole.”
Wrapping his arms around me, Marshal pulls me close. "What's that guy's problem? He doesn't seem to understand the obvious."
"I'm tired of taking his shit. How about I dish it, for a change?"
Marshal's blue eyes twinkle. "What do you have in mind?"
"Are you up for taking one for the team?"
He raises his brow. "I've always been a team player."
"My parents will be devastated at the cancellation of the wedding either way," I explain, "but if they think I'm happy with the decision and that it was my decision, based on me, not on Jack screwing everything up...I know them. They'll be happy for me. They’ve always supported me and my decisions."
Marshal's hands lower to my behind, and he pulls me closer until our hips collide. "So are you saying that we go to your parents and tell them about us?"
I nod.
"Then we come back here and I get another one for the team?" His eyebrows dance in a way that makes my insides clench.
Damn, I need to change.
<
br /> With just the thought of his inference, my panties dampen.
"The team," I say, "got many last night."
Marshal takes one step toward me and then another, moving me backward. Once again, I'm pinned between the wall and his hard body. Leaning forward, his elbow lands casually near my cheek and his chin rests on his fist. The spicy, masculine scent of him fills my senses as his blue eyes drink me in. I can't help but think about last night, about his monster cock, and about how having him right here erases all the hurt that Jack's wandering inflicted.
"I want more," he says, his cool spearmint breath tickling my nose.
I try to swallow. "More?"
His grin inches upward, lopsided and sexy as hell. "Our new agreement needs some revision. I don't think we can be friends with benefits if I haven't tasted your pussy."
“You—”
He touches his finger to my lips. "Correction. Not tasted. Eaten, devoured, consumed. That small sample last night has been lingering in my thoughts. Today at lunch, with you right across the table, I kept thinking about it. All day really. Your come on my fingers was sweeter than honey. Sami, I have never told you, but I have this condition that can be serious—life-threatening even—if not treated."
I can't look away even with all of the bullshit in his tone.
"It's a real thing," he says. "You can look it up on WebMD. It has to do with my blood sugar. I need come—sweet and honey-like—to survive. I've searched and searched. Up until last night, my life expectancy was dropping by the day. But now that I found it, I need more."
A giggle bubbles in my throat. "That does sound serious.”
“It is.” He shakes his head. “The quest has been tireless, but finally it’s paid off.”
“With me.”
“Right in front of me the whole time.” The glint in his eyes is sexy and fun. “My life is now literally in your hands.” He lowers his gaze and brings it back up. “Okay, not your hands.”
“I wouldn't want you to die, not yet."
"I'm much too young. Besides, I have a plan, a plan that could quite possibly save my life." He reaches down and cups my core, then one of his strong fingers begins running along the seam of my jeans, and I wish I would've worn a dress, a skirt, shorts, something. With his other hand he pulls me against him. My breasts smash against his wall of a chest. “My plan will require a regular routine involving my mouth and your life-saving pussy.”
My nipples harden as my core clenches at nothing. I try to breathe, but each breath is shallow.
Marshal tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. "Think about that," he says, "while we're talking to Paul and Jean. Think about my face buried in your pretty pink pussy. Think about your sweet come dripping from my chin as your legs squeeze my face and you shout my name."
My mouth dries and I can't help but wonder if it weren't for him pressed against me, I might fall, my legs no longer seeming capable of holding my weight.
He kisses my lips, sweet and chaste like a friend, but his words aren't friendly. They're sexy and deep. They go beyond my ears to my core, twisting it, soaking my panties, and creating a void I need filled. The ripples of his tone send vibrations deep inside of me as I imagine everything he's said.
His face between my legs.
His tongue teasing my clit and the sight of him dripping with my essence.
I reach up to his scruffy cheeks and pull him closer, smashing our lips together as my tongue invades his warm mouth. Spearmint. I savor the minty coolness as our tongues probe and stroke.
When we finally pull apart, my lips are bruised and his cock is hard against my stomach.
Marshal kisses my nose. "Yes, now we're ready to convince Paul and Jean."
Marshal
* * *
I've known Paul and Jean most of my life. I've known all of Sami's family, including her brother, Byron, and her two sisters, Jane and Millie. When we were all children, our entire neighborhood had an open-door policy. Her parents were like my parents and vice versa. Not just hers but all the families in the neighborhood.
Now as we drive to Johnson, not too far from Grand Rapids, a million childhood memories fill my thoughts. A million adventures. A million childish schemes...and in so many of them, the woman sitting beside me was an integral part. I steal a glance her way.
Sami's looking out the window, her lips pressed together in a straight line as she takes in the old neighborhood, the small houses that long ago seemed big and the park where we used to play.
Jack is an ass.
This is hardly slumming it.
This is our heritage.
My parents lived down the street from Sami’s family for years before they moved to a different neighborhood. Sami's parents still live in the same house where they raised their four children. Though these homes aren't mansions, the houses have fared well, many with new paint, new porches, and all with well-kept lawns.
Driving these streets is coming home.
I reach over and squeeze Sami's hand. "What are you thinking about?"
Her green eyes twinkle. "Your monster cock."
"I don't believe you."
"And why not?"
"Because you weren't smiling. If you were thinking about my cock, you'd be smiling ear to ear." I wink. "Or touching your own pussy."
Sami giggles. "Pretty confident in yourself, aren't you?"
"Yes. See, now you're smiling. Now you're thinking about my cock. If you want me to pull over, I'll be glad to touch your pussy for you."
"Maybe later," she says, not fully dashing my hopes but not raising them any higher.
I try again. “What were you thinking about before?”
"Jack."
Well, fuck. There goes that conversation. "No wonder you weren't smiling."
"I don't want my parents to know what he did. It's not to protect him—it's to protect me."
"You? You didn't do anything wrong."
Her lip disappears as she turns back to the window. "I didn't, but to be honest, I now see that he wasn't my Mr. Forever. I should have realized that. I shouldn’t have let it get this far. I should have broken it off...
“I am remembering things, times...I didn’t say anything or I just pacified him.”
“Pacified?” My grip of the steering wheel tightens. “Tell me he has an anger problem and ever hurt you. I swear to God, he won’t live to see tomorrow.”
Sami flashes me a grin. “Not like that. He hurt me by cheating. By pacifying I mean that I agreed to the fancy restaurants when I really wanted a burger from The Suds.”
“The Suds,” I repeat with a grin. “You know, we could go there after we leave your parents. They still bring the food to the window of the car.” It is a drive-in restaurant about a mile away that never read the memo that the 1950s are a thing of the past.
“Right now, I don’t really feel like eating.”
“I do.” I wiggle my eyebrows.
Sami reaches over and pushes my arm.
“Ow.” I fake pain. “Maybe I should ask Jack if you were violent to him.” As soon as his name escapes my lips, I know I made a mistake. It’s as if I’d hit a switch and Sami’s smile is gone.
She sighs. “He wasn’t my forever. If he was that special someone, he wouldn't have tried to make me into someone different, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have cheated on me. I didn't see what was right before me. I missed the signs...just to be married. I'm as guilty as he is. And now my parents have to pay the price."
"Sami, I'll do whatever you want. Although, for the record, protecting that asshole isn't high on my list." I squeeze her knee. "Protecting you—I'll do that."
And then we turn the corner and see it.
"Shit," Sami mumbles.
She's right.
Shit.
Fuck.
What the fuck?
In her parents’ driveway is a small black BMW. It sticks out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood, and there's no doubt to whom it belongs.
I pull a
long the side of the street and lean over the gearshift. "Sami, go with it. You want this to be you, to be your decision, then we'll make it about you. That asshole won't know what hit him."
She nods, but her eyes are wide open.
Doubt, uncertainty...they’re all staring back at me in a kaleidoscope of greens.
Those aren't the emotions I want to see.
I want passion and laughter.
I want confidence and attitude.
I want to take Jackson Carmichael down, and Lord help us, it's going to happen in her parents' living room.
"Are you with me?" I ask.
"Yes."
I barely hear her.
"Louder."
"What?"
We’re still in my car, and I raise my voice. "Say it louder. Say it like you mean it."
Her lips twitch. It's something we used to say when we were young. "I'm with you."
"One more time."
"I'm with you!"
"Damn straight."
I walk around the car, but my Sami already has the door open. I reach for her hand. "Come on, honey." I lean closer. "I'm going to call you that because your pussy tastes like honey."
Sami's eyes blink closed for a little too long. "Marsh..."
I wink. "Come on, honey. Let's get this done. I have a craving for honey for dessert.”
She shakes her head as we start walking toward her parents' house. But as she does, her lips are turned upward in a grin. It's not just her mouth but her eyes too.
Perfect.
My Sami isn't the broken ex-fiancée walking into this gathering.
However, the asshole inside will be broken when he walks out.
Sami
* * *
As soon as we step inside my parents’ house, I look expectantly past the living room through the archway to the kitchen—to where I know my mom will be. I find her, but she's not alone. Jack is with her. They both turn toward the sound of the closing door. Jack’s gaze immediately moves from my face to where Marshal is holding my hand. By his surprised and shocked expression, he hasn’t come clean with my parents. At the same time, my mom looks up from the computer desk screen and smiles. Her smile dims as she too sees our hands.
My Always One Page 8