Marshal
* * *
I wait for Sami's text message like a high school kid. Shit, I've never waited for a response even when I was in high school. Not even for her.
Why?
Because back then, I knew she'd eventually respond.
She always did.
Always.
Why the fuck am I nervous about it now?
Did I think she'd really let me down?
I didn't want to think she would.
And then it happens. The simple chime and there it is on my screen.
Text message from Sami:
* * *
“Talk? Sounds ominous. Food, though, sounds great. Your place is good. Not pizza. Grill?”
* * *
I don’t want her to think ominous.
* * *
“Not ominous. See you at six.”
At ten minutes before six, I have my apartment all set.
I stopped at the store on my way home from work.
The steaks are marinating and ready to pop on the grill, charcoal is warming, wine is chilling in the refrigerator with salads, and there are potatoes in the oven. The small table on my balcony is set with two place settings, and there is even a candle in a jar.
It’s as I stand half in my apartment and half on the balcony that I realize the pansy I've become.
A candle.
I have a fucking candle on the table.
It wasn’t planned. I just saw it. The grocery store had candles on an endcap thing. And the moment I saw it, it seemed like a good idea. That was then.
Now the stupid candle doesn't seem like a good idea.
Now it screams desperate.
Hell, I’m no better than tiny-dick and his roses.
Is Sami allergic to candles?
Fuck!
As I run my hand through my hair, I glance down at my button-down shirt, the way I have the sleeves rolled, and my jeans hanging loosely from my hips.
How and why am I nervous?
When have I ever been nervous about a woman?
This is Sami, my Sami. We've had dinner together thousands of times.
Shaking my head, I decide I should change into shorts and a t-shirt when a knock on the front door stops me.
I don't even look through the peephole. I know who I want to have on the other side. And damn it, I'm Marshal Michaels. I need to get my shit together. If I want this thing with Sami to be more than what we have with our new agreement, if I want Sami to see me as more than a friend, then I need to act like the man who's been sweeping women off their feet for over ten years.
Not like some lovesick schoolboy.
I take a deep breath and open the door, flashing my biggest and brightest smile. "Sami..."
My lips slam shut. It's not Sami. It's Miss Tits and Ass.
"W-what are you doing here?" I ask.
She takes a step forward, her perfume engulfing me as she shakes her tits, barely encased in some tight, stretchy top. I fight to breathe through the overwhelming stench of sweetness while noticing how the skinny straps of her top dig into her shoulders. Poor things. No little bit of material should be expected to support such huge—and fake—tits.
“It’s a matter of survival. I have to repay your kindness or my luck will change. And well, Marshal, if the mountain won't come to Muhammad” —she sticks out her mountain of tits— “then Muhammad must go to the mountain.”
"I thought I made it clear at the gym."
One more step and her hands are on my chest. "You said you were kind of seeing someone. I'm here now and I see you." Her eyebrows rise. "You can see me." She splays her fingers over my chest. "I want to see more of you."
"No."
Miss Tits and Ass takes a step back. Her expression is that of a wounded puppy, but instantly she's back, her plump lip extended in a pout. "Come on, Marshal. I want you to fuck me. I'm not asking for anything more..."
Just then the door at the bottom of the stairs opens, the one that accesses all the apartments in this unit. The gush of fresh air thankfully whisks away the cloud of perfume.
"Damn, that smells..." Sami's words fade and her feet stop as she approaches the stairs. "Did I have the wrong night?"
Miss Tits and Ass stands taller and scans Sami from head to toe.
Sami is radiant and just as I imagined, completely the opposite of Miss Tits and Ass in her high heels and tight dress. Sami's long hair is pulled back in a ponytail that hangs low on her back. Her sundress is simple yet sexy. I know Sami, and I know that her wearing a dress took as much effort as my wearing the button-up shirt.
It’s a good sign.
We're both trying.
And that makes me grin.
“Her?” Miss Tits and Ass asks. “You're choosing her over me?”
Sami doesn't move or speak as she stands a flight of stairs below and watches the scene unfold.
"Sami, come on up," I call. "Yes" —I start to say Miss Tits and Ass's name, but I can't remember what it is— "I told you. I'm seeing someone. Go find someone else to occupy your free night."
With a huff and a spin, Miss Tits and Ass walks down the stairs—stomps down—keeping her head high and leaving a sickening trail of perfume as she goes.
As she steps off the final stair, Sami smiles and cocks her head to the side. "Bye-bye now."
It's polite and bitchy all at the same time and why I adore my best friend.
Once the door shuts at the bottom of the stairs, Sami says, "If you're seeing someone else tonight, I can go."
Leaning on the side of the doorjamb, I shake my head. "Get your ass up here."
Her cheeks rise as she climbs the steps. "Now who's bossy?"
Once she reaches me, I pull her inside, and just like I’ve done over the past three weeks, I shut the door and pin her against the wall. My chest is against hers and her nipples bead under the light fabric. "Me," I say with all the innocence I'm not feeling. My smile isn’t the only part of my anatomy that grows. "You're right. I'm bossy and you like it."
Through the light fabric, her heartbeat quickens in time with mine.
"Tell me."
"Tell you what?" Sami asks.
"Tell me you like it."
"What if I don't?"
I stare into her gaze and go for broke. “What if I lift the skirt of your dress and finger your tight pussy? Will I find you like it?”
Her eyes blink, slower than normal, as her little pink tongue darts to her lip and disappears again. The way her heart thumps against mine tells me that I have her attention. “Well, Mr. Michaels, that’s an interesting question. I’ve always found if you really want to know an answer, you should find out for yourself.”
Fuck!
Lifting the skirt while simultaneously sliding my hand under the waistband of her panties, I groan as my touch is met with her warm essence. Her hands come to my shoulders and her moans fill the apartment.
“You said talk.” Her words are all breathy.
I bring my fingers to my lips and suck.
“I want you, Sami. I want to take you right now and convince you to amend our agreement again.”
Her lust-filled gaze comes to mine. “Marshal.”
My hands are against the wall on both sides of her face as my hardened cock presses against her stomach. “You are my best friend.”
She nods. “I don’t want to lose that.”
“Then let’s not.”
“I have a terrible track record.”
“Not with me,” I say. “I’ve loved you since we were too young to know what real love was.”
“I love you, too. Too much to...”
I shake my head. “No, Sami, I know you just emancipated yourself from tiny-dick and if I was as good of a friend as I should be, I’d let you enjoy your freedom, explore new options, spread your wings and all that bullshit.”
She grins. “Bullshit?”
“Yes, because in the last three weeks, you’ve given me a taste” —I smirk— “a sweet-as
-honey taste of what life could be like to spend the rest of mine with my best friend. And damn it, I want it.”
Sami’s forehead furrows. “What are you saying?”
Fuck. This wasn’t how I had it planned, but I can’t stop now.
I fall to one knee and eye the hem of her dress. As I take her hand, I look up at the woman who has always been in my corner. “Samantha Ann, I’m not a perfect man. You’ve seen me at my best and my worst. We’ve jumped off cliffs together and plunged deep into the lake. We’ve been there for each other when common sense would tell someone not to drive through a snowstorm or not to sleep on a tiny mattress. I cheered you on each time you thought you found your forever, but I have to be honest. I’m glad your track record sucks because if you look back, you know in your heart that through it all I was there. Through life’s ups and downs you were there for me. I am shocked and awed by you. I never knew what I was missing. I love falling asleep next to you and waking up tangled in the sheets. I’ve loved you most of my life. I finally realized that I don’t want you to explore more options, spread your wings or your legs for any other man. I don’t want fake women and no-strings sex now, not since I’ve had what’s real.” I stand, wiping a tear from her cheek and bringing my nose to hers. “I want to make you mine in every way forever and always.”
"Marshal..." she says, gripping my shoulders.
Keeping her pinned against the wall, I lift her chin and bring her lips to mine. My kiss isn’t soft or gentle. No, it’s hard, demanding, possessive, and primal. As my tongue probes beyond her sweet lips, I press myself against her.
When she glances toward the floor, my confidence begins to falter. "Sami, what is it?"
She looks back to me and her green eyes fill with tears, each drop breaking my heart.
"When I walked in and saw that woman here, I remembered you. I remembered who you are and who you have always been. I love you, Marshal. I always have. Our friendship works because we’ve always accepted each other, faults and all."
I stiffen my shoulders. "I have faults?"
"You have faults," she confirms. "And I've never had a problem with them, but I can't...not after what Jack did. Not ever. I can't be with someone who would cheat on me."
With the pad of my thumb, I wipe away a big fat tear that's rolling down her cheek. "Sami, I've never cheated on anyone. I've never been in a relationship. I've never wanted to be. Different women on different nights. Before that it was different girls...hell, that was what I wanted until I got a taste of something much sweeter." I lift one cheek to give her my lopsided grin. "And honey, it’s more than that. You’re real. You’re a concert shirt and The Suds’ cheeseburgers. You’re also a sexy black dress and The Rooftop Restaurant. You’re everything I never knew I wanted until I almost lost you."
“Lost me?”
“I would walk on hot coals for your smile, Sami. I know you told me not to look at you in those pictures, but I did.” When she starts to look down, I lift her chin again. “Honey, you’re fucking sexy, but what struck me was how sad you looked. If you’ll agree to make one last amendment to our agreement, to be mine forever and always, I will work to keep your smile bright and no sadness.”
“Life has sadness, Marshal.”
I nod. “It does, but I’d rather focus on what makes us happy.”
“What exactly are you saying?”
“I want all of you. I want” —I can barely believe the words I'm saying— “us. I want to wake up and fall asleep with you. I want to piss you off and make up. I want to taste your honey and I want you on your knees. I want us to make love all night long and when you’re ready to give up your newfound freedom, I want to take it further.”
With each of my statements, Sami's eyes widen.
“Further?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. This is new to me. Marriage, kids...grandkids.”
Her lips come together as she swallows. "What if," she asks, "after Jack, I'm not ready?"
"Then I'll wait...as long as you let me do all the other stuff, starting today."
She shakes her head. "Marshal, are you really talking forever and always. You said you never wanted that."
“Blame it on my inability to see what is right in front of me. The way I look at it, who better to live the rest of my life with, to spend my forever and always with than my best friend?"
Her serious expression breaks into a smile, yet the tears continue to fall. “When?”
“Tonight, Saturday night, or in five years. Sami, it's up to you.”
“You’ll let me wait and not push me?”
I lean against her. “Oh, honey, I’ll push you. I’ll keep pushing you to try new things. I’ll push you to smile and laugh. I won’t push you for a date to marry you, but when you’re ready, I’d like to buy you a ring, one you help pick out, and one you’re willing to wear forever.”
“Forever and always.”
“Can we agree?”
“I agree to an engagement. I love you, Marshal. I think I always have.”
“Fuck, I’m engaged.”
“So am I.”
“That is convenient,” I say.
Sami reaches out and frames my cheeks just before she pulls my lips to hers. When we finally break away, she says, "I do, Marshal."
"Aren't you supposed to save that for the ceremony?"
She shakes her head. "I do—like it when you're bossy."
"Good, because I'm going to take off this pretty little dress and claim the one part of my best friend that will be only mine."
"Marshal?"
I kiss her again. "No arguing, honey, it was in the fine print of that agreement that you said yes to. I get all of you from this day forth."
Instead of reaching for her dress, she begins to unbutton the front of my shirt. “Only after I get to tend to your monster cock on my knees.”
Oh yes. She can be bossy, too.
Sami
Six months later
* * *
I can’t describe the way I feel on Marshal’s arm as his fiancée.
It’s right.
It’s easy.
It’s light.
Even dressed up for a party at Marshal’s boss’s home, the stuffiness and pretense I hadn’t realized surrounded me at events like this with the person who now and forever will be referred to as tiny-dick is gone. There is no wondering if Marshal will approve of my dress or hair or weight. The simple memory of the way Marshal looked at me when I stepped from our bedroom in this tiny black dress warms my skin and twists my core.
It’s as if with only his sexy blue eyes, he can speak volumes, lavish praise, and make me feel loved and adored. I can only hope he feels the same when I look at him because I do love and adore him too.
Yes, it is our bedroom.
Living in two places wasn’t working for us.
I’m still not ready to say the vows. It has nothing to do with my best friend, my lover, and my fiancé. It’s all me and I know that. With each passing day and night, my resurrected belief in forever and always is growing.
It still amazes me that my always has been beside me forever.
And through it all, Marshal is being patient with me. There’s no rush, and right now, we’re enjoying all of the benefits that accompany being engaged to your best friend.
Since Marshal had time remaining on his apartment lease and the market is—for lack of a better word—fantastic, we decided to move in together into his apartment. It’s not our forever home.
I happen to know a fantastic architect, and we’ve been discussing the finer points of our one-day dream home. Not once during our conversations has either of us mentioned median income, the best private schools, or access to the country club.
Considering that my condo sold the day it went on the market, our conversations regarding the future have a lot of luster.
“I’m so glad you both could make it,” Kristy McMann says as she opens the front door and Marshal and I step inside her home, brus
hing the snow from our shoes. She reaches for my hand. “Oh, Sami, it is nice to finally meet you. Jason tells me that you’re the best thing to happen to Marshal, and to think, the two of you have been friends most of your lives.”
“Best friends.”
“Since five years old,” Marshal adds.
My cheeks rise into a grin, enjoying the familiarity of the man at my side. From his soft blue eyes, chiseled jaw, and broad shoulders to everything hiding under his suit, I know that I’m getting a not only handsome man but a good one. “I think we both know how unusual and special what we have is.”
Kristy shakes her head with a smile as she takes our overcoats. “I just adore good love stories.” She lifts her chin toward the open living room decorated for the holidays and filled with others from McMann Architectural and their companions. “Please, enjoy yourselves. There’s food and drinks” —she leans close— “and I’m hoping it is all eaten, so please...”
The McManns’ home is beautiful and grand; set outside Grand Rapids, it sits on over twenty-five acres placed on a hill over a lake. From the large windows, we can see out to the now-frozen lake as the moon reflects off the shimmering snow.
After talking to Marshal’s boss and with drinks in hand, Marshal smiles at me as we approach a lovely woman. I know without the introduction who she is. She is Melinda Beavo, one of the key members of the team that with Marshal helped to land the big Sirius Hotel deal and even more importantly, someone he considers a friend and mentor.
For some reason, our paths haven’t crossed before now, and after all the great things Marshal has said, I’m more than excited to meet her.
Melinda turns as we come to a stop. “Oh, you’re Sami.”
“I am,” I say. “And Melinda, I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you.”
A confident smile brightens her expression. “I’m surprised. You see, when Marshal’s not working on securing multibillion-dollar deals, your fiancé seems to have only one subject on his mind.”
Sex.
With Marshal I was confident that subject would be sex.
My Always One Page 15