Catching Maggie

by Hayley Faiman

  Synopsis

  At eighteen years old Marguerite “Maggie”; a girl wishing for a new life was swept off of her feet by the promise of a stable future with a man she had known for just one week. Samwell “Sammy” Rogers. A future professional ball player, starting catcher.

  Years later and in a confusing marriage Samwell is not the man she thought she had married. Secrets are exposed and truths discovered. Maggie catches herself asking herself if ever really knew Sammy?

  Innocent Maggie finds herself immersed in a world she never imagined existed and while she should be frightened she finds herself feeling anything but, in fact, she likes what she sees.

  What happens when a husband, career, and family get in the way of two people falling for each other? When self-confidence is shattered? When two people are ripped apart will they fight to be together or will they simply give up?

  This is not a love triangle.

  * Recommended for 18+ language, sexual content, and light BDSM.

  This is book 2, a standalone, in the series Men of Baseball. Each book can be read separately, but it is encouraged that they are read in order.

  Book 1: Pitching for Amalie

  Book 2: Catching Maggie

  Book 3: Forced Play for Libby (January 2016)

  Catching Maggie

  Copyright ©2015 Hayley Faiman

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Editor: (1) RC Martin. (2) Editing for You.

  Cover: LM Creations http://lmcreations.wix.xom/lm-creations

  Formatting by Champagne Formats

  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Other Books

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Coming Early January 2016

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Other Books by Hayley Faiman

  Book 1: Pitching for Amalie

  Book 2: Catching Maggie

  Book 3: Forced Play for Libby (January 2016)

  For those who love the game of life. Live it. Love it. Never quit it.

  Rosalyn – without you Maggie would not have seen her story through.

  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  I WATCH AS SAMMY WALKS out of the dugout and crouches behind home plate. His confidence astounds me. He radiates sexuality, mystery and playfulness that I couldn’t even begin to compete with. He’s always the life of the party, my Sammy - in public that is. At home, he’s moody and quiet; he hardly talks to me and looks at me even less. I feel as though I’m living alone in our apartment. I’m afraid to talk to him about anything important. The last time I brought up having a baby he was so irate he left for the night. He returned the next morning and just pretended the whole thing never happened.

  I wish that I could trick him into having a baby, but I’m not an idiot. He would run far and he would run fast from that mess, leaving me even lonelier than I already am. I honestly don’t even know why we’re together at this point.

  Maybe he just likes the fact that I take care of everything? Our marriage is easy for him, I’m like the mother he never had, I take care of his needs and manage the household. I shiver at the thought of being a grown man’s mother. I can’t shake the image of this time when watched a talk show and the man was obsessed with acting like a baby; he even wore diapers and made his wife change them for him. I gag a little thinking about that with Sammy. No way could I ever do something that freaky.

  I never imagined my life would be so lonely. Sammy is my whole world. When it comes to him, I feel like a little puppy just waiting to be shown attention, begging for scraps of his time. I feel like I should leave him but where would I go? What would I do? He has informed me multiple times that I have nothing and that I am no one without him. His career as a professional baseball player pays for everything, I was just some cocktail waitress when we met. I know that he’s right, but I wish that things were different.

  Jesus, I sound like such a martyr, even inside my own head it annoys me.

  Victoria and Libby, my only friends, sit by me and talk about something. I can’t concentrate on anything except Sammy. As long as they win today, he’ll be tolerable. If they lose - if they lose he’ll be a nightmare until the next game. Sammy takes his career as the starting catcher for the Yankees seriously. When they lose he feels like he’s let down his family, his fans, and his friends. I hold my breath until the very end and let out a sigh of relief when they win by three runs.

  “Are you guys going to finally come to lunch with us Maggie?” Libby asks, her eyes wide and eager.

  I shake my head.

  “No, I don’t think so,” I say softly as we walk toward the area the guys will be exiting.

  “I’m sure you want to get in some alone time before they head out to Boston right?” Victoria asks as she wags her eyebrows.

  I smile widely, it would be a lie if I denied it. I plan on trying to make Sammy happy tonight, he’s always pushing me away but I’m not going to let him anymore. I’ve been reading a book about saving seemingly doomed marriages and this is my last ditch effort to win over the man. For the first time in my life, I am going to seduce my husband. Hopefully, I don’t make a fool out of myself and fail.

  Silently, I sit next to him in the car as we drive back to our apartment from Brooklyn to middle of Manhattan. Sammy is driving, but that doesn’t stop him from looking at his phone and texting. He’s frowning slightly and I wish I could poke the space between the middle of his eyes, where his brow is furrowed in concentration. His tongue sticks out slightly and, even if I do hate it when he doesn’t pay attention to the road, it kind of turns me on. I don’t want to fight so I keep my mouth shut about his horrible habit.

  I inhale a shaky breath before I speak to him. After all of these years together, he still makes me nervous. I think the biggest reason is that I can never gauge what his reaction will be. He could be flying high and happy as can be one minute and a complete ass the next. I seriously think he needs to be medicated.

  “Would you like lunch when we get home?” I ask.

  Sammy grunts and I am reminded of this baboon I watched once on the Discovery c
hannel when Sammy was out of town. He finally takes his focus off of his phone as we park in the garage of our building. I try my hardest not to roll my eyes.

  “No, I’m fuckin’ beat. I just want to sleep,” he barks. I don’t bother responding as I quietly follow behind him into the elevator and then inside of the apartment.

  I watch as he throws his duffle bag in the middle of the living room and stalks off to the bedroom, his phone in hand. I am about thirty seconds from taking that phone and tossing it over our balcony, then watching with glee as it shatters on the cement sidewalk. I am so sick of seeing it in his damn hand and his face plastered to it twenty-four hours a day.

  Instead of disfiguring his prized possession, I decide to leave him alone for the moment. Maybe I’m too nervous? I am annoyed as hell and I know I’m avoiding him as I rifle through his bag searching for dirty laundry. Cleaning always calms me down so I decide to do his laundry in an effort to relax a bit.

  A few hours later, I find myself standing at the closed bedroom door. I shut my eyes and take a deep breath before I strip all of my clothes off. Wearing nothing but a lacy black bra, matching lace panties and a pair of black high heels, I open the bedroom door.

  I feel both dirty and sexy as I run my hands over my toned body. I have spent countless hours with a personal trainer to achieve what Sammy wanted – a wife who looks perfect from head to toe.

  Sammy is lying on his back phone in hand, still. He’s shirtless and as handsome as ever.

  “What’s up, Maggs?” he asks without even looking away from his cell phone. I tamp down the nerves that are fluttering inside of my belly as I walk toward him, stopping at the end of the bed. I slowly crawl up to his hips, my thighs resting on either side of his lean body.

  “Maggs?” he asks again, finally setting his phone down. I take my bra off and toss it to the side, wrapping my fingers into the waistband of his underwear before pulling them down.

  “What are you doing?”

  I don’t take my eyes off of his semi-hardened erection too afraid to look him directly in the eyes. Without answering, I take him inside of my mouth. Sammy’s hands fly to the sides of my head and he lets out a long deep groan. His body is stiff and taut, but I keep working him - just the way I know he likes - the way he’s taught me over the years.

  “That’s it, Take it,” he grunts, thrusting his hips as he grows even harder inside of my mouth.

  I can feel him on the edge and I pull my mouth away from his hard length as I slide my panties down my legs and straddle him. I don’t give him a moment to even breathe before I glide down his length, taking him inside of my body.

  “Maggs,” he whispers. I unhurriedly glide up and down on his hard shaft. No matter how much he ignores me, these moment are always pretty good between us - when he allows it.

  “Sammy,” I cry as my climax rapidly erupts. Without warning I am flipped onto my back as he roughly thrusts in and out of my body. I can feel him so close to his own release. Suddenly he pulls out of me and strokes himself until he comes all over my stomach.

  “Don’t do that again, Maggie.” His voice is full of distain as he stands up leaving me alone on the bed alone.

  “Do what? Show my husband that I want him?” I cry out, anger rising throughout my body as I stand to follow him into the bathroom.

  “You aren’t in control here, Maggie. You don’t get to make one fucking decision in this house,” he growls.

  I bristle at his words, taking a step back as his come slides down my stomach.

  “Samwell, why are you so cruel to me?” I plead. He just shakes his head, walking past me and into his closet. I stand rooted to the bathroom tile as I watch him dress in designer jeans, a t-shirt, and a ball cap before sliding on his expensive loafers.

  “It’s not me being cruel, Maggie. It’s the way it is. I am in control of this marriage. You are to do as I say and that little display was borderline obscene. You should be embarrassed and extremely ashamed. If I didn’t know you better, I’d think that you were fucking around on me, the way you jumped me like some horny teenage slut.”

  My bottom lip trembles. If he cares that I am on the verge of tears, he doesn’t show it.

  “Clean yourself up, Maggie. You should be sleazy at the way you just behaved. Remember, I’m the one who decides what happens in this relationship, whether it’s what we eat for dinner or when we fuck.”

  Without another glance at me, he leaves and I’m alone, naked, vulnerable, with come dripping down my body and onto the floor. I’ve just been completely humiliated by my own husband. I narrow my eyes at the doorway and I wish - for the first time in my life - that he would just freaking disappear.

  One Year Later

  SITTING IN THE FRONT ROW of the church, my designated spot, I can’t help but think how I would rather be anywhere else. I am stoic. My smile has disappeared, maybe forever. I don’t listen to what the pastor is saying; all I can think about is the fact that Sammy is dead. Samwell Christopher Rogers, he hated his pretentious first name and would punch you in the face if you even attempted to call him Samwell. He was Sammy on and off of the ball field. I smirk thinking about how when I was angry with him I called him Samwell just to goad him – not that it happened often.

  Amalie Harrison wraps her hand around mine and gives it a quick squeeze. She is trying to comfort me and I know she feels so very badly for what I’m going through. Amalie and I are a lot alike in some ways; we are both quiet, assessing, and sweet. Except when Amalie is passionate about something, she knows how to express and stand up for herself. Maybe we really aren’t so much alike.

  I was always a bit envious of the fierce love the New York Yankee’s pitcher, Jarrod Harrison, showered the beautiful buxom Amalie. She and I do differ in a few ways, she is confident and loved while I have never had that. I like to think that Sammy loved me, in his own way. He was physical fairly often but never openly affectionate. I thought that he just wasn’t sure on how to show his love. That he showed it through sex and monetarily taking care of me. However, the past year or so he seemed to be even more extremely distant that usual, making me wonder if there was something else going on with him, something he was refusing to share. .

  A woman walks up to me and gushes about Sammy. She talks on and on and on about how wonderful he was and I hold back the snort that is threatening to escape. Her head is nodding rapidly as she tells me how honored she was just to know him and how she couldn’t believe he chose her restaurant to eat at every single Tuesday night that he was in town. I don’t even know who this woman is, let alone what she’s talking about. She looks like some sort of deranged Woody Woodpecker and I find myself wanting to sing the theme song to the old cartoon just to test her reaction.

  “Your Sammy just loved my homemade apple pie. I used to make sure I had a fresh one every single Tuesday evening just for him. He’d stay and eat one slice and then take the rest with him.” I smile and nod but can’t help thinking that Sammy never brought said pie home to me. I hadn’t been allowed to eat dessert in years. That damn bastard ate pie without me.

  Pete, one of Sammy’s teammates, wraps his arm around the older woman and starts asking about her pies. The gorgeous green eyed heavily tattooed dream, inquires if the lady uses a lot of cinnamon or just a little. I hear her screech that there is no such thing as a lot of cinnamon, that’s like having too much money in the bank - Impossible.

  I smirk at her words, but my thoughts quickly shift back to Sammy.

  Sammy claimed he knew I was the one at first sight. He begged and pleaded to marry me immediately. I was eighteen and thought the whole thing was so romantic, like one of those RomCom movies. I had been so very wrong - stupidly wrong. Sammy wasn’t cruel too often or mean with his words, but he withheld the intimacy that I craved, all of the time. I don’t even know if he realized he was doing it, but he had.

  Staring at his coffin, I realize that I can’t even remember the last time he kissed me on the mouth. We had sex often enough, but
kissing me? That was simply too much to ask for. He never even held me after we had sex; he would just pull out, roll over and collapse before falling asleep. I woulnd’t call it making love because not once did I feel any emotion coming from him. It was like the man was a robot. An orgasm giving robot. A decent O was the one thing he always delivered.

  “We are so sorry for your loss.” The words reverberate in my ears, repeated over and over again by hundreds of people; I only know a handful of them. Sammy was the social one, not me. I smile softly and shake what feels like thousands of hands.

  “Come on Maggs, let’s get you home,” Jarrod whispers, sliding his arm around my shoulders. I feel like a teacup poodle standing next to him, he’s just that huge.

  “I have to go to the reception thing,” I murmur smoothing down my black pencil skirt.

  “No, you need to go home; you need the rest. Amalie, Axel and I will keep you company.”

  I don’t say anything as I allow him to walk me out to the limo, but he isn’t staying with me. The last thing I want is the perfect family showing me what I was never going to have and what I surely will never have now.

  Amalie cuddles the tiny little bundle to her chest as the driver makes his way toward my building. My eyes burn with the sight of mother and child. Sammy didn’t want children; he said he didn’t have time for them so we wouldn’t have any. It would just be the two of us. It had hurt me, gutted me, actually. I always wanted children so desperately. When he began to pull completely away from me, one of our biggest fights was about having children.

  It was my desire to have them versus his desire to never have them.

  “Thank you guys so much for your offer but I really just want to be alone,” I admit as we pull up to the apartment building. Amalie and Jarrod share worried glances and I almost roll my eyes.

  “Honestly, I’ll be all right I just want to take a bath and sleep.” Amalie looks at me with pity and I want to scream in anger, but I know she is just concerned for me.