“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my occupation, beautiful. I should have told you first thing… I just… I just wanted our relationship to be about us for a little while. I wanted you to get to know the real me, Jackson; and I wanted to know the true you, not the version of you Sammy depicted in the locker room,” he explains as tears burn my eyes.
“We both made mistakes,” I say softly. There is a silence, a momentary remembering of our short time together before he speaks again.
“How have you been, babe?”
“I’ve been all right; living like a hermit for the most part. I have been trying to figure myself out,” I confess. He hums and I can picture him nodding.
“Have you been seeing anyone?” he asks. I can almost taste the fear in his voice, causing the next words to tumble from my lips.
“I won’t lie. I went back to that club where we met. I went for Masters Night and I met somebody. He would like to explore a D/s relationship with me, I think. I just… when I should have been thinking of him, I couldn’t stop thinking of you. I feel like such a bitch.” My confession comes out in one, quick breath, and when I’m finished I find myself almost hyperventilating.
“I… uh… I won’t stop you if you want him, Marguerite; but I also won’t hang up this phone until you understand how very badly I still want you. I still want us,” he almost pleads. My breath is ragged coming from my lungs. I feel like my organs are rattling inside of my body. He is saying exactly what I want to hear.
“Maybe we could start over?” I suggest.
“Never. I am never erasing those moments we had from my mind. How you fell apart in my hands and on my tongue - I couldn’t forget it if I tried. I will, however, come to you soon. We should talk in more detail, in person,” he says. I nod as if he can see me.
“Tonight?” I almost beg. I feel desperate for his touch, for is assurances, and for a glimpse of his black eyes.
“You stay where you are, beautiful. I will come to you, but not tonight. In the meantime, break it off with this guy - if you want me, that is.”
I sigh heavily. Is there any question about me wanting Jackson? No, there isn’t.
I don’t know if I could ever not want Jackson, but can I truly forgive and forget the mistakes of our past?
Can I live with being in a relationship with another pro ball player?
I think about the past few weeks, how miserable I have been without him, and how many times I have picked up my phone to call him. The answer seems completely obvious. It’s blasting me in the face. Regardless of his career, he has been on the forefront of my mind since the day I made him leave me.
“I want you, Jackson. I want you so very badly. There is nothing with Elliot, not really. We have only talked for a few hours, on one evening, but I couldn’t get you off my mind,” I shamelessly admit.
“Elliot?” he questions before I explain that it is Elliot from that party we attended.
“Marguerite, I warned you to stay away from him. He’s dangerous and he’s cruel. He prefers slaves, not regular subs, and he breaks them. Holy shit, babe, you need to break it off with him immediately,” he practically yells in my ear. I start to panic, truly panic - how could I forget?
“Jackson,” I whisper in horror.
“Don’t freak out, just end it Marguerite. End it now. You are to stay away from him. He’s dangerous. Don’t ever meet with him alone. When you end, it do it publicly. In fact, I should be with you,” he rambles.
“No, I need to do this on my own, Jackson,” I protest. He then makes me swear to end things with Elliot at the club, where there is security right next to me.
I agree and tell him that I will call him once I have settled things with Elliot.
I fold the dress up neatly and put it back in the bag along with the shoes, deciding to dress in a pair of skinny jeans and a white tank top. I throw my hair up in a messy bun, sans makeup. With flip flops on my feet, I carry the bag containing the beautiful dress and shoes and make my way toward the club.
I can’t in good conscious see Master Elliot again, not when my heart is with Jackson; not when Jackson’s warnings are swimming around in my head; and not when I recount the uneasy feeling in my gut several times last week.
Jackson may have hidden the truth from me, but he isn’t secretly married with a family. He isn’t a mass murderer. His career isn’t what I would have preferred when it came to finding a new man, but even in the short time that I have known him, I know he isn’t like Sammy. He just holds the same occupational position that Sammy had. It wouldn’t be fair for me to hold a grudge against the job, not when Jackson and Sammy seem to be such different men.
The walk to the club is long, but I need the time to think. When I finally do arrive, I notice the hulking handsome Elliot standing right at the entrance. My eyes dart over to the security guard who is standing near him and I sigh with relief. When Elliot notices me, a scowl appears on his handsome face. Seeing him, being close to him again, makes me feel like shit for what I am about to do. Master Elliot is handsome and seems so very nice and patient, no matter what Jackson has told me. But looks can be deceiving and I need to trust my gut in this situation.
“This is a problem, then?” Elliot asks, his jaw clenched. I can practically feel the anger radiating off of him.
“I… uh… I thought I could, but I can’t,” I reply shakily. He is so angry looking that I am afraid to mention Jackson at this point. If I make this solely about me then maybe he will just accept it and move on?
“What’s the problem, Emma? I haven’t asked for a thing, so why are you doing this? All I want is to get to know you.” He peppers me with quick questions as he takes a step toward me, towering over me.
His vibe is suddenly so different from the week before and I feel almost scared of him now. That gut feeling that something is not right with him returns in full force and I start to shake with panic and unease. My eyes dart over to the security guard, who turns to talk to a very beautiful brunette; his focus is turned completely in the opposite direction of us.
“I just can’t Elliot. I’m sorry, I thought I could, but I can’t,” I hurriedly repeat. He almost growls as he wraps his large hand around the back of my neck and applies pressure, too much pressure, pulling me around the corner and into the alley next to the club. I squeak as I look up into his cold blue eyes, eyes that were warm just a week ago.
“You are a shit liar, Emma - or shall I call you Marguerite?”
I shiver as he grins.
“It wasn’t hard to figure out who you were. I fuck the receptionist here on a regular basis and she looked you up, then there you were. A little digging and I discovered that you, little one, are practically famous. Did you think that I didn’t recognize you from my party on the arm of Jackson Lexington?” he smirks.
I try to take a step back, but his fingers tighten painfully into my neck. I begin to claw at his arm, trying frantically to free myself. He’s going to hurt me I just know it. I have made a huge mistake. All I want is to be back in my apartment with Jackson’s arms around me.
This was stupid.
I wasn’t finding myself with Elliot, I was putting myself in danger.
“I’m nobody,” I insist, my voice breathy and weak. It was Sammy who was famous, not me.
I was practically hidden away from the limelight, something that didn’t bother me at all before. Maybe had I been more into the glitz and glamour of his stardom, he wouldn’t have cheated so much? I shake my head, he still would have cheated.
“You are a very famous widow, and it seems like another ball player wants in your panties very badly. Would he be upset knowing where you are, little one?” He purrs deceivingly.
“He knows exactly where I am, Elliot, and if he doesn’t hear back from me, soon he’ll know you are the one to blame for whatever happens to me. He knows everything - your name, the name of this club, and about us.”
Elliot finally releases me and takes a step back, realizing that I am
not lying about this.
“I’ll be seeing you around, slut. Sleep with one eye open.” He laughs manically and I lean against the brick wall behind me and just breathe.
Abandoning the bag in the alley, I take off running toward the apartment. I look like an idiot running around the city in my flip flops, but I don’t care. I don’t even think about the fact that Elliot knows exactly where I live. All I can think about is the safety of my locked apartment. Once I am inside, I bolt the door and shove a chair in front of it.
THE BANGING ON MY FRONT door doesn’t scare me half as much as the dream that it has woken me up from. In my dream, Elliot had his big hand around my throat while he was squeezing the life out of me; his other hand was tearing away at my dress. Just as he finished ripping the rest of my dress off, the beating on the door started and woke me up.
I make my way toward the door and move the chair out of the way, looking through the peephole to see Jackson’s beautiful face on the other side. I don’t think about my lack of clothing or how my blonde hair has got to be a hot damn mess. I just wrench the door open and jump into his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist as I bury my face in his neck.
“Babe. Oh, Marguerite,” Jackson whispers, walking us into my apartment and closing the door behind him with his booted foot. He tucks his nose into my hair and inhales the scent of me.
“I missed you so much, Jackson,” I whimper as his hands travel from my thighs to my ass before he squeezes.
“We should talk,” he says, lifting his head and looking into my eyes.
“After. I need you first, Jackson,” I whisper. I not only need him physically but I also need him to feel safe. He is the only man I have felt safe around - ever.
My lips crash down onto his and his tongue immediately fills my mouth, tangling with mine, owning me. He walks us toward the bedroom and, before I know it, I’m lying down on the bed with Jackson hovering over me. I feel lightheaded as his breath steals my own. I’m in such a state of euphoria, I feel like I’m flying.
“This,” he motions between us with his finger, “it changes everything, Marguerite. Once this happens, you’re mine,” he informs me. I nod, smiling shyly as I wrap my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.
“I was yours the second my eyes landed on you in that club. You own me, Jackson, more than anybody ever has. I’m yours,” I whisper. He closes his eyes and when they reopen, I see his black irises swirling with excitement as a huge smile pulls at his lips.
“I’ll fuck you nice and sweet right now, Marguerite, but know this - before the night is over, your ass will be sore from my hand. You’ll have come so many times, you will actually have to beg me to stop. Then, I’ll make you come one more time. It’ll be your punishment.”
“Death by orgasm?” I ask, my face completely serious.
“Not death. Near death.” He grins as his lips brush against mine. Before I can respond, his hand slides inside of my panties and his thick finger dips inside of me, causing me to arch my back at his touch.
“Jackson,” I groan spreading my legs further apart for him.
“Greedy girl,” he groans with a chuckle as his lips brush against my neck. His finger slides deeper inside of me, slowly pumping in and out of my body. I shift my hips lifting them higher. I want more of him, I need more of him; weeks without his touch has felt like a lifetime.
“You on the pill baby? I know I’m clean and this is exclusive, I don’t want a damn thing separating us,” he says between the licks, bites and kisses he’s covering my neck with.
“Yeah, I’m clean I was tested… after Sammy,” I admit sadly.
“Sshh, my greedy girl,” Jackson growls, nipping at the flesh of my neck, sending chills throughout my entire body.
“I’m so greedy when it comes to you, Jackson,” I admit. My words seem to be his undoing because he pulls his hand out of my panties and then rips them into pieces before yanking off my flimsy tank top. I hear his jeans zipper and then the sound of the heavy fabric landing on the floor. Seconds later, he slides deep inside of me, filling me up completely.
“Fuck,” he rasps, his body still.
I can feel myself stretching, my body accommodating him. It has been so long since I have had sex that it is a bit painful, but I don’t care because it’s Jackson. He’s finally here, inside of me, and nothing else matters.
“Move, please! Oh, god, move,” I cry, my nails clawing at his back. He just stares down at me.
“You’re so fucking perfect, Marguerite. You’re mine and you’re so goddamned perfect,” he moans. I shiver under him as unexpected tears leak from my eyes
Jackson slowly pulls out of me and then slams back inside; he repeats the motion again and I wrap my hands around his forearms, trying to steady myself.
“I want to come. Fuck, babe, you need to come,” he groans breathlessly.
I’m so close, but I can’t even tell him. He feels so good. My voice is gone and all I feel is him moving in and out of me.
Jackson’s hand slips between us, his thumb pressing against my clit, and I come almost immediately, crying out his name. His hands slide into my hair and I feel his grip tighten as he pulls my head back. His chest touches mine while he continues to plunge into me in a hurried pace, chasing his own pleasure.
“Fuck, babe,” he speaks into my mouth as his lips crash down on mine. I feel his cock twitch and then fill me with his release as his tongue tangles with mine. It feels like he’s pouring all of his feelings into this kiss and I can’t help but to accept it. All of it. All of him.
I expect him to immediately roll off of me like Sammy had done each and every time we were together, but he doesn’t Instead, he stays buried inside of me while his lips lightly touch my neck, my lips, and my jaw.
I feel like he is imprinting himself on my body using only his lips. It’s heavenly. I want to ask him if he is all right, but I can’t. If I do I’ll cry. I am thoroughly enjoying the feeling of his big body on top of mine, inside of mine, and surrounding mine, too much to start a conversation about my insecurities caused by Sammy.
“That was phenomenal,” he whispers in my ear, pressing his hips closer to me before finally pulling out of my body. I moan at the loss of him. I want him inside of me all of the time. He felt that good.
“Wish my cock could recoup faster. I fucking want you again, Marguerite,” he chuckles as his hand splays out on my belly. Warmth fills me caused by his words.
“I missed you, Jackson,” I express turning slightly to face him.
Taking in his appearance, I notice that he has dark circles under his eyes; his face looks a little sunken in and he looks all around exhausted. I suck in a breath, letting the guilt wash over me. I did this to him. I have avoided watching the games or anything to do with Jackson since I made him leave my apartment that night. I didn’t think I could stomach seeing his gorgeous face. Now I wish I would have watched so I could have seen how being apart affected him.
“You didn’t do this to me, baby. I did it to myself when I withheld things from you. Never again,” he says quietly. I press my lips together, irritated that I let my mouth voice my thoughts. Jackson’s hand moves slowly from my stomach to my cheek before his fingers wrap around the side of my neck, his black eyes looking into mine.
“I am so fucking sorry. Can you forgive me? Can we move forward? Do you think you could ever trust me again one day?”
“I already forgave you, Jackson; and yes, I think we can move on and trust will be earned. I think I could trust you as long as you don’t lie to me again,” I tell him. When he smiles, he looks so young and so handsome that I almost forget about my run in with Elliot earlier in the evening.
“Did you deal with Elliot?” he asks. As I go stiff, he frowns.
“Tell me,” he practically growls before I obey.
I tell him everything that happened between Elliot and me. I decide not to hide one single detail from him because we are telling truths – no more hiding. Honestly, Elliot
scared the shit out of me and I need Jackson to know everything, just in case he comes after me again.
“I’ll fucking murder him,” Jackson seethes. I roll on top of him, straddling him and caging his cheeks between my hands.
“No, you won’t,” I say sternly. As he presses his lips together as his eyes narrow at me.
I know this position, me being on top of him with a semblance of control, goes against every fiber of his being; but I need him to understand how I feel.
“You don’t control things, babe,” he smirks. I ignore him for a moment as I press my forehead against his, making our noses touch.
“You won’t do anything, Jackson, because I can’t lose you. I already know that losing you, permanently, would hurt so much more than when I lost Sammy. I don’t think I could live this life without you, Jackson. Maybe I’m being silly and jumping the gun, but I already know that there is nobody else for me but you,” I admit as his hands slide to my hips. He lifts my body and then slides me down over his hard cock, making me gasp in surprise.
“You will not lose me, Marguerite,” he whispers holding me still as he pushes his hips up, thrusting inside of me.
My hands slide around the back of his head and I press my chest against his as he fucks me from underneath my own body. His feet are firmly planted on the mattress, his hips rising and falling to a perfect tempo.
“Jackson,” I gasp, feeling my body climbing closer to its release.
“You will not lose me, do you understand me?” he growls. I nod as I come, crying out his name.
Jackson doesn’t stop; rather, he keeps repeating that I will not lose him, over and over again, until finally he stills and I feel his cock twitch and empty inside of me. His grip on my hips loosens and I nuzzle his neck lightly, playing with the black strands of hair at the back of his neck.
“I understand you, Jackson,” I finally reply. His chest heaves a few times underneath me before his arms wrap around my back, his fingers trailing up and down my spine.
“You’re coming home with me. I’ll not allow you to stay here alone, it isn’t safe,” he commands. I almost giggle knowing there was no way in hell I was staying here alone anyway. I might be naïve, but I’m not completely stupid.
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