Catching Maggie

by Hayley Faiman

  “Maggie,” she cries out when I answer.

  “Yes, Amalie,” I laugh. She seems to be the happiest person on earth.

  I didn’t know Amalie before she and Jarrod had found each other, but just knowing her this short amount of time, I know she is a person you fall in love with quickly. She is sweet and caring and always happy. Maybe her life is so full of everything she has always wanted that she needs the rest of the world to have a little bit of her happiness too.

  “Come shopping with me and Libby. We have the spa already booked and we want to hear all about you and Jackson.”

  “Let me clear it with Jackson. His brother is in town and I don’t want to ditch them unless they want me gone,” I reply with a smile.

  “Trust me, if they don’t want you gone, you want to be gone. When brothers get together, the debauchery knows no bounds,” she says, sounding like she knows from experience.

  “Jackson,” I call as I walk into the living room. He looks up from where his face is buried in his hands, while Adam stares at his shoes, his shoulders slumped in what looks like defeat. Yeah, they will want me gone.

  “Amalie and Libby are having a girl’s day and they invited me,” I say nervously. He smiles, his dark eyes taking me in and softening.

  “Go ahead, gorgeous. Have fun with the girls.” His voice sounds as defeated as Adam looks and I study him intently.

  I want to stay, to wrap my arms around him, but I don’t think he would want that, not with his brother right there. Instead, I agree to go with Amalie and Libby, even though my heart wants me to stay here with my man.

  I run into the bedroom and finish getting ready. After slipping a pair of plain flat sandals on my feet, I grab my black, leather purse from the floor and check to make sure I have everything I need – including my cellphone. I hear the buzzer and rush into the living room in time to see Jackson opening the door to my friends. Amalie wraps her arms around him in a quick hug and Libby follows. Then Amalie sees me and lights up with a huge smile.

  “Where’s Axel?” I ask, looking for the little bundle that always seems to be right beside her or in her arms.

  “With his daddy. Jarrod was just carb-loading on the sofa so I told him he could continue on as planned with a little company.”

  I feel Adam walk right up beside me and clear his throat.

  “And who are these lovely ladies?” he asks, his voice dropping a few octaves in an attempt to appear sexy; little does he know that the effort is lost on the two of these women.

  “Don’t even try dude, their husbands are on the team,” Jackson says with a chuckle. Adam huffs with a shrug.

  “Can’t blame a guy for trying. Two hot as shit chicks walk in and I’m on auto pilot, big bro,” Adam says with a grin. Jackson rolls his eyes before wrapping his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest.

  “Be a good girl today, Marguerite,” he growls, nipping my earlobe. His teeth send delicious chills down my body before he slaps my ass hard. I yelp out in slight pain as he smiles at me, a true grin, and offers me a wink. Libby and Amalie are now wearing matching cheesy smiles and I just roll my eyes at my friends.

  “That was a solid slap, is your ass all right?” Amalie asks, her eyes dancing in delight as she laughs, walking into the elevator.

  “He really likes you.” Libby elbows me in the bicep, causing me to look up into her pretty blue eyes. “I’d even say it’s turning into love and, damn, it’s beautiful,” she says with a smile.

  I can see some kind of longing in her eyes, but I don’t know what it means. What could she want? Pete is gorgeous, in a bad boy way, and seems so sweet, too. Libby is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, next to Amalie. She’s also some kind of famous heiress and her family is always splashed all over the gossip sites. She has everything.

  “I like him a lot, more than I probably should this quickly,” I admit with a shrug as I bite my lower lip.

  “Jarrod and I really only knew each other for a few weeks before I knew he was the one for me. I was in serious lust with him the moment I laid eyes on his gigantic body; but honestly, I fell completely head over heels with him before I had even realized what was happening,” she admits as we slide into her sporty little crossover mommy car.

  “I saw Jackson, and I knew, I just knew he was going to be trouble for me. I knew I should have stayed away, but I couldn’t. Even after he neglected to tell me the truth about who he was, I still only thought of him. I think he’s it for me, the man I was meant to be with. The whole thing is completely terrifying,” I admit, looking out the window before turning to my friends. Amalie nods and I watch as her eyes slice over to Libby who is sitting in the passenger seat.

  “I never asked how you and Pete met, Libby,” Amalie informs. I notice how Libby’s back straightens before she turns to look out the window, almost wistfully.

  “A college fraternity party that my sorority was obligated to attend. Much like you guys, I saw him across the room and I knew he was it. He was so confident, already covered in tattoos; he looked bad, so very bad. He looked nothing like the boys my parents had tried to force me to date. My parents wanted country club boys, boys from old money, like us. Pete was there on a baseball scholarship, raised in the system.

  “Most of the girls turned their noses up at the sight of him, sure they would fuck him but he would never be brought home to their parents. I did exactly that, after our second date. I took him home to my family and, a few months later, we were married. I thought my parents were going to hate him. I do think they dislike him, but for some reason they agreed to and even rushed the marriage. I was so caught up in my lust for Pete and my excitement that I didn’t question any of it at the time,” she pauses and we all wait to see if she’ll say more. This is the most serious conversation I have had with Libby since I met her a few years ago. She seems so sad, so somber, that it catches me off guard.

  “Do you question it now?” Amalie asks the exact question I am thinking. As if something snaps her out of her dark thoughts, Libby flashes her beautiful bright smile and shakes her head.

  “Why would I question anything? Pete’s hot as shit, everybody loves him, and women are jealous as hell that I’m married to him. What’s to question?”

  I chew on my bottom lip and I want to console her, talk to her about her obvious false bravado, but I don’t.

  Sometimes people need to cope with whatever disappointment life has handed them. Maybe being deceptively overly happy is Libby’s way.

  The girls and I spend the next few hours shopping before we head over to the salon to be pampered by pedicures, manicures, massages, facials and then waxing. I have never been waxed before and Libby smiles sweetly before promising me it isn’t as bad as it sounds.

  Lying bitch.

  “We waxing it all?” the technician asks me, her face a little too close to my crotch.

  “Uh -” I don’t know what to say. I want to scream: hell no! Hands off the merchandise, but I don’t.

  “Strip that bitch bare,” Libby screeches from the next room, where I know she’s getting her own waxing done. Her confidence comes from her regular monthly visits, something I can’t boast of. Not that I’m a hairy beast. I’m not. I’m trimmed neatly and neither Sammy, nor Jackson, has ever said a word about it.

  “All right, pretty girl. Spread ‘em,” the tech orders. I balk at her words. First of all, I’m not sure she should be calling me a pretty girl while her face is in my pussy. Secondly, I feel a tad violated in general.

  The tech doesn’t care and, apparently I’m too slow, because she spreads my legs herself and proceeds to wax my whole vagina and ass crack. I scream and tell Libby she’s a sadistic whore while she howls with laughter in the next room.

  I faintly hear Amalie joining in on the jokes through my screaming pain - those bitches.

  “You whores are evil,” I hiss sliding out of Amalie’s car. Both of them are grinning with an evil glint in their eyes.

  “You’ll be tha
nking us in a little bit. Text us after Jackson gets a load of your pretty pussycat,” Libby calls out, giggling as I slam the door. They’re both practically hysterical as the car speeds off.

  Gripping my shopping bags, I stomp off toward the elevator that will take me up to the apartment. Libby’s last words circle around my mind and I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. Honestly, I cannot wait to show Jackson exactly what has happened to me down below.

  THE APARTMENT IS ODDLY QUIET when I enter. I check my phone to make sure I haven’t missed a message or call from Jackson. My phone screen is blank - no texts, no missed calls, absolutely nothing. I look around and find that there is no note waiting for me in the kitchen or on the bedroom nightstand. I try to push the worry from my mind but I can’t.

  After what I heard Jackson and Adam talking about, owing money to some bookie, I can’t calm down. I decide to call Jackson to see where he is. When his phone goes straight to voicemail, my stomach drops.

  Where on earth could he be?

  He knew I would only be gone a few hours. Since we’ve been back together, considering the whole situation with Elliot, Jackson hasn’t let me out of his sight. I can’t imagine why he would be unreachable to me.

  I go into the bedroom to put away my clothing purchases and then decide to take a shower – hoping that I’ll be able to reach Jackson by the time I’m out. The heat from the water sprays down on my freshly waxed pussy, which is so sensitive from the lack of hair. I wonder if Jackson will like it. I think I like it. It’s different and new and, for some reason, I feel like I should be ashamed, but I can’t help feeling anything but sexy.

  After I shower, I dress in a pair of lounge shorts and a matching tank top. I throw my hair up in a bun and grab the remote control to watch television in bed. I am hoping that the distraction of the show will take my mind off of Jackson and his mysteriously powered down phone.

  I can’t stop myself from wondering if he’s off cheating on me. Not that it would have crossed my mind before, but my insecurities are still there. Honestly, I think they will always be somewhere in the back of my mind, thanks to my relationship with Sammy and the deceit I suffered after he died.

  Dinner time comes and goes without a word from Jackson.

  I don’t eat. I don’t sleep. I just stare at the blank television screen.

  It’s two in the morning and still no phone call and no Jackson or Adam. There’s a niggling in my mind and something is very very wrong here. Where in the hell could he be?

  I want to call Jarrod, Carlos, or Pete and ask if they’ve heard from him, but it’s too late now. I should have done that around ten. It feels too much like the night I found out Sammy died; I was lying in bed watching television when the call came in. He was supposed to be coming home the next evening, but he never did. I don’t think I could survive if Jackson didn’t make it home. I already feel so much more for him than I ever did for Sammy.

  The apartment door slams loudly, startling me. I stand up, rushing out into the living room to see both Jackson and Adam leaning on each other. Jackson is telling Adam to be quiet, but he’s yelling and laughing. Adam chuckles and stumbles.

  They’re tanked.

  Totally trashed.

  I stand and watch them try to fumble around the living room, bumping into every piece of furniture as they go.

  “So you’ve been out drinking then?” I question cocking an eyebrow and crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Fuck, warden caught you, bro,” Adam slurs. Jackson at least has the presence to look guilty, maybe even remorseful.

  “Maggs,” he shouts. All at once, it’s like my body has been drenched with ice.

  Maggs. He has never called me that. Sammy called me that. I hate it the second it falls from his lips.

  “Where were you guys?” I ask inching my way toward my purse on the dining room table.

  I am not going to sit around and let this happen, not again. I don’t care at all that he went out drinking with his brother. What I care about is the fact that his phone was shut off the whole time, like he was hiding something. He obviously doesn’t have the respect, or the decency to at least let me know where he is. He would have been livid had the tables been reversed. Just when I feel like I can trust him, this happens and sends us spiraling back down to the beginning.

  “Just out for a few drinks, Maggie,” he confesses. I hear his words; knowing exactly what they are – an omission and a lie. Sure, they went out for drinks, but it was somewhere other than just a typical bar. I can feel it in my bones.

  “Jackson was a good boy Maggie, - even when the sub with huge tits begged to suck his cock, he never wavered,” Adam boasts proudly. My eyes leave Adam’s face and fly to Jackson’s.

  “It was just that club Maggs, not anywhere private, I swear.” He closes his eyes, hanging his head, looking defeated.

  I can tell this conversation is sobering him, but I don’t care. This is a conversation that I now consider completely over. I grab my purse and walk around the two drunk buffoons, barefoot, in sleep shorts and a tank with no bra, to the door. Jackson is right behind me, his hands wrapping around my waist as my own hand goes to the doorknob.

  “Don’t leave, babe,” he growls in my ear. All I can do is smell the whiskey on his breath and I remember how he called me Maggs. I need to go.

  “I’ll be at my apartment. When you’re ready, we can talk later,” I grind out through a clenched jaw. His fingers tighten around my cotton tank top.

  “I’m ready now, you are not to leave,” he orders. I close my eyes at the dominance in his deep, rich tone. I love it, but I can’t handle it, not right now.

  “I’m leaving Jackson.” My voice is quivering and I am trying to stay committed to the words, but I fail.

  Jackson can tell. He picks me up and strides toward his bedroom, passing right by his brother without a word. I feel him lift his leg and kick the bedroom door closed before he places my body down lightly on the bed. I try to roll out from beneath him, but his body presses down on top of me, his arms caging my head in and his knees on either side of my thighs, holding me still beneath him. The whiskey on his breath is so strong, I can practically taste it as he exhales on my face.

  “Let me go,” I whisper. His black eyes just stare into mine without apology.

  “Fuck no.”

  “Jackson,” I cry out, but he doesn’t move.

  “You aren’t leaving me again. I fucked up. I was focused on my brother and the clusterfuck he’s got himself into. I didn’t think twice when he said he wanted to go to the club for drinks. Even if I wanted to play, and I didn’t, I wouldn’t have. Even if I did, I was too drunk to do so. There’s a drink limit and I surpassed it pretty damn quickly in there. I wouldn’t do that to you, babe, never. I’m yours, just like you’re mine.” I shake my head wildly, but Jackson isn’t having it. One of his hands moves as he wraps his fingers around my cheeks, digging them into my flesh, holding my head still.

  “Look at me,” he barks. My whole body hums from his demanding tone. I look at him, but I don’t move or verbally respond.

  “I would never cheat on you Marguerite. No amount of booze or desperate whores could make me want inside any pussy other than yours. Your body is mine, but that means that my body is yours as well. I am not Sammy. My cock will be inside no other woman’s pussy, mouth or ass but yours.” My nostrils flare at his words and he looks so determined that I find I want to believe every word and forgive him completely, right now.

  “You went to a sex club without me, Jackson. You looked at women getting flogged, spanked, caned, finger fucked, eaten out, and just plain fucked. How do I know that you didn’t fuck any of them or think about it?”

  Jackson bites out a curse and then he grabs my hand, pressing it against steel cock, between our bodies. He’s hard and pressing against me.

  “You have to trust me, babe. This cock is all for you - it only wants to be inside of you - but if you can’t trust me, little bunny, we can�
�t go on.”

  I don’t move my hand, but my eyes roam his, searching for a lie. I don’t see one. He looks so open and I want to believe every single word he’s saying.

  “I want to trust you, Jackson, but you’re making it so hard,” I whisper as a tear trickles down my cheek. Jackson captures it with the pad of his thumb.

  “This shit isn’t supposed to be easy - it isn’t a fairytale, Maggie. This is real life. Tonight, my brother needed to get a drink and calm down. I should have told you where I was going so you wouldn’t worry. I shouldn’t have gone there, to that type of club. I didn’t think anything of it because nobody else matters to me but you, babe. I’m gonna fuck up and so are you. But you cannot fucking run every single time I do.”

  I blink my tears away, knowing he’s right. He is. I have run from him before and I was about to do it again. I shouldn’t have. Real couples stay and talk through their problems, they don’t run or mentally retreat from issues between them. I have had shit examples on true relationships and this scene just solidifies it. While Jackson was completely wrong for going to that club, I’m not completely right with my reaction.

  “No running,” I concede.

  Jackson’s lips lightly brush mine as his hand slides down my side to wrap around my thigh, his fingers running slowly across the seam of my shorts, inching toward my center. His mouth slowly kisses down my jaw to my neck, his tongue lashing out as he licks my skin - tasting me, sucking me, biting me He’s seducing me and it's working. I gasp when his finger slides over my panties, over my freshly waxed core. I’m so sensitive that I feel every single wisp of his touch. He is imprinting on my body, on my soul.

  “Will you let me have you, Marguerite?” he whispers huskily.

  I moan and arch my back as his finger runs over my panties again. Jackson’s hands move to slide under my shorts to cup my bare ass as his cock grinds down against my pussy.

  “Jackson,” I gasp.