I TAKE A RELAXING HOT bath and then apply my makeup to perfection. I leave my long blonde hair down and straight as I slip the skin tight, blush colored dress over my body. For some reason, I am loving the look of skin colored dresses lately. It is strapless and hits me at mid-thigh, with a sweetheart neckline that dips low in the front and the back. I slide my feet into a pair of hot pink Jimmy Choos and grab my new Alexander McQueen handbag - a gold knuckle box clutch that Libby talked me into. When I’m ready, slowly inhale and exhale.
It's time.
The game has finished.
The Yankees have won.
Jackson text me with the address for the party.
Sweat drips between my breasts and my hands shake with my nervousness.
I shouldn’t be so nervous, but this is my first party, my first time celebrating with the team. I know what kinds of women are at these things and I can only imagine what kind of wildness ensues. I have only heard stories, never being allowed to actually attend.
My doorbell buzzes with the town car I called to take me to the celebration. With wobbly knees, I make my way to the car and sink into the leather seats. The party isn’t too far from Jackson’s house so I won’t have much time to prepare as the driver weaves in and out of traffic. He has sports news on the radio and is listening to highlights of the game. He would probably have a coronary if I told him where he was taking me. I’m too nervous to think, let alone talk, so I don’t say a word. I hand him a tip as soon as we pull up to the posh building and I step outside, slowly making my way toward the building.
Walking into the party is like walking into a club. The music is blaring, there is a haze of smoke in the air, and it’s so dark I can hardly make out the shadows of people around me. I wait at the front door for a few moments to allow my eyes to adjust to the darkened room. There are people everywhere and my heart picks up its pace. I fear I’ve made a mistake in coming and I don’t know if I will even be able to find Jackson in this crowd.
I ease my way through the throngs of people around me and search for Jackson. I can only hope that I spot one of my friends soon, so that they can point me in his direction. I only know a handful of the forty members on the team and I haven’t seen anybody that looks remotely familiar. I want this to go well so badly that I can’t think of anything else. I don’t immediately notice when a warm arm wraps around my waist. I turn to see if it’s somebody I know but the brown eyes attached to the medium built man aren’t recognizable.
“Hey, baby, they buy you to party for the night?”
I blink with surprise. Buy me?
“I’m looking for somebody,” I reply innocently. He grins, his fingers pressing deeper into my side, threatening to bruise the delicate flesh of my waist.
“You found him, sugar. All the rooms are full, but I’ll find a dark corner for us,” he says with a smirk. My knees go a little weak at his brash words.
I slump a bit in his arms. He takes this as sign of agreement and his lips crash down on mine. I put my hands up and try to push him away. Then, all of a sudden, he’s gone and on the floor. I blink a few times, regaining my composure, and look over to see Jackson’s dark eyes searing me with an angry gaze.
“The fuck, man?” Grabby Hands cries out, pulling himself up and off of the floor.
“Get the fuck outta here before I call security,” Jackson growls. The man scurries away and I wish I could, too. I would run because Jackson has never looked so angry, so menacing and so freaking sexy.
He turns his angry glare on me and, before I realize what’s happening, his hand is clamped like a vice around my bicep. He’s dragging me behind him, but not further into the party. Instead, he’s taking me away from it. I try to halt him but my high heels hold zero traction against the slick marble flooring and I am slipping and sliding around like a newly born fawn.
“Jackson, stop,” I cry out, but he is ignoring me. Only when we’ve reached the stairwell, away from everybody else, does he stop and turn toward me. His eyes are black and wild, his nose flaring and red, marring his gorgeous face.
“What the fuck?” he snaps. I take a step back, hitting the wall.
“He grabbed me, Jackson. I tried to get away and he kissed me,” I admit truthfully.
“What a fuckin’ prick. He’s married, too. The asshole.” Jackson runs his fingers through his hair and I press my body against his.
“I love you.”
“Yeah, babe, I love you too. What in the fuck is this dress?” he asks, looking over my barely covered body. I ball my fist letting my nails bite my palm so that I don’t open my hand and slap the shit out of him.
“I thought you’d like it. I thought that you would think it was sexy.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s sexy as all fuck, but it’s slutty.”
Squaring my shoulders, I boldly take a step toward him, crowding him. I cup his cheek, feeling the scruff from his stubbled beard against my palm, and trace his full lower lip with my thumb. He is so warm. He feels so good to the touch and I want nothing more than for his strong arms to wrap me up and take me.
“You’re an asshole,” I chuckle, rolling up on my toes to press a soft kiss at the corner of his lip.
“Marguerite,” he sighs, leaning into my hand. For a second, I think I have him. The he groans and shakes his head. “I can’t let you back in there tonight. If anybody else touches you, I’ll fucking kill him.”
“Jackson…” His chest rumbles and he grabs my hips, hoisting me up in the air. My legs automatically wrap around his waist, so that my barely covered pussy is pressed against his stomach, and my back is slammed against the wall.
“I’m going to be fighting all night long when I should be celebrating. Fuck, baby, you’re so goddamned beautiful. I’m going to have to announce to every fuckin’ dick in that place that I own this sweet as fuck pussy of yours,” he whispers. I shiver at his words as he shreds the tiny thong panties from my center and thrusts two fingers inside of me, letting out a moan once he’s filled me.
“You’re wet,” he groans, his lips touching my neck - a gentle move compared to the way he roughly entered me.
“Always, Jackson, always for you,” I moan letting my head fall back against the wall. I roll my hips, searching for more friction, more of Jackson.
“No more talking,” he growls, biting my lip. Taking his fingers out of me I hear the zipper of his pants slide down.
One of his hands wraps lightly around my throat careful not to re-injure my tender and bruised neck. His cock slowly enters me, pressing my back hard against the wall, filling me to the point of pain. The noise of the party disappears and all I hear is the combination of our heavy breaths.
I whimper when Jackson slowly pulls out before thrusting back inside, hard and rough. It has only been hours since he’s been inside of me, but I can feel every single inch of him stretching and filling me as if it were the first time.
My chest aches, my pussy aches, and my heart aches because, with one look into his fierce, feral eyes, he shows me that this – in this moment – he is giving himself to me. He is showing me who is in charge; showing me that he can take me when and where he pleases, even if that means he wants to take me just outside of a huge party.
“You need to come, bunny, I need this greedy, fucking pussy to come. You’re too tight,” he groans as his hand flexes against my throat. The act of him suppressing my airway, along with his nails biting into my ass, sends me into sensation overload. I come with a hoarse cry, followed by Jackson’s wild thrusting, before he eventually succumbs and empties inside of me.
Jackson pulls out of my body and adjusts his pants, pulling them over his slim hips and fastening them I readjust my short skirt, tugging it down to cover my ass as heat fills my cheeks. I just publicly fucked him. Anybody could have been taping that and then we would be in an even bigger mess.
“Jackson,” I begin, but his hand flies up to stop me.
“I shouldn’t have fucked you here. It’s hard for me to deny y
ou when you look the way you do, though,” he whispers as his hand slides down the center of my chest, his eyes focused on the movements of his fingers over my body. I feel as though he’s slapped me. His words are painful. I feel like I have done something wrong, something to make him angry.
“Like a slut, you mean?” I sigh, my shoulders slumping.
“Like my slut. Like my woman. Like the person who owns my fucking heart. If I don’t keep you satisfied in all aspects of life, I won’t be able to breathe,” he states as his dark eyes bore into mine. I find it hard to breathe myself. His beautiful words are gut wrenching. Rough, but wonderful, nonetheless.
“I fucking love you, you crazy ass woman,” he says before crushing my lips in a bruising hard kiss.
“I wore it for you,” I mumble, pulling at the hem, wishing there was about a foot more fabric to cover me.
“I know you did, and you definitely got my attention, but you don’t need to wear shit like this in public,” he states.
I bristle at his words and try to squirm to get away from him, but he slaps the outside of my thigh, leaving a stinging sensation that makes me want to squirm for a completely different reason all together.
“I’m not being a dick, Marguerite, I’m being honest. You are sexy as shit in jeans and a t-shirt, you don’t need barely there dresses to gain attention from men. Men will look at you no matter what is on your body. I would just prefer I not have to see their dicks getting hard at the sight of you or to watch as they try to get a glimpse of your bare tits and your fantastic ass in the meanwhile.”
I stifle a laugh at his words. I am flattered that he thinks so many men would find me attractive, even if I don’t truly believe him.
“Okay, Jackson. No more skanky dresses then,” I cup his cheeks and he smiles.
“’Preciated, baby,” he murmurs before his lips take mine, firm and yet gentle all at the same time.
Jackson wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me tightly into his side as we make our way back inside of the party, toward our friends. Amalie is leaning against Jarrod as she talks with animated hands to a man I know is her twin brother, the walking Adonis known as Niklas. He’s smiling and listening to his obviously drunk sister while glancing around the room every so often, his eyes sweeping the place as if he’s watching out for someone. Maybe he’s on edge, or maybe it’s just a cop thing.
“Maggie,” Amalie slurs as we walk up to the group. She throws her arms around me, pulling me away from Jackson’s side.
I take a long look at her dress and suddenly feel almost matronly standing next to her. Amalie is dressed in a bright red, skin tight, almost indecently short dress that hugs every deliciously dangerous curve of hers. The neckline is a sweetheart cut that has me fearing we will all know exactly what her bare breasts look like at any given moment; and the back is so low, I’m afraid I’ll see crack at any second. The only thing keeping her breasts from just falling out is a thin strap of fabric around her upper back, holding the sides of the dress together - everything else is bare. Amalie’s white hair is piled high on her head, to showcase her back, and her makeup is dark and dramatic. She’s dressed nothing like she was earlier in the evening at the game.
“Hello, Maggie, how are you doing?” Niklas’ deep accented voice floats down as he smiles widely at me.
“I’m good, Niklas. How are you? Are you staying in the city long?” I ask.
I have only met him a handful of times, but something about him unnerves me. Maybe it is because I felt like Amalie forgave him too easily for his part in her relationship and her abduction with her ex-boyfriend, Eric. I just don’t trust him.
“I am. A few weeks to spend with Amalie and Axel before heading back to Miami. I am actually interviewing with NYPD while I’m here. I’m ready for a change,” he says. I nod, biting the inside of my cheek when I feel Jackson’s hand roughly squeeze one of my ass cheeks.
“Wow. Um… congrats, Niklas, that’s exciting. Won’t your parents miss you, though?” I ask as I try to dig deep and figure out exactly what’s going on with him. Jackson makes my task difficult as his thumb starts rubbing circles on my hip, making me very aware of my body warming to the slight touch.
“Things have not been good with them lately. They are very angry and I want to focus on rebuilding my relationship with Amalie, not so much on their anger at the world, or for not being able to control every little thing in their lives.” He chuckles and throws back the rest of the drink in his hand before continuing. “This conversation is too heavy for this party, Maggie.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, looking into his blindingly beautiful, light blue eyes.
“No, don’t be. You bring out the heavy shit, but it’s nice; you’re easy to talk to. I was real sorry to hear about Sammy, but you look like you’re doing well, no?” He cocks his head to the side and lifts his chin toward Jackson. I turn my head slightly and glance at Jackson’s profile as he talks quietly to Jarrod. A smile plays on my lips when I look back at Niklas.
“I am, Niklas. I am doing fantastic.” He winks and then taps Amalie on the nose, telling her that he’ll catch her later before he quickly walks through the throngs of people, off to an unknown destination.
“My mother’s stopped talking with him. And my father – my father is just allowing it all to happen,” Amalie sighs, taking a sip from her glass. Worry steals her previous joy from her pretty face.
“Will everything be alright with him?”
“Yeah, he’s learning what I learned years ago. You have to live your life for yourself, not for anybody else. You can do everything your parents wish and still be completely miserable. If you don’t make a change, you get stuck in a rut. He is finding he doesn’t like his rut so much. He will be all right. It will take time for him to work through all of his shit, but he will be okay in the end. You know he still visits Eric when he comes to the city? Makes Jarrod so fucking angry,” she says with a sigh. My eyes widen at her words.
How on earth could he do that? How could he visit the man who not only terrorized but brutalized his own sister? How could she be okay with it?
“Amalie,” I whisper, but she waves me off.
“We’ll talk about it later. For now, let’s get drunk and celebrate with some nasty sex later… I’m in the mood for some of my cock anyway,” she slurs. I don’t hold back my amusement. I couldn’t if I tried. I burst out laughing so loudly that Jarrod and Jackson stop talking and just stare at me, both with smiles tugging at their lips.
“What are you saying smuk?” Jarrod asks, nuzzling her neck, his hand squeezing her hip.
“I was telling Maggie that I can’t wait to have some of my cock later.” Jarrod erupts with laughter and shakes his head in disbelief.
“You’re going to get all the cock my pussy can handle. No reason to worry, baby,” he grins. I feel like a voyeur watching them, so in love and so dirty.
Our small group of four turns into a larger group of about ten, most of whom I don’t know. Victoria and Carlos don’t stay long. Victoria complains of being tired and rubs her sweet little baby bump that seems to be growing larger by the day.
I quietly look around at all the people talking and laughing and then I spot Libby. She’s staring at her drink like it’s going to sprout wings or horns, maybe. I try to catch her eye, but after a few moments, she walks away and I don’t see her again for the rest of the evening.
A commotion to the right of the room shocks me and I turn to see what’s happening. Paul and David, Amalie’s photographers and friends, are standing on the dining room table, stripping seductively. They look like they may have done a stint as Thunder from Down Under dancers, they’re that good. I watch in awe as some girl throws them money. They are so trashed, I wonder if they’re even going to remember this in the morning.
“Let’s get out of here, baby. I want to fuck you again,” Jackson slurs. His whiskey tainted breath slides over my skin, making me want more than just some quickie against the wall.
“Yeah,” I agree, smiling up at him. On our way out, my eyes flicker over to Paul and David, again. They have ceased their dancing for the crowd and are now grinding on each other, coming dangerously close to actually screwing on the dance floor.
Jackson and I take a cab back to the apartment and, luckily, there are no signs of paparazzi as we make our way into his building. We spend the rest of the night and the wee hours of the morning celebrating his victory. I know we still have so much to worry about outside of our little bubble, but we also have so much to be thankful for. Once he’s completely worn me out, I can’t help but fall into a dreamless sleep against his chest.
I RUN MY FINGERS THROUGH the long blonde hair of the sexy as shit naked woman pressed against my side. Feeling the silkiness of her hair wrapped around my fingers grounds me and keeps me sane. I want to hunt Elliot Baker down myself and kill him with my bare hands for not only touching what is clearly mine, but for hurting my sweet Maggie. She’s more than just my possession - she’s my heart, and I don’t care what anybody else thinks. I love her more than anything I have ever loved in my life.
My phone rings from beside me and I grab it quickly, in hopes that it won’t wake up Maggie. I whisper a sleepy “hello” into the receiver and am surprised to hear my mother’s voice on the other end. I don’t talk to my parents much. I love them, but our relationship is strained. Allowing Adam to come in and out of my life and bailing him out time after time doesn’t help. My parents cut him off years ago. It was a form of tough love, they said. Whatever you call that shit, it made a rift between us that hasn’t ever been mended.
“Jackson, congratulations on your win, last night,” she says. Although it’s been months, I can’t help feeling comforted by my sweet mom’s soft voice.
Maybe she is the reason I prefer submissive women, she is tender and kind, eager to please and always ready with open arms. I have serious fucking problems and, most likely, a mommy complex. I cringe at the thought.
My father is a hard-ass who tries to control everything, and that includes her. He never tries to lift her up and give her confidence, though. He prefers to keep her under his thumb, instead. Needless to say, I am extremely surprised she is contacting me.
Catching Maggie Page 21