Catching Maggie

by Hayley Faiman

  “Mom, you watched it? It was amazing being out there.”

  “You look good. Are you happy? I miss my boys,” she whispers. She would – my mom would want her boys surrounding her. She would want to fill our bellies with her food, our hearts with her love, and our ears with her kind words.

  “I am very happy, mom. I actually met somebody; I was hoping to bring her home to meet you both during this break.” I say, trying to avoid the topic of Adam. He’s gone. Nobody has found him yet, which makes him look guilty as shit. I don’t even want to think about whether or not he would make a sex tape and sell It to the paparazzi.

  “You have? Oh, goodness! Is she a celebrity? Would I know her?” she asks, peppering me with questions.

  I chuckle at her excitement. As soon as I received my contract, my mother decided that I would be dating supermodels and actresses like some of the players; but I prefer real, I prefer my Maggie.

  “Did you watch the dedication a few months ago about Sammy Rogers?” I ask, knowing that she did. My mother always pays attention to the happenings of my career. I just hope she hasn’t seen the sex tape yet.

  My mother doesn’t know any of the guys personally, but she knows how I became starting catcher. She was the first person I called when it happened and, while she was excited for me, she was very sad about the circumstances, as was the whole team.

  “I did. His poor wife. What a lovely speech she gave.”

  “Marguerite, Sammy’s wife, I’ve fallen in love with her. We’ve been seeing each other for a while,” I confess. I find that I want to scream it from rooftops that the woman is mine, only mine.

  “Oh goodness, do you think that’s a wise idea, Jackson?”

  “Yeah mom, you’ll love her. She reminds me a lot of you, actually. Very sweet. We’ll come visit and you’ll see,” I say softly. My mom clears her throat and I know she’s crying. All she wants is for her boys to be happy.

  “I would like that very much. It’s been too long.”

  A few minutes of my mother informing me all about my father’s doings, because she lives her life solely for him these days, and I’m ready to end the call.

  I can only handle the dad show for so long before it makes my eye twitch with annoyance. I inform my mother that Maggie and I will come in a few weeks before hanging up and then I feel the woman herself stirring next to me. Maggie’s bright blue eyes open and focus on me, sending a punch to the gut at her absolute gorgeousness.

  “Who was on the phone?” she mumbles, her voice groggy and rough with sleep.

  “My mom. We’re going to go visit with them in a few weeks. Once I’ve fucked you every way possible and you’re nice and sated, then I’ll introduce you to the torturous part of our relationship, where you meet my father.”

  Marguerite laughs and her hoarse, raspy voice immediately makes my cock hard.

  “Lie on your back,” I urge. With a smile still on her sleepy face, she complies, spreading her thighs wide just the way I like them.

  I climb out of bed and walk into my closet to find my rope. The rope is softly braided and won’t hurt her. My cock jumps at the images swimming around in my head. I haven’t yet truly bound Marguerite and I’m beyond excited to finally have my chance.

  “Put your arms at your sides and bend those pretty knees, keeping your thighs wide for me,” I command, my eyes intently focused on her. Her breath picks up and her chest quickly rises and falls at my order, but she’s not afraid. She’s excited.

  I stalk over to her slowly. Her hair is fanned out on my pillow, her makeup has come off in her sleep, and she’s never looked more beautiful to me than she does at this moment. Maggie’s pussy is on display and she’s vulnerable to me, causing me to smirk to myself.

  Soon she will be completely at my mercy.

  I take one piece of rope and wrap it around her wrist, slowly entwining the pieces, alternating from her wrist to her thigh, binding them together. I repeat the twist on her other leg and wrist before stepping away and admiring her. She’s soft and warm, her body flush with what I can assume is embarrassment mixed with want and excitement. Her curves seem to be added to day by day and I fucking love it. My eyes dip down to look at her pretty pink pussy. I hum with approval at the obvious slickness of her arousal.

  “You need a safe word, bunny,” I murmur. It has been too long since I was inside of her, and with her body tied up and presented to me the way she is, I won’t be able to control myself. Though it has only been hours, fucking minutes is too long for me to wait to be inside of her tight, wet, pussy.

  “Vegas,” she whispers taking me by surprise.

  “Vegas?”

  “It was where it all began - my life, my future. Had Sammy not met me in Vegas while he was out celebrating his contract, I would have never met you.” Her words cause me to choke up.

  My beautiful girl and her sunny outlook on the shit cards that life dealt her - I’ll never get enough of her positivity.

  I feel sexy tied up with my hands bound to my thighs, my center completely exposed for Jackson - only Jackson. His eyes are full of hunger and desire. He looks animalistic, feral and I know that the hunger is about to win over desire. He is as starved for me as I am for him.

  Being physically vulnerable for him arouses me like nothing I have ever felt before in my life. I thought that being wrapped up in Jackson was the best feeling in the world, but nothing could prepare me for the way it feels to completely let go for him, to give him this piece of me that I know he craves, this control.

  Once Jackson asks what my Safe word is, I feel silly for my explanation; but it is exactly how I feel. What would my life be like without ever having met Sammy? I wouldn’t be the woman I am today and I wouldn’t have Jackson. So, even though my road was a bit bumpy, I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.

  Bound and waiting for Jackson - this is where I belong. Now and forever.

  Jackson takes a step forward and crawls onto the bed. His lips touch my ankle, slowly making their way up to the apex of my thighs before he stops. He starts all over again with my other ankle, stopping short of where I really want his mouth.

  “You are always so beautiful, Marguerite, but bound - you are fucking perfect.”

  I moan at his words, feeling like the most beautiful girl in the world as his eyes focus on my center. I can feel his warm breath with each exhale and it makes my belly clench with anticipation. Jackson finally rewards me with his tongue, sweeping one long lick up my entire slit, toward my throbbing clit. I try to move my hips to get closer to him, but I can’t. I’m pinned to the spot and Jackson chuckles. I want to scream at him, but I don’t. I settle and not-so-patiently wait for him.

  “What a good girl I have,” he whispers, wrapping his lips around my clit and softly sucking on the bundle of nerves.

  “Jackson,” I whimper.

  I am only so strong and with his hands wrapped behind my knees, his lips on my clit, and him sucking me, I am officially weak.

  “Do you want to come on my mouth or on my cock? I’ll let you choose, since you’re at my mercy.”

  The wicked gleam in his eyes tells me that no matter which I chose, he is going to take his time, prolonging my release until he sees fit. He is in complete control; and while I have always known that, this time it is beyond obvious.

  “However you want to make me come, Jackson. That’s how I want it,” I say turning the tables. It is a bit of a bratty move, but I feel like my body is going to explode at any minute. I need him to give me a release.

  I need to come.

  Without a word, Jackson surges deep inside of me, his body hovering over mine, careful not to touch me with any part of his body other than his cock. His dark eyes are intently focused on mine as he roots himself completely. Although I had him just hours ago, his presence seems fresh and fulfilling, stretching me with an ache I know will not just disappear.

  “I love you, Maggie.” I close my eyes at the sound of the nickname, hating the way he’s
taken to using it lately. I try to move away, but his hand wraps around the hair at the base of my neck, tugging my head back and forcing my focus onto his face.

  “You are my Marguerite, don’t you ever forget that. I know I won’t. But you’re also Maggie. Maggie is shared with the world, she is sweet and soft. She’s so fucking sweet that she makes my teeth ache. In here, in whatever bed we share, you’re either my Marguerite or my Maggie - both of them are interchangeable. They are soft and sweet but so fucking strong and resilient. They can take whatever punishment or pleasure I decide to dish out. They are survivors of past hurts and they forgive with a pure heart.”

  Tears pour from my eyes and onto the bedding at his words. His beautiful, gorgeous, words.

  This man owns me; mind, body, and soul.

  I am his.

  Jackson doesn’t let me think about his lovely speech for too long. Just as quickly as he says the words, the moment has passed. He almost completely pulls out of me before thrusting deep inside of me again. My back arches and his hand tightens in my hair. I cry out with surprise and pleasure as he repeats the motions, the slow exit of my body and the hard thrust of his return.

  Jackson’s lips kiss softly up and then down the column of my neck, his tongue slowly swirling around on my skin between his mouth’s sweet caresses. The soft sensation of his lips and tongue combined with the rough sensations of his thrusts sends my body into overdrive. It is too much, too much pleasure, and my body is so close to release. I can’t find it, not with my hands pinned and my legs spread wide with zero control of my hips.

  “I need…” I cry out, my mind unable to find the words to finish my sentence. My voice is caught in my throat and my body is humming with pure need. I am shaking - my thighs, my arms, everything quakes beneath him.

  “I know, baby - I know what my good girl needs.” Somehow his voice cuts through the blood pumping in my ears. I immediately feel my body calm a bit when his hand slides between us, his body arching up and away from me slightly, his hand in my hair remaining firm, tight.

  Jackson’s thumb begins to roughly rub circles against my clit and I scream as a rush of release hits me in a roar. I try to relish the feeling of my climax, but Jackson doesn’t let me. His thumb doesn’t stop; his body keeps thrusting in and out of me as his hand in my hair pulls, causing my neck to arch back even further, arching my back to a point I didn’t think physically possible. Then his lips are wrapped around my nipple and he sucks hard before biting me. A second orgasm crashes through me or maybe it is a continuation of the first - I’m not sure. I cry out again, my voice hoarse and my body vibrating under Jackson’s.

  “Fuck,” Jackson rips his mouth from my breast and wildly pumps in and out of my body before he stills and fills me with his own release. His body is like granite above me, his eyes focused on mine, and then he melts over me.

  “So fucking perfect, my good girl,” he murmurs, kissing my neck and the tops of my breasts. I make a whining sound when he slides from my sweat soaked body and he chuckles.

  “I need to untie you, babe.” He is still whispering and I love it.

  Jackson slowly unbinds my arms from my legs and rubs my wrists and hands, intently focused on his mission to help me regain feeling in my limbs, again.

  “Does it hurt?”

  I twist my wrist around while he moves onto my other hand and leg, noticing that it is sore. It doesn’t hurt at all, though, and the pros vastly outweigh the cons of what we just did.

  “No. A little tender and sore, but no, they don’t hurt.” I admit truthfully.

  Jackson nods as he massages my other wrist. Then, before I know what’s happening, he wraps his body around mine, his long legs tangling between mine and his face pressed in my neck.

  I run my hands up and down his back, my nails lightly scratching his warm skin, relishing in the heavyweight of his body pressed against mine. We aren’t perfect. Some would say our relationship is a bit on the fucked up side. But in this bed, in this moment, I want for absolutely nothing.

  I have everything I ever needed and everything I have ever wanted in this man. I have a man who tells me with words and with actions and affection that he loves me. He shows himself to me, every side. The good, the bad and the ugly is presented and it’s the most perfect feeling in the world. We fall back asleep, still wrapped in each other. It is one of the most beautiful moments of my life.

  THE HOUSE IS SMALL, REALLY small. I never pictured Jackson’s parents living in a mansion, but a tiny house in the middle of what looks like a questionable neighborhood is not at all what I had envisioned. It has been three weeks since the Series and Jackson, as he promised, decided to bring me home to meet his parents.

  Elliot’s arraignment has happened and, like Detective Brody predicted, he is being held without bail as evidence is gathered against him for his trial, which will soon follow. I just want the whole thing to go away. Detective Brody ensures me that there will be no way in hell he’s ever leaving a cell. Apparently, one of the women he kidnapped a few weeks ago is the daughter of a congressman. Brody says that Elliot is good and fucked.

  Jackson and I have been inseparable, either at my place or his. Not only have we been screwing like rabbits, but we’ve been talking and getting to know more about each other. Neither one of us are holding anything back, all of the walls are finally down and it is wonderful.

  Jackson has enlightened me a little on his relationship with his family, which is almost non-existent. His father is an authoritative man who consistently walks all over his mother and keeps her under his thumb. He did this to Adam and Jackson when they were children, too; never hesitating to show any of them what happened when they got out of line or did something he didn’t approve of. Apparently, he was fond of using his belt or his hand.

  Jackson admitted to me that his father never did anything more than slap his mother, but even that was too much for him to agree with. After years and years of butting heads, he finally had to distance himself from the both of them.

  Adam rebelled early. His father cut off communication with him before he was even eighteen years old, which explains more of why Adam is the way he is. Jackson had his baseball to fall back on when things at home were too much. When he was older, he immersed himself in it and made a name for himself. Adam turned to drugs and gambling, never quite getting out from under their control.

  To say I’m nervous about meeting Jackson’s parents is an understatement. I sigh in relief, knowing that we will be staying at a hotel instead of in their home. I think Jackson needs the space from them. He told me that he always stays in a hotel that isn’t too far from their home.

  “Jackson,” somebody cries out and I look up to see a beautiful older woman rushing toward us.

  She has her dark hair pulled into a low bun at the back of her head and she’s wearing a flattering but boxy shift dress and flat sandals. Her height surprises me. I thought she would be taller. She is around my height and obviously still pretty shapely in her age, although the dress hides her well.

  “Mom,” Jackson murmurs, wrapping her in a hug and slightly lifting her off of the ground.

  “Jack,” she laughs as he sets her down. He leads her over to me with his arm slung around her waist. It is a beautiful yet sad sight to see, because I know that this is a rare moment for them.

  “This is my Marguerite,” he says softly.

  I like that Jackson chose to introduce me with my full name and I wink at him as I hold my hand out to shake hers.

  “You can call me Maggie, Mrs. Lexington.” she takes my hand in hers and wraps her other hand around me in a hug.

  “None of this Mrs. Lexington business. You call me Dorothy. Oh my, what a beautiful girl you are. Not that I expected anything different; my Jackson has lovely taste,” she says with a smile. I giggle at her words and Jackson throws back his head in laughter as he steers us toward the house.

  The house may be older and smaller, but inside I can tell it is full of warmth. It is a p
lace that was once filled with love. There are pictures of Jackson and Adam lining the walls that prove that love.

  In a few of the images, they are smiling with gapped teeth or dressed in Halloween costumes; and there are many sports photos. My eyes land on a particular picture of Jackson at around the age of ten or eleven. He’s standing with cropped baseball pants and a red shirt, socks, belt and hat. His uniform is dirty, as is his face, but he’s got a huge grin on his lips. He looks so implicitly happy that I can’t help but trace the glass where his cheeks are full with little boy baby fat.

  “He loves the sport. Since he could walk, he’s been carrying around a ball and glove.” The voice next to me is startling, making me jump. I look over and into the dark eyes of and older version of Jackson.

  “He was so handsome, even as a boy,” I admit. Jackson’s father scrutinizes me, his eyes trailing the length of my body. His gaze isn’t lustful, but curious, as if he’s trying to figure me out.

  “You aren’t the usual type of woman that hitches her star to a man like my boy.” He’s gruff and his words come out more as a grunt then actual dialog.

  “I suppose not. Some of the wives and girlfriends are full of plastic body parts, but I’m just me,” I say with a shrug. He smiles.

  “I know who you are. Is this your way of staying with a pro-ball player?” He asks, not a single bit of shame in his voice. I bristle at his assumption. Part of me wants to laugh, but the other part wants to slap him.

  “Dad,” Jackson growls, but I don’t let him say more. He can’t fight all of my battles for me. Since the sex tape came out, the idea that a cleat-chaser has been shoved in my face more than once.

  “No, Jackson, it’s okay. Mr. Lexington, I married Sammy when I was a kid. I didn’t know who he was or who he would become. The life I had with him was financially comfortable, but it wasn’t anything glamorous. I met and dated Jackson before I knew who he was as well. I fell for him before I discovered his occupation.