22. Maggie

CHAPTER 22

MAGGIE

Sneaking around is not as fun or as easy as I thought it might be.

It’s only been a week since we agreed to a secret situationship, and I just don’t know how Viv does it. Maybe the fact that her arrangement with Jake is out in the open makes things easier? I’ll have to text her later and ask. Since she’s on the cheer squad, football season keeps her pretty busy. They’re at an away game in North Carolina this weekend, or else I’d have dragged her along to this fundraiser as my date.

Because I really wish Viv were here to distract me now…

The hockey program has thrived under Uncle Hudson’s coaching, which translates to donors, I guess. The events center on campus is decked out in Bainbridge burgundy and silver and guys with tuxes on are circulating throughout the room with champagne. There are multiple food tables and lots of little seating arrangements. It’s the perfect setting to rub shoulders and mingle if that’s what you’re into.

I am decidedly not, but I had to come and support my uncle. Plus, I love an excuse to get dressed up, especially in clothes that are mine. Nothing on my body came from Viv’s closet, but I have to admit that this little red dress is a smidge tighter than when I wore to a winter formal last December. My boobs aren’t necessarily spilling out the top like they did in Viv’s dress, but the cleavage is strong in this one, let’s just put it that way. My strappy gold heels give me an extra three inches, but that’s hardly enough to see over the heads in this crowd. I knew hockey was popular, and I knew the team had a great season last year, but wow. There are tons of people here tonight, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t spot JT the minute I walked in.

His navy suit looks like it was poured onto him, the way it fits every hard plane and muscle. He shaved this morning—I know this because I watched him do it in Viv’s bathroom—but that familiar layer of stubble lines his cheeks and jaw.

I know I’m the one who insisted on secrecy, but I can’t seem to stop staring at him. While we were showering at Viv’s this morning (there are perks to having a best friend with a busy travel schedule), JT brought up the idea of coming clean with my uncle. I hate that he has to lie, especially to his coach, but I’m not sure he understands the level of intensity my uncle can reach.

Uncle Hudson loves me; I know that. But he’s convinced that I will grow up to repeat my mother’s mistakes. Gam had the same paranoia, and Pop always explained that it was her way of coping with my mom’s addictions, and eventually, her death. He was right but knowing that never made my life easier back then, and it’s no comfort now. I’ve never had a sibling, but I watched my mom’s destructive behaviors tear her family apart. My uncle became a different person after she died, or maybe just an undiluted version of himself. He truly believes that because I inherited her blue eyes, short stature, and blonde hair I’ll end up inheriting her addictive personality, too. I swear the man thinks I’m one bad decision away from rehab, though I’ve never given him any real reason to think that.

He’s his mother’s son, that’s for sure. He’s been nothing but kind since I arrived back in August, and I know he’s happy I’m staying with him and Jules this year. There’s always a distance, though. It’s like he’s afraid to get too attached to me because he’s certain I’ll spiral downward and when I do, he’ll have to grieve all over again.

Can you tell I’ve been to therapy?

My therapists over the years have had a lot of suggestions on how to navigate my relationships with Gam and Uncle Hudson, but I like my solution best. I’m a live and let live kind of person. It’s part of why I chose to go to college on the literal other side of the country. My uncle had virtually no control over my life when I was three thousand miles away. And he won’t have any control over it next year when I’m living on my own in whatever city I choose. But for now, I need to play by his rules. And that means making sure that Uncle Hudson doesn’t find out that JT and I know each other.

Self-preservation isn’t my only motivation, either. Finding out that JT and I are anything more than students at the same school would end in disaster for him, too.

That’s why I’m keeping my distance tonight. In a perfect world, I’d be on JT’s arm, circulating the room, getting to know his friends and teammates. I’d be sharing smiles and knowing looks. I’d be laughing at Ollie’s antics, even though I know he drives JT crazy, and I’d be listening to Mickey go on and on about whatever his most recent hyper fixation is. I don’t really know the guys, but I’ve heard JT talk about all of them for so long that they feel like old friends.

My watch vibrates on my wrist, and though I know it’s not JT, my heart gives a traitorous little flutter. In true Hudson Baylor fashion, my uncle forbade the guys from bringing their phones tonight. I swear he’s a cranky old man in a thirty-five-year-old guy’s body. He gives off serious get-off-my-lawn vibes. But I do get his point about the phones. The point of tonight is for the team to make nice with the donors in the hope that the money keeps rolling in and improvements to the team’s facility can be made. The guys are here to charm middle-aged ladies and make their male counterparts feel young again, not to huddle together like kids at a middle school dance or scroll through their phones like the Gen Z-ers they are.

Viv’s text comes through, and I laugh. She might be six hours away, but she’s still making my night.

Viv : You are one hot bitch.

Viv : Those tits tho

Viv : Seriously, if Captain Mysterio doesn’t bang you in the bathroom, I’ll come up there and do it myself.

Maggie : No one will bang anyone in a bathroom.

Viv : Be so fucking for real. Bathtubs are your thing, aren’t they?

Viv : Are you seriously telling me you haven’t snuck off to fuck off?

Viv : I raised you better than that.

Maggie : Um, you did not raise me…Gam and Pop did.

Viv : I helped.

Maggie : Fair

Maggie : And no, we haven’t even talked. Have you forgotten the whole we’re-not-supposed-to-know-each-other-because-he-plays-for-my-uncle thing?

Viv : No. I have a really good memory.

Viv : I’m not saying you should stand around and shoot the shit with the guy or drape yourself over his arm all night. But a mid-party romp should totally be on the menu.

Speaking of menus, my stomach growls. The two of us have been fighting lately, my stomach and I. Some days, she’s insatiable and everything sounds delicious. Other days, even toast is nausea-inducing. I should probably get some bloodwork done or something. Gam was gluten-intolerant and lactose intolerant and generally intolerant, so I’m guessing I inherited the first two. But that’s a worry for another day. Right now, I’m on a mission to find the nearest food table .

A few minutes later, I’m across the room. It turns out the closest one was not the best one. But this one has a veritable cheese mountain, so I may just hang out here for the rest of the night.

I’m reaching for a plate when I feel someone brush up against my back. I step aside to be polite, but it does no good. The next bump is as gentle as the first, but still. Before I can turn to see who’s invading my space, I catch a whiff of JT’s cologne and hear his low voice rumble in my ear.

“I want an orgasm, Maggie.”

I watch him as he straightens, adjusts his tie, and scans the buffet table like the stuffed artichoke hearts are the most interesting thing he’s ever seen and like he didn’t just send a wave of lust through my body with his whispered comment.

Damn him. He knows our arrangement is temporary. And secret. He knows my uncle can’t find out. And yet, here we are at a fundraiser my uncle is co-hosting and JT wants to flirt?

This man has been nothing but trouble since the night we met.

He wants to play games?

Deal me in.

I slide right up next to him as he reaches for a plate. “You want an orgasm?” I whisper, keeping my eyes on the selection of foodwhile I lean in close enough that my left boob grazes against his right forearm. He stills and tenses for just a second and I don’t feel any guilt about the satisfaction that gives me. It means I’m not the only one caught up in our chemistry.

JT turns his head to me, nodding once. “That’s right.”

“You have two hands,” I answer. “So go give yourself one.” With that parting remark, I turn and walk toward the hallway that leads to the balcony. I’d love some fresh air. I could use a drink. And I need to get away—and stay away— from JT.

Do I put a little extra sway in my ass as I saunter off? It’s possible.

My heels click on the tiled floor as I make my way through the crowd and toward the open double doors that lead outside. The heavens must be smiling down on me because just outside the ballroom there’s a server with a tray of champagne flutes, so I pluck one and smile my thanks as I step out into the cool night air.

I take a sip of champagne to clear my head, but it doesn’t work. That thing I said about the heavens smiling down on me? Ha. Scratch that. I must have pissed a deity off at some point because this balcony no longer offers solace from the man I can’t get off my mind.

Not only is his presence a constant loop in my brain, but he’s also standing right in front of me now, looking better in a tux than anyone has a right to. Do I want to toss this glass, jump into his arms like a koala, and head for the nearest storage closet? Yes. So much yes. But I’ll keep that to myself.

“Need something?” I ask, aiming for boredom.

His hazel eyes pierce mine. I might think I’m keeping my cards close to my chest, but I’m just fooling myself. My desire for JT Norris is a palpable thing and there’s no hiding it. I can pretend, though. I’m good at pretending.

“Like I said, Maggie, I need?—”

“Besides that,” I interrupt. Does he not realize that Uncle Hudson or his wife could walk out here at any time? Or one of his teammates could stumble upon us huddled close together like this. JT and I shouldn’t be talking. We don’t know each other. Or at least, we aren’t supposed to.

His hand covers mine as he lifts the glass from my grip and takes a sip. The gesture is intimate, but he’s unbothered as he leans in close and tips my chin up so I have no choice but to look at his handsome face.

“I should have been clearer,” he says. “It’s not my orgasm I want, Maggie. It’s yours. ”

A few seconds later, as I’m staring open-mouthed at JT’s retreating back, I feel the tell-tale vibration of an incoming text and glance down at my watch. Uncle Hudson forbade his players from bringing phones tonight, but I’m still not surprised when I see the message.

JT: Walk back into the ballroom and exit through the last door on the left. Follow it down a hallway. When that dead ends, take a right. Count four doors down on the left. I’ll be waiting for my orgasm. And fuck, it’s gonna be good. You’re already soaked, don’t bother denying it. And when I get my hands on you, you’ll fucking beg for release. And I’ll give it to you.

JT : When I’m good and fucking ready.

My feet carry me through the ballroom. I don’t look around for my uncle or check to see if any hockey players have spotted me. I’m not my usual careful self and that should worry me, but my mind has no room for caution right now.

JT’s text is like a spell that’s resistant to good sense. It has me striding down hallways and sneaking into strange places.

Worse, I like it.

I like what he does to me. Not just physically and sexually, though no one has ever made my body react the way JT does. I like laughing with him. Reading his messages. Gah. Even standing next to him is its own kind of aphrodisiac.

None of this is a good idea. No matter how good he makes me feel, there’s no way this ends well.

I count doors and find the one he directed me to and that’s when I have a moment of clarity. All I need to do is walk away.

We don’t need to give into temptation. We don’t have to satisfy the magnetic pull that draws us toward each other.

I can text him and say we’re done. It’s over. Save us both some heartache. Let JT finish his season and keep his stellar reputation intact. I can resume my life and finish the school year as planned before picking a spot on the map to start over.

There’s nothing tying me here in Maryland. I love my uncle and I even like Jules, but we’re not close-- not the way families are supposed to be. JT has a future in hockey. My uncle has his obsession with it. His wife has a career that’s just taking off.

I can carve my own path far away from the storm that will rage if I keep messing around with Uncle Hudson’s star player.

Secrets never stay hidden. That’s a lesson I learned the hard way.

JT and I are playing a game we can’t win.

It’s time for me to do the smart thing and walk away.

Instead, I turn the knob and step inside.

And I don’t regret it.

JT’s got his shirt off and his pants unzipped. He’s sprawled out on a chair with his feet propped up on an end table. This weird little room he’s found is full of random furniture, most of it mismatched. I’m curious about how he found it, how he got in here, and how he got a phone past my uncle.

But all that curiosity fades away when he looks at me.

Trailing a hand down his abs, he reaches into his boxers and fists his cock. I may or may not moan in response.

“That. Fucking. Dress,” he says, his eyes raking over my body.

“You like it?” I tease, doing a little sashay on my way over to him.

He rests his free hand on my waist before running it over my hips. “I love it,” he rasps. “And I hate it. You look so damn good, Maggie. I want to devour you. Swallow you up. Taste every inch of you before sinking my cock back inside this sweet, hungry pussy.”

His words burn me up as my dress practically melts off my body from his heated gaze alone. I’m tugging at the zipper when his hand covers mine and finishes the job. Slipping my arms out of the straps, I shimmy enough to push it past my hips and let it fall to the floor. I’m standing before JT in a lacy red thong and a strapless bra and it’s very possible he’s about to make good on his earlier promise and devour me whole.

His right hand roams my body while he strokes himself with his left, and a random thought occurs to me. “Are you ambidextrous?” I ask. His response is a low chuckle.

“I’m fucking incompetent if you’re asking about ambidexterity right now.”

“I’m serious,” I say. “It’s really rare, you know. Some studies estimate that fewer than one percent of the—” I lose my words as JT leans forward just enough to nip at my skin. His teeth graze the sensitive flesh right above the lacy edge of my thong. He licks and bites his way across my lower belly before moving down to the apex of my thighs. I swear my legs spread of their own volition, eager for his kisses.

“What was that?” he asks, looking up at me with innocent eyes. “Ten percent, you said?”

“One percent,” I correct. “And some of those are natural lefties who’ve—oh. Oh, god, do that again."

“Misquote you?”

“Drag your fingers across my— fuck .”

“Mmm,” he agrees. “I like it when I drag my fingers across your fuck , too.”

He scoots forward and I’m sure he’s going to put his mouth on me. It seems to be his favorite thing to do, or maybe his second favorite. Instead, he stands up next to me and spins us so I’m facing the wall with my back to his front. His big body is covering mine as he keeps slowly stroking my lace-covered pussy.

I’m hungry and needy and getting wetter by the second .

“You sure as fuck are,” he tells me as I realize I must’ve said that part aloud.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” I ask. “If you really are ambidextrous, you could?—”

He cuts off my words, his actions taking over as he pulls me impossibly closer, his hard cock pressing against my ass as one hand pins my wrists against the wall and the other pushes the lace barrier aside and traces the seam of my sex.

“You good, Maggie?” he asks, his voice rough.

“Better than I’ve ever been,” I answer honestly.

“Good,” he replies, and though I can’t see his face from this position, I can almost hear him smile. “Because there’s a question I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Oh, yeah,” I pant, grinding back against him. “What’s that?”

His body cocooned around mine, he presses his lips close to my ear. “You ever get that vibrator fixed?”

His words send a rush of heat through my body, all of it headed straight to my core.

“No,” I say, “I don’t really think repair shops are a thing anymore. And if they are, I’m not sure they service, um…personal care devices.”

“So, you own a broken vibrator?” he asks.

“Of course not. I reported it as damaged, and they gave me store credit.”

“ Fuck ,” he curses, and I smile to myself because I’m pretty sure that’s his favorite word.

“Did you cash it in yet, Maggie? Get something new?” His questions take a second to register because he’s simultaneously stroking and teasing me.

“Not yet,” I reply. Have I fantasized about naughty online shopping with JT? Of course, I have. It’ll never happen, but a girl can dream.

He’s trailing kisses along the back of my neck, his lips lingering at the spot where it meets my shoulder. The man has a shoulder fetish, I swear, but I’m not complaining.

“What kind do you think you’ll get?” he asks, and just when I’m debating the merits of telling him to adopt a less talk, more action policy, he pushes two fingers deep inside me, stretching me, and making my body crave more. His fingers move in and out in a steady rhythm before stopping abruptly. “You know they have all kinds of toys, Maggie. I looked some up, just because I knew yours wasn’t able to get the job done. They have ones that pulse,” he tells me, mimicking the motion. “Ones that glide over your clit, ones that go deep in your pussy, ones that tap…right…here.”

He acts out each motion again and again until I’m writhing against him with need. My body is pliant under his, and so responsive to his words and touches. Before I can stop myself, I’m hurtling toward orgasm, my thighs clenching and my legs shaking. He releases my hands from the wall and wraps his now-free hand around my middle to steady me.

“Fuck, yeah, Maggie, ride it out. Take every last bit of pleasure you… fuck …can.” His words are low and choppy, lacking the steadiness I’ve come to associate with JT Norris. It thrills me that I make him almost as crazy as he makes me. As I come down from the ecstasy of my orgasm, I turn toward him and drop to my knees, ready to ensure that when we walk out of here, he’s had just as much fun as I have.

“Holy…what are you...oh, hell…” As the mumbled words pour from his mouth, I tease the swollen head of his cock with my tongue. Wrapping my hand around the base, I make an upward motion, jacking him into my mouth. Blowjobs are messy business, but he tastes so good that I can’t help but try to swallow him down. Fuck. As I gag on his cock, he steadies me, gripping my shoulders. I inhale through my nose and work my lips across his tip.

That must be what pushes him right over the edge. “Maggie,” he grinds out, my name a warning .

As much as I want to hollow my cheeks and take him deep, I have an even better idea in mind. Leaning back, I release his cock and cup my breasts. The motion pushes them together, and the look of desire on his face tells me he’s just fine with this change of plans.

He’s grabbed a pillow from somewhere, so I lay my head back on it as he sprawls on top of me again. His corded muscles are so damn sexy as he guides his cock into the valley between my breasts. He’s pumping into me and god, it feels liberating. And the moans he’s making? They’re intoxicating.

“I’m gonna come, Maggie. I’m gonna?—”

My eyes flutter closed as his release hits my chest, my breasts, and then the base of my neck.

“Oh. My. God.” These are literally the only words my brain can conjure. What we just did is maybe the most erotic thing I’ve ever thought about, and now all I want to do is to keep exploring.

His face glistens with sweat as he leans down to kiss me. I’m not thinking about where we are, who else is here, or what could go wrong. In JT’s arms, I’m ready for anything.

The buzz of his phone bursts the bubble of my happiness. Reality intrudes as he sighs loudly. “The bus leaves in twenty,” he says, standing and tucking himself back into his boxers.

I shake my head, trying to clear it. There’s so much going on in my brain, but all I can think to say is, “How did you get a phone past my uncle?”

JT cleans me up with his undershirt before tossing it in a small trashcan by the door. He holds my dress out in front of me and offers his shoulder so I can steady myself and step in. He’s zipping me up when he answers. “I can’t tell you all my secrets, Maggie. Then the mystery would be gone, and you’d have no reason to stick around.”