29. Maggie
29
Maggie
I was released from the hospital a few days later.
Jane remained in Boston with her boyfriend, William, until just after I was released, when he finally convinced her to return back home. After seeing the two of them together, and how much he cares for her, I know she’s going to be ok.
There’s a part of me that still worries, what will happen now that she no longer needs me. But when I finally gave voice to my concerns, she looked at me like I had three heads, and assured me that no matter what she will always need me. I guess only time will tell.
Archer, staying true to his word, never left my side. It didn’t matter how hard I tried to convince him otherwise—he still wouldn’t go, a fact I think that drove most of the nurses and doctors crazy as he became increasingly more grumpy with each passing day.
Once we released, we spent the next few weeks in Boston, staying with Beckham in his penthouse apartment. I remember Archer telling me how he had his own tech company, but he failed to mention he was a freaking billionaire—not that you would know it. Becks, as Archer calls him, is as down to Earth as they come.
The first week, I spent mostly in bed, much to my displeasure. After the first few days, I was itching to get up and move—not used to all this laying around—but Archer wasn’t having any of it. I tried to remind myself that he was also processing his own trauma, but his overprotective behavior while sweet, was almost smothering.
We managed to compromise eventually and agreed to take a few days before going home to get out and see some of the sites. Archer showed me around the neighborhood he grew up in and took me to a few of his favorite spots. We even managed to squeeze in some touristy stuff, like visiting the Boston Tea Party Museum and eating some of the best chowder I’ve ever had down by the harbor.
Since I had never traveled outside of Georgia before, Archer wanted to make sure I had some good memories to take back with me and not just…well, you know.
The night before we left, we had dinner at his mother’s house. Apparently, she showed up while I was in the hospital, and they were able to reconcile after years of not speaking. I still don’t know the full extent of what all happened, but I can already tell that it has helped to heal a wound inside him. He seems lighter somehow, as if a weight has been lifted.
Now, we’re back home, at Archer’s house by the beach. It’s strange to think about how much has happened since we were last here, how much things have changed.
We’re currently sitting in the shade of the live oak in the backyard, my back against the tree, a book in my hand, and Archer’s head in my lap. My fingers absently stroke the hair at the nape of his neck as I read while Archer watches me. Apparently, it’s his new favorite thing to do. He claims he can always tell when I get to a particularly juicy part because he says my eyes glaze over and my neck turns all red and splotchy.
He has been so unbelievably sweet and careful with me over these past few weeks, and while I am incredibly grateful, I am also about to come out of my skin. Other than a few kisses here and there, Archer hasn’t touched me intimately since that first night we were together before everything went to shit. It’s as if he is afraid to hurt me, but that’s about to change if I have anything to say about it.
I had my last follow-up appointment today. My recovery has gone amazingly well, and I have been cleared to return to all normal activities.
The sun begins to sink behind the trees, taking my reading light with it. Archer stands, holding out his hand to help me up before pulling me in and kissing me softly. I wrap my arms around his waist, going up on my toes to deepen the kiss.
My hands slip under his worn cotton t-shirt, gliding over his taut abs, drifting lower until I reach the button of his jeans .
He stills my hand when I try to unbutton them, and I draw back on a sigh, my arms falling loosely at my sides. I wish he would stop treating me like I’m breakable.
He bends down to retrieve my book, taking my hand before leading me into the house.
After dinner, I go upstairs, leaving Archer to do the dishes alone. I offered to help—like I always do—but just like every other time, he refused. I normally would put up a fuss, but tonight, I don’t argue. That gives me enough time to put my plan in motion.
I pile my hair in a messy bun on top of my head before jumping in the shower, scrubbing and shaving as fast as I can. Stepping out onto the heated tile floors, I towel dry, letting my hair down so it falls in loose waves down my back.
I turn to face the mirror, taking in my naked body fully for the first time since the shooting. My eyes travel down to my belly at the raised red scar just below my left rib. My fingers trail over it lightly, feeling the rough and bumpy texture.
Although it’s not exactly ugly, it’s large enough that it causes my insecurities to gnaw at me, making me want to back out. I’m afraid of what I will do if I see disgust or pity in Archer’s eyes, or worse—rejection.
Before I can reach for my towel again, I hear Archer come into the bedroom.
No backing out now. I take a deep breath before opening the bathroom door, leaving the towel where it lies.
At first, he has his back to me as he begins to undress for bed, but he stops mid-sentence when he turns to find me there naked in the doorway. I watch as his eyes darken, the black overtaking the grey as they roam greedily over my body.
That gives me the confidence I need to continue with my plan. I saunter my way over to where he stands, swaying my hips as I go.
He’s already removed his shirt, and I use this to my advantage, running my hands up his muscular biceps and over his shoulders before raking my short nails down his tattooed chest to the waistband of his jeans.
This time, when my fingers start to undo the button, he doesn’t stop me.
“What are you up to Little Rose?” he asks, in that deep, gravelly voice that has my nipples tightening, and sending a wave of arousal directly between my legs. I lift one shoulder, playing coy as I continue my act of seduction, slowly dragging his zipper down.
His nostrils flare, and he hisses through his teeth as I rub my hand down the front of his jeans, stroking over his hard cock. He doesn’t touch me, though; he just continues to stand there, his hands curled into tight fists at his side.
Now that won’t do. I start to slip my fingers inside his briefs.
“Maggie—stop. We can’t,” he says, sounding pained, and I immediately withdraw my touch. My arms come up to hug my chest, my cheeks scalding from the sting of his rejection—again.
“Why not? Do you not want me anymore?” I hate how small my voice sounds. “Is it the scar?” I ask on a whisper, unable to meet his eyes.
I can feel the heat emanating from his body as he steps into me, taking my arms in his strong hands and moving them to uncover my body before dropping to his knees. I look down at him questioningly, taken aback by the depth of emotion on his face.
“Is that what you think? That I wouldn’t want you anymore because of this?” he says, lips brushing lightly as he rains tiny kisses down across my hypersensitive flesh. “You are beautiful to me— always. Nothing could ever change that. This scar means that you’re alive. That you get to spend another day on this Earth. It’s a testament to what you were willing to sacrifice for me. It is a gift I do not deserve but will spend every day for the rest of my life trying to be worthy of.”
The tears that sprang to my eyes begin to spill over, and he wipes them away with his thumbs. “I love you, Maggie. Every perfect inch of you. Don’t ever hide yourself from me.”
“I love you too,” I respond, combing my fingers through his dark blonde hair, wondering just how I got so lucky. “Then why won’t you touch me?”
“I don’t want to rush you,” he answers, looking away. “I’m afraid I might hurt you.”
“Please—touch me,” I say, placing his hands on my breasts. “You heard the doctor today. He said it was fine. I am all cleared. I promise I’m not going to break, Archer. It’s been weeks. I need to feel you. Please… I’m begging you. ”
He palms my breasts, caressing me lightly before using his fingers to pinch and roll my nipples between them. My head falls back in ecstasy at his touch, my pussy clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled by him.
“Remember what I said about begging. You never need to beg with me. I promise, I will give you what you need.” I let out a loud moan, as the warmth of his mouth circles my nipple, sucking and nibbling with his teeth.
He pulls off with a pop, grinning up at me as his rough palms skim down my sides. They wrap around my backside, giving me a firm squeeze before lightly smacking my ass cheek.
“Lift up for me,” he instructs, gripping me under my right thigh and hoisting it up over one of his broad shoulders. I go up onto my toes, trying to keep my balance as I stand only on one foot.
Using his thumbs, he opens me up to him before bringing his mouth to my pussy, his tongue flicking over my clit. I cry out, hands latching on to the back of head, fingers tangling in his hair. It feels so good, almost too good. The feeling is so intense, I can’t decide if I want to keep him there forever or push him away.
“My God, how I’ve missed your taste.” His thumb strokes my clit, and it’s almost embarrassing how close I am already. “I want you to come for me. First, I want to taste you as you come on my tongue. Then, I’m gonna fuck you until you come all over my cock.”
“Yes…please. I’m so close. I, ah—” I moan as he brings his mouth to me once again, feasting on me like I’m his last meal .
I scream as my orgasm barrels through me. Archer tightens his grip as my leg tries to buckle, and he works to bring me down from that high.
He grabs me, lifting me with him as he stands. My legs wrap around his waist as I kiss him, loving the taste of me on his tongue. He carries me over to the bed, laying me out over the silk sheets before he steps back to remove his pants and briefs.
He opens the nightstand to pull out a condom, and I sit up stopping him before he opens it. “Can we not…use a condom?” His eyes widen briefly. “I mean, if you don’t want to, it’s fine, but I’m on the shot, and I haven’t been with anyone since my last check. I just—I want to feel you with nothing between us,” I tell him and watch as his eyes darken, before taking on a predatory gleam.
“I would love nothing more than to feel you without a barrier between us, to fill you up with my cum as your greedy cunt milks my cock,” he says as he pushes me back down on the bed, prowling over me.
“You’re sure?” he asks, as he lines himself up with my entrance.
“Yes, positive,” I say with a nod.
He pushes in, entering me in one long stroke, gliding in and out with a slow, steady rhythm, supporting himself on his forearms, careful not to put any of his body weight on me.
Sweat beads on his forehead as he continues to make love to me, and even though it feels amazing, it’s just not enough. I can tell that he’s still holding back. I love how tender he can be, how much he cares for me, but right now, he is treating me like I’m some delicate flower, and that is not what I want or need.
I need him to let go. I don’t want him to see me as weak or fragile. I need him to lose some of that strict control and show me how much he truly wants me.
“I’m not made of glass, Archer. I won’t break,” I tell him teasingly.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t. I trust you.” Cupping his face in my hands, I press a kiss to his lips before whispering in his ear. “Now, stop holding back and fuck me like you mean it.”
His eyes take on a feral expression, mouth curving into a sinister smile.
“Careful what you wish for, Little Rose,” he says before pulling out of me abruptly.
He flips me onto my belly, lifting my hips, before slamming back into me from behind. He continues at a brutal pace, thrusting in and out all while stimulating a spot deep inside me that has my eyes rolling back in my head.
It’s not long before I feel that pressure starting to build again. He reaches around and takes my clit between his fingers, and I come on a scream. A few more pumps, and he follows me over the edge, holding himself deep as he spills inside me.
I must blackout for a moment, because the next thing I feel is a warm, wet washcloth between my legs. I look over my shoulder to see Archer kneeling behind me on the bed as he cleans me up.
Once done, he comes to lay beside me. I turn my head to face him, expecting to see the same look of bliss on his face that I know is on mine. Instead, he wears a frown, his brows bunched together as he looks down at my body.
My heart sinks for a moment, trying to figure out what’s wrong, but then he speaks. “Did I hurt you?” he asks, running his hands across my hip.
Having no idea what he’s talking about, I follow his gaze to where he’s touching me and see the beginnings of bruises blossoming on my hips from where his fingers gripped me. I hadn’t even noticed he was holding me that tight. I stare at them in fascination, some dark and twisted part of me loving that I wear his marks on my body.
I turn over to hide them from him and bring my hand to his stubbled jaw. “You didn’t hurt me, Archer. I loved everything we did. I promise to tell you if you’re too rough or if you do something I don’t like. Okay?”
He nods, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close. We lay like that in each other's arms, spent and exhausted, and in that moment, I feel such utter contentment. I don’t know what the future may hold for us or what happens next, but I’m glad to know that I will have him by side as we figure it out together.