My Always One Read online

  Sami's eyes widen. "We're even," she purrs, "because you've been hiding that monster cock from me."

  Monster.

  I grin at her description. "You always did like monster movies."

  "They make me scream."

  "Oh, I plan to make you scream."

  She giggles as I lift her against the wall.

  For the first time, I don’t reach for a condom. I justify my decision in a split second, knowing I’m clean and my best friend is on birth control.

  Sami's as light as a feather. Her toned legs wrap around my waist, and I line myself up with her entrance. "Once we do—"

  Sami reaches down, grabs ahold of my dick, and drops her body. In less than a second, we become one. Her sweet yelp echoes through my apartment, followed by my deep groan as her forehead drops to my shoulder.

  “Oh my God, I’m so full.”

  "Fuck, Sami."

  She's so wet I slide inside, stretching her as her heels dig into my ass, and she wiggles to accommodate my size. Once she's completely surrounding me, Sami lifts her head and our eyes meet. "Shut up, Marshal, and take me."

  I don't hold back.

  I can't.

  Being inside her skin to skin is like slipping on a satin glove—one that's two sizes too small. She’s so tight. I'm consumed with the need to move, to feel her, and to embrace the friction as her sexy body pounds into the wall and her heels dig into my backside.

  Like a wild animal I thrust, deeper and deeper, until I'm as far as I can go.

  Over and over I move.

  Perspiration covers my skin.

  It's as if I'm out of control, and I love every second of it. I don't want it to ever end. I never want to stop, but all too soon, I feel her body clench. With each quiver, she tightens more and more around me. Hell, the glove shrunk. It’s now three sizes—four sizes—too small.

  It's the best damn feeling in the world, and then all at once, she screams and her fingernails pierce my shoulders.

  There are words, but I can't make them out.

  Her entire body convulses as wave after wave of orgasm tears through her. She's my best friend and I'm ripping her to pieces and I can't stop. I ride the wave, never slowing for her orgasm, in and out, and then it happens.

  My grip on her ass tightens as I pull her closer.

  With a roar, I come undone.

  Sami

  * * *

  I awake in Marshal’s arms.

  That isn't a totally accurate statement.

  As I regain consciousness, I'm entangled in Marshal Michaels. His muscular arm is draped over my shoulder, and his leg is bent over mine. He is the cocoon, and I'm the butterfly encased safely inside.

  For a few minutes, I don't move.

  It feels too good, too perfect.

  Not only the warmth of his skin and the aroma of our sex-filled night, but everything. I'm in the arms of the one man who knows me better than anyone else in the world, and it's better than any fattening food, alcohol, or drug.

  Being with him is perfect in more ways than I want to admit.

  Lying in Marshal’s embrace, I have the realization that even with Jack, I held back.

  Not intentionally, not maliciously, but more out of self-preservation. I couldn't tell Jack everything. I never told him about my first time.

  I couldn’t tell him about Todd, who was not only fast but clumsy. I never mentioned my disastrous first attempt at sex. How it hurt or how it lasted about ten seconds. It isn't a part of me I wanted him to know, but it is different with Marshal. He already knows. He knew the day after it happened.

  Closing my eyes, I see him the way he looked ten years ago.

  It was the day after prom.

  While I probably should answer Todd's texts, I leave my phone at home and walk down to Marshal’s house. I don’t knock. That is the way we are in our neighborhood—one family. When Marshal’s mom, Monica, sees me, she smiles and asks if I enjoyed prom.

  Nodding, I embellish my answer. I could do that with her but not with Marshal.

  As soon as my friend appears at the bottom of the stairs and sees me, he reaches for my hand, tells his mom we are leaving, and tugs me outside.

  We don’t say a word as we get in his truck.

  He stares out the windshield as if he knows what I’m going to say. The sounds of the road amplify as we drive out of our neighborhood. I’m not sure where we are going, and I don’t care.

  I am with my best friend.

  Finally, we pass through the rusty old posts where the gate used to be, at the lake.

  With voices near the water, he takes my hand and we walk into the wooded area, our shoes crunching the underbrush. It isn’t until we make it to the edge of a recently planted cornfield that we stop. Marshal sits on the grass with his knees bent and his elbows resting on top before he plucks a long piece of grass from the ground and plops it in his mouth.

  His silence is wearing on me as much as my uneasiness at what I’d done.

  It is as if my skin is stretched and itchy, not allowing me to sit. Instead, I cross my arms over my breasts and use the toe of my shoe to dig into the soft ground.

  As the long grass dangles from his lips, such as a 1940s movie star’s cigarette, Marshal finally speaks. “You did it with Todd, didn't you?"

  I won't lie to Marshal. I never have. My answer is barely above a whisper. "I guess."

  His lean body stiffens and his bicep pulses. "I'm going to kick his ass."

  I stand straighter as my voice returns. "Why? It's not like you haven't done it with...well, everyone."

  "But I'm a guy. It's what guys do. I swear if he runs off his fucking mouth about you, it'll be the last damn thing he ever does."

  I scoff. "He won't. Plus, if he runs off his mouth, he's a lying piece of shit."

  I like Todd, but I also know how guys can be. I know how Marshal can be.

  My best friend’s gaze leaves the field as he stands and reaches for my arms. As he stares into my eyes, he asks, "Are you okay?"

  I shrug. "Yeah, I'm fine. Not much can happen in ten seconds."

  His expression of anger morphs into a smile growing bigger by the second. It's contagious and soon I'm smiling too.

  "Ha," he says. His eyes narrow. “Are you serious?”

  I nod. With the tension floating away in the spring breeze, I sit next to where Marshal had been sitting and look out at the baby corn.

  “Well, that’s good to know,” Marshal says, taking a seat beside me. “I guarantee that when I let him know that I know that little bit of information, it'll keep him from talking trash about you."

  "Little is right." Marshal’s smile encourages me to continue with my heart growing lighter by the second. "I mean, I don't have a lot to compare it to, but yeah, little is about right."

  I wasn’t even that honest with my girlfriends, but with Marshal it has always been easy.

  Even now.

  With Marshal, it isn't a matter of telling him about my past. I don't have to. He knows it all.

  As I lie in Marshal's arms, in his bed, and with his steady breathing in my ear, I force my thoughts to go to my ex-fiancé. I'm still upset about Jack.

  And hurt.

  And mad.

  And surprisingly calm.

  It’s as if a weight I didn’t realize I was carrying is gone.

  There’s no doubt that the thought of telling my parents the wedding is off fills me with dread; however, I’m also shocked to realize that having that complete thought, coming to terms with canceling the wedding, leaves me relieved.

  There is still shock and pain—I think that’s normal—but there’s also liberation.

  I'm not sure if this feeling of freedom will last, but while it’s within me, I decide to savor it, to lie in Marshal's cocoon and enjoy the liberty.

  Maybe I was rushing the whole marriage thing.

  Maybe I'm not ready for that.

  Those thoughts and more move in and out of my mind as I finally ease myself from
Marshal's bed.

  He's still sound asleep, his broad bare chest moving with his breaths.

  I hold back a giggle. He should be asleep for a week after last night.

  Holy shit!

  I never knew a guy could keep going on and on like that. And I never knew that I could come more than once, more than twice—shit, somewhere around five, I lost count.

  Over the years, I've listened to Marshal's stories of sexual expertise. It isn't that I thought he was lying. I just figured he'd embellished—exaggerated.

  Stifling a groan as I take a few steps and feeling the fantastic stiffness in my legs and tenderness in my core, I make a mental note never to doubt him again. And...I add sexual stamina to my list of things Marshal Michaels has never lied to me about.

  After cleaning myself and getting dressed, I check one more time on Marshal. He needs to get up for work, but it's still early, only a little after six. After what he did last night, he deserves to sleep until his alarm rings.

  Quietly, I grab my phone and purse and leave him be.

  For only a moment, I consider giving him a goodbye kiss, but I don't. After all, he's my best friend, not my lover nor my fiancé. I'll let him sleep.

  In the car, I finally turn on my phone.

  Fifteen voicemails and thirty-seven text messages. All but one from Jack.

  The other voicemail is from my mother.

  One message is what normal people leave.

  Fourteen voicemails and thirty-seven text messages isn’t normal.

  It’s pathetic.

  Without listening or reading, I hit the call button.

  Jack’s groggy voice answers. "Samantha, what the fuck?"

  "Really, Jack? I walk in on you and Ellen, and you're asking me what the fuck? You were with her, in our condo, in the bed we share. You were so busy that you didn't even notice I was there."

  "Samantha, listen, it's all a mistake. I love you."

  "Get out."

  "Excuse me?" he asks.

  "Get the hell out of the condo. I need to get ready for work, and I don't want to see you."

  "No, we need to talk. Where did you spend the night? I've been worried."

  Asshole.

  He wasn't worried about me when he was busy screwing that slut.

  My neck stiffens as I hold back the tears. The sadness and hurt I felt earlier are now replaced by anger, and I'm embracing it. "It's none of your business where I was. You forfeited the right to be worried. Get out of the condo. Don't make me call the police. If I do, I'll have you dragged out of there. Do you want your clients to see that on the morning news?"

  "Samantha, you're blowing this out of proportion. I don't give a shit about her. I love you. We're getting married."

  "That's where you're wrong. I left the ring for a reason. Take it with you. You have fifteen minutes. Whatever is left of your shit will be available on eBay in a day or two." I disconnect the call. As I do, I realize that my hands are shaking. It's not grief. The trembling is exhilarating, similar to the rush of adrenaline after running a race.

  I don't really plan to put his shit on eBay. Hell no, that would take too much work. The dumpster will be sufficient.

  Twenty minutes later, after getting a giant coffee in the drive-thru, I open the door to my condo. An overwhelming scent of flowers fills my lungs. Bringing my hand to my nose, I stand in disgust at the room filled with roses. All different colors. Red. Yellow. White. Lavender.

  They're everywhere.

  How did he do this, get so many flowers this early in the morning?

  And then the answer hits me. Jack saw the ring. He thought I’d be home last night.

  “Well, guess what, asshole, I didn’t come home.”

  My nose tickles and my eyes water.

  "He’s pathetic," I say to the empty condo before sneezing.

  I shake my head as I move from room to room. If he were there, I'd throw one of the bouquets in his disgusting face.

  He's not.

  However, there is a note on the bed.

  * * *

  Samantha,

  My love. I'm very sorry...

  * * *

  I don't continue to read or even bother to crumple the paper.

  Jack isn't worth the energy. Instead, I drop the piece of paper in a wastebasket, strip out of my clothes, and get ready for a shower. As I do, I recall Marshal helping me out of my panties last night.

  His hands, long fingers, and monster cock...

  The memories wobble my knees.

  I reach for the bedside stand to steady myself, but as I do, I brush my arm against another bouquet. "Ouch." Damn thorns. "Shit," I mutter.

  A thin trail of blood oozes down my arm. The small puncture makes me grin.

  If I needed any more proof that Jack is a prick, I now have it.

  Marshal

  * * *

  I can't believe she left without a word.

  When I woke, Sami was gone, and I never heard her leave.

  Normally, I'm fine with waking alone. It's much easier than the sure, I'll give you a call speech, but this is different. This is Sami.

  I have so many questions.

  How is she?

  Did she go back to that asshole?

  Has she told her parents?

  Are we still friends?

  The questions run circles through my mind, nearly making me dizzy as I shower and get ready for work.

  When I finally give her a call, it goes directly to voicemail. I imagine that she's turned off her phone or at least the ringer.

  Did she see him?

  The thought alone causes me to ball my hands into fists.

  Why does it bother me so much?

  Sami was engaged to the asshole.

  Why now does the idea of her spending even five minutes with him upset me?

  I know the answer.

  My rage has nothing to do with the fact that we slept together. It's because he upset her.

  By nearly noon, I can't take it anymore. Sami works less than ten minutes from my office, and I have to see with my own eyes that she’s all right.

  The advertising firm where she works has a front office with a receptionist, Marcy. She's a friend of Sami's and recognizes me as soon as I enter.

  "Marshal, are you here for Sami, too?"

  "Too?"

  "I have no idea what's happening, but she's had, roughly, fifty deliveries. I know it's not her birthday. But she's not spilling the beans." Marcy comes around the desk, steps closer, and flashes me a sexy grin. "Come on, you know everything about her. I bet you know what's happening."

  Marcy’s one of those people who loves to get the dirt on everyone. She's pretty good at keeping the secret, but she hates being out of the loop.

  I adopt my most innocent face and raise my hands. "Clueless. I just came to ask her out to lunch."

  "Do you think stuffy Jack won't like her having lunch with other men after they're official?"

  My chest aches at the thought of her being official with him, but I ignore it as I keep up my normal routine. "You know me, Marcy, I'm not just an other man: I'm Marshal." I lower my voice. "And between you and me, I don't give a shit what he thinks anyway."

  She winks. "That's right, you're the man."

  I shoot her a wink seconds before I enter the main doors and make my way back toward Sami's cubicle. As I turn the corner, I enter a jungle complete with a chorus of sneezes and sniffles. Maybe it's piped jungle noises like they have at Planet Hollywood. I'm waiting for an elephant to raise his trunk and trumpet.

  By the way, I am literal with the description jungle.

  Not as in, work is a jungle and only the strongest survive.

  Sami's cubicle is literally a jungle.

  Marcy was right. I have to wonder if there were literally fifty individual deliveries, or if one giant truck would have been easier. There's no open space. Even the hallway is lined on either side. The flowers and balloons have oozed out of her area to other spaces around her. Flow
ers are everywhere I turn, vases and planters, roses and lilies, daisies and irises.

  "Achoo." Three rapid sneezes followed by yet another one echo from a nearby cubicle.

  "Sami?" I call, looking into the sea of flowers.

  "Achoo."

  I follow the sound until I find her. When she turns, she's shaking her head. She has a tissue in her hand, her eyes are red, and her nose is running.

  "Marshal? What are you doing here?" she asks as she dabs her eyes.

  "I wanted...are you all right?"

  She nods as an exasperated smile raises her cheeks. "I told you that I was allergic...achoo!"

  A chorus of sneezes comes from around the room. Apparently, she isn't the only one who's allergic.

  "What the hell?"

  "I know, right?" Sami says. "My condo is full too."

  I reach for her hand and give it a tug. "How about getting out of here for some lunch?"

  "Throw in some Benadryl and you've got a deal."

  I snicker as we make our way out to my car.

  "It's not funny," she says with a welcome glint to her green eyes.

  "It is. It's also pathetic. Have you talked to him or your parents?"

  "Jack. We spoke briefly. I told him to get out of my condo. He did. He wasn't there when I got home, but there were—"

  "Let me guess, flowers?"

  "Oh my God. I never want to see another flower again as long as I live." She rolls down the window as we start to drive away. "Fresh air. I need fresh air."

  Like a puppy on its first drive, Sami leans her face out the window, allowing the breeze to blow her hair back. I can hardly keep my eyes on the road. Considering she just emerged from an unwanted tropical nursery, she looks happy and carefree.

  How can that be?

  "Sami?"

  She can't hear me. When she doesn't answer, I tap the button on the window to raise it just a little.

  "Hey,” she yells as she pulls her head back into the car. “Are you trying to chop off my head?"

  "No, I'm trying to get your attention."

  Sami smiles. "You definitely had it last night."

  Okay, that's good. She brought it up. Her bringing it up is good.