“Don’t listen to her, Lu,” Drew said. “Hot coffee. A whole pot. Hold the cubes.”
“Do you always order for your—dates?” Maxine asked, hoping she wasn’t assuming too much about their evening together.
“Sometimes,” he said. “When I feel it’s necessary.”
“And did you buy out this place as well?” she teased.
“No, little one, I did not.” Both his tone and smile were amused. “We're actually not far from my apartment.”
“Really?” Another surprise to Maxine’s ever-eager ears. “I thought you’d live downtown—or in Brooklyn. Isn’t that where everything is supposedly happening in this city?”
After taking a sip of coffee, Drew cleared his throat and made a sour face. “New York is whatever you want it to be,” he said. “The Upper West Side is an eclectic mix. Most everyone I know who works in theater lives in the neighborhood. It's sort of awful to go out when you're hungover on a Sunday morning. You always run into someone you know.”
Luann brought their breakfast to the table, as Maxine considered his explanation and wondered where exactly she fit into the mix of the city.
While the egg white omelets stuffed with spinach and feta cheese and whole wheat toast buttered ever so lightly looked divine, Maxine opted to pick at the small fruit salad between them. “Let's Dance” played faintly on the over the sound system, and Drew hummed along with the song. Maxine hoped he might give her a private show of his talents and sing a few bars for her.
“Ah…Bowie…my favorite…”
“Love eighties music—it's all my mom listened to,” Maxine said. “Aside from show tunes. Nostalgic for her, I guess…”
“Uh, little one?” he smirked. “I grew up in the eighties.”
“Oops!”
“Yeah…oops…”
Once again, though, Maxine noticed a change in him, a shift toward some desolate corner of his soul that he was rather transparently attempting to mask.
Thoughts drifting far from that small table and Maxine, Drew could hear the screaming…the wailing behind that locked door. And he did the only thing he knew how to do—press that button on the television and raise the volume…louder…and louder…until the sounds of tortuous pain faded away. The music rescued him again, as it always did…always…
“Drew…” Maxine waved her hand in front of his eyes. “Hey—anyone home in there?”
“Oh!” he shook his head as if he could shake away his thoughts. “Sorry…just a…reverie…”
Reaching across the table, she carefully, if not reluctantly, touched her hand to his. “You alright?” Maxine asked.
“Memories of early MTV,” he shrugged off her question. “You wouldn’t remember this, but they actually used to play music…”
“Your parents didn’t really let you watch it, did they?”
MTV saved his life, but Maxine would never understand. And he didn’t have to tell her. Instead, he chose to change the subject, turning the attention to her. “I won’t tolerate self-starvation, Maxine. Please, eat.”
“The fruit is fine, Drew,” she insisted. “I'm not that hung—”
“Eat the omelet, Maxine, and at least one slice of toast,” he pushed. “Or I’ll feed you myself.”
Picking up her fork as if in challenge, she smiled. “Like the toast this morning? And that strawberry earlier this evening?”
“Oh, I’ll make sure it’s not quite so—” he stopped, smiling almost ruefully “—decadent this time around, little one.”
“So,” she began, raising her eyebrows as she sliced into her breakfast, “want to tell me a little more about this—test?—that you have in mind for me this week?”
Drew’s hesitation was evident, and silence bore into their conversation as he crossed his hands in front of himself to rest his chin, and then snaked his fingers through his hair. Maxine couldn't read the complexities that crossed his face. Maybe he was angry. She just didn't know, and she didn't have the energy after their long and lovely evening to try to discern his current mood.
“Maxine, I'm not going to mince words here,” he answered finally. “I have very specific needs. And right now, while you entrance me, I'm not so sure that you're up for my challenge.”
His words only served to further confuse her. One minute he was so attentive, dancing with her in his protective arms then hinting around to an ulterior, clandestine side the next.
Maxine’s lips pursed, revealing her frustration with his avoidance of the issue at hand. “Why don’t you explain yourself to me then, Drew?”
“I will,” he assured her. “Shortly.”
“Tell me the truth,” she continued. “Is this the last time you plan on seeing me?”
“No...” He shook his head almost violently in response. “No way...”
“Then why can’t you just talk to me?” she implored, her big green eyes widening in a desperate plea.
“Because it’s very late, and I’ve had a spectacular time with you this evening,” he reached out and took her hand for a quick squeeze, slipping back to sweet Drew once more, “and I need more time to explain things than we have right now.”
Mitigated yet again by his fluctuating temperament, she felt forced to allow him to drop the conversation. There was so much hiding beneath the carefully publicized surface, and Maxine was determined now more than ever to dig deep into the core. His suffering paralleled, if not surpassed, her own. There was a generous, caring man peeping out behind the iron curtain that hung hauntingly around him. He’d already made an attempt to force her to see the beauty within herself, and it was her mission to make sure that he saw it in his own self, too.
“What if I promise we’ll talk about it a bit tomorrow?” he said, taking her aback by his suggestion.
Tensions—sexual and otherwise—ran thickly between them, and Maxine remained acutely aware of his hand touching hers. “You’ll call me?” she asked.
“No, I’ll see you,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at noon, given that we’ve had a rather unexpectedly late night. I do want you to get your rest.”
“Noon, it is,” she agreed.
“Now if you plan on getting any sleep, you'd better take a few more bites, Maxine,” he warned. That was another subject he had to table for a moment—her questionable eating patterns. She was indeed a very petite young woman, but she was far too thin for even her tiny frame. He could feel the bones protruding in her shoulders when he caressed her—see her ribs clearly enough to count them. Compounded with Ben's comments that morning, he'd wondered if she had the beginnings of an eating disorder. “I'll sit here all night with you if I have to. And I won't be happy by the time I take you home.”
Biting into her now cold slice of toast, she continued to watch him carefully, her eyes solemnly staring into his navy blue gaze as she made one last attempt to try to put this puzzle together for the evening.
Before he paid their bill, Maxine did manage to eat about a third of her omelet, which seemed to calm him down momentarily. However, a sudden silence pervaded as he walked her outside.
“Well…” she turned to him on the corner and stretched her neck, hoping he might peck her on the lips before he bade her good-night. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow…”
“You don't think I'm letting you get into a cab, alone, in the middle of the night, do you?”
“I…well…”
“Besides…” he dug his hands into his pockets and shuffled his feet on the sidewalk. “I made a little promise to you. And I don’t break promises…”
“You…made a promise?” He’d left her thoroughly confounded.
“How soon we forget, little one,” he waved his index finger at her. “What did I tell you this evening? Bad girls get punished. And good girls get rewards…”
However, she had no idea which category she’d fallen into that evening.
“You behaved—for the most part—like a good little girl this evening,” he complimented. “And I shall reward you.”
Looking around, she saw people meandering home from the bars, a few stragglers rushing to the corner deli for some emergency provisions, others out walking their dogs. Her heart began to race, and her eyes implored him with a sense of anxiety.
“Here?”
“Oh, little one…” he groaned and put his arm around her waist, guiding her toward the corner where he raised his arm to hail a taxi. “So much to learn yet…and you’re lucky I’m a patient man…”
“Drew, what are you…are we going back to your…for my…”
“I promised you a reward, and I said I’d get you home—in that order,” he said as he opened the back door of the cab that stopped alongside them. “Now hop in. You know I don’t like to be kept waiting…”
Chapter Twelve
Lucky for Maxine, Drew took the time to memorize every little detail of her life, including her address, as there was simply no possible way she could have parlayed that information to the taxi driver.
“How are we there, little one?” he asked, with a pull on her seatbelt strap. “In tight?”
“Oh…” she nodded surely and slowly “…yes…”
Drew’s hand found her knee, just barely inching upward as he’d done earlier that evening. However, rather than tickling his way up her thigh, he leaned in close, and his lips joined hers suddenly and sloppily. The faint beat of Bruno Mars crooning “Locked Out of Heaven” played on the radio, while he deepened the kiss...and the driver slammed the partition that separated him from his passengers.
Trapping her in the backseat, Drew reached over to make sure her door was locked before his hand returned to her leg. Kissing her still, he spoke to her against her lips.
“You make me crazy, Maxine...” His fingers stretched out on the inside of her thigh, then slipped higher to rub the hem of her skirt. “You have no idea...” As his hand continued to move, back and forth between her skirt and her inner thigh, he dared to stroke her higher with every single movement.
Tossing her head back, she felt his lips, gentle yet greedy, caressing her neck and her throat. While her brain protested the utter madness of this frivolity, Maxine made no sounds to stop him. Shock, in fact, raged through her mind. She wasn’t the type of girl who just let men fondle her in the back of taxi cabs! Sexual play was something reserved for bedrooms, behind closed, locked doors. No proper girl with any sense ever allowed a man to just manipulate her so salaciously in public like this.
However, Drew didn’t have to necessarily do much to chip away at the stone walls of chastity that Maxine seemed to stand behind until she…well, until she met him. In fact, if anything, his filthy little attempt at seduction worked so well that she found herself not only accepting, but responding to his arduous efforts.
Maxine kissed his hair...his ear...his forehead...but she wanted his mouth back, and held his head still as she found his lips with her own. He left her dizzied by all of the sensations—his hand on her leg, fingers edging toward her waiting center...his lips at her mouth...his other hand delicately tracing the underwire of her bra.
When he stopped, he framed her face with his hands and kissed her sweetly, almost delicately as if she might break. “I want you to keep still and quiet, and I want you to tell me—very quietly—when you're coming. Quietly, Maxine—the driver doesn’t need to know...”
Bewilderment radiated through her veins and cloaked her hazy eyes of innocence. He’d heightened every one of her senses, thrilling her into a corner from which she couldn’t back away. Now he wanted to extend that journey and reward her with her fantasy right there in the cab. Delirious with desire, she acquiesced, relenting to his nudge to open her legs.
Now more than ever that evening, she felt completely naked. She swore, in fact, that the seat was vibrating against her bare lower lips, tickling her as the cab raced over bumps and potholes. He didn’t even have to touch her—just the thrill of her partial nudity and making out with Drew in a place usually taboo for lovers engaged in play left Maxine trembling with both astonishment and delight.
“You have to come quickly, Maxine. We’re halfway through the park already. Almost home…”
Paying mind to his every word, Maxine sighed against his mouth and nodded. She couldn’t speak...she could barely breathe. He wanted her to come. In the backseat of a taxi. While his nimble fingers dirty danced against her.
Again, his hand was back under her skirt, and with just his thumb, he pressed against her...circling and circling...taking her closer each time before moving his thumb away. Aimlessly, his palm smoothed down her leg, and he caressed her calf, admiring how she thrashed against the leather seat in absolute pleasure and exasperation and forced herself to stifle a groan. Allowing her to feel the pressure of his arousal prodding her thigh, he whispered, “This is what you do to me, Maxine—this is how crazy you make me...”
“Please, Drew...” As she finally found her voice, she could feel every muscle inside of her twitching, waiting, needing.
“What, Maxine? Tell me what you want...”
“Your thumb...” she managed, gasping. “Please...”
He kissed her again, just to make her wait, and then pulled back to catch a glimpse of her beautifully frustrated face in the flicker of the lamp posts along the streets. One more kiss, then he complied with her request, circling round and round, driving her to the edge and pushing her over this time.
Her fingers clung to his hair, and her lips were at his ear, whispering, “Oh, Drew...”
“Tell me, or I’ll take it away again…” he threatened.
“I’m…” she managed, “I’m coming. Now, Sir…”
“Good…good…girl…” he encouraged. “You’re perfect, aren’t you, little one?”
As she shook and trembled against him, tears welled in her eyes, brimming with a passion that she’d never known existed before she met Drew. Perfect, he said. She was far from perfection, but she was also far too consumed by her orgasm to protest. Little did Maxine realize how her utterance of one simple little word nearly pushed Drew to his limits.
“Want me to carry you upstairs?” Drew asked while Maxine continued to shudder. She shook her head and wondered how long they’d been stopped in front of that old townhouse. The meter was still running.
Head rolling along the back of the seat, she waited patiently as Drew paid for their ride and unfastened her seatbelt. He just masturbated you to orgasm in a taxi—a taxi! It was indeed a bumpy night, but she enjoyed every last second.
“Out, little one,” he said, holding the door. Did that just happen, she wondered, and then the thought dropped from her consciousness as she crawled languidly across the leather seat. He adored seeing her on all fours, sliding toward him, simultaneously confused and determined.
However, Drew stopped her short of climbing out of the taxi and carefully scooped her into his arms. She needed his guidance, and she required his protection. His only worry was that she might lose one of her flats as she gleefully kicked her feet.
“Taxi cab…” she shook her head and cackled. “Taxi Cab Sex…”
Taxi Cab Sex. Ignore her cuteness, Mack, for your own sake. Unlock the fucking door!
“Fuck…Maxine…”
“Huh?”
“Keys?”
“Purse…”
There they were once again, struggling to open that fucking door. Nothing was ever simple, and as he gently eased her to sit upon the old iron railing, he held her back with one hand and dug into her damn little bag with the other. Lip gloss. Cell—which needed to be replaced with an iPhone and a proper New York number, but he was already working on that. And her damn keys with its Pittsburgh Pirates keychain. Clearly, Maxine rooted for the underdog, which he greatly appreciated in her spirit. However, he had to get the fucking door open.
All the way through the foyer and into the living room, Drew held on to her with steady hands as she continued to slice her legs through the air. Fussy little Maxine. Oh, she was going to be such a delight to train
and restrain…if she decided to stay…
As he carried her back through the dining room and the now infamous kitchen, the sounds of Duran Duran bellowing a cover of Bowie's “Boys Keep Swinging” blared from Ben's bedroom on the floor above. If nothing else, that kid knew some good music.
Maxine’s bedroom door was open, and he chuckled at the sight. Clothes and shoes were tossed about, and she hadn’t even bothered to make her bed. In fact, the comforter was left in a heap at the footboard, just where she’d left it when she’d taken off her makeshift toga that morning.
“Little one?” he murmured as he set her gently upon the bed and pursed his lips to her temple.
“Yeah…Sir…?”
Sir. Fuck, she could make his cock twitch like no other woman had before her. However, he had to get it together and keep it together—for her sake more than his!
“You need some rest. I’ll see you this afternoon…” It was indeed already well into Sunday morning, and he knew that she was just aching for their next adventure. “You also need to clean your room.”
With ease, he pulled the stretchy emerald dress over her head, then quickly unfastened her bra. However, before he laid her clothes over the nearest chair and tucked her under the covers, he pecked at each bare nipple with a kiss.
“Kisses…” she whispered as she held herself upright, extending her arms behind herself and pressing her palms into the mattress.
“You love them, don’t you?” he questioned as he folded her clothes and attempted to straighten up her room a bit. “Fuck, Maxine…what a mess you’ve made in here…”
“But I was such a good girl tonight…” she reminded him, pulling her lips together and ready for another kiss.
“Being a good girl only goes so far,” he said, “until you misbehave again…”
Carefully, he lifted her huge comforter, and then covered her as he gentled her down to rest her head upon the pillows, fully aware that he hadn't bothered to dress her for bed. Meanwhile, she fought against the blanket, hoping that with one last ditch effort she could talk him into sticking around.
WEAKENED: The Manhattan Bound Series Book One Page 14
