Berserk

by K. S. Adkins

  Having her with me, just the two of us alone, is perfect. I still feel the need to apologize and explain, but she looks so happy that I didn’t want to ruin it. Instead I went with telling her things about me that she probably didn’t know.

  “Whoever thought to put pineapple on pizza was genius.” I say into my helmet mic and she startles a bit and grips me really tight. I probably should have told her we could talk to each other like this.

  “My team needs this setup.” She giggles. “When did you get mics?”

  “Yesterday,” I tell her. “I’m glad they work.”

  “So pineapple?” she asks. “I like pineapple. What else don’t I know about you, Maxwell?”

  Taking a corner slowly, I continue. “I still like Levi’s jeans, tap water, and Sundays. You?”

  “Silver jeans, Better Made chips, Golden Girls marathons, and sleeping in. Your turn.”

  “Andy Griffith marathons, Better Made BBQ chips, and sleeping in with you.”

  Squeezing me again I take the next corner, keeping the conversation going. “Dislikes? Energy drinks, dogs in purses, and when you left for DC.”

  “Dislikes? Okay,” she says. “Definitely energy drinks, permed hair, and leaving for DC.”

  “Did you think about me while you were gone?”

  “Every time my heart beat,” she says, gripping me tight. “I missed you, Max.”

  Finding it easier to pour my heart out without looking her in the eye, I let it all out while we ride “It’s funny, I think I inherited the protective gene from my mother. Certainly didn’t get it from Hank, but it’s this need I have, Blue. To shelter you, keep you safe. I did it wrong, I know I did, and I knew it then too. But you being safe meant everything to me. It’s easy to tell yourself that she’s better off without you; it gave me an excuse to stick my head in the sand. When I met Bishop I was convinced I couldn’t compete with him, that he’s the guy kind of guy best suited for you. He of course told me different, but for a while there I felt…”

  “Max,” she says, with no room for argument. “Pull over.”

  Nodding in my helmet I find a quiet side street and pull up to the curb. Taking her helmet off and looking at it she smiles. “This is beautiful,” she says, inspecting it. “She looks just like me.”

  “She is you,” I tell her, pulling her close. “It was only ever you.”

  “When we met we spent a lot of time talking about everything but us; we never made plans. I wanted to marry you and so I didn’t need plans, I just needed you. I don’t know what Bishop said, so I can’t say I agree or disagree, but I fell in love with you because you’re you. You have always been my gentle giant, but… when you go berserk that’s really hot, too. But I just love Maxwell and all his sides. I’m a simple girl, you know that. You don’t need guns and military training to hold my heart; you just need to take care of it.”

  “Blue…”

  “Max, if you apologize one more time I’m going to punch you.”

  “Fine,” I groan. “But we never talked about what happened with Hank; I’m thinking we should.”

  “I’m thinking you’re right, but not on our honeymoon. This is our honeymoon, right?”

  “Fuck no,” I growl, kissing her. “Our honeymoon will be someplace with a beach and room service.”

  “That sounds nice, and oh god, warm, too.”

  “Blue?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you talk to your OB yet?” When she gets quiet my pulse started racing. So much shit is left out on the table. We have so much to talk about, and though I don’t want to do it now, we’re alone, and I don’t know when that will happen again.

  “Children are possible but let’s not rush it,” she whispers. “I just want you for a while Max…”

  Lifting her chin to look in her eyes I ask her, “Tell me the truth, do you want kids?”

  “Yes,” she says, “I want kids someday.”

  “We can wait as long as it takes. I want a big family, loud, causing trouble and knowing their parents would move heaven and earth for them. We’ll have our family, Blue.”

  “I believe you, Max.”

  “Did you maybe ask the OB about other things?”

  Smiling up at me then wrapping her arms around neck she whispers, “I’m fit for combat and ready for my orders, Max.”

  “You like my orders, don’t you?”

  When she rubs her hand over my cock I get my answer, but she loves pushing my buttons. “Mmm,” she says, squeezing me. “I love your orders.”

  “Climb on,” I groan.

  “Here?”

  “The bike, Blue,” I groan again. “Climb on the bike.”

  Giggling, she does as she’s told, climbing on and gripping me with both hands. Kicking myself for taking us so far from home, I’m hoping the cops are busy tonight, because I plan on breaking every law I can to get my bride beneath me.

  “This is a big job for your first piece. You sure?”

  “I’m sure,” I tell him, lying on my side. “Let’s go, I’ve got to report for duty in four hours.”

  “You’re going to be sore and swollen—”

  “I’ve been shot, stabbed, choked, and thrown from a roof,” I tell him. “A tattoo isn’t going to slow me down. Are we going to talk this out, or are you ready to go?”

  “Thrown from a roof?”

  “Hazard of the job.”

  “The fuck do you do?”

  “Why, I’m a product of the US Government,” I say sweetly. “Happy now?”

  Seven days of uninterrupted Maxwell was eye opening. Turns out not only is he way more domesticated than I am, he’s content to do it. At first I thought it was because this was new for us and it was going to take time for the newness to wear off, so we’d both go out of our way to make each other happy. About five days in I realized no, this is just him.

  His domesticity puts mine to shame.

  That train of thought had me thinking about kids again. Max would be an amazing dad. Totally hands-on and the complete opposite of what we’re used to. I find myself wanting dozens of kids, soccer games, archery lessons, and constant bickering. Max can handle the cooking, laundry, and PTA, because those bitches scare me.

  My phone rings while he’s washing the bedding. I’m happy to let him do it because I’ve been doing my own laundry since I was ten. We agree he can wash, and I’ll put them back on. I have a very specific way of doing that which Max hasn’t learned yet.

  “Hello?”

  “Open your front door.”

  “What if I was naked?”

  “We’ll close our eyes.”

  “Fine.”

  Opening the door to Lina and Tony, I invite them in and yell for Max. He comes down shirtless, and Lina’s jaw drops. A quick swat from Tony and she corrects herself while winking at me. I can’t blame her, his chest is just… wow.

  “What brings you two by?” he asks, pulling me onto his lap.

  “The usual,” says Tony, taking a seat next to Lina. “Tell me, will you two be taking a honeymoon?”

  “Eventually,” I say. “We don’t have a specific date in mind.”

  “How about now?” says Lina. “Now works.”

  “So subtle,” says Tony smiling at her, to which she rolls her eyes.

  “What’s the rush?” I ask, playing with his chest hair. I like it, dammit, it’s so soft.

  “Oh, nothing,” she says. “Just there’s word there’s a witch hunt for the person responsible for offing that cop. You were there, right? Ring a bell or two?”

  “Shit,” says Max, pulling me tighter.

  “My sources tell me that when the—let’s call it gun fight—happened,” Tony begins, “that a DEA agent was responsible. Naturally the DPD doesn’t want to tangle with the government, only she isn’t an agent anymore.”

  “Cockfuckers,” I mutter, rolling my own eyes.

  “I hear the Dominican is nice this time of year,” says Lina smiling at me.

  “I’m not lea
ving,” I growl. “Fuck that. They want to take me, on fucking bring it.”

  “I’m not so sure that’s the best course of action,” says Tony. “You killed a cop in broad daylight. Our law enforcement may have some issues, but that’s a slam dunk, even for them.”

  “He was dirty!” yells Max, joining in. “He tried to kill her. Then was taken, twice!”

  “Is that right?” asks Tony “Where are the culprits now?” When Max doesn’t answer, Tony does. “Exactly. One is dead and the other is missing. Only he isn’t, so that means it’s a matter of time, doesn’t it? Let Lina and I do our thing, and take your wife on her honeymoon.”

  “You’re asking me to run,” I spit at him.

  “He’s asking you to lay low,” says Lina. “There’s a difference.”

  “Blue,” says Max, playing with my hair. “I can have us in the Dominican by Monday.”

  Looking over at them then back at Max, I take a deep breath, then let it out. “A beach and room service?” I ask, and when he nods I give in. “I can work with that,” I tell him. “You’ll keep me in the loop? You won’t pull any shit?”

  “Yes,” says Tony. “We’ll keep you in the loop, and I don’t pull shit.”

  “But I do,” says Lina, smiling like the deviant she is.

  Looks like I’m getting my honeymoon after all. Nothing like taking a black cloud with you when you go. While the four of us talk about things rather nonspecific because, well, Tony won’t spill shit, I’m thinking about what I was just told. Max wants to leave, obviously, and I get why, but though I agreed I still don’t think leaving solves anything. I’m a fighter; leaving a fight in someone else’s hands eats at me. Before I can name all the reasons why we should stay there’s a pounding on the door which has Max pulling me behind him like the DPD is going to steal me out from under him.

  “Max,” I groan. “Just answer the door, it’s fine.”

  Lina stands up, shoots Max a look, and opens the door herself to a very angry, very determined Venessa. Stomping in with Rogan behind her she throws a stack of papers at us. Looking up at Rogan I see him smirking. Good god, she’s PMS-ing, I know it.

  “Here,” she says. “Take it back, I don’t want it, it’s a pain in the ass. People keep wanting shit, expecting shit, and not doing shit. It’s yours, take it, burn it, I don’t give a fuck, but I play music and start fights. That’s it!”

  “Feel better?” I ask, arranging the papers.

  “Oddly enough, I do,” she says, sitting next to me, bumping shoulders.

  “What are you two doing here?” she asks, looking at Tony.

  “Visiting,” says Lina, reaching in her pocket. Looking at Tony for an escape she asks, “Wanna grab a smoke?”

  “Thought you’d never ask,” he says, letting her pull him up.

  “Hold up,” says Venessa. “Since when do you smoke?”

  “Why?” she asks. “You gonna call my mother?”

  “Pump your brakes, trigger,” she snaps. “Smoking’s disgusting, seriously. Tony, you smoke? You like pussy wine, I knew that, but cigarettes? Nasty.”

  Uh-oh, I can see Lina getting pissed. “You kissing his mouth these days, Venessa?”

  “What?” she asks confused. “No!”

  “Then shut yours,” she says, walking toward the door. “No one asked you.”

  “The fuck is your problem?” she asks standing up, so I stand up because I have to. These two love to fight, always have, always will. However, where Venessa is street tough, Lina is more of a pull your hair and scratch your eyes out kinda girl, but no less violent. Venessa knows that; what she doesn’t know is the Lina now is far more street tough than she used to be. She hasn’t had a choice.

  “Step down,” says Lina. “I haven’t seen you in years and you have to start shit with me because I smoke. Or is it because Tony smokes?”

  “Whoa now,” she says, stepping closer. “What in the fuck does that mean?”

  “Angel,” says Rogan, pulling her back. “Step down, now.”

  “No,” she says. “You two have some fucking explaining to do. Especially you,” she says, pointing at Tony. “You lied, took off, and now you’re both here together, a united front and still holding out on us. Now she’s in my shit for no reason. So what the fuck, yeah?”

  “Now isn’t the time, Venessa,” says Lina, going around her, but when she takes her arm to stop her I see Lina go eerily still, so I step in. “Let go,” was all Lina said, but Venessa doesn’t know her like I do. She’s about to blow. In all our years of friendship I’ve never seen Lina get territorial, but she is now, except Venessa doesn’t notice. Tony belongs to Lina, and if Venessa doesn’t let up, this is going to get ugly.

  “She said let her go.”

  “Jesus!” she says, letting her go. “What is with you two?”

  “Quit pushing her,” I advise. “Do it again and you’ll deal with me.”

  “You always take up for her like she can’t handle herself,” she spats. “I’ve seen her in action, too, for fuck’s sake. We’ve shared cell space.”

  “I take up for her just as you do for Macy, who can also take care of herself, and that isn’t the fucking point, Venessa. Did it ever occur to you that she simply doesn’t like to be pushed? She just got back,” I say, getting in her face. “Every chance you get you harp on her while your focus is on him.” When she pales, I continue “How would you like it if she was all in Rogan’s space like you are Tony’s?”

  “He’s my friend,” she whispers. “I was worried.”

  “He doesn’t need your worry anymore.”

  I see when it clicks. She closes her eyes and nods. Walking out to the porch I hear her apologize (kind of) while Rogan levels with me. “I’m gonna hear about this shit when I get home,” he says, giving me a half hug “She’s trying, Jules. She ain’t good with feelings like I am.”

  “I know she is,” I say, smiling. “That’s why I didn’t resort to violence.”

  “Fuck,” he says, walking to the porch. “You two throw down, ain’t no one stepping in on that shit.”

  When they leave, Lina and Tony come back in and stay for a few more hours. Before I know it, it was back to the two of us again. Later that evening Max shows me our reservation, flight times, and pictures of the resort. It all looks like a fantasy, but it is hard to embrace it when my reality isn’t nearly as picturesque.

  When she sleeps, I mean really sleeps, I place my hands over her stomach. That’s when I let myself mourn. Never in front of her, she’s been hurt enough. On some level she knows I’m grieving, because when she places her tiny hands over mine, I swear I feel her crying too. I don’t just grieve for our child, but for her and I as well.

  The man I am today would have destroyed the man I was then. He was a fool, a coward, and selfish. Most of my life was spent keeping calm and staying out of trouble. It took her coming back to unleash what’s always been there. Now the beast is out and refuses to be caged any longer.

  I am her protector.

  Fuck with her, you deal with me.

  We leave tomorrow morning. Our Saturday flight is at 9:00 a.m. and I cannot wait to get her away from here. Last night sleep was close to impossible because I worry we’re working against the clock. Every noise freaks me out. If she’s worried, she isn’t showing it. Not wanting to be apart from her when I ask her to accompany me to the club tonight, she agrees, which was to put me at ease. Though I didn’t voice it, I appreciated it.

  Packing took her minutes; she doesn’t have much, so she said she’d grab the rest when we got there. Fine by me. After dinner we head to Lush to get ready to open. She works with me side by side, taking my cues and doing what needs to be done. Still wanting to talk but knowing we have a long plane ride to do it, I keep quiet. Just before we open and an hour or so before Venessa arrives, I pull her into my office.

  Walking her back into my desk I lay her over it, pushing all the papers away. She parts her legs to welcome me between them, then grabs my hair. Lea
ning close to her mouth I growl, “Say it.”

  She cocks her head to the side and smiles at me. “Don’t make me ask twice, Blue,” I say, rubbing my hands between her legs. “Tell me what I need to hear, say it.”

  “I love you, Mad Max.”

  “Wrong,” I growl, squeezing her. “Try again.”

  “I love you, Maxwell.”

  Satisfied with her answer I peel her tight pants off and toss them to the floor. She groans out, “Hurry.” So I do the opposite. “You’ll come when I tell you to come.”

  “Yes, sir,” she says, smirking, and because I love it when she listens, I run my fingers between her folds, causing her to shiver. My wife is a very devious woman; she may let me have the upper hand, or maybe she even needs me to have it, but she also knows exactly what to do to drive me insane.

  Moaning and wiggling, I increase my pace, watching her face and her body for signs that she’s ready. “Permission to come, sir,” she says on a groan, and Jesus, I wish we had more to time to do this. Undoing my own jeans, freeing myself, I run my cock over her several times to get it soaked. “Sir!” she yells. “Fuck me, sir!”

  Sliding in, she wraps her legs around my back and locks her ankles. Sitting up on her elbows she watches me pound her while my desk squeaks under our weight. “Not yet,” I growl at her. “Your orders are to wait.”

  Losing the strength to stay upright she falls back onto the desk and starts playing with her breasts. Increasing speed, thrusting harder, I see her fighting to hold it in. She needs to ask me again, only then I’ll let her have it.

  “Permission to come, sir, Max, oh fuck, please!” She begs for it, and that works for me; watching her beg will always work for me.

  Leaning over her holding onto the back side of desk while I fuck her ruthlessly, I feel my own explosion coming on quickly. Looking her in the eyes I give her what she needs. “Permission granted,” I growl, going at her harder. Grabbing onto my neck and attaching her mouth together we come like that, fucking, grinding, and screaming into each other’s mouths. Minutes later, after we can both think again, we dress ourselves and she crawls into my lap.