WRAPPED: The Manhattan Bound Series, Book Two

by Juliet Braddock

  As she began her climb up the wooden rungs nailed to the tree, Maxine hoped she wouldn't lose her footing. It had been quite some time since she'd stolen away to her very own private patch of heaven. With Drew literally at her heels, however, she knew he'd brace her from any possible tumble.

  So tiny inside was the treehouse that Drew nearly filled the entire wooden box himself. The plywood floors seemed to sink as he crawled on his hands and knees toward Maxine in the corner. There was also the matter of the rather large window opening. How he hoped she was right and that Tom rarely made trips into the woods these days. He wondered just how safe they were, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

  Scooting along to make room for him, Maxine's giggles left her breathless as her eyes followed him with caution. This oh-so-secret op was a dangerous one. They could fall through the floor—or worse yet, get caught mid-coitus. But how she longed just to make love with him, regardless of how quickly he took her.

  “It's been almost thirty hours, Maxine...” he continued to inch toward her as she folded her legs around his waist. She adored how he always knew the last time they made love almost down to the second. “I was ready to pull over on the side of the road and have you in the backseat...”

  “I offered!”

  “That, you did, my bratty little one,” he whispered, his throat raspy with desire. “You were ready to come right in that restaurant, weren’t you?”

  “Oh, yes, Sir…”

  “And you enjoyed taunting me with those toes, didn’t you?” he asked rhetorically. “Who’s the sadist and who’s the masochist here?”

  “Masochist loves…toying with sadist…to get punished…oh, please?”

  Fuck. They were hanging fifteen feet above ground in this rotting miniature shed in the trees, and she was negotiating her next punishment. She was just so precious…

  With his fastidious fingers, he raced to unbutton her little sweater and the front clasp of her bra. He then clamped her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers just to watch her wince against the sylvan backdrop of their play.

  Drew’s lips found hers, kissing in desperation as Maxine’s tongue lashed against his. Her fingers sunk into his hairline, pulling at those thick curls as her hips rocked in synch with his. A gust of wind breezed through that open window, and Maxine shrieked at the sudden shiver that swept over her bare chest.

  “Come, please, Sir?”

  “You shall wait, Sassypants…”

  They had so few precious moments to spare, and so little space to move. However, there simply was no end to her prowess. Yes, she infuriated him, but in the most delightful of fashions.

  He loosened the heavy scarf—courtesy of the knitting parlor of Aunt Frannie, two weeks late for Maxine’s birthday—that she wore around her neck. “First, I need to restrain you.”

  “Restrain me?” she shouted, and Drew swore that he heard the echo of that tiny, fairy-like voice through the trees. “In my fucking treehouse?”

  “Arms above your head,” he ordered, then wrapped the scarf around the beam that that seemed to hold the whole damn abode together. He felt like they were scening in a box of matchsticks, and with one false move, they would self-combust. As he tied one knot, then a second, Maxine shivered with the crisp wind that breezed inside and trickled over her bare chest. “Oh, are we cold now?”

  She nodded, her impatience rising as he crunched down in between her breasts and breathed a stream of warmth over her tender skin. She struggled beneath him in frustration, and her taut nipples bounced with her movements.

  “Better?” he asked.

  How she hated to be tied! She couldn’t touch him—had no control over her own body. And now she was cold and feeling like she was about to start whining.

  However, Drew stopped Maxine before she had the chance to begin and pointed his finger at her. “So help me, one more peep, and you’re going to be sucking on your mittens, Maxine…”

  “Ew…fuzzy…”

  That was it. Even Drew McKenzie had a breaking point. Why did she have to be so fucking cute in her attempts to Top from the bottom? Dammit, she was the one. He’d decided right then and there in that cramped little treehouse. He was done. His dating life had officially ended with Maxine, and if—for whatever reason—their relationship failed, he would never engage romantically with another woman again.

  Most immediately, though, he had to get inside her and fast. Drew's hands worked between them, struggling first with his zipper, and then pulled roughly at the waistband of her pants, tugging them down over her bottom.

  With all of the hours that Maxine had spent in that treehouse, the thought never once crossed her mind that she'd ever make love within its confines. All of those chaste hours she’d wasted away in nature surrounded by everything she needed to spend a lazy summer afternoon were just tainted now. Tom had even devised a pulley basket so that she could easily carry her books, stuffed animals, milk, and cookies up with her.

  Long gone were those days of pure innocence. Now, with her bare ass scraping against the wooden floor and her hands jerking against the scarf that bound her, she arched her back in ravenous anticipation of that raw lust that entwined them. As Drew so hurriedly shoved himself inside her, Maxine called out his name, and her eyes fluttered closed.

  The chill of the weather outside against the heat of their bodies only fueled her desires. There was something so very primal about their fierce shenanigans that afternoon. Hand clamping over her mouth to suppress her groans of pleasure, Drew plunged deeper, just simply fucking her with an intrinsic sense of passion he knew only for Maxine. Harder and faster he slammed against her, their intent focused on only orgasm alone.

  Beneath them, the warped floorboards creaked with their furtive efforts to reach that pinnacle they both sought—together. Fuck, Mack, this could be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done in your life! If anyone happened to cut through that thicket of trees at that specific moment, they’d notice the bounce and the tremor of that little house dangling above the woods.

  Within what seemed only mere moments, he found himself tipping over the edge with an adrenaline rush like none other. With him, he swept Maxine so brusquely to that same cliff, as she cried out against his palm and strained to hold on for mere seconds before he granted her permission for her own release.

  In spite of her earlier protestations, she was thankful for all of his lessons in self-control as she fought to silence herself, riding out those seconds of bliss until he spoke the word. She wanted to scream out—bellow his name so that it resounded through the trees—and claw at every last inch of him.

  “Now…” he demanded just as his own rush of completion filled her.

  Time and place were both of issue, forcing Maxine to calmly and quickly indulge in likely the only orgasm she'd be privileged to have that entire weekend. Drew had indeed returned to command.

  “So fucking good, Drew…” she murmured as the final moments of their fierce loving spiraled into nirvana.

  “How I love you, little one,” his voice lulled against her ear as he smoothed his fingers over her lips at last. “Oh, how much I love you...”

  “And I love you...” she snuggled up close, rubbing her cheek against the softness of the wool of his winter jacket.

  “So fucking crazy…” he continued, easing himself out of her. “But so wonderful for such a naughty, sassy girl...”

  That had to be the tightest space in which any two human beings ever made love—aside from maybe a bathroom in an airplane, Maxine reasoned. Once again, she reminded herself that Drew was indeed Master of Kinky Improvisation.

  “Uh-Ohhh...” she called out suddenly but softly against his chest, unable to move. He still had yet to untie her hands.

  “What, little one?” he kissed her temple and stretched his arm out toward the scarf tied to the pole. “What's wrong?”

  As Maxine awkwardly shook out her hands, she winced, then reached beneath herself and rubbed her bare backside. />
  In a panic, Drew ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh, fuck, little one,” he hissed. “Fuck...”

  # # #

  Drew's fingers turned the lock on Maxine's bedroom door, and he sighed so solemnly.

  “Tweezers?” his tone took on that of a world-class surgeon, readying to make his first cut of the day.

  With an air of reluctance, she passed him his requested instrument from her make-up bag and moaned into a pillow to muffle her voice. Immediately, Drew reached out to turn on the clock radio on her nightstand, then pulled her pants down. Tom’s plans to chop down that Christmas tree would just have to wait another day.

  “Please, little one...be quiet...” he implored. How he loved to hear Maxine cry out mid-scene as he cracked her. However, real pain was a whole other ballgame, and with it, Drew did not deal well. “Now, this is going to hurt you...”

  “No, shit, it's going to hurt! Don't pull that Dom stuff with me now...” she spat. “Will you just get it the hell over with?”

  Looking down at the mess on that sweet little wiggling bottom, marred by the evidence of their quick and kinky romp in her treehouse, Drew wasn't sure whether he wanted to cringe...or spank her for squiggling as he tried so desperately to help her.

  “Okay, I'm really trying to take care of you here, Maxine, so you be quiet,” he ordered, his words an angry whisper. “And next time you decide that we should fuck in your treehouse, bring a blanket and I won't have to pick the splinters out of your cute little ass...”

  “Alright...ouch!” she flinched with the first pluck at her prickled bare backside. “This is what I get for sneaking around like that. There are motels around here…somewhere…”

  Lifting her head from the pillow to look into her eyes, he said with all seriousness, “Do I need to remind you that it was your idea to get it on in nature? You’ll fuck me anywhere, won’t you, Maxine?”

  “Drew!” She was flushing—all the way from one set of cheeks to another.

  “Oh, come on, here, who the hell are you talking to?” he demanded, returning to his minor surgical maneuvers behind her. “Now is not the time for embarrassment. Now will you please settle?”

  “Yes...” she muttered back into her pillow again. “Mean Sir...”

  “Hold still, dammit!” he leaned in once more to pluck away another splinter.

  “RED!”

  Fuck, Mack. This is gonna take all night…

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “You’re sure you’re going to be fine, little one?” Drew asked as he dropped Maxine at the door of Vicki’s office the next morning.

  If she moved just a little too quickly, she could still feel the pinch from the splinters he’d plucked from her ass the previous afternoon. There were many—far more than she even realized as she’d stumbled back from the treehouse through the yard. Luckily, Drew seemed to carry diaper cream with him everywhere he went, and she knew that she could be feeling much worse right now. Oh, he was going to be such a fantastic father one day…

  Placing one slow, sweet kiss on his lips, she whispered, “I don’t deserve you, Drew…”

  “Yesterday, I was ‘Mean Sir,’ and all you did was sass me,” he reminded her. “Today, you’re undeserving…”

  “And I love you, too!” she tugged at his shirt collar. “Have fun with Daddy today.”

  “Oh, I am sure it will be epic…”

  “Drew…behave....”

  “Uh, that seems to be your problem, little one.”

  Maxine popped the seatbelt, then whipped her head around to face him with a salacious grin. As she climbed out of the car and made her way toward the rather nondescript entrance of the small building, she wiggled her ass for good measure. She had to give him something to think about in her absence.

  Once she opened the door, though, a happy little sanctuary unfolded before her. Painted in bright shades of green, yellow and blue, the waiting lounge of Vicki’s practice welcomed all who walked through the door, offering a comforting haven for pets and pet parents. As Maxine stepped up to the counter to alert the receptionist that Vicki was expecting her, a tiny Boxer puppy found his way over to her legs for a snuggle. She couldn’t resist bending down for a few quick pats.

  Vicki didn’t keep her waiting long, and she surprised Maxine when she popped through the door with a gray newborn kitten in the palm of her hand.

  “Max, how are you?” she smiled and stretched her neck out to give Maxine a kiss on her cheek.

  “Oh, Vicki, I’m doing great!” Maxine cooed. “And look at this little baby!”

  “Want to bottle feed him?”

  “Really?” her green eyes brightened. “I would love to!”

  “Come on back while I finish up, then we’ll head out of here and grab a bite to eat,” Vicki suggested, mindful of that baby in her hands all the while. “Someone dropped these little creatures off this morning. The mother cat abandoned them. But we’ll nurse them, get them healthy—and find them homes.”

  Her genuine compassion upheld a lot of weight for Maxine. Vicki, just like Maggie, had found her calling in life. While she loved her own job, Maxine admired the ethic in doing something not just to make ends meet but to actually engage in helping others. In fact, Vicki’s contentment with her life seemed to radiate from every corner of her practice. Even the vet technicians were all smiles.

  Expertly, Vicki first instructed Maxine on just how to hold the tiny little Russian Blue mix, and then went through an entire explanation on how to manually stimulate the kitten to eliminate after the feeding. While Maxine attended to the newborn in her care, Vicki finished up with some paperwork. Maxine was certainly in no hurry.

  “I think you and Drew need to adopt a kitten or two…”

  The thought of further extending their unofficial cohabitation at his place just flushed Maxine’s cheeks. Babies—be it the two-legged or four-legged kind—brought them to another level of commitment. As of now, they were both just giddy in the newness of saying those three big words to each other.

  “Not quite yet,” Maxine smiled as she looked down to see those tiny little cheeks of the silvery blue bundle of joy sucking away from the mini-bottle like a baby. “Drew does want a pet, though. His dad wasn’t exactly Thomas Kirk in that respect. Wasn’t allowed when he was growing up.”

  “He’s truly a great guy, Max,” Vicki said. “And I do see some similarities to your dad in him.”

  Maxine found it difficult to curtail her surprise. Fuckballs, don’t make me drop this kitten! “Really?”

  “Your father, as we both know, is nothing but mush beneath that gruff exterior,” Vicki reminded her. “And just like him, Drew seems to be concerned with everyone before himself. And I can see that when he takes an interest in someone, it’s all or nothing. Sound like someone else you know?”

  Tipping her head, Maxine pondered Vicki’s astute observation. She’d never quite thought of it like that before. “You just suddenly brought some clarity into my crazy life, Vicki.”

  With a grin, Vicki closed her last and final file. “I think he’s almost finished there. Ready to help him pee?”

  “Of course I am!”

  One could always take the girl out of the small town, but fragments of that small town would always remain within the heart and soul of the girl.

  Meanwhile, Vicki thought she just might pull Drew aside later and tell him how much Maxine just loved those baby kittens…

  # # #

  When Tom told Drew to put on a pair of boots before they forged on through the backyard and into that thicket of trees behind the Kirk home, he was thinking along the lines of a nice pair of Timberlands…even something from L.L. Bean. Tough. Sturdy. Ready to crunch the ground as they pounded through the sticks and stones and autumn leaves on their mission to chop down Maxie’s Christmas tree.

  What he didn’t expect to see on his daughter’s boyfriend’s pampered feet was a pair of nine-hundred dollar, capped-toed leather boots from Prada, so shiny that they nearly spa
rkled in the afternoon sun. Oh, that Drew. Tom had a lot of work ahead of him. Loved him dearly, but there were some things that boy just didn’t understand.

  “So, Tom…” Drew said with a nod toward the tool in Tom’s hand. “What’s that for?”

  “It’s a saw—to cut down the tree…”

  This was going to be the longest afternoon of Thomas Kirk’s life. He could only conjure the Ghost of Christmas Future. He winced at the thought of poor little Maxine being stuck with some artificial tree in that big old mansion of an apartment in the city with those horrible pine-scented plug-ins wafting from every outlet.

  With that, he shook his head and reached out to unlock the cabinet in the garage and pulled out one long, threatening shotgun. Watching Drew swallow his own spit, Tom smirked.

  “And, um…what is that for?” Drew said, almost panicking as his eyes darted to the length of the gun as Tom began to load. “You don’t just…shoot the tree, do you?”

  Oh, fuck, Mack…never trust a man with a gun in his hand.

  “Oh, Drew,” Tom said delicately and gave Drew an extra pair of construction gloves from his workshop. “Here, pal. You’ll need these…”

  Gloves…and a gun. What the hell did he just get his stupid self into with Maxine’s father?

  “Uh, Sir…?” Fuck. Now their roles had switched entirely, throttling Drew into the laughable anguish of a submissive. He was about to repeat himself, but he just didn’t care. “The gun?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Drew,” Tom threw his arms in the air, shotgun and all. “The black bear population has been growing for a few years here. Would you rather have your head chewed off or stand to the side while I take aim?”

  The most wildlife New York City had ever seen, outside of zoos, was a random wild coyote loose on the city streets. Officials still had no idea how that damn thing made it over to the island of Manhattan.

  “You know…there have been Bigfoot sightings in those woods, too, Drew,” Tom said, minding him with the most serious brown eyes. “But just relax…and take these gloves.”