“You have a good one, Trevor,” Maxine said. “And get home safely.”
He was always so kind to her, almost as if he were looking out for her from the sidelines.
“You, too, Max. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
The weather, however, was no deterrent for Drew’s growing fanbase. In fact, Maxine had to chuckle over a pair of teenage girls accompanied by their mothers. Their breaths nearly froze in the bitter temperatures, but the girls sighed and swooned as Drew signed their programs. Maxine was those girls once, and suddenly she missed Judy all over again.
With one last autograph, he returned the Sharpie to his well-wisher, then headed for the corner of Eighth Avenue. In spite of the snow, Drew sent Lou home, assuring him they’d catch a cab. He didn’t want to feel rushed, and they needed to hammer through their plans.
“How about Smith’s Bar?” Drew stopped beneath the bright red neon sign.
“Looks fine to me!”
“Maxine, they’ve cleaned it up significantly. But traditionally, this was usually where one went when they were either underage—or at the end of a serious bender,” he said, tugging open the door. “People have died in here, I’m sure.”
“Drew!”
“Eh, it’s all good…” Sometimes, the Native New Yorker just came out in Drew, so jaded was he. “They serve food now…and cleared the hookers out.”
“Are you kid—”
“And a lovely table for two by the window is open!”
The vast room was almost a cross between a fifties diner and a grade school cafeteria—of course with a long bar lining the wall. Maxine was almost afraid to touch the table when they sat down, but Drew just continued to grin.
“This is New York, little one,” he said. “Takes me back to a gritty, pretty time in this city—before Bloomberg became Dictator.”
However, the waitress was quick to interrupt, and Drew rattled off their drink order with a sense of urgency.
“So, I have a little surprise for you,” Drew began. “You know Cora in the costume shop?”
Of course, Maxine knew her. Cora was a wonderful older lady who kept the wardrobe department at the theater running. Often, Maxine would stop down in the basement just to say hello and chat with her. That woman’s life could have easily been a personal history of the theater, and Maxine loved hearing her stories.
“She wants you to e-mail her the photos of your dress immediately,” Drew said. “She said she has her contacts and can source any fabric quickly. And we need to get you measured tomorrow.”
Mind racing, Maxine scrambled to remember her schedule. “Tomorrow…?”
“Tomorrow, little one,” Drew said and raised his pint to her glass of iced tea. “To us.”
“To us,” she agreed. However, just as with most things related to her wedding, Maxine found her emotions running on high once again. She couldn’t stop herself from the tears that swelled in her eyes over Cora’s kindness to make her own special little dream come true. “I just want to look beautiful for you. And I’ve been dreaming of this gown since I first saw it online…”
“You’re always beautiful to me, Maxine,” he said, his voice brimming with tenderness. “And let’s not lose sight of the fact that this is our day to celebrate just as we want. Everyone wants you to have that perfect dress—whether Cora designs it for you or you pull it off the rack at McKenzies.”
“I feel like I’m disappointing your parents,” she insisted.
“Because you want an original wedding gown?” he asked. “Maxine, I don’t know if you realize this, but my parents adore you. A damn dress isn’t going to change their thoughts about you one iota.”
“Well, I still have so much to buy yet,” she reasoned. “I can do my shopping at McKenzies. The veil…the shoes…”
“It’ll all come together,” he assured her. “I’m worried about everything else right now.”
However, he didn’t have to fret for long. Maxine came well-prepared with her update. “Flowers have been ordered. You can scratch décor completely off our list. Your mother and I took care of all details this week—down to the baby blue tea lights.”
“Menu?”
“Submitted to the chef with your suggestions, as with the open bar,” Maxine said. “Sunday after the show, we’re slated to talk to the deejay. On Monday evening, when you’re off, we’ll meet with the baker to choose our cake. I’ve also sent the contract back for the string quartet—with the deposit. And alterations are finished on your tux.”
“Impressive,” Drew complimented. “You were busy this week. Now look at this menu. And order more than a salad, please?”
“I’m pretty sure that you’re the only groom in the history of time who has encouraged his future bride to gain weight…”
“Maxine, you must be healthy for what I have in mind for you in France,” he winked then took another sip of beer. For their wedding gift, Declan and Maggie offered them a generous trip to Paris and beyond as their honeymoon. Once Drew managed to get Jeffrey to approve the extra time off for Maxine, he began making plans of his own.
“I hear those French are kinky,” Maxine lowered her voice. “Almost as kinky as my fiancé.”
“Oh, you have no idea, Maxine.” His laughter rumbled between them like thunder.
Leaning in, she unbuttoned her cardigan just to give him a glimpse of her breasts. “Oh, yeah?”
“First of all, don’t start teasing me,” he warned. “And we’re going to begin our marriage in a traditional manner. Like any proper groom, I’ll carry you over the threshold, and then…I’ll take your virginity.”
“But you already—” Maxine stopped herself, covered her mouth as realization rushed through her mind. “You mean…that virginity…?”
Her shyness was so damn enthralling as she pointed awkwardly to her backside. “Yes, I mean that virginity.”
“Oh, Sir…” she groaned, bouncing in her seat. “You’re going to make me wait that long?”
“You’re not ready yet!” he insisted. “You still need training—with anal plugs.”
Slumping down in the booth, she pouted, her bottom lip puckering forward. “I feel like I’m gonna be in training for the rest of my life!”
“With that bratitude, you will be!”
“Ohhh, what you do to me, Drew…!”
“Yeah, I know…” he said, ego swelling.
Of course, they meandered back to the conversation on the wedding. Both Maxine and Drew preferred a small and elegant affair. Intimacy was of greatest import, and they’d chosen the grounds at Maison McKenzie in the Hamptons. They wanted to share the day only with their families and closest of friends.
In all truth, they would have been just as happy to head down to the courthouse to make things official. They needed to do only one thing—join hands and pledge the vows they’d each been writing.
Entwining her fingers with his, she sighed serenely then turned to the window, minding the steady snowfall through their smiling reflections.
“I can’t wait to marry you,” she whispered, giving a squeeze to his hand.
“Likewise, little one,” he said, tracing his fingers over the lines on her palm. “I’m glad we decided on a short engagement.”
Her heart began to quicken with every circle he made. Theirs knees touched beneath the table. Maxine knew they wouldn’t be there for much longer.
“Would you like to take the rest of that burger home?” the waitress snuck up behind them and asked.
“No, thank you,” Maxine whispered, her eyes locked with his. Once Drew paid the check and insisted the waitress keep the change, Maxine returned his salacious grin. “I’m sure we could get a room around here. Plenty of hotels…”
“So boring, Maxine,” he said. “Besides, you’ll have your fill of hotels on our honeymoon. How about a walk in the snow?”
“Now?” She darted her head from his gaze to the blizzard outside the window.
“Where’s the Pittsburgher in you, Maxine?”
he goaded. “I thought Thomas Kirk taught you how to drive on snowy roads?”
“That, he did, but I didn’t say I liked it…”
Raising his pint for one last swig, Drew chuckled. “I challenge you to a stroll through this nor’easter…”
“Oh, yeah?” Rising, she reached for her coat. “Well, in that case, I accept. After all, what good is a snowstorm if you’re not going to play in it?”
In spite of all the grave warnings from the mayor’s office to stay off the streets, the avenue was still quite congested at nearly half-past midnight. Mostly tourists slipped and sloshed around, endeavoring to get back to the warmth of their rooms, but a fair amount of traffic continued to creep along the slick streets.
There was no chance of Maxine falling on her ass, though, with Drew’s grip on her arm.
Once they’d reached 59th Street, just in front of the Time Warner Center where CNN made its headquarters high atop the luxury shopping plaza, Drew made a slight detour. They weren’t far from home, and he loved to keep Maxine guessing.
“Drew, where—”
“How about a little midnight stroll through Central Park?”
“Uh, I believe it’s closer to one in the morning,” she reminded him. “What time does the park close?”
“Technically…at one,” he said dismissively. “But it’s far too pretty not to indulge this evening, little one.”
Game on, Mack, she thought. And two could play it.
He’d actually chosen a lighted path that he knew well, and as they ambled along, Maxine gloried in every heavy flake that fell upon them. Again, the calm surrounding them seemed almost surreal, and for just one moment, she escaped into the fantasy that they were the only two people on the entire island of Manhattan.
Feet crunching along the snow, she absorbed the beauty of nature at its wildest, watching the flurries in the glow of the lamplights. However, he’d issued his innuendo back at the bar, and Maxine couldn’t resist tempting her own fate with him that night.
Stopping, she bent down to pretend to tie her boot.
“You’re wearing Uggs, Maxine,” he noted. “No laces…”
“No laces,” she slowly pulled herself up, winding her arm. “But I have a little something for you, Kind Sir!”
Through the air, her perfect snowball sliced, striking Drew right to the heart. He hoped she couldn’t see his smile—or his gaze that was boiling with the threat of retaliation—in the dim light.
“You. Are in. Some serious…trouble…”
How she loved that word—trouble.
“Oh, no!” she mocked him, waiting and ready. Watching as he bent down to scoop up two palms filled with snow, she allowed him just a moment to pack it to perfection before purposefully taking off into the blizzard-covered lawn.
The pelt of the snowball struck her ass, stinging through the denim of her jeans. “Ouch!” she cried out into the night, laughing all the while as Drew geared up to toss another her way. “Oooh!” she shouted with the second hit smacking against her other cheek. “Third time’s a charm, Kind Sir…please?”
Only Maxine would find pleasure in having her bottom pounded with snowballs. Her begging was just so enchanting.
“Well…” Drew said as he stopped for a moment. “Since you asked so nicely…”
“Ohhh, yes!” she squealed as he bombed her from behind again. “Thank you!”
Now, her entire rear end was soaked. With the chill of the winter breeze whipping through the air, Maxine was certain she’d have a chapped ass by the time they finally arrived home.
Crossing one leg around the other, she sought to calm herself. She could feel her clit pulsing in her panties almost menacingly. Groaning out loud, she knew she’d never make it back to the penthouse without coming. But then Drew caught her in his arms, lifted her high above the ground and spun around with her right in the snow.
But he didn’t stop once he’d settled her on her feet. Drew’s lips moved in for the kiss as the snow iced their hair and coated their already damp clothes. His tongue filled her mouth, and while Maxine struggled to breathe, she kissed him back, matching his intensity with every manipulation of her seeking lips.
Slinking down upon the slight hillside behind them and into a pile of snow that was at least a foot deep, Drew crushed against her, grinding Maxine into the drift as if they were trying to make angels.
Maxine, however, was certainly no angel that night.
Between her legs, she could feel the scrape of denim as his jeans brushed against hers. The thrust of his cock teased her so unabashedly. Oh, how she wished they could just fuck right there in the snow.
“Please, Sir, let me come,” she begged him, her arms thrashing about and tossing freshly fallen flakes all over them both. “Please, Sir…”
Drew continued to rock against her, his eyes wide open to catch her every move. “Why should I allow you, Maxine?” he asked, his breath visible in the night air. “Do you deserve to come?”
Trick question, she knew. Drew loved to toss her a curve ball. “No, Sir…” she replied softly. “Never deserve it…”
“Why is that, Maxine?” Now, he heaved against her as if he were taking her right there upon a mattress of snow. “Tell me…”
“Such…a bad…fucking…girl…” she scowled, so desperate to just hear his command. “Bad…bad…Maxine…”
Although Maxine’s words were almost his undoing, Drew loved to just push her a little more every day. “Can’t behave for me. Naughty little slut.”
“Sassy…slutty Maxine…oh, please…come, Sir?”
Now she was rambling in the throes of subspace, and Drew wanted to leave her hanging for just a bit longer. Prolonging her wait was his favorite game. He so loved to watch her struggle against her own will, and he knew just how to tempt her throughout every second along the way.
Under the layers of her clothes, his hands crept. Giving the delicate lace of her bra a fierce pull, he ripped it open, then pinched her nipples hard with his wet gloved fingers.
The jolt of his cold touch left her with a shock. Beneath him, she writhed in the snow and screamed into the New York night.
“Sir…?” she whimpered again as if to remind him that she was truly suffering. “Oh, Sir…?”
“That pathetic little voice, Maxine,” he grunted. “You sound like the kittens just before dinner…”
Maxine was sure that her heart was beating so feverishly that her ribs would just crack. Blinking away the snowflakes from her long lashes as she looked up at Drew, she shivered—not from the cold, but from the narrowing gaze that stared back at her, the tightening of his jaw, the tension tautening his forehead.
“I could make you get up and walk home right now,” he suggested.
“So bad…threw a snowball at Kind Sir…”
“At least you’re aware that you started this battle…” he said. “You know, we could be snuggled up in bed right now, cuddling with the furkids, watching the storm unfold from the privacy of our room.”
“So warm…”
“Well, you blew it, Maxine…”
“I can blow you, Sir…”
Fuck. She was now nearly drowning in subspace.
“Oh, I know you’re capable of that,” he said as he hooked her legs around his waist just to be closer to her. Actually, the thought of Maxine on her knees, perhaps right in front of the fireplace, didn’t sound like a bad idea.
Little did he realize that they were being watched on two separate fronts. So lost in Maxine’s every move, Drew remained unaware of any presence in the park but for their own.
For the moment, however, he had to deal with the situation at hand.
Talk of snow angels, he rebuffed. Before him, Drew had his own little snow she-devil—cursing and crying out, babbling and begging as she sunk further into a rather deep mound of snow.
“Tell me, Maxine…” he ordered. “I can’t help you when you’re just talking gibberish here…”
“I want…a snowgasm
….” she shouted. “Please—Sir…”
Don’t you dare even crack a smile, Mack, he warned himself. Dammit, that tiny voice of hers could shatter the sound barrier when she wanted to.
“We use our indoor voices when scening outdoors,” he reprimanded as he sprinkled a handful of wet snow over the front of her jacket. “Manners, Maxine.”
“Kisses…Sir?”
“No more kisses. You have to learn how to behave like a proper slut—or I’ll have to stop taking you out,” he rattled on as he pumped his hips against her. “How would you like to be locked in your little cage beneath the bondage bed? Trapped there while the rest of the city moves on with life?”
“Tonight…later…yes…come…please, Sir?”
“We have severe punishments for coming while you’re crated, little one,” he continued to torment. “Perhaps, I’ll use the cane…”
“Big tease, Sir!” she hissed through gritted teeth. How she wished every time they played in the dungeon that he’d just take that bamboo stick off the damn wall and strike her with it. Drew worried about splinters, but Maxine’s ass had already been introduced to those via her damn treehouse.
“Oh, just come and get it over with…” he said at last, feeling her legs tighten around him and the grip of those dainty hands clinging to his arms.
“Thank you…” she managed, her mind and body racing against each other as she released her control and succumbed to her own greedy gratification. “Thank you…Sir…”
Wet clothes stuck to her skin, she jerked her legs and flailed her arms, exulting in the current flowing between her legs.
“I love you, Drew…”
It was always that moment of their play that he adored the most—that split second when he was no longer just her Master, but her partner, her lover, her friend.
“I love you, too, little one…” he whispered, his lips catching the snowflakes falling upon her hair. “Don’t stop until you’re finished…”
“Can’t stop…” As she sinuated against him, she imagined the heat of his swollen cock through the layers of their wet jeans.
“Hey, you two!”
For one quick second, Drew popped his head over his shoulder and spotted the silhouette of two NYPD officers off in the distance. “Oh, fuck. Stop it. Right now. Get on my back.”
KNOTTED: The Manhattan Bound Series, Book Three Page 7
