Although Nanny Fiona’s observation on her relationship with Drew startled Maxine, she couldn't resist a smile. She craved to hear more about this Mary Poppins-like woman on whom Drew depended to keep his life running and, most importantly, to keep his secrets. Maxine wondered what tales this woman could tell.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss…Mrs. Find—”
With a wave of her hand, Fiona gave a quick, “Pshaw!” and reached for Maxine’s hand. “Call me Nanny—everyone else in the family does.”
The family. Now, that was a weight that Maxine wasn’t sure she could withstand just yet. The McKenzies were a tight-knit clan, and Maxine remained unsure of just how she might fit in.
“That’s an order, Maxine,” Drew told her as he took the seat on the barstool beside her. “And I’d mind it carefully if I were you…”
“Alright then, Nanny…” Maxine’s cheery voice sang across the room.
That playful smile returned again, as Drew turned to make sure that Nanny Fiona wasn't looking and reached out to pinch one of Maxine's nipples through her blouse. How he loved to catch her by surprise. With a start, Maxine sat up straight, stifled by her absolute shock.
“Dinner is served,” Fiona noted as she placed the two plates of whole wheat pasta and fresh vegetables in a light cream sauce before them. “Anything else for now?”
“Take tonight off, Nanny Fi,” Drew said.
“Well, thank you, Mack!” Fiona exclaimed. “But what about your meals for the...”
Drew pointed toward the door that separated the kitchen from the dining room and said, “Go!” Maxine could sense that he wanted to be alone with her. “I'll see you tomorrow evening....I’ll have Lou pick you up.”
“As you wish,” she nodded then turned to retrieve her bag and coat from the small closet in the kitchen. “Lovely meeting you, Maxine. And you two have a beautiful evening.”
“You, too, Nanny,” Maxine said.
“Love that lady,” Drew said once the door closed. “She was there for me during the worst time of my life. And all the while, she was enduring some hardships of her own. She’s amazing. Like a second mom to me…”
“It’s sweet that you still have her in your life,” Maxine said.
“She needed a job, so I created one for her. She’s getting a little too old to do the nanny thing anymore, and she wasn’t looking for something full-time. I just wanted to help her out in the same way that she helped me,” he explained. “But getting back to my mother…she’d like to meet you, Maxine.”
The deep red flush of her cheeks and neck was a stark contrast with the pristine white surroundings of the kitchen. He just loved to drop bombs into her lap.
“So you told her—your family—about me?” Maxine asked.
“Well, I sort of had to after that photo in the Post,” he said. “And I would have sooner rather than later anyway.”
“I guess they were peeved?” she asked, dreading his answer.
“No, they were actually happy,” he said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve brought anyone home. In fact, my parents insisted that I bring you to my mother’s fundraiser for her foundation later this month.”
“Drew…it’s…I…so soon…and…”
“You’re going,” he said with an air of nonchalance. “I’ll even buy your dress. You can pick it out, of course, but I want you to feel like a Princess that night.”
“Now that’s just too much for…”
“It’s in two weeks,” he ignored her protests. “First official party of the fall social calendar. My mother hosts it every year at their home in the Hamptons. And I’ll be performing. You can’t miss it, Maxine.”
“I suppose we have a date then,” she smiled.
“And we usually just spend the weekend,” he said. “Not to worry, though, we’ll take the guest cottage. We’ll have some privacy and dodge the chaos that usually pervades the main house. Especially with my brother there…”
“Ah, I shall finally meet this eccentric brother of yours?” she raised an eyebrow.
“Just remember, little one, I fully maintain that he had to have been adopted. There’s no possible way that we both were born of the dear woman we call ‘Mother.’”
“Oh, how bad can he be?” Maxine wondered.
“You’ve not met Adam yet,” he warned. “Now…what can I get you to drink, little one?”
“Glass of wine might be nice…”
“That’s a negative,” he said, then lifted her chin. “No pouting. This is for your own damn good here, Maxine.”
“One glass? I’ve done this before, Drew—the last time I was on…anti-depressants. And I was fine.”
“I’m not going to chance that this evening. You want to play, Maxine, and I need to you be fully aware of what’s going on. I’m not about to impair your judgment. You’ve never done this before.”
Glaring over their dinner plates, she said, “Water will be fine, please.”
Just to humor her, he poured them each a wine glass of sparkling Pellegrino, then returned to his spot beside her.
“Almost perfect here…now…off with the bra,” he commanded. “And just the bra…”
“What…?”
“Come on, Maxine. Time is wasting. Do that woman thing where you pull it out of your sleeve.”
“Oh, Drew…”
“Oh…?”
“Oh, Sir…”
So lost in conflict by his challenge, she sighed with resignation. Reaching around with some reluctance, she unclasped her bra at her back through her blouse, slid one strap down over her right arm, then attended to the left before pulling it out through the tiny puffy sleeve. All the while, her eyes never left his.
Like a trophy, she waved it in the air. “Happy?”
“Very…” His smile was ever wicked. “Now…you had better eat your dinner.”
“And if I don't?” Her eyes challenged his. “Will you punish me?”
“Oh, little one...” he groaned, as he held out his wine glass and traced the delicate crystal rim around her nipple. “I'll deny your punishment if you don't eat....”
“Hmm...” Maxine murmured, her breathing labored as she watched him, circling and circling, as the water sloshed in the glass. “Mmm...”
Just as quickly, Drew moved his hand away and took another sip, his soulful stare continuing to survey Maxine all the while. “So sensitive you, are...” he complemented. “Now, you have to take at least ten bites before we wander upstairs. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir...” she lifted her fork to his lips, rising quickly to his challenge.
“Good girl...” he whispered. “And while you eat, we need to discuss a few details...”
“Such as?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, as I mentioned, we won’t have a contract, but we do need to set some limits,” he said. “And you do need to pick your safewords.”
“How about...” Maxine giggled at herself at the mere notion of negotiation. “Avocado. Banana. And strawberry?”
“How about you stop laughing?” Suddenly, his merriment transcended to sternness. “This is very serious, Maxine. And you can't just take this with a grain of salt—you could be injured if we don't work this out before we play. Last night, we kept it rather vanilla, and you still couldn't remember your own name. Let's keep it simple—red, yellow and green...”
Moderately dejected, she pouted her bottom lip. “Yes, Sir...”
“What if I've gagged you, Maxine?” he challenged. “What will we do then?”
“I...” She felt as if he were quizzing her just to see how much she'd studied up on BDSM that week. “I...don't know...Sir...”
“Maybe you'll just have to trust me to check in with you during those moments of—incapacitation?”
She took a sip of water, stalling. “How, Sir?”
“Perhaps I could take your hand?” he suggested and reached her hers. “You could squeeze it if you're in distress?”
Catching her thu
mb and index finger, he lifted them to her breast, and clasped them around her already agitated bud, pinched them together, then returned her hand to her lap. Maxine was sure that the quivers that quaked through her entire body were unmistakable to his naked eyes.
“That would work...Sir...”
“Take a bite, Maxine,” he encouraged, looking down at her plate. “You're wasting time this evening, and you have four more to go.”
Oh, the range of moods he’d exhibited that night—from anger to anguish with a fleeting moment of frivolity before his ultimate need for control returned. Perhaps they were both starved for a stroll along the precipice of peril.
“Make it to ten bites, and I'll make it worth your while, Maxine,” he tempted. “A small reward before we play.”
The art of manipulation, honed and practiced by Drew McKenzie, was not lost on his novice submissive. Carefully, she wound two strands of linguini around her fork, which she then methodically stabbed into a mushroom slice.
“Seven,” she said, easing the fork to her lips, then chewing so very cautiously. The taste of Nanny Fiona’s culinary talents, however, escaped Maxine, as her intent wasn't to enjoy the meal but merely to finish her assigned task at hand.
“Eight...” Maxine skewered a tiny floret of broccoli and one mushroom, hoping that would satisfy Drew's definition of a bite, then washed it down with another sip of sparkling water.
“Good...good...girl...” He refilled her glass, then his own, and settled back on the barstool, arms folded, to watch her. “Don't forget—there's fresh bread, too...”
Dutifully, Maxine broke off a tiny piece of the crusty Italian bread, dipped it ever so gracefully in the seasoned olive oil, then bit down, chewed and swallowed with excruciating leisure. “Nine,” she smiled triumphantly.
“One more,” he reminded her. “Will you get your reward, Maxine?”
“Yes...” Twirling one last strand of pasta around her fork, Maxine raised her eyes, batting her lashes as she accepted his challenge. “...Sir...”
“Don't talk with your mouth full, Maxine,” he said as he hopped off the barstool to retrieve a dish towel from the linen closet. “It's impolite.”
A smirk of satisfaction played over Maxine's lips as she watched him meticulously fold the white towel on the marble countertop, wondering all the while what plans he had rolling through his filthy mind.
Drew held the cloth, creased with the perfection of the military, in his hand and moved behind her on the barstool. “Now, remember last night when I told you that I wasn't going to hurt you with your punishment?”
“Yes, Sir—I remember.” She nodded, her smile fading to an uncertain curiosity. “You didn't hurt me...”
“I'm going to promise you that again right now, Maxine. I will not hurt you,” he said. “But I am going to blindfold you. Are you with me?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Now I don't think you'll need them, but just for good measure, I want you to tell me what your safewords are?”
“Green...yellow...and red, Sir.”
“Good girl,” he murmured, knotting the towel behind her head against her wispy auburn hair. “Use them if you need them...”
Vision completely obstructed by the thick layers pressing against her closed eyes, Maxine became acutely aware of his presence behind her, the intake of her own breath and the shuffle of his feet on the tiled floor.
He moved her hands to the armrests, palms down, his slightest touch heating Maxine's skin. “Sit up, little one,” he said, the pressure of his hands urging against her shoulders. “Arch your back for me...”
Maxine could feel the thick material—another towel, perhaps—fold over the top of her wrist, binding her to the wooden arm. His fingers slipped between the folds, testing the strength of his knot.
Drew was tying her to the chair.
He wasn’t fucking kidding. He could indeed make a dungeon anywhere at any time!
“I don't want you to lose your balance and fall on the floor, little one,” he murmured, lips brushing against her ear. “Okay, so far?”
“Yes, Sir...”
He stepped away then, and Maxine held herself as still as she possibly could against the gasps of her own breath, her mind reeling with anticipation. Trembling with desire that was laced with a trace of fear, she could feel the goose bumps rise on her arms, the shiver that slithered up her spine.
Then, he was behind her again, separated only by the back of the sturdy wooden stool. “Just take a deep breath,” his lips returned to her ear, his words cool but coaxing. “Breathe...”
Cupping her breasts, he gave them a tender squeeze, then, with the utmost delicacy, began to scrape his perfectly manicured nails just over the swollen tips of her nipples.
“I want you to come, Maxine,” he whispered, “as long—and as often—as you have to...”
As his fingers picked up their pace, gliding and scratching, grazing her skin against the tight blouse, Maxine reveled in this sweet torture that began over dinner. She could feel herself sliding against the slick wood of the chair as she struggled to flail her immobile arms, rocking her hips to and fro against the seat.
“What's your favorite color right now, little one?” he asked, easing his torment only slightly to settle her down.
“Green!” Maxine panted, throwing her head back against his chest, only to be startled by his sudden and painful pinch of her nipples that sent her crawling to the very edge of the cliff. “Green...Sir...”
All he needed to say were those two entrancing words that transcended all senses, thoughts and feelings in Maxine's present state of acute provocation: “Good...girl...”
Limbs suddenly slackening with the grip of pleasure that spiraled from the tips of her breasts, blazed through her belly and quaked through the core of her needs, she shrieked and thrashed about in the chair and struggled against the pull of her own wrists.
Kicking her feet against the legs of the stool, she lost one of her flats. Yet Maxine didn't care. She wanted more. She needed more. And she allowed herself to succumb to the complete control of the man who held her most verboten desires in the tips of his fingers, the brush of his lips, the intensity of his commands.
And dammit, she couldn't stop those ripples of delight seizing her again. Her knuckles whitening, clutching the chair...her shoulders popping...legs jerking so maniacally. She had fallen into such a state of intensity that she almost couldn't breathe.
“It's code red, little one...” She could feel Drew's lips kissing her with such tenderness as she continued to grasp every single second of her orgasm that just seemed never ending. “Shhh...little one...too much...”
The glare of the fluorescent kitchen lights burned against her closed eyelids as he removed the blindfold. Drew released one hand then the other and pulled Maxine to his chest as she begged him for more. All the while, as she continued to tremble and whimper in his arms, he kissed her hair, kissed her wrists—taking great care to check her for any marks made by her own scuffling hands.
“Stop, Maxine,” he ordered, his voice brimming with concern. His thumbs caressed her eyelids. His lips took hers in a slow and calming kiss. “You need to settle.”
When at last Maxine's eyes fluttered open, he framed her face with his large, gentle hands, and whispered, “Do you understand why I had to restrain you?” At that moment, he couldn't give her too many kisses that she so desperately wanted and needed. “And then...why I had to stop you?”
Yes...no...maybe, Sir...Maxine couldn't answer him. She was far too dizzy to think—to speak.
“That was all about trust.” He took her hands and kissed her fingers, one by one. “You wanted to play too hard—for right now. You wanted to go too far...”
“More...?” Maxine whispered.
“In time, little one,” he murmured and allowed Maxine to wrap her legs around his waist—her arms around his neck—as she settled against his chest, calming herself by the furious thundering of his heartbeat against her ch
eek. “You need to relax a bit...before we go upstairs.”
“Upstairs...” she repeated, daring to nuzzle against the soft hairs fanning over the opening in his button-down shirt.
“Soon,” he promised, and eased himself backward just one step. “What do you need? More water?”
Maxine giggled and looked up at him. “Milk and cookies...”
Drew felt that little laugh of hers all the way to his groin. “Milk and cookies...” his voice teased her in the calm of her aftershock. “I'll do anything to get you to eat, Maxine...”
“You can do—um—that...again...”
“Oh, we’ll do that again one day,” he promised. “But for right now, little one, you have two imperative decisions you need to make.”
Maxine's eyes widened with desire and fright all over again.
“Whole milk, chocolate or strawberry?” Drew smiled at her, playing again. “And...chocolate chip...or Oreos....?”
# # #
“OUCH!”
Heart thumping, Drew threw his hands in the air. Concern and confusion masked his face. “Maxine...little one...what?”
Lips pursed in a smile, she chuckled inwardly as Drew reached for the knob of his bedroom door—the one room in the entire penthouse that had been forbidden from Maxine’s view.
“Gotcha!” Somewhere between ecstasy and Oreos, Maxine had gained her second wind.
“Alright, Maxine…” Once he faced her, he pointed a stern finger in her face. “Don't ever do that again when we're about to play...I could hurt you in ways I don't intend to...”
“I—I'm...I'm sorry, Drew,” she stammered. “I...wasn't thinking...”
“Maxine, so help me, if you're not going to take this seriously, let's not and say we did...”
“Drew, really...” Her emerald eyes implored him. “I was only trying to break the ice a little...ease the tension...”
“You, little one, have no idea what tension is,” he said. “But I'm about to show you.”
WRAPPED: The Manhattan Bound Series, Book Two Page 5