Chapter Twenty-Two
I hadn’t even intended on learning about Maisie’s past at breakfast, but my plans for today couldn’t be more fitting. I’d known there was a reason behind her guard and tendency to assume the worst about someone, namely me. If my mom and spouse had betrayed me like that, I would probably show that much mistrust, too.
We used the rucksack to hold all our stuff and Maisie wore it on her back, which was comical because it was almost as big as she was. I enjoyed having her on my bike though. She was super handsy, which wasn’t a hardship for me at all. At red lights, she’d rub my shoulders or sneak her hands up under my jacket to trace her nails against the bare skin of my back. At one point, she reached around me and started rubbing closer and closer to my groin. If it weren’t for a school bus pulling up alongside us, I’d have no clue how that would’ve ended. Having her cling to me was quickly becoming my new addiction. I wanted more and more of it.
After breakfast, I took her to the Ben & Jerry’s Museum for a tour because that was just what you did when you were in Vermont. Plus, girls loved ice cream. I fought getting a hard-on watching her lick and moan while eating her cone. After that, we meandered to a roadside attraction that was a giant King Kong statue holding a vintage VW Beetle. We took dorky selfies in front of it, and she texted them to me, which meant I finally got her fucking number. It had just taken a wedding, crashing a parade, several orgasms, and crossing state lines for fuck’s sake.
After that, I drove her to an industrial part of a small town, praying my bike didn’t get stolen where I parked it. This next adventure was either going to be hit or miss.
“Just Beat It?” she said, reading the sign mounted on the warehouse. “Is this like a Michael Jackson thing?”
I took the rucksack from her, holding it in one hand and reaching for hers with my other. “No, it’s a rage room.”
“What the hell is that?”
“Haven’t you seen them online? You get all suited up and destroy a bunch of junk. You know, let the rage out.”
“Oh, fuck yeah, count me in!” Her eyes went wild with the potential of destruction.
“Come on, my little tornado.”
While checking in at the front desk, instrumental music with a deep bass hummed in the warehouse with occasional prompts of someone murmuring, “Who hurt you?” and “Feel the rage, feel it all.” Out of context, it would’ve been psychotic, but I could see how it subconsciously put you in the mania needed to get going.
My phone buzzed with a call. “Sorry, I need to answer this,” I said, stepping away from the counter.
“Lennie, what’s up?”
“Where the hell are you, boss?”
“At the intersection of mind your business and get fucked ,” I shot back.
I heard a crunching, like he was cupping his hand around the landline of the shop. “The fuzz are here sniffing around, man. You gotta warn a brother!”
Unable to take my eyes off Maisie, I watched as she continued small talk with the teenage boy working.
“What do you mean?”
“Boyd was just here, with his fancy big-boy pants, asking me where you were and if I knew how long you’d be out of town.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I didn’t say shit. I don’t talk to cops. I just stood there not saying anything. He kept trying to weasel something out of me, got all up in my face, little twerp. I finally had to stink him out by making my favorite sandwich. He was so sure you had that little gal with you. I get the feeling he was looking for her.”
“Maisie?” I asked, causing her to swing her head my way. I held up a hand in apology.
“Yeah, is that who you’re with?”
“Lennie, I don’t have to tell you shit.”
“Why would he be looking for her?”
I cleared my throat. “I’m not sure. Listen, if he shows up again, just explain you’re too busy to talk.”
“Will do.”
“Sorry to leave you with short notice.”
I could hear his smile over the phone. “No worries, you deserve some fun. It’s summer.”
I ended the call and walked back to Maisie.
“Everything okay?” she asked with a bright voice, taking my hand.
“Um, yeah, just Lennie asking about shop stuff,” I lied. I didn’t want to stress her out. As long as she was by my side, no harm would ever come to her. I’d make sure of that.
The room assigned to us had a high ceiling with rough particle boards as walls and smooth concrete flooring. Various stumps of wood and stacked tires had outdated electronics teetering on them along with a crate full of glass bottles and other breakable goods.
We joked and teased each other, getting into the heavy-duty coveralls, helmets, and work gloves. I knew two types came to a place like this: those who wanted the novelty of it and the people who actually needed to obliterate inanimate objects to get their anger out. Maisie was a sleeping storm. I just needed to wait it out for her to get going. She was full of latent, righteous rage that needed to be funneled somewhere. She deserved that much.
I lined up some bottles on a table, offering her a baseball bat with a nod of encouragement. When that didn’t work, I hit one myself. The pop was loud as it exploded against the bat and then again on the wall. When I handed her the bat again, she took it, her pink eyebrows pinched.
“You got this, baby girl. Let some steam out. Make these bottles your bitch.”
Straightening her back, she wrapped her gloved hands around the bat like a pro. The glass shattered into pieces on her first swing. Shriek after shriek, she hit each bottle, smashing them against the wall.
And just as I’d suspected, what started as playful morphed into impromptu therapy. Each of her swings got harder, more purposeful. Sensing she liked the challenge of target practice, I positioned myself accordingly. “Here! Hit this!” I yelled with a toss of a light bulb in the air.
She swung and missed, which pissed her off even more.
“Try again!” I tossed a brown beer bottle with a ripped label up in the air.
Her mouth went into a fine line with her calculated swing. The bottle cracked against her bat and sprinkled around the room.
“Good hit!”
She wiggled her butt before adjusting her stance. “Thank you! I play softball. Now pull!”
I threw another bottle. Whack.
“Pull!”
After about five rounds, I started getting creative with objects. She liked hitting the mugs and plates, but not the old VHS tapes. When she was done with target shots, she grabbed a long-handled rubber mallet with a giggle. I never thought someone twerking with a mallet could be hot, but I stood corrected. With a high-pitched screech, she belted into an old printer, plastic bursting all around us. I flinched as bits hit my face shield as her battle cry echoed in the room.
I hung back as Maisie continued to obliterate the printer, lasering in on smashing every bit of it then moving on to an old tube TV, hitting the middle of it like a bullseye before stomping on the pieces in her cowgirl boots. It was the cutest fury imaginable.
“C’mon, join me!”
“You keep going,” I said. “I’m gonna search for more stuff.”
I wasn’t scared of her rage. It was a part of her. A needed part of her society didn’t allow her to show. Rage was just as pure as joy or curiosity. It needed to be observed, so instead, I stood witness, trying my best to appear neutral. To look busy, I started digging the hook of a hammer into a tire while watching her.
The guy at the front desk must’ve been gauging her reaction because the lights morphed into more reddish than white-hued, along with louder beats with the music.
“Who hurt you?” The music rumbled along with the prompt like a tidal wave.
“Fuck!” she screamed, wailing on the remnants of the printer and TV. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” A strangled noise skittered out her throat as she went full apeshit on the shambles, moving to an old stove, dinging the sides of it, ripping out the coils on the burners, then plucking out the knobs. “You bastard!” She pushed it over with a heave, watching it topple.
She picked up the baseball bat once more, cracking down swing after swing, shattering everything within five feet of her.
“I hate you!” she shouted. Her screams morphed into sobs, but she continued her destruction, eventually falling to her knees and tugging her helmet off.
“Cover your ears,” she murmured.
Tugging off my gloves and helmet, I did.
Deep within her body, she let out a more guttural, ferocious scream, the force of it quivering her jaw. She freed a hand from her glove to wipe at the corner of her eyes then straightened her shoulders with an upcast glance at the ceiling. I could’ve sworn she was praying, so I let her be, staying silent across the room.
With one last sniffle, she got to her feet and took off her other glove. Before she could even ask, I was there, wrapping her in my arms. “I’ve got you.”
She let out a long sigh. “I needed that.”
“Glad it helped.”
She swayed me in the hug. “Oh my goodness, this is like a high. I feel so much better.”
“Sometimes, it’s therapeutic to just feel the anger.”
She stepped out of the hug. “Are you insinuating I need therapy?”
“Well, everyone does, but—”
“What do you mean?”
I ducked my chin. Isn’t this obvious? “Therapy is for everyone. I think at a certain point in someone’s life, you should unpack all your shit with an unbiased person.”
“You go to therapy?” Her tone was outright incredulous.
I shrugged. “I mean, yeah. Since I’m self-employed, I don’t have stellar insurance, but Maxine set me up with one of her colleagues. Her name is Joyce. I work on her car in exchange for sessions.”
“How often?”
“Once a month? I used to go more when the grief was fresh. I’m in a good spot now. Birthdays and holidays are tough. You never really forget someone like that, you know? There will always be a hole in my chest for the family I’ve lost, but I like to think I can fill it just a little with new people. You know, new experiences and chances for memories.” I gestured to the mess we just made. “Like this, I’ll never forget what we just did.”
“I’m filling up a part of your heart?”
I cupped her face, running a thumb down her jaw. “Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, Maisie, you are definitely filling up a part of my heart.”
She lifted to her tip toes, silently requesting a kiss. I covered her lips with mine, loving how she wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her chest into mine, a little sigh escaping her mouth once we were close. We swayed with the kiss, getting lost in it. Even with destruction all around us paired with the maddening bass line of the music, the world faded into a little pocket of just Maisie and me.
She broke the kiss with a playful peck on each of my cheeks. “Thank you.”
“You had fun?”
“Absolutely! Ice cream and violence, who knew that was my ideal date?”
“What else would you like to do with our time together?”
“I have this idea, but I dunno. It’s probably too out there.” She fiddled with the snaps on her coveralls, suddenly bashful.
“Tell me, what is it?”
Her forehead wrinkled as her warm eyes melted me in my spot. “Baby, do you think you could maybe take me to the ocean?”
We hauled ass to the coast, the four-hour drive zipping by in a blur of possessive, little touches and hilly highways lined with trees. She asked if we were going to New Hampshire. I forgot people outside of New England didn’t know that New Hampshire only had about eighteen miles of beach and we made fun of them for it.
Since it was late May and tourist season was ramping up, I knew better than to take us to one of the tourist traps here in Maine, like Old Orchard Beach, Kennebunkport, Rockland, and Bar Harbor. Instead, I pitched us to a small coastal town called Dry Creek Harbor. It was an old port town that was now mostly retired people and summer homes. It was always a solid bet if you were a local. The beaches were quiet, if not a little sleepy, but you could usually find a lobster fisherman at dusk to buy from straight from the dock.
On PadHopper, I found a little salt-washed cottage right on the beach. It was outdated, with cedar shakes on the side now bleached gray from decades of salt brine. When we entered, we came in through the kitchen door and were immediately met with the churning ocean out the window over the farmhouse sink. The wooden floors were warped from years of humidity and little feet shuffling. A small table with two chairs was pushed up against the wall, and on the other side was a quaint sitting room big enough for one small couch, an old gas stove, and an armchair with books on a bowed shelf above it. Through the kitchen was the single bedroom with the bathroom attached. Everything had coastal charm, with soft blues, fake hydrangeas in milk jugs, and white, thin curtains. The bed had spindled walnut posts with a kitchen chair beside it acting like a nightstand with a glass-based lamp.
“It’s perfect,” she said in awe.
I sniffed the air that was a little musty in my opinion. “I wouldn’t say perfect, but—”
“No, it’s perfect!” she proclaimed. “I’m happy you found it.”
I nudged her playfully with my elbow before walking farther into the bedroom. “The perks of being with a PadHopper Super Host.” She snickered at my lame joke as I opened the window next to the bed, inviting salty air to flood where we’d be sleeping. “Oh, and there was a reason I picked this place. Check the end of the hallway.”
I waited in silence, knowing she was about to find the stacked washer and dryer. “Sweet baby Jesus! Lord knows we needed more clothing options.”
We spent the next hour getting our shit together. We threw in laundry and went to a local market for a salad kit, some fruit, granola bars, string cheese, and some things for dinner. We couldn’t keep surviving off diner food.
Walking through the aisles with Maisie was, well, nice. It was the most normal thing we’d done together. We’d been either part of a wedding party, fleeing from cops, on the brink of frustrated sex, or smashing ovens. Seeing her in a mundane situation gave me a deeper appreciation of her. She carried herself in a friendly, lighthearted manner.
When we went through the checkout, she weaseled past me and paid with her debit card before I could get to the machine. I acted nonchalant but made sure to flash her a stern look. All she did was stick out her tongue before picking up the bag she’d have to hold between us on the drive back.
Once we got back to the cottage, we went for a sunset walk on the beach hand in hand like some Hallmark movie. I even cracked a joke about it, which she appreciated. Our conversation meandered to funny childhood memories, bitching about our businesses, and our favorite conspiracy theories. We both believed Princess Diana was murdered and something was sketchy about Antarctica. She thought the Denver airport had bad vibes and that Avril Lavinge had died years ago and some body double was out there pretending to be her. I wasn’t sold on the latter.
She mentioned she saw a pool hall on the outskirts of town, closer to one of the colleges, so I decided we’d go there for an impromptu date. Much to my surprise, she put on the floral sundress I’d gotten her. It had little pink flowers to match her hair. She accentuated her lips with a sparkly gloss. It made them even more enticing, and I wanted to see the color smeared by the end of the night.
The billiard hall was as dim as it was loud. Clashes of balls getting shot across the tables thundered, creating a nonstop echo. Low murmurs of laughter and conversations filled the spaces between each boom. Walking in, I knew I had a target on my back. For starters, we’d rolled up to the joint on my bike. The rumble of it alone had caught people’s attention even though I’d been driving safely.
Secondly, Maisie was on my arm. She was the type of woman you saw and wondered what her life story must be. And it wasn’t just her pink hair and confident strut. From her jewelry to her clothing, even the way she held her mouth in a smirk made you wonder what she’d seen and what could possibly be hidden underneath her playful demeanor. As a guy, it was intoxicating. Nothing was sexier than a playful woman. I would be lying if I didn’t admit I felt like hot shit having her as a date.
As we walked past a pack of men, she squeezed my forearm, all but resting one of her boobs on it. I leaned in and kissed her temple before whispering, “They’re all looking at you, tornado. Are you going to stir up the whole place?”
“Depends on how I feel,” she said with a playful wink. “And how badly you behave.”
I grabbed her ass in response, earning a sexy giggle.
At the bar, I ordered Diet Cokes for both of us. I was sure the last thing she wanted to do was drink. She was vulnerable. Even with me. I couldn’t exclude myself as a threat to her. That was her decision to make. All I could do was show up and prove time and time again that all I wanted was safety for her, to be that hideout.
We snagged a high-top table. A couple rounds into darts, they put on “Night Moves” by Bob Seger, one of my favorite songs. I sang along in a low hum.
Hearing it with a dart in hand, Maisie jumped up and down. “Ohmygawd, you love this song, too?”
“Yes, put the weapon down, darlin’. It’s time to dance.” With an adorable squeak, she flung the dart at the board, barely making it. “Such accuracy!”
She took my hand, waltzing out onto the dance floor in her cowgirl boots. “Are you going to spin me around this place?”
“Damn straight.”
“Perfect, then afterwards, will you show me how to play pool?”
“Sure thing,” I said, dipping her only to fling her back up and over into my other arm. “Anything you want.”
The song morphed into some bro-country song by Luke Bryan. I grabbed her hips, swaying with her to the chorus she knew every word of. She beamed up at me, touching my jaw affectionately before complimenting me on my dancing skills. I liked that she didn’t mind me openly manhandling her.
The place had been bustling when we’d first arrived but was dwindling down, as you’d expect on a weeknight. This worked to our advantage because we were able to get our own room with a pool table at the end of the hall filled with sports memorabilia lining the walls.
“Okay, so, you grab a pole, which is known as a cue.” I went to the rack, fetching us each one.
“I love grabbing poles,” she said with a mischievous wiggle of her eyebrows. To prove her point, she suggestively ran her hand up and down the one I gave her before fully snatching it from me.
“I bet you do. And we both know you like busting balls, so now is your time to shine.”
I racked the pool balls, centering them on the table. From there, I explained the game and showed her my techniques and how to not scrape the green felt on the table. Even though we were across from each other, with each shot of the ball, we inched closer, resulting in the most cliché move of me covering her body from behind while we shared a stick for a shot. Together, we leaned over, holding our breaths while we zeroed in on a ball and hit our blow.
Each shot, she made the cutest satisfied squeal. When the 8-ball hit the pocket, she demanded a kiss.
“Okay, how ‘bout a bet?” she asked. “If you win, you get to tie me to that bed tonight.”
“With what?”
She tipped her head to the side, her warm eyes pensively searching the ceiling for solutions. “We’ll get creative. I’m sure we can find something.”
I skimmed her clavicle with the tip of my cue, causing one of her sundress straps to fall off her shoulder. She let out a girlish gasp, hamming it up. “And if you win?” I asked.
“Then I get to tie you to the bedpost.” She slid the strap back up with a devious look.
God, she’s so fun.
Ignoring the clear advantage I had, all I could do was raise my eyebrows. “Sure thing.”
We reset the balls on the table, and she assumed position in front of me again, this time wiggling her butt against my groin.
“You’re not going to want to do that,” I warned.
“What? This?” she said, arching against me further.
“Mm-hmm,” I whispered against her ear. “Listen, I know there’s a joke about blue balls and some hard wood, but I don’t have a lot of blood in my brain to make it.” I thrust against her slowly, caging her with my arms as we both stretched over the table.
“Dane,” she said breathlessly. Grabbing one of my forearms, she ground her ass against me.
“Yeah, baby?”
She bit her bottom lip as my breath fanned against her ear. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Sure, anything.”
“I’m wearing the most uncomfortable underwear.”
“Can I see?” I abandoned the cue, letting it clank on the green felt. I stood up, freeing her. Before she could even fully turn around, I grabbed her by the hips and hoisted her on the edge of the pool table. She held my shoulders and eyed the doorway behind me, ensuring my body would block anyone walking by. And with a sexy, little smile, she opened her knees.
My hand tickled up her thigh, teasing her. Then I moved boldly up, expecting to run into lace or satin. But what I found was Maisie’s warm pussy waiting for me. I brushed my thumb along the edge of one of her lips, causing us both to groan.
“Sorry, I forgot to mention I was wearing the most uncomfortable underwear. But I fixed the problem.”
“Now we have a new one.”
She braced herself with one arm on the pool table, and her other hand reached to stroke me over my pants. “And what’s that?”
“You’re drenched with no end in sight.”
“You could help me with my predicament.”
I kissed her until we were both breathless then kept my lips close to hers as I whispered, “Just thinking of how good you taste makes my mouth water.”
“It should. I promise, nothing will ever taste as good as I do.”
Her confidence boiled my restraint. I knew I shouldn’t finger her because my hands were probably disgusting from playing pool. But I still had eyes. Eyes that needed just a peek of what was waiting for me. I guided her back onto the table, letting my hand drop from her neck to her breasts. I palmed one then dragged my hand down to pluck up the hem of her dress.
With a debaucherously dangerous idea, I grabbed the wooden cue and put it behind her knees, hoisting her legs up so I could trail kisses there to taunt her for driving me crazy. Her feminine scent wafted to me, making me almost shudder in need.
I kissed her shins, then her knees. Her sexy laugh filled the space between loud cracks of balls being hit by people in other rooms. My mouth trailed up her inner thighs as I lifted the stick, causing her dress and knees to hitch higher, finally exposing her glistening flesh to the air.
“What the fuck are you doing?” a harsh voice barked behind us.
With a yelp, Maisie rolled to her side with the cue still stuck under her knees. It snagged on the lights above the table, causing them to swing around.
I shielded her, helping her down. “Sorry, man, we . . . uh . . .” I wiped the drool from the corner of my mouth, not able to stitch together much logic.
“You can’t fuck on our table!”
On pure adrenaline, I grabbed Maisie’s hand and ran, pushing the cue against the guy’s chest as we passed him.
“I’m calling the cops! This is some weird, kinky, indecent exposure shit!”
“You’re lucky you got a glimpse, buddy!” she shot back.
A quiet murmur rippled around as we raced to the door, grabbing the helmet and our coats off the rack roughly in the process. The night air felt like freedom as we beelined to my bike. I kicked it to start as she strapped on the helmet with a cackle before I ripped away as fast as I could control the torc.
As we made our way to the seaside cottage, the single headlight from my bike was like a spotlight competing with the moon glimmering on the water alongside the road. Maisie held me tight, and I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face. I could barely park and sit the helmet down before scooping her back up and hitching her across my body, loving how she locked her legs around my waist.
“That was close,” she said, wrapping her arms around my neck.
“Good thing we make a good team.”
She distracted me by kissing my ear as I fought the door, throwing the keys on the counter before hoisting her next to the kitchen sink. We took turns kicking off our shoes and throwing off our jackets, making quick work of washing our hands with a lighthearted laugh, both of us barely drying them between frenzied kisses.
With a wild glint in her eyes, she tugged off my shirt. “Dane, baby, you can show off with foreplay later. I just need your cock in me now.” With her breathy plea, she unbuckled my belt, unzipping my zipper right before I lifted her from the counter, whisking her away. In a feverish rush of kisses, we clashed around the kitchen, resulting in me pinning her against the wall, jiggling some of the antiques displayed on a shelf, causing seashells to tumble to the floor. Hooking an arm around my neck, she gathered her dress around her waist with her free hand, helping me set my sights. I notched my cock against her slick heat and we both moaned, but with just my tip inside her, she flinched with a hiss of pain.
“Fuck it, I’m a showoff and I want to do this properly,” I said, abandoning that plan as I charged to the bed. The moon lit up the fluttering curtains, casting a silvery glow through the open window. I dropped my girl on the mattress, watching her become illuminated as well, her eyes twinkling.
“God, you’re so strong. I love it,” she said as I tore off the rest of my clothing. “I want you to take it. It’s all yours,” she said, kneeling on the bed, squirming out of her sundress.
I’d known she’d be wiggling out of that sundress eventually. Seeing it right in front of me snapped some primal instinct. “Get on your hands and knees.” I had some questions I wanted answered.
With zero hesitation, she assumed the position, exposing her bare ass. Her curves were subtle but beautiful. I ran my hand down her spine, admiring her toned back. “I love these dimples right here.”
She hummed in appreciation as I kissed each one low on her back before I moved lower, and just as I suspected, right where her leg creased to her cute ass cheek, she had a small tattoo that simply stated lucky you in cursive.
“Tell me what this says,” I said, rubbing my hand up her right hip.
She looked back at me smugly. “It says ‘lucky you.’”
“Appropriate.” I waited for her to chuckle. Right when she did, I smacked her ass.
“Yes,” she hissed, melting to her elbows, ass up. “Aw, fuck yes.”
“If you keep acting like this, you’re going to have my cum all over your ass.” I leaned in, licking the tattoo before nipping her cheek. “All over this tattoo.”
“Prove it.”
I rolled her back over, loving how she giggled like a little faerie beneath me, short pink hair already mussed, perky nipples begging to be licked, tan skin flawless in the low light.
She smoothed her hands over my chest, pulling me down for a kiss. Our tongues brushed and stroked. The kiss got messier and needier as I ground my dick against her silky skin. I nuzzled her neck, letting my mouth rove to one of her breasts. Flicking my tongue against a nipple, I incited a hiss of pleasure from her as she held the back of my head.
“I love how sensitive your tits are.” I pushed both of them together, tracing my tongue from nipple to nipple, increasing the pace as they hardened.
“Jesus Christ,” she whispered.
I continued, swirling and flicking until she squirmed, clawing at my shoulders. I squeezed a mound, pulling off it to release her coppery bud with a loud pop, my spit glazing her flesh. She chanced a glance down, making little sounds of pleasure as I repeated it on her other breast.
“Your hands are so rough,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry. Am I hurting you?”
“No, it feels—” She interrupted herself by biting her bottom lip while I rolled her nipple. “It feels strangely good.”
“Promise you’ll let me know if I hurt you?” I knew my hands were rough from work, and if I wasn’t careful, I was sure my weight could crush her.
“I promise,” she said, widening her legs, urging me on.
I kissed down her torso. Even her belly button was cute. God, what was wrong with me? I never thought a belly button could be adorable, but hers was. It was small, perfectly round, and shallow.
“Show me how bad you want it,” I said.
She reached down between my face and her center to spread her pussy for me.
“More.”
I watched as she ran her finger through her center, bringing the moisture across her lips and clit before slowly rubbing it. “Please, please put one of those rough fingers inside me. Just the thought of it is driving me fucking crazy,” she gritted out.
I had so much built-up desire, my teeth almost ached. No longer able to fight it, I groaned, sliding my middle finger into her palm up, letting her suck me in.
A breath hitched in her throat. “Wait, start with one then move up to two.”
“This is only one of my fingers, sweetheart.”
“Oh god!” She covered her face with her free hand, tilting her hips even more as I curled my finger. “Oh god!” she repeated for what I suspected was a different reason. And with that, I dropped my head, finishing what I’d started in the pool hall.