11. Maisie
MAISIE
Morning sunlight streams through the bedroom windows, warm and bright. I wake slowly, consciousness returning in soft waves. The first thing I register is Marcus's gaze.
He's propped on one elbow, watching me. His gray eyes are soft with affection rather than the usual heat.
"How long have you been awake?"
"A while. Just watching you sleep."
The stalker tendency said with complete lack of shame.
I smile. "Creep."
"Your creep."
He leans down and kisses me, gentle and warm.
The past two weeks have been the most peaceful of my life.
Dorothy was arraigned and made bail, but the restraining order keeps her at bay.
She has to stay at least five hundred feet away from both of us.
No contact, no harassment, nothing. She has a court date next month for the charges—threats, harassment, assault, trespassing.
Her lawyer is pushing hard for a plea deal.
The most surprising part? She's actually gone silent. No more calls. No more texts. No attempts to manipulate or control. The absence feels strange, like waiting for a storm that never comes. But the constant anxiety has started to fade. I find myself healing in ways I didn't expect.
"Get up and get dressed. Something nice but comfortable. We're going out."
I blink at him. "Where?"
His smile turns mysterious. "It's a surprise. Just trust me."
Excitement flutters in my chest. "We're going on a date?"
"Our first real one. I want to do this right."
We've had plenty of physical intimacy, emotional connection, but never a traditional date. Always too wrapped up in secrecy, drama, Dorothy's interference. Now we're free to act like a normal couple.
I shower and dress in a sundress and sandals as instructed. Marcus changes into dark jeans and a button-down, casual but devastating. His silver-streaked hair and beard catch the morning light. Our age difference is visually obvious, but I don't care. He's mine, and I'm his.
The first stop is brunch at an upscale restaurant overlooking the water.
Marcus has reserved a private table on the outdoor patio.
Morning sun, ocean breeze, perfect weather.
We eat and talk, easy conversation about everything and nothing.
Classes, his work, plans for the weekend. Normal couple things.
I realize this is the first time we've been in public together as a couple. No hiding, no fear of being seen. Marcus holds my hand across the table, completely open. A few people glance at us, noting the age difference. But Marcus seems unbothered, and I take strength from his confidence.
Over mimosas and french toast, we laugh more than we have in weeks.
"This is nice," I tell him.
"It is. I should've taken you on a proper date sooner."
"We were busy dealing with my psychotic mother."
Marcus squeezes my hand. "That's over now. We can focus on us."
The next stop is the city's art museum. Marcus reminded me that I mentioned loving art museums months ago but never having time to visit. I'm touched he remembered this small detail.
We wander through galleries hand in hand. I discuss various pieces, analyzing technique and historical context. Marcus listens intently, asking questions, clearly enjoying watching me talk about something I love.
In a quieter gallery featuring impressionist paintings, Marcus pulls me close and kisses me. The spontaneous affection feels significant—no more hiding.
"People are staring," I whisper against his mouth.
"Let them."
The confidence is reassuring rather than reckless. He doesn't care who sees us together. Doesn't care about judgment. He just wants me.
Marcus takes me to upscale boutiques next. Insists on buying me a new dress despite my protests.
"I can buy my own clothes."
"I know you can. But I want to."
The possessive provider instinct showing in a new way. I try on several dresses while Marcus watches with clear appreciation. I settle on an elegant emerald green dress that matches my eyes. Marcus also buys matching heels and jewelry.
In the dressing room, Marcus can't resist pulling me against him, his lips finding the sensitive skin of my neck. His beard scrapes against me as he murmurs, "You're stunning."
"You're biased," I say, though my breath already catches.
"Absolutely. You're mine, so you're perfect by default."
His hands slide down my sides with deliberate slowness, gripping my hips firmly through the fabric of the dress I'm trying on. The kiss deepens, becomes hungrier, more demanding. I gasp against his mouth as he presses me harder against the dressing room wall, his body covering mine completely.
"Marcus, we're in public?—"
"I don't care."
His hand slides under the hem of my sundress, fingers trailing up my inner thigh until they find the wetness already gathering between my legs. I bite back a moan as his fingers stroke my clit through the thin fabric of my panties, the pressure making my knees weak.
"You want this," he growls against my ear, his voice rough with need. "Tell me."
"Yes—fuck—yes."
I grab fistfuls of his shirt and pull him properly into the dressing room, fumbling to close the door behind us.
The space is cramped, the full-length mirror on the wall reflecting our movements.
Marcus reaches past me to lock the door with a decisive click, and immediately his hands are lifting my dress, bunching it around my waist.
"Need to be inside you."
His fingers hook into my panties and yank them down my legs in one swift motion. I step out of them quickly as he unbuckles his belt, the metallic sound loud in the small space. He shoves his jeans down just enough to free his cock, already hard and thick, the head glistening.
I brace my hands against the wall as he grips my thighs, lifting me with effortless strength. He positions himself at my entrance, the thick head of his cock pressing against my wetness.
"Wrap your legs around me."
I do, locking my ankles behind his back, and he thrusts inside in one smooth, powerful motion. My head falls back against the wall, a choked gasp escaping my throat. He's so deep, stretching and filling me completely, the angle making him hit places that make my vision blur.
"Ahh—Marcus?—"
"Quiet. Unless you want everyone to hear you getting fucked."
The command makes me clench involuntarily around his cock.
He groans, low and rough, and starts moving with purpose.
Hard, deep thrusts that make my entire body shake.
The mirror beside us reflects everything in explicit detail—his large hands gripping my thighs, my dress bunched around my waist, the way his cock disappears inside my pussy over and over, slick and wet.
"Look at yourself," he orders, his voice a dark command. "Look at how well you take my cock."
I force my eyes to the mirror, though it's hard to focus. The sight is obscene and impossibly arousing. My face is flushed, mouth open, eyes glazed with pleasure. My body bounces with each powerful thrust. Marcus's expression is pure possession, his gray eyes dark and intense, jaw clenched.
"You're mine. Say it."
"I'm yours—oh god—I'm yours?—"
"That's my good girl."
His pace increases, pounding into me without mercy, his cock driving deep with every thrust. The dressing room wall shakes slightly with the force. Anyone passing by would know exactly what's happening inside. The thought makes me wetter, my arousal coating his cock.
Marcus feels the change immediately. "You like this. Like the risk of getting caught."
"Yes—fuck—yes?—"
His thumb finds my clit, rubbing tight, relentless circles while he continues to thrust. The dual sensation pushes me rapidly toward the edge.
My pussy clenches and spasms around his cock as I come hard, waves of pleasure crashing through me.
I bite my lip viciously to keep from screaming, tasting blood.
"Fuck—Maisie?—"
Marcus buries himself as deep as possible and comes inside me, his cock pulsing and throbbing. I feel the heat of his cum filling me. He holds me pinned against the wall, both of us breathing hard, hearts pounding.
After several long moments, he carefully sets me down on shaky legs. I have to grip his arm for balance. He helps me clean up with tissues from my purse, his touch surprisingly gentle after the roughness. He adjusts my dress while he tucks himself back into his jeans, buckling his belt.
"Still buying this dress," he says, completely unrepentant, pressing a kiss to my temple.
I can only nod, still catching my breath.
We leave the boutique with shopping bags in hand, Marcus's arm around my waist possessively.
The late afternoon sun casts golden light across the city streets.
Marcus has one final stop planned before dinner—a sunset reservation at the city's finest restaurant.
He planned this carefully, I know. The best table, wine pairing, multiple courses. Everything perfect.
I wear the new green dress, feeling beautiful under Marcus's appreciative gaze as we arrive at the restaurant.
The restaurant is elegant, expensive, romantic. Over dinner, our conversation becomes more serious.
"These past weeks with you... they've been the best of my life."
My heart flutters. "Mine too."
"I know we started in unconventional circumstances. And we've had to fight to be together."
He reaches across the table and takes my hand. "But I wouldn't change any of it. Because it brought me to you."
Tears prick at my eyes. "Marcus..."
"I mean it. Every obstacle, every challenge. Worth it for this."
After dinner, Marcus suggests a walk. We wander through a nearby park, the evening air perfect. String lights hang in the trees, and a fountain is lit up in the center. Few other people are around. The atmosphere feels intimate.
Marcus guides me to a bench overlooking the fountain. I notice he seems slightly nervous, which is unusual for him.
"Are you okay?"
"More than okay. Just... come sit."
We sit on the bench, and Marcus turns to face me. He takes both my hands in his.
"Maisie, I need to ask you something."
Realization dawns on me. My breath catches.
Marcus continues, "I know you're still in college. I know we haven't been together that long, officially. I know there are people who will judge us."
He squeezes my hands. "But I also know I love you. And I know I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box. Opens it to reveal a stunning diamond ring—elegant, classic, substantial. Tears already blur my vision.
"Maisie Fletcher, will you marry me?"
The proposal is simple, direct, perfect.
"Yes. Yes!"
Marcus slides the ring onto my finger. It fits perfectly, like he had it sized. I look at the diamond sparkling in the string lights.
"It's beautiful. When did you?—"
"I bought it a week ago. I've been planning this."
I laugh through tears. "You've been planning our first date as a proposal?"
Marcus pulls me into his arms. "I wanted it to be special. Wanted you to have a perfect day to remember."
We kiss, deep and emotional. Passersby notice and applaud, but I barely register them. I'm engaged to the man I love. The man who protected me, fought for me, chose me.
We drive back to Marcus's villa, both giddy with happiness. I can't stop looking at my ring, the reality sinking in. Marcus's hand rests on my thigh as he drives, possessive and affectionate.
"My mother is going to lose her mind when she finds out."
"She's not allowed to contact you. And frankly, I don't give a fuck what she thinks."
I realize I don't either. "Neither do I."
The freedom of that statement. We're building our life together without Dorothy's interference.
We arrive home around nine. Both emotionally exhausted from the perfect day. In the bedroom, Marcus carefully unzips my new dress.
"You were stunning tonight."
"Thank you for today. For all of it. It was perfect."
Marcus kisses my shoulder. "You deserve perfect. Always."
We prepare for bed, the routine comfortable and intimate. I pull on one of Marcus's t-shirts while he strips down to boxer briefs. As we settle into bed, a yawn escapes me.
"I'm exhausted."
"It was a long day."
I curl into Marcus's side, my head on his chest. My left hand rests on his stomach, the diamond ring catching the dim light. I'm fighting sleep but need to say something.
"Marcus?"
"Hmm?"
"You know our... sleep arrangement."
His arms tighten around me. "Yes."
"Still stands. Always. Especially tonight. Don't care if I'm asleep... want you to..."
I trail off, already drifting. Sleep pulls at me insistently.
"You sure? You're exhausted."
"Mmm... yours... always yours..."
The last thing I register is Marcus's satisfied smile and his lips against my forehead. Then sleep claims me completely, safe and loved in my fiancé's arms.