Page 24

24

HAVOC

I ’m trembling.

Some of it’s the heroin, but most of it is Madeline Maddox coursing through my system. She’s worse than a drug, because without the drugs, I’m miserable, but without her, I’m nothing.

“Stay the night,” she says again, this time, her voice sure and full of dangerous promises.

I’m running out of oxygen.

“I-I don’t know if that’s a good id?—”

She doesn’t let me finish. “Is the alternative getting high?”

I don’t know how to lie to her when it’s this sudden. I have no script, no defense. I’m unprepared, and worst of all, I don’t want to lie to her.

“Come with me.” She gets up from her crouched position and extends her hand.

“I don’t know that I wanna go back out there,” I admit, shaking my head.

“K’s probably already left. We aren’t going back to the party anyway,” she reassures me.

For Kade to have left me here is a swirling cluster of negative thoughts I’m not quite ready to process yet.

So I take her hand and stand, following her out of the bathroom. Maddox doesn’t bother putting a new shirt over her sports bra; she just grabs her keys off a side table and waves two fingers at the crowd of skaters in the room. Some are paying attention, some already too shit-faced to care, but most are doing their own thing.

“We’ll be back later,” she says to the room, still dragging me behind by the hand.

And then, I’m in her car, shrinking to the smallest size possible as she fumbles with her phone to choose the right song. She notices the way my shoulders are hunched in, how I hold myself tight for warmth, and without a word, she blasts the heat on maximum.

Every artist that plays is a new part of her I’m discovering. She’s eclectic, and her music taste is a kaleidoscope of her range. Six or seven songs pass, and I realize we’ve driven far enough that we’re no longer in Slaughters. “Where are we going?” I finally speak.

“Does it matter?” she asks without looking my way.

I guess not, so I don’t bother answering either.

It’s another thirty minutes before she slows down, pulling into a dirt clearing. I officially have no idea where we are, which is a shock, because I know this state like the back of my hand.

She doesn’t stop driving once we get to the dirt road. Instead, she swerves her monstrosity of an SUV into the grass itself and starts traversing the mountainside. I’m not sure how legal this is, but I know there’s not enough funding in our area to employ someone just to keep the shitheads out.

Reaching for the volume control, she finally turns the music down just as the car comes to a rolling stop. We’re still at a downward slope, but she seems confident the emergency break can handle the job.

“What are we doing?” I look at her until she finally turns and unbuckles her seatbelt.

“I told you, we’re keeping busy.” She smiles, hitting the button that slides her moonroof open.

The chill is unforgivable, but the view? The view is breathtaking.

Her seat slides all the way back, and with a singular look, she's beckoning me over. Biting my lip, I fumble with my seatbelt until she reaches over, and with a quick movement, she unclips me.

I practically fall into her, the seat somehow big enough for both of us, but with her arms around me and my body pressed to her chest, I’m hardly anything, just a fleeting feeling in her hold. It’s quiet for too long, my pulse is the only thing I can hear inside the car.

Then, she speaks. “I don’t hate you.”

I can’t help but snort, because what a bizarre thing to say when she has been fingerfucking me all week, and yet, I kind of needed the confirmation. “Sure acted like it.”

“I was angry.” She’s looking at the sky, her voice shaky as she explains. “Angry that the wound Asha left behind was finally starting to heal, and then you showed up like goddamn vial of iodine reminding just how fucking painful it was. Angry that you had the audacity to come back too fucking late, even though I know damn well there was nothing you being here would have changed. Pissed off beyond belief that you’re a better skater than me and cost me my position.” She laughs at that last one, but a tear rolls down her cheek. “Angry because I couldn’t understand why you’d even fucking leave to begin with.”

This is the hard part.

The truth.

“Asha…made me.” I tell her what only a few know; oddly enough, a majority of them are now dead, aside from Star.

“What? No. You left. You got poached by the manager from the Bayside Banshees.” Her frown is deep, but there’s more confusion in her face than anything else.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “When the doctors gave my mom five months to live, Asha found this cancer center in California that was doing these experimental treatments, but they were crazy expensive. She sent him tapes of my bouts behind my back, had entire meetings with him pretending to be my agent.” A heavy tear streams down my face slowly. “That was our last big fight. It felt like she was pushing me away. I was so angry she made the decision for me.”

“Even though it might have been the right decision to make?” she asks.

“It wasn’t.” I shake my head, not understanding how she could come to that conclusion. “I lost time with my best friend.” My vision is blurry, and I can’t fight the rest of the tears from coming.

“But you gained time with your mom?” She’s genuinely asking.

“I…I don’t think I’d call it that.” I go to wipe my face, but Maddox’s arm pulls me closer, squeezing me even tighter than before.

She lets me fall apart, lets me crumble and break while she holds the pieces. We stay like that for a while, until my hiccuped sobs turn to shallow breathing and her attention returns to the night sky.

I stare at her until I’ve memorized every freckle on her face, connecting them with imaginary lines until my own constellations form above her nose.

“You’re supposed to be looking at the stars,” she whispers without looking back my way. She’s got one arm folded behind her head now, but the other hand travels up and down my side.

“I am, Madeline.” It’s still her face I see.

I feel frozen, not from the cold, but like a moment in time, like I could carve this one out and find a special place to hang it in my mind on a frame. It feels like the whole universe is on our side, giving us the space to be. I want to touch her, to run my hands over her body, to wrap my lips over hers, but I’m too afraid of ruining this.

So, I just stare, and her hand, once gripping at my side, now softens, the tips of her fingers grazing my skin until the smallest hairs on my body have all come to stand. I’m impossibly aware of her touch, and if it’s not on purpose, then maybe something is wrong with me.

Maybe this is getting out of hand.

Each time her fingers travel, I pray they’ll go further, maybe an inch higher, maybe a few inches lower.

“I need you to touch me,” I whine, an embarrassing plea, but I’m burning with desire, and I want it from her.

“Not here,” she hums in my ear.

I’m hit with the sharp sting of rejection, and I don’t like the way it makes me feel when it comes from her.

She tilts her head like she’s reading my thoughts, a soft smile painting on her face. “Later.”

My thighs clench together once her hand comes down on top of them again.

An hour goes by before she slides shut the glass of the moonroof and switches the heat back on. But we don’t move; we don’t ruin this.

The view is breathtaking.

“Asha used to joke about me and you.” She finally looks my way. “She made you out to be this faultless, perfect little thing. Unbeatable, charming, undeniably likable.”

“And the real thing must have been a let down, huh?” I laugh, snuggling into her side.

“When you blew in out of goddamn nowhere, you fucked all of my shit up. All my plans, every aspect of my life I had perfectly set up to get to the place where I finally feel safe and secure.” Her honesty is starting to hurt, but I don’t pull away. “I spent my whole life trying to feel that, and then you . But it turned out that you’re none of those things. You’re self-conscious, you’re fragile, you’re so in need of help that not protecting you feels like a goddamn crime against Asha.”

“You’re doing all of this…for Asha?” The realization is like a splintering in my chest, so I try to pull away.

“Let me finish.” She puts her thumb to my lip like it’s to shut me up. I fight the urge to bring it between my teeth. “I would have done it for Asha. I don’t have to, though, because I’m doing it for me. I won’t let you tear yourself apart anymore, Vera.”

I shake my head. “I’m too good at it. That's all I know. I’m not sure anyone can stop me anymore.”

She drops her forehead to mine, and the whole world shrinks to just us. “Try me, Mayhem.”

* * *

By the time we make it back to her place, the party has completely cleared out, and someone even locked up. Kade is nowhere in sight, but once I pull up my phone, it’s enough to not make me worry too much.

CAN WE TALK WHEN YOU GET BACK?

Those kinds of texts make my anxiety climb to no end, but I respond anyway.

SURE.

I’M SORRY ABOUT TONIGHT.

Maddox unlocks the front door and ushers me in, closing it behind me then flipping the lights on to show the mess left behind by our friends. “Make yourself at home. I’m gonna clean up a little.”

I stay unmoving.

“I mean it. It’s not just a thing to say. Wander around if you want.” She chuckles, shooing me with a free hand while the other picks up an empty beer can on the ground.

“Can I help?” I offer, fumbling with an itch in my cast I can’t quite reach.

Her chuckle turns into a full blown laugh. “With your one hand? I’m good.”

I walk down the hallway, and there’s a third door I don’t expect, the one that isn’t the bedroom or the bathroom. “What’s in there?”

“It’s my hobby graveyard.” She walks over and opens it to reveal a small office.

She calls it a hobby room, but it’s an artist’s space. There are a few paintings and drawings casually tossed over a table, some easels scattered on the floor. Some balls of yarn are falling haphazardly out of a box in the corner with a macrame wall hanging above it. It’s the leatherworking desk that grabs my attention—beautifully detailed patches, belts, wallets, coasters.

“This is amazing.” I can’t hold it in; it’s a side of her I couldn’t have predicted, and I’m bewildered by it all. “You did all of this?”

“I go through phases. Some of this stuff is years old. I haven’t touched a paintbrush in forever.” She shrugs like it’s nothing.

“Say what you want, it’s still impressive. This leather stuff is incredible.” I turn to her, still fully dressed in cargo pants and combat boots. “Wait.” I hinge at the waist for a closer look. “Did you make those boots too?”

Her cheeks are bright pink, but she’s trying to play it off like my excitement doesn’t affect her. Knowing she has a physical tell feels like a superpower.

I affect her.

“What’s that?” I point to one of the leather harnesses on the wall. It’s two separate pieces, oddly shaped, not like something that would go over your chest or back, and it doesn’t look like enough leather to wrap around any normal-sized person.

She chuckles, stuffing her hands in her pocket. “A prototype. Never quite finished it. It still needs the final stitching.”

“But what is it?” I’m no less confused than before.

“It’s a harness,” she explains casually, lifting her toe off the ground and waving it side to side. “For my boot.”

“Why does your boot need a harness? I don’t get it.” I pull it off the wall, gauging to see if there’s any reaction or if I’m overstepping by touching her things.

There isn’t, so I bring it closer for inspection, but she wraps her hand over mine and takes control. “This loop goes around the sole of the boot.” Her mouth is so close to my ear, and it makes my skin pebbles at the contact. “Can I show you?”

I nod, my gaze locked onto hers as she takes the harness from my hand and slips the larger loop over the base of her boot like she explained. She tightens the strap around the back of her ankle to secure it, and there’s a smaller, unbuckled loop attached right above the top of her foot. She lifts up the other, longer strip with a connecting loop and buckles it around her calf. It’s fully secured to her leg now, but the two smaller loops right above her foot and in front of her shin stay empty. It’s pretty, but I have no idea what the hell it does.

“What’s it for?” I’m wondering why she only made it for one leg, but I don’t ask that out loud.

“It’s for when I need my boots to look nice and pretty.” Maddox smirks, like she’s waiting for me to ask her to explain further.

I despise feeling stupid, so I don’t.

“Can I see how it works?” I ask instead, hoping to avoid the embarrassment of not understanding.

“There’s only really one way for me to show you how this works, Mayhem. And you’ll have to ask a lot nicer than that.” Her tongue flicks out to wet her bottom lip.

My face gets hot, suddenly realizing the intentions of the harness, even If I don’t fully comprehend. I drop to my knees like I know she wants. One thing about Madeline Maddox is that she’s predictable in the way that makes her someone I can count on for consistency.

Something I can’t bear to pretend I’m not desperate for anymore. “Show me?”

Her teeth graze her bottom lip, and she narrows her eyes like she’s thinking about it.

“Please?” I sweeten my voice, looking up at her through my eyelashes.

Her stonewall facade breaks, and she points to the door that leads to the hallway. “In the gray dresser, in my room. There’s a white, unopened box. Bring it here.”

I stumble to my feet and pad away into the next room, opening the first drawer to find nothing but socks, but in the back of the second drawer, I find the long, rectangular box, still taped shut. I barely glance at it before I’m back in her hobby room, on my knees and handing her the box.

“Strap it in.”

I’m confused at first, but when I look up, I finally see what she’s holding. It’s a vibrating wand.

“How?” I ask, my brain still struggling to connect all the pieces.

Maddox bends down to show me, inserting the head of the wand into the loop just above her foot and the higher loop around the tail end, keeping it stuck to her shin. I catch on, tightening and buckling the straps around the head while she works the opposite end.

“Now?” I ask.

“Shine my boot, Mayhem. I want to see you dripping on my leather.” Her voice is husky, low, full of tantalizing promise as she flicks on the switch of the wand. The vibration buzzes loudly against her boot.

She pulls at the hem of my shirt, I lift my arms up, and without another word, she helps it come off. I slide off my derby shorts and panties. Letting out a stuttered exhale, one knee placed on each side of her leg, I lower myself down to her boot. I’m in the same kneeling position as before, except now, there’s a wand vibrating just below me.

“All the way down,” she commands.

I look up at her.

God, I want her so much. I want to feel her in every crevice of my body, stretching my atoms apart. But I’ll settle for this, whatever the fuck it is.

I slide further, the buzzing head of the wand hitting my clit just right and forcing me the rest of the way down, the front end of her shoe just below my cunt while I press into her leg. “Oh fuck,” I gasp. The intensity is almost too much at first, so I try to back away.

Her hand finds the side of my head as she holds me in place. “Stay there.”

I’m overwhelmed and overloaded, and I feel the tightening in my core already winding, ready to unravel and explode in a frenzy.

“Can I touch you?” I ask, realizing she has yet to let me be the one who deals out pleasure.

“You can hold on to me.” She grants me permission, but it’s so specific, I dare not mess it up.

My fingers grip her thigh through the fabric of her pants as my other hand reaches up higher, holding onto a hip as the sensation climbs and I get closer to the edge of that cliff. She’s tense at first, but when my hands don’t stray, only grasp, she finally relaxes, looking down at me with those ocean blue eyes.

She tilts her foot up, the sudden change in angle sending a jolt through my most sensitive parts and ripping a drawl of pleasure from within me.

“Fuck,” I moan, a muted gargle of noise through the fabric of her clothes I’m still pressed against.

“You’re doing so good.” The praise suddenly reminds me what all of this is.

A distraction.

Burning time to keep me sober.

She’s done a great job of it, but now, with my heart in her hands, I’m not sure I can walk away.

When Madeline Maddox is bored of making me come, where does that leave me?

Back at Ryan Lee’s door for my next hit?

My thoughts are at war with my body, making it impossible to focus on the wand, the vibration starting to dull the nerves on my clit as my orgasm climbs further out of reach.

“Out of your head,” she commands, like she can read my thoughts, and moves the position of her boot again, this time the tip of the wand reaching lower and sending the vibration deeper into my center.

“Shit.” My fingers are piercing into her leg and her side, but she says nothing about it.

Her hand is still holding the back of my skull, her fingers sliding through my hair, taking a fistful in her grip as she pulls my head away from her thigh and forces me to look at her. “Are you going to come on my boot for me, like a good girl, Vera?”

I nod, and just like that, she moves her foot again, a shockwave of pleasure ripping through my entire body. It’s the kind where I can’t move, speak, or breathe—I can only wait for it to pass through me completely.

And it’s a full detangling of my psyche.

I’m panting, still clinging to her leg with one hand while the other is holding me up on the ground, the wet sound of the vibrator stuttering against the pool of arousal on her boot is loud and awkward. It almost makes me feel something akin to shame for how I just got off.

But I don’t flick the switch.

I wait for her to reach down and do it, and then I help her with the straps of the harness. It’s messy, my cum coating the entire top of the boot, spilling over as it collects on the ground just beneath. As if she can sense my embarrassment, she reaches under my chin to lift my gaze back up to her.

“That’s my girl.” Her thumb grazes the side of my cheek.

I’m a puddle again, melting at the feeling of what it’s like to be claimed as hers.