The Right Thing (11 page)

His eyes went wide and then narrowed. “Destroying? McKenzie. You
could never do that, not unless you don’t come home. Please, sweetheart. I’m
asking you. I’m
begging
you.”

McKenzie heard the ‘for the last time’ without him needing to say
the words. And there was the Dom. He’d asked, no, begged, twice. Twice more
than she could ever have imagined. And he wasn’t going to do it again. Michael
was going to tell her to come back, make her, and her pussy soaked the crotch
of her panties, the anticipation belly cramping. The tension thickened and
Donna felt it, no matter if her friend understood the true inference or not.
Donna moved to step forward again and the man with Michael intervened. He moved
on Donna, trying to pull her arms behind her, a pair of zip ties dangling from
one hand. Donna resisted and yelled loudly. At the sound, the street appeared
to fill with large men.

Michael yanked McKenzie behind him, hurting her wrist as he threw
her back against the car in order to square off with two ruddy faced
individuals who looked remarkably like Donna. Her friend was now on the ground
wrestling the man with the zip ties and shouting that she could handle him. McKenzie
shrank into herself and tried not to scream. A door opened behind her and the
limo rocked. She tried to pull away from the man who took her by the waist, but
he was determined and even bigger than Michael. He lifted her effortlessly,
essentially stowing her in the car, head first. The door clunked shut and the
child safety locks engaged. She struggled to sit up and look out the window,
counted four men dressed in jeans and casual jackets. All four were engaged in
pummelling Michael and the man she now recognized as his driver, Jackson.
Jackson
knew all about her
and Michael, and McKenzie was certain the driver never judged her.
Jackson
liked her and the
feeling was mutual.

’Kenzie covered her mouth against a scream as Michael went down
before the onslaught and a boot caught him in the side. He rolled and was up
like a great cat and his fist caught man number one on the side of the face,
making the bruiser stagger back.

Donna now lay face down on the sidewalk, arms secured behind her. She
was jerking against the binds like a fish on a line, and the stocky man joined
the melee. Three against four evened the odds somewhat, although Donna’s
reinforcements seemed to maintain the upper hand and there was considerable
blood evident on Michael’s face as well as
Jackson
’s. The one who subdued Donna hadn’t
escaped unscathed either. McKenzie felt for the door handle, knowing it was
hopeless, then froze against the sound of sirens. The police had been called
and Donna would be in shit. Tears sprang to her eyes and spilled down her
cheeks. She was like the plague. She carried such trouble.

The bruisers responded to the sound of the sirens too. One of them
rushed to pull Donna to her feet and the other three backed away in a
synchronized move speaking to the fact they’d done this kind of thing before.
They vanished down the nearest alley. Michael wiped the back of his hand across
his mouth, leaning forward to spit into the street like a commoner, and turned
to stare at the limo. McKenzie shrank back, even though there was no way he
could see past the darkened glass. She saw his lips move and he and
Jackson
were in motion.
The locks snapped open. His other lackey was going to be left to deal with the
police, spinning them some kind of story to cover Michael and leave her no
recourse. Putting her face in her hands, McKenzie cried some more, whether out
of relief or terror or resignation. She just didn’t know. The vehicle dipped
under the men’s weight and the doors shut almost in sync.

“Your salary just doubled,
Jackson
.
Smart thinking.”

“Just following orders, Mr. Webster. And I didn’t want any harm to
come to Miss McKenzie. But thanks.”

McKenzie felt Michael’s hands on her upper arms, drawing her to him,
against him, and he dropped his chin to rest on the crown of her head. She
didn’t lower her hands and couldn’t stop the tears either.
Jackson
wouldn’t be affected one way or the
other. He’d driven for them often and Michael treated the man as being blind
and deaf, stripping McKenzie in the car and demanding anything sexual entering
his head in the moment. He once had
Jackson
pull over to let them out on an isolated road and had the driver hold her hands
through the window of the car while Michael took her from behind. McKenzie
could still remember the heat of the door panel against belly and thighs and
the echoing heat in
Jackson
’s
eyes as he devoured the sight, awakening the exhibitionist in her. Michael now
pulled her closer and her heart pulsed in tandem to his, the hard ridge of his
cock beneath her bottom picking up the beat. They remained in that position
until the car pulled over and stopped.

“Baby? We’re home. Come on, you need to get out.” Michael’s warmth
deserted her as he leaned her forward. McKenzie forced her hands down to look
around. They were parked front of his apartment building. She couldn’t make
herself move another muscle.

“McKenzie?” Michael’s breath huffed out in obvious frustration,
cradling her body against his chest again.
Jackson
was there to open the door and
Michael transferred her to the driver so he could climb out of the limo. He
then took her back, lifting her with apparent ease, telling the other man to
park the car and take the rest of the day off. He set off across the sidewalk
and into the building. She shut her eyes against the interested and speculative
looks in the lobby and when she next opened them they were in the elevator.
Michael lowered her to her feet and she saw him grimace and remembered that
kick to his ribs. McKenzie came back to herself in that moment.

“I’m sorry, Michael. I can walk. Sorry.”

He looked down and her breath caught at the damage to his beautiful
face. She carefully reached up and touched fingertips to one particularly nasty
bruise near his right eye, pulling back at his tiny wince of pain, and
catalogued his other overt injuries. The elevator doors slid open and they
walked the few feet to his home without further discussion, his hand set
possessively in the small of her back.

“Come to the bathroom, Michael. Let me take
care of you.”
          

* * *
*

Michael wanted to bellow. He wanted to shout. He wanted to throw McKenzie
to the floor and fuck her across it as a victory statement. Feeling nothing
less than a victorious warrior or maybe a bull who’d won the right to take his
female. Hell, he didn’t know. But he did know he’d better not make the wrong
choice this time around. He obediently followed his woman to the powder room,
sitting on the closed toilet seat at her urging. Little hands swiftly
unbuttoned his shirt with remembered dexterity and pulled it down his arms and
off, dropping the blood dappled fabric to the floor. McKenzie’s face was
swollen from crying and tear stained. His inner sadist surprisingly took a
backseat once again when normally her tears were so arousing. His woman knelt
to examine what now felt like a thousand ice picks drilling into his side,
gently prodding his ribs, asking him to take deep breaths. Those only felt like
thumping agonies, not the shards of pain she kept asking about.

“I don’t think your ribs are cracked or broken. But they’re going to
ache for a while. I’ll wrap them for you.”

Michael wondered if McKenzie would mind using those clever fingers
to release his aching cock, and if she might then want to kiss it better before
getting got up from her knees, but kept his mouth shut, schooling his features
into what he hoped was a manly, stoic look. In truth, all the cuts and bruises
were now making their presence known as the adrenaline faded, and while his ego
rejoiced at how he’d handled himself in his very
first street
fight, Michael kind of
wished cooler heads had prevailed.

McKenzie gently wiped the blood from his face with warm cloths
before efficiently cleaning all the cuts with the peroxide from the medicine
cabinet. She anointed them with topical antibiotic afterwards, hustling to the
kitchen to make up an ice pack for his eye that was swelling to match his
bottom lip. When she returned her face was different. Michael could read hope and
a hint of joy. His sub was back.

“What?”

“The birds. They’re still here.”

God, what an absolute prick he’d been. “I needed to punish you, fuck
with your head, McKenzie.” He stopped right there. He promised to be nothing
but open and honest and not fuck things up again. Taking a deep breath he made
the first attempt to put everything into words.

“I was trying to deny my true feelings for you and pushed you away.
I was fighting the inevitable. I’m sorry it took me so long to give up that
particular fight.”

McKenzie bit her lip and concentrated on placing the ice pack just
so, and wouldn’t meet his eyes. She yanked a tensor bandage from its box and
carefully bound up his aching ribs. And then there was nothing left for her to
do. She eased away to lean her back against the wall.

Michael knew she took that stance to avoid sinking to her knees. The
connection between them hadn’t lessened at all. If only he could come up with
something to say that would be fitting. He opened his mouth and his heart did
it for him, right there in the bathroom, ass on the toilet, aching in ways he’d
never known in his entire life. “I love you, McKenzie.”

McKenzie’s whole body trembled but she caught herself against the
sag to the floor, drawing on those reserves she’d always possessed to put up
with him, to give everything to him. Ebony hair escaped the braid and hung
haphazardly around her shoulders. Tears again threatened to stain her sweet
face, bottom lip quivering in concert with rapidly blinking eyes. The sapphire
blue was fogged behind the sheen of moisture, and she’d never looked more
beautiful or enticing. Finally, “I know, Michael.”

He reached out a hand but McKenzie shook her head and tried to make
the wall absorb her.

“If you know I love you, and I’ve finally come to my senses and
admitted it, why are you fighting me on this?” Michael heard the acerbic bite
in his tone. Even now he was being an asshole. Trying to smile, his split lip
announced its presence.

Michael didn’t think McKenzie was going to answer him. A myriad of emotions
chased one another across her beautiful face. “
Because
you love me.”

It was Michael’s turn to shake his head and it fucking well hurt.
This was not going in any way as he had visualized. Didn’t McKenzie want his
love? Did she only want the D/s relationship? He couldn’t go back to just that.
His uncomfortable musings made him short with her again. “Quit talking in
riddles, sub.”

Michael pointed to his feet and McKenzie went to her knees, although
obviously against her will. Conflicted. “Answer me. Explain.”

The response came out in a rush and rocked him to the core. “You
know you love me, you’ve accepted it, and you’ll hate yourself. It’ll destroy
you when Andrew and Joyce are finished with me.”

Fuck, McKenzie
had
thought
him capable. And she would have done it for him had she stayed, so had left to
spare him.
That
was love. Michael was
ashamed, terribly guilty, and felt fucking awful. He had no right to this
woman. No right to offer her his trivial self. He wanted to weep, something he
hadn’t done in memory in over thirty years, and it underscored his shame,
nearly making him choke. He tried, anyhow. “I would
never
give you to them, not to anyone again,
ever
. I regret sharing you with them before, sharing you with
anyone. I’m an asshole. I know it now and I know why I did it, because I
couldn’t let myself admit I loved you. So I acted out.”

“I want to believe you, Michael. I really do.” McKenzie raised her
head to look at him, faint hope again skittering across her beloved features.
“But I won’t let you do anything to harm yourself.”

Who was it who insisted subs had all the power in D/s relationships?
Oh, right. Just about
everyone
in the
whole fucking lifestyle. And when had
he
somehow
forgotten? Oh right, just about the time he’d become a craven fucking coward. He
tried harder.

“I didn’t know, McKenzie, that you’d left to save me from myself. I
thought I’d driven you away. I didn’t think you’d take that threat of giving
you to the twins seriously. Or probably I did and I was still being an asshole
to fuck with your head. Fuck me, sweetheart. I’d come to my senses by then.
Saying that was a last ditch effort to push you away again. Honestly it was. I
was on my way back to ask you to marry me when...” He couldn’t continue
anymore, so slid down to crouch beside McKenzie on that cold tile floor, easing
an arm around her, pulling her against him,
reveling
in her feel and smell. He was aghast at
how thin she’d become, and terrified she’d still reject him, thinking to save
him from himself.

“Sweetheart?” Fuck, she was crying again, silent hot tears dripping
to the floor. Michael turned her face into his shoulder and those tears damn
near boiled his bones.