Mikayla [Orchidea: Love on the Bayou 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (30 page)

“Please, Antoine, I don’t need to stay in the hospital. I can heal anywhere, and all I care about is being alone with all four of you.”

“Sounds good to me,” Pierre whispered. Then the limo headed off to the resort.

* * * *

Antoine tried to make Mikayla lie down in bed, but she refused to. She was stubborn, strong-willed, and so damn sexy his dick was hard with desire and his heart light with adoration for her. She was amazing.

He walked onto the large private patio carrying a tray of piña coladas at Mikayla’s request.

She lay under the large cabana along with Michael, Douglas, and Pierre. Douglas was sitting up straight and looked just as intense and upset as he had been for the last forty-eight hours.

“Here we go, five coladas as the lady requested.” He passed them out, and Mikayla smiled. She tried to move to adjust her position so she sat up more, but the pain seemed to be stopping her. Before Antoine could react, Douglas was helping her.

“Here, baby, don’t do that by yourself. Let me help you,” he stated and held her gaze then turned away. Mikayla looked down and appeared somber. Antoine was going to reprimand him. It was bad enough that the bruising and injuries were noticeable and bothered her, but she was upset that he acted like they bothered him.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to help me, Douglas,” she whispered as the tear rolled down her cheek.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you in pain? Do you need something?” Douglas asked as he knelt on the floor beside her chair.

She shook her head. “No, I understand that you don’t want to touch me.”

“Don’t want to touch you? What the hell are you talking about?” Douglas asked. Antoine set the tray down and waited to see where exactly Mikayla planned for this conversation to go.

“You don’t think I’m beautiful anymore.”

“What?”

“Because of the bruises and the fact that Bennitto Flores touched me, so you don’t want to be close to me anymore. I understand.”

“No! Damn it, no, Mikayla, that’s not true.” Douglas leaned closer to her. She held his gaze, swollen eyes and all, as Pierre and Antoine looked on, both waiting to see the results of this much-needed confrontation.

“Then why can’t you look at me anymore? Why do you turn away and why don’t you seem happy that I’m here with all of you and that we’re together? You haven’t touched me or kissed me.”

Douglas reached gently for her face and cupped it between his hands.

“Oh, sugar, I’m so sorry. It’s not what you think. It’s my fault that he got you, that he hurt you like this, and that you suffered and were scared. God, I couldn’t even imagine what you felt like, being his prisoner.”

“Shhh, please, Douglas. It’s over now. You all saved me.”

“I love you, Mikayla. I just feel guilty. I feel like it’s all my fault.”

“No, Douglas, it wasn’t your fault. Flores had a plan. Enrique acted out that plan for him and brought me to Cuba. I won’t be able to stay with the four of you if you can’t move on from this and love me. I can’t get through this without the four of you, I just can’t.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“We won’t leave you, Mikayla. We all love you,” Pierre stated. Antoine and Michael told her that they loved her, too.

“So you don’t blame me for this?” Douglas asked.

She shook her head best she could with Douglas still holding her face in his hands.

“Never crossed my mind, baby,” she replied.

He slowly moved toward her lips and kissed her softly.

* * * *

Three weeks later

Mikayla was standing in the kitchen cooking up some chicken and dumplings. The entire house smelled delicious. She even made a special praline cookie Illeanna had taught her to make years ago. She had been slowly working more hours at work despite the men’s disapproval and concern for her well-being. Their whole belief that they knew what was best for her was driving her bonkers. They were all sexually frustrated to boot, and so she decided to take matters into her own hands after speaking with that crazy voodoo priestess Marie Cherise. That woman showed up at the oddest of times, and today she’d shown up precisely as Mikayla took a break for lunch. Deputy Leon Rue had been sitting in his patrol car outside, watching as instructed by the men, including Sheriff Eloi. Mikayla and Miss Cherise sat outside on a bench and talked about what had happened, the fears that the men had, and her own fears about commitment and trust. It had been a great talk and shadowed one major conversation she had the day earlier with her sisters. Tonight she was the seductress, and she was going to make her men understand that sometimes their woman knew what was best.

“Wow, woman, what have you been up to? It smells amazing in here.” Michael approached from around the island in the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her from behind.

“You smell edible,” he whispered then kissed along her neck and ear, causing her to nearly destroy the dumplings. She placed the last one onto the platter then covered them.

Michael brushed his thumb gently across her cheek.

“It’s getting better, sugar. It’ll all be gone in a few more weeks I bet,” he told her, the concern still present in his facial expression and tone. He and Pierre had been saying the same type of thing for the last few weeks.

“I’m not worried about it. The doctor said I’m healing well and the bruising takes time to diminish.” She pulled him back against her as he took a step away. They were all being distant because they were all interested in having sex but worried about her bruises. Enough was enough.

She pulled off her apron and checked the gas to make sure everything was off. Then she ran the palms of her hands up and down Michael’s chest until he held her wrists. He looked nervous.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a rather raspy voice.
That didn’t take much at all, now did it?
Feeling confident, she smiled then stood up on tiptoes to kiss his chin, simply because it was the only part she could reach. Her men were tall.

“Baby, it’s too hard to resist touching you.”

“Why you resisting then, sugar?” she asked then began to unbutton the top buttons of his shirt. She leaned forward and licked along the light dusting of hair on his chest.

He grabbed her to stop her. “Mikayla, stop. We can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what?” Antoine asked as he entered the kitchen.

He’d stopped her, and now Antoine was going to as well. She had to be strong and fight them on this or they would continue to be miserable. She stomped her foot.

“Damn it! I am so tired of the way you all are treating me!” she yelled, and both men looked stunned.

“What is going on in here?” Pierre asked as he and Douglas entered.

“It smells amazing,” Douglas stated, and she gave him a dirty look.

“It should smell amazing. I was cooking it all afternoon. But you can all enjoy it. I’m no longer interested.” She turned and headed out of the room, straight to the bedroom.

* * * *

“What in God’s name did you do?” Antoine asked Michael.

“I didn’t do anything,” he stated then began to explain what happened.

“She’s just as frustrated as we are and pissed off to boot,” Douglas said.

“I don’t want to risk hurting her. The bruises do look better and there weren’t any major injuries, but still I’m worried,” Antoine added.

“Yeah, well, I think we need this. I think the lack of connection and sex is destroying this relationship,” Michael stated.

“We can take it slow. Maybe one at a time,” Douglas suggested.

“Let’s head upstairs and confront her on this. No woman of mine is going to give me hell and mouth off like she just did.” Pierre headed out of the room first.

“There he goes again. Maybe back to normal is a good thing,” Antoine said, and they headed upstairs.

* * * *

Mikayla put on the sexy lingerie in purple that Angelique had given her. She had waited for a special occasion, and this was as good as any. If her men didn’t make love to her tonight, she was going to leave this house of theirs and stop speaking to them altogether. She was still in a state when she heard them enter the room. She remained behind the door in the bathroom.

“Mikayla, honey, we want to talk to you, sugar. We don’t understand what’s wrong,” Michael stated first.

“Woman, you get your ass out here now. I’m not going to put up with this type of behavior. I mean to protect you and care for you. We all do, so what’s your problem?” Pierre yelled, and she had to hide her chuckle. That was the Pierre she knew and loved. So sexy and demanding and take charge. They were all take-charge kind of men, but Pierre had a mysterious, almost naughty side to him. Her nipples hardened just thinking about the possibilities.

“You don’t even want to touch me anymore.”

“What? No, honey, of course we do. Come out here. I’m not talking to a door,” Michael stated.

“I’ll come out on one condition.”

“What’s that?” Antoine asked.

Slowly she opened the door and pretended to hug the molding as she lifted her thigh slowly up and down the wood in a sexy, teasing dance. Her breasts were flowing from the beaded bodice, and the slit up the left side revealed her entire waist and hipbone.

“I want you to make love to me. I need you,” she whispered in a pout. She nearly burst out in laughter at the sight of their facial expressions. Their eyes were dark and wild, filled with hunger, as they looked her over. Oh yeah, Angelique knew how to pick out the best lingerie for a woman.

Pierre pulled off his shirt, undid his pants and underwear, and pointed at her. He curled his finger, indicating for her to come to him.

She took her time, pushing away from the wall and eying Pierre over with her own hungry eyes. Slowly she walked closer and was going to stop, but Pierre wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him.

He covered her mouth with his own and devoured her moans. She could come apart right here in his arms. Around her she sensed all the movement, and a moment later Pierre was releasing her lips then lifting her up to carry her to the bed.

“This is one sexy outfit, Mikayla, where did you get it?” Pierre asked as he kissed along her neck then over the bodice. He pushed the material to the side and licked across her nipple.

“Angelique made it,” she said in a pant as she tilted her head back and tried to hold in a moan.

“Well, thank her for us, sugar,” Michael said as he lay across the side of the bed then leaned over to kiss her on the mouth.

Pierre pushed the material up and saw that she had no panties on.

“No bottoms?” he asked.

“I didn’t think I needed them,” she whispered.

“You don’t, honey, ’cause I’m ready to be inside you right now.” Pierre fisted his cock and pressed it to her very wet pussy lips. He slid it back and forth, teasing her until she slapped his arm.

“I need you inside me. Please, Pierre,” she begged. Then very slowly he held her gaze and pressed into her. They both moaned as he held himself deep within her.

He leaned down and kissed her lips again and again as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“No offense, you two, but the slow lovemaking can be saved for later. We’re all about to burst,” Douglas remarked and they chuckled.

“Slow or fast, Mikayla?” Pierre asked.

“Fast and hard, Pierre. I need my men, all of you inside of me.”

But her men chose otherwise. They each made love to her slowly, deeply, as they told her they loved her in between kisses and thrusts. She was in heaven and realized that her life had truly just begun because of Michael, Pierre, Douglas, and Antoine. They taught her what commitment and love was all about and that it was okay to lean on those she loved and that she no longer had to handle everything in her life on her own. Just like Angelique and Illeanna, Mikayla found love on the Bayou.

THE END

WWW.DIXIELYNNDWYER.COM

People seem to be more interested in my name than where I get my ideas for my stories from. So I might as well share the story behind my name with all my readers.

My momma was born and raised in New Orleans. At the age of twenty, she met and fell in love with an Irishman named Patrick Riley Dwyer. Needless to say, the family was a bit taken aback by this as they hoped she would marry a family friend. It was a modern day arranged marriage kind of thing, and my momma downright refused.

Being that my momma’s families were descendents of the original English-speaking Southerners, they wanted the family bloodline to stay pure. They were wealthy and my father’s family was poor.

Despite attempts by my grandpapa to make Patrick leave and destroy the love between them, my parents married. They recently celebrated their sixtieth wedding anniversary.

I am one of six children born to Patrick and Lynn Dwyer. I am a combination of both Irish and a true Southern belle. With a name like Dixie Lynn Dwyer it’s no wonder why people are curious about my name.