Accepting His Ways (Quinlan O'Connor Book 2)

by Alyssa Bailey

  Jacquie made an inadvisable sound of dissatisfaction and Ace chuckled as he picked up his phone. “That’s five.” She made another sound but followed it quickly with, “Sorry, sir.” He shook his head.

  Quinlan was on his way home when he got the call from Ace. After listening to his friend’s interpretation of the situation, he asked to speak to Jacquie.

  “Hello? Yes, she’s pretty sick, and no it isn’t even the right time of the month for that. Yeah, well, she’s having a hard time swallowing.”

  “She won’t go to the doctor.” It was a statement from Quinn rather than a question.

  “No. Quinn, she’s truly afraid of going for some reason. I did try to get her to go but as sick as she is, she absolutely won’t even consider it. I feel bad even asking her to go.”

  “You did what a good friend would do. I know my girl doesn’t like to go see a doctor. Look, honey, I’m on the road, do you think you could call her doctor and get an emergency visit.”

  “Yes.” Her tone was resigned.

  “Thanks, honey. Jacquie, before you go, is Ace upset with you?”

  “Ah, yes.”

  “Okay, this wasn’t your fault, and I’ll talk to him to see if I can lessen the penalty.”

  “You don’t have to, and I don’t think that will go over well, to be honest.”

  “Well, let me have a go anyway, okay? I promise I won’t make it worse. Hand Ace the phone. And thanks again. Call me with the details.”

  “You’re welcome and thanks.”

  Cheyenne’s doctor, being out of town, had someone covering for him who gave her an appointment at the end of the day. Quinn asked Jacquie to get her there, and he would bring her home.

  “What the hell? I don’t need you to make my doctor appointments, and I’m really pissed off that you called Quinn. What are you now, the town crier?”

  “I’m sorry,” cried Jacquie. “It wasn’t me it was Ace, and I’m telling you he’s upset with both of us.”

  “I’m not going to see a doctor I don’t know, and I’m not talking to you about it anymore. I thought you had my back. And honestly, I don’t care what Ace thinks about it, it’s my life.”

  Cheyenne coughed, moaned and then tried to catch her breath. She decreed in her raspy voice that the crying Jacquie was banished from her apartment. She knew that her friend had no choice but to do as the doms in their lives had told her to do. Cheyenne was still angry.

  When their men demanded something, it was the most natural thing in the world to comply. She moaned thinking about how she would have to grovel when she felt better. Right now, however, she just didn’t care. Everything changed when Quinn arrived at 4:30 and pounded on the door demanding entrance.

  “Go away,” Cheyenne croaked out.

  Hearing his voice made her want to cry and damn if it didn’t make her feel so small and needy. It was as if she wanted to be his beag amháin. Just until she was well, that is. Then she would take over her life again. Rightly or wrongly, Cheyenne kept the wall up between help and misery. The wall, in this case, was her door. She wondered why he didn’t just unlock it unless he didn’t have her extra key ring with him.

  “Cheyenne, beag amháin,” his voice taking on that coaxing tone, “you’re too ill to stay in bed without going to a doctor.” She wanted to be his little one right now. When he said his next statement, she almost caved. “Open the door, darling, let me take care of my baby.” Still, she resisted.

  “You’re going to make me go to the doctor and I can’t. I just can’t. You’re angry with me. It’s more than I can deal with right now.” Her raspy voice was all but gone.

  “Okay, listen, just let me in and we’ll figure this out. I promise I won’t force you to go to the doctor’s office.” Silence.

  * * *

  When she didn’t respond, frustration and Quinn’s restrained irritation was heard in his next tone and his words commanded her to answer.

  “Cheyenne, open this door, or I’ll bust the lock, paddle your ass and then take you in because either way, you’re going to get help. Do it now, Cheyenne. Anois.”

  After another moment, Quinn realized his fear for her health and safety was causing him to lose his composure, and, most probably, the neighbors were ready to dial 911. So he reined in his emotions and schooled his face to show concern sans the anxiety and fear.

  He changed his voice to cajoling but kept enough firmness to retain his authority. “Piscín, let me in, I want to help you. Come on, sweetheart, open the door for me.”

  He could hear her breakdown on the other side of the apartment door, crying pitifully, and it was all he could do not to act on his first threat and break down the barrier.

  Knowing nothing was working so far, he decided to beg, “Come on, baby, please let me take care of you. You’re too sick to be in there alone. I love you too much to leave you so ill.”

  That did it. He could hear the latch disengage. Cheyenne opened the door crying. One look at her swollen eyes, drawn face, and then hearing her wheezing breath sounds was all it took for him to swoop her up in his arms.

  “Damn, beag amháin, you’re burning up. Hold on, honey. You’re going to be just fine. I need to get some clothes for you. I’m here. I’ll take good care of you. Lay here just a moment while I grab some things.”

  He began throwing items in a bag he found in her closet telling her firmly to lie down until he was done gathering her things. When she started to get up and protest, Quinn tried to calm her.

  “Lie down. I have this. I have you. Hold on just a few more minutes.” He started dialing.

  “I just need to sleep. Will you stay with me?”

  “Yep, I’m staying with you, but you need medicine first.”

  “I don’t need a doctor,” she argued as she went into a fit of coughing and wheezing.

  He was in no mood to be argued with, and while he attempted to speak softly and gently to her, his actions were anything but soft and gentle. They talked about urgency and purpose. He needed to get her to a doctor and treated. Fearful of how sick she might really be and angry that she would allow it to get this far, he didn’t allow her to refuse the help that he arranged.

  With a few more fussy outbursts that he lovingly ignored, Quinn got Carter Taylor, a friend, a member of the club and a physician by trade, on the phone. After some hushed conversation, Carter said he would be back in town later that evening, and if she didn’t get medical care by then, he agreed to come over and see Cheyenne.

  Quinn made another call and gathered the too exhausted to resist Cheyenne up to take her to his family physician. That kind gentleman had been hearing the complaints and curing the illnesses of the O’Connors for more years than Quinn was alive, one more moody family member didn’t surprise him any. He knew how to handle them.

  “You, young lady, need to go to the hospital, and that’s that.”

  “No. Just give me some medicine.”

  “Cheyenne, he’s the doctor and if he thinks you should go then you need to go.”

  “No,” she hacked. “I’m not going. Either give me medicine or don’t. My father died in a hospital that was supposed to heal him.” She fell into a coughing fit. “I know it’s irrational. I do. But I just can’t.” She started crying so hard she vomited, making breathing all but impossible.

  “Look, doc. I get she needs to go, but she has some obvious issues over this whole thing. It isn’t going to make her better if she’s over anxious. I have a friend who is an internist and while this isn’t his normal realm, if he agrees to come to the house and check on her at least once a day, can we try it at home?”

  “Well, we could try but only for twenty-four hours.” He turned to Cheyenne. “You hear me young lady, just twenty-four hours. If you aren’t noticeably better, or if you get even a sliver worse, you go straight to the emergency room and have them call me.”

  She nodded her head and tried to smile with little success. Doc took down the information for Carter Taylor, MD and sent them
on their way. Only after a steroid and penicillin injection, with several other medications and only after final assurances that she would be watched continuously and a phone call to verify Carter’s participation, did the doctor agree.

  Subdued, sick, and now a little worried about what all this dom attention would earn her, she moaned in the car as hot tears she hadn’t the ability nor the inclination to stem ran down her face.

  Quinn looked over and, putting a caressing hand on her cheek, he thumbed away the tears.

  “What’s the matter, baby? I know you aren’t feeling well. I wished you didn’t refuse the hospital, but I understand why you did. We’re going to try to do this your way, okay?”

  “I know you’re irritated with me, your doctor thinks I’m a nut, and Carter is probably angry with me. He has more work and now I’m going to expose your parents to this. I feel crappy about it, but I do really feel terrible.”

  “We know you’re sick, so don’t you worry. I brought in Carter so that you could possibly avoid the hospital, and while I have no doubt you will get a lecture from him about going to the doctor sooner, we will both leave that for when you’re well.”

  Carter agreed to give her twenty-four hours to begin to feel better, or he would directly admit her to the hospital. Quinn vowed to carry her in himself, kicking and screaming if she didn’t improve by the next afternoon. “Which may be the case, I fear.”

  Carter looked at Cheyenne sternly and said, “This little one isn’t going to give you any trouble because if she does, I’ll have an ambulance take her, then will order all her medication by injection. Then when she’s better, I’ll take her over my own knee. You might ask Susie how well that is to handle when it’s punishment and not play.”

  “No, no, I promise to get better. I promise I won’t need that.”

  “Just agree that you will go if I say it’s necessary.”

  She nodded her head.

  Luckily, for Cheyenne, she did improve. After being put to bed, Quinn stood guard over her and when he was on shift, he charged his parents to do the same. Under their care she did well. When she was fully recovered, and the medication cured the pneumonia, Quinn set about curing the stubbornness and working on the reasons behind it.

  It had been over two weeks since Cheyenne had been so sick and had two doms overseeing her recovery. Quinn had watched her carefully during that time and was confident that she was well enough to pay the piper.

  “Hey, I thought we’d stay in tonight.” Quinn’s statement was very casually given.

  Cheyenne looked at Quinn without speaking for a moment. “Okay, I guess, but I thought we were going to the club. Ashley and Richard had planned to go, and I haven’t seen her in a while. We were going to talk wedding.”

  “We can go tomorrow night. Saturday is usually the more fun night anyway. Everyone shows up.”

  “Except Ashley, she works on Saturday.”

  “Well, why don’t you meet her on Sunday and discuss the wedding?”

  “Sunday, your mom wants us to go to church and then have Sunday dinner with them. Come on, what is really going on here?”

  Quinn reached for Cheyenne’s hand and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. “I think it’s time we talk about what happened a few weeks ago and why you’re having such a hard time seeing a doctor.”

  “I think going to the club would be better,” she said as she tried to twist out of his grasp.

  “Cheyenne, we’re about to be married, and I need to know about this fear.”

  She did twist out of his loose grasp this time and said, “I’m not afraid.”

  “Aversion, then—you have a tremendous aversion to doctors. We need to talk about this and now is the time.”

  “No, what you really want to know is why I didn’t do as you told me. Why I didn’t follow orders like a good little submissive, which is what you expect.” She walked around the table, snatching up the things left from dinner.

  He calmly took the items out of her hands and put them away. “No, but I do want to help if I can. You’re right in some ways. What you did wasn’t okay for you or us as a couple, but your submission is always your choice. Sure, because we live this dynamic, I do my part by taking care of you, and a part of that’s expecting obedience when it matters, but, honey, that isn’t submission. True submission is giving me your obedience even when I don’t ask for it.”

  “Oh, I see. If I don’t do what you want, even when I can’t help it, you’re going to get your payment extracted. That’s what this is all about, you getting what you want.” She slammed the cupboard door shut and stomped to the sink.

  He grabbed her upper arm securely, twirling her toward him. “All right, that’s enough. We aren’t getting anywhere this way so we’re doing it my way. I tried to ease into this, but you aren’t letting me, so I know how to take control. Watch, Cheyenne, this is me taking control of a situation. Now, strip.”

  * * *

  Cheyenne stared at Quinn, regret showing on her face. She shook her head at her uncontrollable tongue. Really, though, the tongue was only doing what the mind was telling it to say and because of it, now she was going to end up doing what he wanted. She figured her tongue would get off easier than she would.

  “Sorry, I just don’t think I have to tell you everything,” she tried with a more passive voice and not looking at him, as she didn’t move to comply but it was obvious the words and tone did not match.

  “I’m sorry too, a stór, but this can’t happen again. Informing me of everything isn’t the goal here; it is to tell me the important things and to take my direction if it is for your own good. You can talk to me and discuss your viewpoint respectfully. Now, do what I said. I want to see your beautiful breasts and your luscious ass.”

  Quinn walked over and picked up his leather case, and she heard him take out papers. She sneaked a peek and found him giving her the “dom” look as if he knew she was going to stop to check out what he was doing.

  “Anois, Cheyenne.” His impatience was obviously growing.

  Submission left again, she faced him and yelled, “I am, damn it!” Her face flushed with her emotions.

  Quinn said not a word but taking two strides to bring him alongside Cheyenne; he turned her around and landed several hard smacks to her still panty-covered bottom under partially removed yoga pants.

  “Is that enough of an attitude adjustment or do we need to address it further?”

  “I hate it when you go all macho on me. I’m a person in my own right.”

  “Yes but you’re also part of me. You don’t have the right to risk your health in our relationship. It isn’t how I… we do things.” Seeing there was no further movement to undress he noted, “I see you need more.” He turned her to slap her ass again repeating his warning, leaving his handprint overlapping the last ones, handprints showing along her panty’s edge. “Take the rest off now before I take it off for you. And I would not advise it if you like that shirt or that cute panty set.”

  She yanked her clothes off and tossed them in a pile in the only corner close to her.

  “Perfect. Now go to that corner and fold those clothes facing the wall, bent over.” He was so calm, as though he wasn’t pushing all her buttons.

  “Now that’s ridiculous.” She stood with her arms crossed over her breasts. Oddly, she felt her muff was covered well enough.

  “No, what is ridiculous is that you think you’ve any influence over this now. You gave up your chance unless you’re playing your yellow card.”

  He sent her to the corner with another searing smack to her bottom cheeks when she didn’t respond, and its message was acknowledged in her yelp and immediate reaching back to soothe her nates.

  “Those hands are to be on the clothes not your ass, Cheyenne.”

  She screeched her irritation but reached down and folded the clothing giving Quinn a perfect view of all the jewels in her buried treasure trove.

  “Now what?” she asked standing up straig
ht and placing her hands on her hips, bared breasts forgotten in her irritation.

  “You’re a sassy minx tonight, aren’t you?” came his exasperated reply.

  “No, I’m a frustrated, irritated, irate woman who is going to say this only one time. I hate doctors and no matter how angry you are at that, no matter how sick I get, I’m still not going to see a doctor if I don’t have to, and that’s my right.”

  “Are you playing your yellow card?”

  “Yes. No.” She shook her head.

  That was when she really noticed Quinn. She saw he wasn’t looking at the papers he had in front of him but was leaned back on the couch with one arm on the back, the other hand on the armrest propping his chin and right ankle sitting on the left knee.

  He was everything she ever needed, and he deserved her everything. She looked at him cautiously. His facial expression was pained, as though he had a problem he was trying to puzzle out. She was his problem, as usual.

  “Quinn?” She took a step out of the corner she was never really in, unsure what to do. “What’s wrong?”

  “Turn around, cailín dána.” Cheyenne faltered, still unsure what to do with the unfamiliar sight of a nonplused, if not worried, Quinn.

  “I’m sorry,” her hesitant voice said sweetly.

  “I know, a lómhara, but I have to work this problem out. Turn around while I do that.”

  “I want to help. Why won’t you let me help figure things out, whatever it is?” Cheyenne asked Quinn with a mixture of irritation and concern. “If I’m the problem, then I want to be part of the solution!”

  “Right, then turn around and calm down, that will help a lot. Look at the wall, think of sandy beaches and blue waters or mountain waterfalls, streams with deer frolicking. Think about whatever will settle you down, hell, think of a solution you haven’t tried to fix this doctor thing while I think.”

  After a moment, she did turn around. This wasn’t humiliation; it was Quinn’s way of taking control of the situation. His way of removing the chaos that had ensued. She needed to tell him what she already knew of her fears. She didn’t know it all, and was not sure she wanted to examine it too closely right now, but she would share what she could. She tried to relax and finally found her safe and calming place, residing mentally in his arms. She existed there until she felt Quinn’s hand on her shoulder.