Yield (Cal and Macy's Story 3)

Chapter 1

Macy turns toward the elevators, where both federal agents are waiting inside for her. Nichols has his finger on the button to hold the doors open, and Montford looks overly annoyed about all of this.

Run far away from me.

Don't ever look back.

Did she really just fucking say that to me? After how far we've come?

My hand shoots out, snagging her wrist, and I pull her around to face me. "I'm not running anywhere. You should know that about me by now."

She tugs hard against my grip, but I just squeeze her wrist more determinedly. We engage in a momentary staring war before I look over her shoulder toward the feds.

Because Nichols is easier to deal with, I level my eyes on him. "Miss Carrington won't be coming down to make a statement today."

Agent Nichols frowns, but there's nothing he can do. Without a warrant, they have no power over her.

"Yes, I will," Macy grits out as she tries to wrench loose from my grip.

"No, you won't," I say as my gaze slides to her. In the most influential tone I can muster, I tell her a blatant lie. "You need Mac to go with you. Let's go back in your apartment and give her a call. She can go down to their office with you later."

Macy does not need Mac with her. She needs "an" attorney, but it doesn't have to be Mac. But I know throwing Mac's name out as the one that "needs" to go would calm her down immediately and prevent a full-out wrestling match to get her in the apartment, which would probably end up with me being arrested by the G-Men.

Macy's body immediately goes lax when she hears Mac's name, so I drop her wrist. Quickly reaching into my pocket, I grab my wallet and take out a business card. I step forward and hand it to Nichols. "Have the prosecuting attorney call me to set up an appointment for Miss Carrington to talk to her."

Montford grits his teeth because he's going to be returning to their office without fulfilling a task. Nichols just gives a disinterested shrug to his shoulders, his mind probably already on the next case he's got to work. "Sure thing," he says as he tucks my card in his pocket. "She'll be calling soon."

I watch them both until the elevator closes, even staring at the gold-plated doors for a moment more while I collect myself to deal with the emotions surging through me.

What a fucking shit storm.

Finally, I turn around to face Macy, who's standing still as a statute, her gaze on the floor. Her eyes are blank, her skin ghostly pale... even her lips appear bloodless.

"I'm not fucking running," I say gruffly, needing something to jolt her out of apathy. She cannot fall apart until I figure out how I can help her.

Her eyes jerk to mine, and I'm satisfied with a pink stain on her cheeks as well as a general flattening of her lips. She sticks her chin up. "You should. If you're the smart guy I think you are, you should run."

I huff out a blast of frustrated breath and take Macy by the elbow, turning her around and pushing her toward her apartment door. She pulls her house key out of the pocket of her taupe linen pants that she had paired with white leather sandals and a gauzy summer blouse for our impromptu breakfast out. She looked young, fresh, and free spirited when we left. Now she looks like she might disintegrate at any moment.

As soon as the door opens, she walks into the living room and heads toward the large window that overlooks the Hudson. She stands there with her shoulders hunched, arms crossed over her chest in a classic posture of defensive protection.

There are so many things I need to get Macy to tell me that I don't even know where to start. What does she truly know about Quarter Mine? Did she have any hint this was coming? Is there any chance she has any culpability? Does she own stock, have an honorary board seat... hell, has she slept with one of the accountants? Anything that could put her at risk so I know how to protect her.

Instead, I decide to start at the exact place that caused her to meltdown, because it's what the feds want to talk to her about. "Why is Brussels important in this investigation?"

"I don't know," she says automatically. Too quickly. Too emphatically.

"Bullshit," I say as I walk up to stand beside her at the window. She won't look at me, so I physically turn her with hands to shoulders, and finally, a push of my knuckles under her chin. "What happened in Brussels?"

Something deep happens within Macy's eyes. A flash of regret that morphs into sorrow, followed quickly by a profound chill that turns the blue irises into striated shards of ice. Her shoulders stiffen and her voice causes prickles of apprehension to break out all over me. "We're over, Cal. I need you to leave."

"What the fuck?"

"We're done. It's over," she says flatly as she suddenly turns away from me. She makes it just two steps through her living room when I'm on her.

"Oh, fuck no, you don't get to just proclaim this over," I shout as I take her by the shoulders and whip her around. Golden-red hair flies in a graceful arc and her arms come up to push against my chest.

"Get your damn hands off me," she shrieks like a banshee.

"No, Macy," I growl and pull her close. Leaning in so I'm nose to nose with her, I say, "You don't get to make a unilateral decision about us. We're in this together."

She gives a bark of a laugh, filled with derision, her eyes sparkling with a low level of insanity. "In this together? In this together? There is no 'us' and there is no 'together'," she sneers at me.

"Bullshit," I hiss back in fury. "We were building something. You told me last night we're friends. That I'm your second fucking favorite person in the world. We just went out to breakfast and held fucking hands the entire time like two high school kids. There's an 'us', and you fucking well know it."

Her eyes shutter, go flat on me. "Maybe that's where this was leading, but it can't go there now."

"Why?" I ask with urgency. "Seems like now you need me more than ever."

"No, Cal," she says definitively. "I don't need you. I don't need anything from you."

Rage swells up inside of me, making my head feel like it's expanding like a balloon. A dull roar fills my ears to where the only thing I can hear is the mad pounding of my heart. I look at her eyes as they gaze upon me with so much emptiness... so much removal from where we stand right now, and I want to physically shake her to make her take back those words.

I have no control over myself. It's like I'm a puppet controlled by fury, totally without reason or logic. One hand goes from her shoulder to the front of her throat where I grip her gently, but with enough surety that she's not going anywhere. I push her back, walking her three strides until her back comes up against the wall next to her entertainment unit. Even though her body stops and is held in place, I keep barreling into her, bringing the other hand from her shoulder and shoving it down the front of her pants, which are closed with a loose drawstring.

Macy gasps in outrage, but I shut the sound off quickly by slamming my mouth to hers. She tries to keep her lips sealed but I push hard against them, open my own mouth, and force my tongue inside.

And fuck... it figures she'd choose today to be the first day she wears panties around me, but I don't let it hinder me. I merely push my fingers through the delicate silk, slide them over her bare pussy, and shove one inside of her.

Macy's entire body jerks from the invasion and for a brief moment, I think I've gone too far. But then she moans, which causes her mouth to open further, and I waste no time capturing her tongue and sucking on it hard. She simultaneously floods with wetness around my finger as I grind it into her.

Her body goes lax, her own hands coming up to grip onto my shoulders, pulling me closer.

I lift my face from her, pull my finger out, and push two back in. "You need this from me," I growl at her with dominance and still barely controlled rage. "At the very least, you need this."

Even as she shakes her head, her hips gyrate against my hand, seeking more of a connection. I pump my fingers roughly in and out of her, feeling her breath hitch and break with raspy pants.

"Tell me," I command.

She moans, her eyes hazy with lust.

"Tell me you need this," I urge as my fingers fuck her hard.

She shakes her head, giving me wordless denial.

Stubborn fucking woman, but I know the power I yield over her. I twist my hand, scrape my thumb over her clit, and then press down hard against it, causing Macy to scream out in rapture as she starts to come.

"See," I taunt her before nipping at her lower lip, her body still shaking hard. "You need it."

Normally, I'd continue to play with her wet flesh until all of her trembling calms, but I'm still operating on bitter anger and a need to dominate her fully. I pull my hand from her pants, pick her up, and carry her swiftly back to her room.

With jerky movements, harsh curses... I strip her from her clothes. I manage to tear her shirt at the shoulder seam and scrape the side of her foot as I clumsily pull her sandals off without unbuckling them. After she's completely naked, I quickly take my clothes off, doing a much more efficient job, and then I'm pushing her down on the bed, following the fall of her body.

I'm afraid if she has a moment to rationalize, a split second to convey her denial again, I might lose any ground I've gained, so I spread her legs wide, fist my cock, and drive into her deep.

"Yes," Macy moans, and triumph lights me up from the inside out.

I fuck her hard, just the way I know she loves it.

The way I know she needs it.

If she thinks I'm giving this up... if she thinks I'm giving her up... she is about to be sorely disabused of that notion.

"Oh, God, Cal," she murmurs. "Make me come again."

I kiss her hard, our teeth clashing. When I pull back, I look her in the eye while my hips piston against her. "Admit we have more than just this," I tell her gruffly.

She does nothing more than flutter her eyes closed and suck her bottom lip in between her teeth, letting herself get lost in the pleasure.

"Admit it, Macy," I growl, slamming into her so hard her eyes pop open to stare at me wildly.

"Make me come," she beseeches.

"Admit we are more," I yell in return, and then I slow my strokes down, which is the best way for me to retain power. In a gentler voice, I urge her, "Admit we're more and I'll make you come all day, baby."

She thrashes her head side to side, squeezing her eyes shut.

Denying me.

So I come to a dead stop within her body, even though it goes against my nature to stop something that feels so fucking amazing.

Her eyes pop open and she swivels her hips, trying to urge me to move. Her hands fly to my ass and she clutches at me desperately, trying to pull me into her deeper.

"Cal," she croaks as if she's dying. "Don't stop."

"We first fucked each other two months ago, Macy," I say quietly while the only movement inside of her is the blood pounding in my cock. "It started out as filthy fucking, but you know it's more than just sex now."

Holding very still, I wait for her to make a move. I expect her to push me off, kick me out of her apartment. Or I expect her to push her hand between her legs and get herself off.

What I don't expect... what I could never be prepared for, is when she says in a soft, whisper, "It's been exactly forty-eight days since we started fucking. Not two months."

She doesn't say anything more but then again, she doesn't have to. The mere fact that someone like her knows to the exact day since we first had sex tells the entire story. It tells me that she has placed far more importance on our history than even I have, and that tells me she knows this is more.

"Admit it then, love," I murmur as I drop my face and nuzzle into her neck. I pull my cock back a few inches and intimately push it back into her. "Just admit it, and then I'll be your second favorite person in the world again."

I can't see Macy's face, but within her body... the way her fingers gently press into my ass and the way her knees grip my ribs--the soft sigh that comes from her lips. I know she's capitulated.

"I'm going to pollute you," she breathes sorrowfully into my ear.

My head shakes back and forth while my nose is still pressed into her neck. "Never."

"I will," she whispers.

"You won't," I maintain, and then lift my face to look down at her. Her gaze is bleak... fearful... not for herself, but for me.

I kiss her gently and start moving inside of her again. Slow strokes, ending with a hard grind each time. I only take my mouth off hers one more time before I finish her off, and that's so I can murmur to her, "I think you might be the best thing that's ever happened to me, and now I'm going to make you come again."

Chapter 2

Macy sits curled up on her couch, drinking a cup of tea I made her. She's been staring out the window for the past twenty minutes while we wait for Mac and Matt to arrive. I've not pressured her for conversation, the admission I wrought from her in the bedroom enough to sustain my needs at the moment.

I'm going to pollute you.

Fuck.

Who says things like that? What deep, self-loathing must she be feeling to even think that could happen?

I know I should feel some trepidation. I know my own instincts for survival and avoidance of pain should be kicking in at this moment and causing me some doubt, but fuck... I'm only filled with more determination to protect Macy from whatever dragons may come her way.

The doorbell rings, and I don't even hesitate when I stand up from the other side of the couch and make my way into the foyer. I open the door, knowing exactly who I'll find.

Mac, with worry etched deep on her face, and Matt, with a grave seriousness swirling in his eyes.

I step back, and Mac brushes past me. Turning, I watch her go straight to Macy, take the cup from her hands, set it gently on the table, and then crawl onto the couch and pull her into her arms. Macy just rests her head on Mac's shoulder, and the two women don't say a word to each other.

They just... are.

"Hey man," Matt says softly, and I swivel my gaze to look at him. "Want to go get some coffee or something?"

I look back at Macy and Mac one more time, and I know they need to be alone. "Sure," I tell him, but rather than leave straight out the door, I head into the living room. Rounding the couch, I come to stand right in front of the two most important women in my life, and with one hand resting on the back of the couch, I lean forward and press a kiss to the top of Macy's head. I'm thrilled with the soft sigh she gives me, and I whisper, "We'll be back in a little bit. Give you two a chance to talk."

She nods and looks up at me, her blue eyes shining with gratitude under her thick lashes. "Okay."

I pull up from her and walk toward Matt, who still stands by the door. We both leave without another word to our women.

Once we get down to the lobby, Sal stands up from the security desk and says, "If you're leaving, I'll take you out the back of the building so you can avoid the reporters out there."

Grimacing, I give a glance at the mob still camped out front, and Matt and I gratefully follow Sal down a corridor past the elevators, down another hallway, and to a fire exit door at the back. He tells us to call him on his cell phone when we're ready, and he'll let us back in the same way.

We step into an open, half-alley, and head to the next street over away from Riverside Park.

"How's she doing?" Matt asks without any preamble as we stroll along.

I shrug while giving an overly winded sigh. "Not good. And I have no fucking clue what's going on."

"Mac and I went through some news articles on the way over here," he says as we shoulder our way past other New Yorkers all in a hurry to get somewhere. "It doesn't look good for her father and the rest of the people they indicted."

"The feds told me a little about the indictment," I offer. "It's going to be major jail time if they're convicted."

On the next block over, we find a small deli and step inside. It's getting close to the lunch hour, but my stomach is swimming with acid and I have no appetite. I order a bottled water, Matt gets a Diet Coke, and we find an empty table near the rear of the restaurant.

I fiddle with the cap a moment, and then unscrew it. "Do you know what happened in Brussels?"

Matt blinks at me in surprise. "Brussels?"

"Those FBI agents said the federal prosecutor wants to talk to Macy about some payments by Quarter Mine for a trip to Brussels about eleven years ago. The minute they said it, Macy freaked out."

Matt scrubs his hand through his hair and shakes his head in dismay. "I have no clue. Mac's very tight-lipped about Macy. Sorry, man."

And Jesus... the actual sympathy in Matt's voice... for me.

It's almost too much to bear in these moments when I'm feeling absolutely lost. It makes me yearn for those old days before I betrayed his trust. Before I drove my best friend away.