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“Mr. White, come to your office,” Marcie calls out the second I pass my front door. Kayla helps me onto the leather sofa in there, and my doctor kneels on the floor next to me.
“Do her first,” I order her without thinking.
“No,” Kay says categorically. “He’s been bleeding for ages. It’s urgent.”
Marcie nods.
“Kay, will you get me a whiskey? And pour yourself one too. You’re still shaking.”
She walks to the wet bar next to my desk, her back to us as she pours two glasses of whiskey from the decanter.
When she turns back around, she notices Marcie got me out of my pants, and her eyes narrow in on her.
“Kayla,” I say, tone stern. I don’t need a dead doctor on my hands right now. “Play nice.”
She hands me a tumbler that I down right away. She fills it again, and I repeat.
“Mr. White, I really wouldn’t advise drinking right now. It will thin your blood and slow down the healing process.”
I shrug, downing the third glass Kay passes me. “Stitch tighter, maybe?” It makes my beautiful wife laugh, and that’s all I needed to heal.
Marcie shakes her head, disappointed, continuing her job.
“Hurry, Marcie.” I can’t help the impatience in my voice. “I can see she’s bleeding. From the head too.”
Kay presses a finger to her forehead and looks at the blood. “I feel fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I’m almost done,” Marcie cuts us off. “I had to pull out some shards of glass and it slowed me down, but you’ll be fine. It didn’t touch any arteries.”
“No shit, Doc?” Kay snorts. “He’d be long dead if it had.”
As Marcie finishes, she puts her hand on my thigh, caressing me as if to soothe me. “I know you, Mr. White. I’ve taken care of a lot of your wounds. This is nothing for you.”
Kayla’s mouth twists, the daggers coming from her eyes metaphorically landing directly in Marcie’s back.
“Do you want to die?” The hiss in her voice could make a soldier run back to his mother.
My doctor looks up, cocking an eyebrow at Kay. “I’m sorry?”
“Get your fucking hands off him.”
My mouth drops open at her blatant display of jealousy, cock twitching like it heard its name.
“I’m helping him, are you blind?”
“By stroking him close to his dick every time you dab off some blood? I’m not blind, but you will be in a second if you don’t take your hands off him.”
Oh. She’s drunk.
“I’m just cleaning up the rest of the blood.”
“Bitch, the stitches are done. He can take a shower to clean the rest. And he’ll have that shower with me. Now take. Your hands. Off. Him.”
Marcie lifts her hands, putting her palms in front of her as if to ask my crazy wife to relax.
“Okay, do me now. Then you can fuck off.”
