Race Ya to the Altar

Part 8

So many nights I dreamt

Holding my pillow tight

I know that I don't need to be alone

When I open up my eyes

To face reality

Every moment without you

It seems like eternity

I'm begging you, begging you come back to me

Kierra

Wait, what? Did I just yell that out? Dammit! Why is that every time that man is around, I lose all my sense and become a puddle at his feet?

"Sweets," he yells back. Then I hear his footsteps come closer to the door. Quickly, I lock it shut. No matter how much I love him, I'm not ready to look at him yet. He hurt me and disrespected me. I don't want to see him until he understands my point of view. So I'll talk to him through the door to teach him a lesson.

"Baby, please open the door," He begs. Knowing Michael, he's drained, emotionally and mentally. He's probably been going insane wondering about me. Serves him right, I guess. Allow a bitch to touch you while I'm upstairs, oh no. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss every piece of him. It drove me crazy to not hear his wild laugh when we had too much to drink after hours. Or, to watch him brush his teeth in the morning. I especially missed looking at the side of his face when he was deep in thought and seeing his eyebrows furrow at every fleeting idea.

"What do you want, Michael," I ask, folding my arms. I don't believe it. I'm not even angry at him anymore. I'm craving him like a junkie, but I have to stand my ground or else he'll think he can walk all over me or do whatever he wants. If he wants to marry me, he has to respect me. Period.

"I was wrong, okay? There, Kierra. I said it. I was wrong. Neverland isn't the same without you there, baby. It's a home with you. So really, all I'm asking is please come home. Please?" On the last please, his voice cracks, meaning he's on the verge of crying. Shit, and so am I.

"I'm a wreck without you," he says in a barely audible voice. Within a seconds, I open the door, eyes full of tears, and pull him in. My heart tumbles over itself upon seeing him. He wasn't lying when he said he's a wreck. His hair is matted, his eyes are bloodshot red, tears are staining his cheeks. Ugh, and he's been drinking. Still, he manages to take my breath away upon laying eyes on him.

"I'm so sorry, Swee--" Whap! I shock myself and Michael when we realize I sent my hand flying across his face. Yes, he deserved that. Even though, judging from how he's staring at me, he wasn't expecting that.

"What in the hell was that fo--"

"That, Michael Joseph," I only combine his first and middle name when I'm extremely upset with him and this time is no exception, "Is for disrespecting me in my house." He stares at me as if he's about to tear me apart. Then all of a sudden, I'm lifted off my feet and tossed onto a bed.

"And this, Kierra Chantell, is for leaving me worried sick for five days," he growls, as he begins to undo every ounce of clothing I'm wearing.

"No, Michael, get off of me," I say, attempting to fight him off me. I don't want to give him any right now because I'm suppose to be punishing him, but God. He is putting up a convincing argument on my neck right now.

"Don't act like you didn't miss me, girl. Stop fighting me," he grins, pinning my arms above my head. Instantly, the temperature of my body increases. There I go, becoming a puddle of goo in his large hands.