by Donya Lynne
She stepped over to what looked like an odd sitting bench. It looked like a booth in a restaurant, only there was a bench on both sides, it was smaller, covered with black leather, and had heavy-duty hooks bolted to it in several places. She climbed on it and inspected it. Hmm. Was this some kind of spanking bench? Sam had heard the girls at the Black Garter, where she used to work as a dancer, talk about stuff like this. A few of her coworkers had been in to some serious kink, and she had sometimes enjoyed hearing them talk about the stuff they let men do to them...or that they did to the men, as the case sometimes was.
Was this the kind of thing they had been talking about? She bent over the leather portion of the bench. Uh-huh. Perfect position to be spanked. Oh, and look. Hooks. Right where her hands were. If she was cuffed, she could be attached to the bench and helplessly prostrated.
Why did that suddenly make her get all creamy hot at her core?
After hopping off, she inspected a couple of other benches and a contraption that looked like a mini-guillotine, but not. The hole in the side was much too large for a head, and there was an angled platform. Was she supposed to lie down on that? And somehow…? She frowned and tilted her head left then right, studying the odd apparatus. Micah would have to show her how to use that thing.
She loved the mirrors. Something about watching herself and what was being done to her in this room appealed to her. Mmm, especially in the mirror above the bed. If he let her watch, that is. She had noticed an assortment of blindfolds in his stash of toys. Along with gags, bindings, ropes, cuffs, chains, and a lot of other stuff.
Shit, but Micah was a freak. And he was her freak.
Sam wasn't sure she could handle everything in this room, but enough of it was already turning her on that she thought the two of them could have a very good time down here. She had an open mind, and, to be honest, after listening to her old co-workers talk about some of this stuff, she had fantasized about finding someone who would show her what it was like.
Now she had someone who could. And would. Well, he'd better. Why else would he want her to see this room? Surely, he didn't mean to show her his temple of pain and domination and not introduce her to all he could show her within it.
For the next fifteen minutes, she worked her way through the room, investigating the benches, contraptions, and St. Andrews Cross before ending up on the bed, where she laid back on the semi-firm mattress and gazed up at herself in the mirror above.
Damn, but she was turned on. She squirmed on the bed of burgundy satin and reached up to grab the wrought iron headboard. How would it feel to be tied to this bed? How exciting would it be to gaze into that mirror and watch Micah make love to her or go down on her? To look up at the mirror and watch what was happening to her as if she were watching an x-rated movie while experiencing in the physical what she was watching…? The thought alone made warmth bloom deep in her belly and spread like slow-moving lava into her core, heating her and preparing her body to receive his.
Micah, Micah, Micah. God, I need you. Look what you do to me.
With Micah, she wanted to explore her sexuality. Never before had she imagined doing the things she suddenly wanted to do with him. Was it the trust she felt with him? Because she trusted him implicitly, despite knowing him less than a month. She knew he wouldn't hurt her and would do everything in his power to protect her. With Micah, she felt safer than she'd ever felt with anyone, and wasn't that just the biggest fucking turn-on ever?
For the first time in her life, she imagined letting loose her fantasies. She had never felt comfortable opening up like this with Steve. Her abusive ex had been too much into hurting her for his own pleasure, not hers, and she had withdrawn into herself. Sex had been a burdensome chore with Steve. One she had failed to enjoy since the early days of their doomed marriage.
All that was behind her now. With each passing moment, she felt herself re-opening and rediscovering her sexuality, as well as her sensuality.
Did Sam want Micah to tie her down and strap her up? Spank her? Flog her? Bend her over that funky bench thing? She glanced at the St. Andrews Cross and bit her lip. God, yes. She did, didn't she? She wanted all that and more. Why? Because she trusted Micah, and she loved him, and the idea of him doing those things to her was highly erotic.
What was it he had said to her before she descended the stairs into the basement? My trust in you is down there. Yes, that's what he had said. She suddenly knew what he had meant, because her trust in him was here, too.
With a contented sigh, she glanced back up at her grinning face in the mirror on the ceiling. Oh, Micah, the things my mind is imagining. She didn't know what half the stuff in the room was, but she wanted Micah to teach her. Hell, did she ever want Micah to teach her!
Pushing up off the luxurious bed, she gave one final look around the sin chamber of lust and sensuality, laughing at herself and ducking her head in thought as the words scrolled through her mind, and walked to the doorway that led back to Micah's bedroom.
As she stepped through and glanced back up, the smile disappeared from her face and was instantly replaced with hunger. Micah stood against the far wall by the stairs, his body tense, his eyes hooded and dark.
"You said you were going to wait upstairs." She licked her lips and took a tentative step toward him.
"I heard every…." Micah paused and inhaled deeply, as if he was inhaling her scent. And he probably was, picking up the essence of her arousal. "I heard every thought in your mind."
His shadowed eyes razed her from head to toe, his chest rising and falling heavily with lust as he pushed away from the wall. But Sam got the distinct impression he was exercising extreme restraint.
Maybe she could change that.
She kept walking toward him. Slowly. Her steps measured and seductive as she pulled her sweater up and over her head. "And you couldn't stay away?"
Micah's breathing quickened, and each breath brought with it a deep, titillating purr. She loved when he purred. Not only did it tell her he was aroused, but the sound did something carnal to her insides, making her muscles clench with anticipation of what she knew was about to happen.
"No." The single syllable vibrated through his chest, his voice low and primal.
Damn. Handcuffs, children, and thoughts of being worked over in his dungeon of sadomasochistic play. Her list of things that seemed to get Micah going just got longer and longer.
Sam unsnapped her jeans and slowly peeled them down her legs as she toed off her shoes. All she had on was a white, satin bra and matching panties. Nothing sexy, but then she hadn't expected this or she would have worn something lacier and racier.
"No. You look…." Micah panted, breathing in and out in shallow breaths as his gaze danced up and down her body. "Perfect. Like an angel." He stepped toward her. "An innocent angel."
Who's having very naughty thoughts. Sam couldn't help wondering if that was the allure. Her dressed in pure, virginal white while having torrid, lurid thoughts of debauchery.
"That's part of it, yes," he said, drawing nearer as she crawled over the low footboard, turned around, then sank seductively into his bed. The normal one. The bed that wasn't designed for bondage. She scooted back, keeping her eyes on him as he prowled to the foot of the bed and turned his body, watching her as she lay back, reached up, and took hold of the ornately carved headboard. Shifting, she sank her head into the pillows and pressed her knees together demurely, feigning fear in her eyes.
He purred again, louder, and pulled off his shirt. His long, black hair flared and settled over his shoulders, and he quickly unfastened his black jeans and undressed, his eyes never leaving hers.
In an instant, he was on her, pushing her legs open, biting through the front of her bra to release her breasts as he gripped her panties and yanked them off with a satisfying rip. And then he was inside her, claiming her, pulling her hands free of the headboard so he could hold her arms down against the mattress.
He was insatiable, growling, moani
ng, purring, and overwhelming her with pleasure.
"Micah!" She cried out as she climaxed.
And before she knew what was happening, she came again, and yet again as Micah sank his fangs into her neck and plunged one final, harsh time inside her and stilled.
His cock pumped hard, and warmth filled her, his highly fertile seed spilling and falling on what he had already informed her was infertile terrain. Still, she wrapped her arms lovingly around him, the euphoria of his venom loosening her muscles so that she fell into orgasmic spasms one final time beneath him, her body quivering and quaking as he drank her blood.
She might not be able to carry his baby, yet, but one day…yes, one day she would have Micah's child. She didn't know how she knew. She just did.
CHAPTER FOUR
Micah drove Sam back to his apartment in silence, neither of them discussing the room in his basement. He wanted to wait a day or two to go into the details of what he did there and what he hoped to do to her, as well, but tonight, he was too torqued up to broach the subject. But that didn't mean Sam's mind was quiet. On the contrary, her mind was a dazzling display of wonder and fantasy over all she had seen and what they'd done to one another after her tour of his dungeon. Even now, Micah could sense her arousal, thick and fragrant to his sensitive nose, but which would go undetected by a human.
Truthfully, he had been caught off guard and shocked when Sam's thoughts had so openly accepted what she had found in his dungeon. Or the sin chamber of lust and sensuality, as she had called it in her thoughts. He liked how that sounded. And he had liked how excited his basement getaway had made her. She was eager for him to show her around the room and how things worked, and he was more than willing to teach her.
After parking his Audi in the garage, he took her hand and they walked to the elevator bay. The tension between them was like a third person, drawing them closer together, making them walk with a little more urgency, making their breath quicken.
As soon as the elevator doors closed, Sam shoved him against the wall and planted her mouth hard over his. Micah groaned against her lips, sliding his arm around the small of her back and pulling her against him as if his very existence depended on getting her as close to him as he could.
He knew she'd still been aroused after leaving his house. And hallelujah and glory to Heaven, he was ready to have her again.
They barely made it out of the elevator and into his apartment before falling into a naked heap on the floor in a twist of arms and legs. He rolled to his back and pulled her over on top of him as she sank down on his cock, taking him deep, already thrusting and riding him before he was fully inside her.
She was lost in wanton abandon, her pupils dilated, her nipples taut, her hands pressing against his chest for stability as she fucked him with every fiber of her body.
Fuck, but he wished her body was capable of taking his seed and making new life. She would make an amazing mother to his young, but he knew it was futile to think such thoughts. At least for the time being. Maybe at his next calling things would be different and he would finally be granted the family he had always wanted.
In unison, they both cried out, coming, their bodies shattering yet again through another powerful climax. Sam collapsed on top of him, spent.
Except for Micah's fingertips lazily trailing up and down her spine, neither moved for several minutes, remaining sprawled on his plush carpet. Finally, he lifted his head and kissed the top of hers.
"Trace is coming over tomorrow night for the game," he said quietly, setting his head back on the floor.
"Mmm."
"Do you think we'll be able to keep our hands off each other while he's here?"
"Maybe." Her voice was muffled with her cheek pressed against his chest.
She lifted her head and propped her chin on her hand against his sternum. "We can always slip away at halftime for a little pick-me-up if we have to." A crooked grin crossed her lips.
"True." His own mouth lifted at the corners, and a mischievous arch played over his brow.
"As a vampire, Trace should understand this calling thing you're going through, right?"
"Uh-huh. He should. But wouldn't that make us bad hosts?" His grin widened. He liked her suggestion to slip away at halftime.
"Nah, just handicapped."
He laughed. "Handicapped with lust."
She started laughing with him. "Something like that, yes."
Sam pulled herself up his body and kissed him, letting her lips linger against his. "Your laugh is so sexy."
"Is it now?"
She bit her lip. "Uh-huh."
"Well, I'm glad I'm laughing again then."
"Me, too."
They lay like that a few seconds longer then Sam pushed herself up and they stood and gathered their clothes. Morning was approaching and the timer on his blinds and drapes engaged to make them close automatically and block out the light.
"You know, at my house, we can re-do the upper level and make that your special place," he said, following her to the bedroom.
They tossed their clothes in the hamper and flipped on the light in the bathroom.
"Don't you use the upstairs?" Sam reached in and turned on the water for the shower.
"No. Not really." He grabbed them a couple of towels out of the linen closet. "I figure you can make that your day haven or something. After all, you can still be in the sunlight."
He hoped Sam would want to make herself comfortable in his life. He wanted her to decorate his home and put her touch in every room, but especially upstairs. That would be her area, and he liked the idea of seeing how she would arrange it. What colors of paint would she use? What kind of furniture? Would she prefer more modern décor or a cozier look and feel? All those small details would tell him so much more about her, and he wanted to know everything there was to know about his Samantha.
Sam contemplated for a moment then smiled. "I'd like that. I think I would miss the sun. Are you sure you don't mind?"
He shook his head and followed her into the shower. "Absolutely. I want you to be comfortable, Sam." He grabbed her lilac-scented shampoo as she dipped her head back under one of the multiple sprays of water. After squeezing some of the shampoo into his hand, he stepped up behind her as she turned, and then he began massaging it into her scalp.
Micah loved tending to her like this. Not that it was unusual during the calling for a male to dote on his mate. This was when a male nested, when he began caring for his mate's physical needs in preparation to bear his child. He bathed her, prepared nourishment for her, wrapped her in a blanket if she was cold, tucked her into bed to ensure she rested, brought her tea and water or whatever else she needed.
He grinned as he worked his strong fingers over her scalp, letting the thick suds coat his hands and forearms. He always used too much shampoo to wash her hair, but he liked how the scent lingered on him after the suds coated his arms.
As she rinsed her hair, he poured a healthy dollop of lilac body wash onto a loofah, worked the soap into thick, aromatic suds, and gently but meticulously washed every inch of her body, even kneeling to the floor to wash her feet as she lifted one then the other, leaning down and placing her hands on his shoulders for support.
Only after she was thoroughly washed did he quickly shampoo his own hair and cleanse his own body.
Then they stepped from the shower and he grabbed one of the plush towels and dried her. The first couple of times he'd taken her through this routine, she had been confused at his need to tend to her like this. In fact, she had tried to protest, but now she knew this was all part of the calling. He was compelled to worship her and treat her like the precious vessel she was. And one day, when — yes, when — she became pregnant, this was the kind of behavior she could expect every day. As her mate, he had no choice but to obey the instinctual signals of his body, and his instincts would demand he take care of her this way. She would need it then, because carrying a vampire's baby was exhausting. Even in the early sta
ges.
As he dried her, he paid extra attention to her slim, flat belly. God, he wanted to see her belly swell as the weeks passed. He wanted to be able to place his hand against her tummy and feel a little life — a life he had helped create — moving inside her. What would that be like? He and Katarina had never had young of their own. She hadn't been able to. Even after several calling phases, her body wouldn't accept his offering. A child was the one thing Micah had always wanted and never thought he would have. Now, he had another chance with Sam.
Reverently, he knelt down in front of her, wrapped his arms around her waist, leaned forward, and kissed her stomach. And again. Then again. He wanted a baby with Sam. He knew it was just the calling speaking through his consciousness, but he couldn't help the desire for a child from springing tears to his eyes.
"Someday," she whispered.
He looked up at her. "Are you reading my mind?" He tried to smile, but he knew it probably came out looking like only a pathetic attempt.
"I don't have to," she said. "You're showing me what you're thinking."
At her words, he nodded and pulled her close, tightening his arms around her before resting his forehead against her stomach as her fingers pushed through his hair to hold him against her.
"Yes, someday," he said, closing his eyes.
* * *
The next day was Super Bowl Sunday, and Trace was coming over.
Micah and Sam spent the better part of the day tidying up and getting ready for company when they weren't lost in each other's arms, and somehow Sam managed to put together a batch of her famous chili. It was the second batch she'd made since they'd been together, and he and Trace both loved it. The whole apartment smelled heavenly with its aroma.
While Sam put away a few things in the bedroom, Micah took out the last load of laundry and started folding it. He needed to make a quick run to the store for beer, and Trace was due in about an hour-and-a-half, so it looked like he wouldn't get anymore play time with Sam until after they all went to bed, unless Sam was serious about making their own halftime entertainment.
