by Donya Lynne
And it looked like Trace was spending the night. Snow had started to fall, and an icy mix was forecast for later on.
Micah liked Trace. The guy had turned out to be good people and an even stronger ally. Throughout Micah's ordeal with Apostle, Trace had been a stalwart bodyguard.
Micah still couldn't get over how Trace had defended him at AKM that night he had almost lost Sam. Micah and Arion had been going at each other, Arion sticking his nose into Micah's life where it didn't belong, as he always did, and Micah had snapped. His fully-mated side had exploded and unleashed itself on Arion. Fuck, but he had pounded the hell out of that guy, but Trace had stepped in to pull Micah away and keep the others from coming after him.
Something told Micah that Trace's protective nature of him had more to it than just his desire to keep a friend out of trouble. He felt like he and Trace were tethered together on two different paths that were aligned to collide in the near future.
It would help if he could get a look inside that head of Trace's, but his thoughts were securely locked away. There was no cracking that safe. No matter how easily Micah got into the heads of everyone else, he wasn't getting inside Trace's mind unless Trace wanted him to.
Still, the idea that he and Trace were bound somehow hung over him like a portentous shadow. Trace needed Micah for something. But what?
He supposed he would find out soon enough, but he knew instinctively that whatever Trace needed from him, he would give it. So, it wasn't just Sam he had connected to. He had connected to Trace in a completely different way, as well. Sam was his mate, and Trace was his best friend and then some. Blood brothers was more how it felt. Whatever it was, he would break all kinds of rules and laws to protect them both if it ever came to that.
Micah folded the last of the clothes and carried them to the bedroom.
As he got closer, he tapped into Sam's thoughts. She was thinking about his dungeon again. She had been thinking a lot about his playroom today. Seemed she was excited to get back to it and see what he could do.
He would go easy on her at first. He wasn't sure she could handle all that he could give. He hadn't developed a reputation in the local BDSM community as being a Master Dom for nothing. In his day, his reputation had been legendary, and he had been much-sought-after, not just for the pain he could give, but for his creativity, ardent trust, discretion, respect, and the way he took care of his subs after a scene.
"Which are you? A top or a bottom?" He chuckled as he entered the room and made her jump.
"Will you stay out of my head?" She always said that, but she knew by now he couldn't.
"Sorry, habit." That was his patent answer every time she reprimanded him.
He put the clothes away as she laughed.
"You are never going to stop that, are you?"
With a shake of his head, he wrapped his arms around her waist. "No. I can't help it. I like the way you think. Especially when you're thinking about my special proclivities." In fact, he was getting aroused at the thought of her thinking about his dungeon and what he could do to her there. Too bad, since they didn't have much time.
"Proclivities?" Sam's eyebrow arched at him. "My, what a big vocabulary you have."
He pressed the hand more firmly against the small of her back and eased up against her body like a predator. "I'm just full of surprises. And I'm very well educated." Micah had studied in more universities than he could remember. No wonder his vocabulary was so expansive, although he did try not to use such big words on a regular basis. Most people didn't understand them.
"I can see that, and I'm sure you are."
He saw inside her mind and grinned when he saw how much his intelligence turned her on.
"Your intelligence turns me on, too," he said, leaning in and skimming his lips over the side of her neck. Mmm, she tasted good. Smelled good, too.
"Would you stop that?"
He wondered if she was referring to his mental break-ins or his mouth on her skin. A peek inside her thoughts revealed the former, as he suspected, and he smiled to himself.
"Huh-uh. Nope. Never." His lips closed over her neck and he gently suckled her.
She loosened with warmth and arousal ever-so-subtly in his grasp. "Well, can you at least stay out of my memories?"
Micah wasn't one to dig into memories, so he figured he could accommodate her request. He was more into the here-and-now of people's thoughts, not what had happened before.
He released her neck and pulled around until his lips were so close to hers they were almost touching. "I can do that," he said. "Maybe." He grinned and kissed her, holding her there as his gaze smoldered into hers. He really wanted to take her to bed. Now. And stay there. But Trace would be over soon, and they still had a few things to do.
He pulled away. "I'm going down to the corner store for beer. I'll be back in fifteen. Need anything?"
She looked like she wanted the same thing he wanted, and it wasn't something he could buy at the store. Damn.
"Maybe some pretzels?" she said, sounding just a bit dejected.
"Will do." After kissing her again, he reluctantly left her side and grabbed his wallet off the dresser then put on his coat and headed for the bedroom door.
"Which are you?" she suddenly asked.
Her question made him stop. She was referring to the question he had asked her when he had walked in. About whether she was a top or a bottom. Was she ready for his answer? He knew she had fantasized about what he could do to her, but fantasizing about it and hearing him say the word were two different things.
When he turned, her innocent green eyes didn't look so innocent, anymore. She had seen what was in his basement and was ready to move forward with him.
"I'm a dom, but I also top. With you, I think I might actually bottom, though. But I'll never submit." He saw her next question before she asked it, and the corner of his mouth turned up wryly.
"What's the difference between a dom and a top?"
He could sense her excitement, and he sauntered toward her, almost stalking her.
"A dominant requires submission, a top doesn't. As a top, I provide physical stimulation without requiring you to submit." Stopping in front of her, Micah reached around and spanked her, harder than he'd intended, but she had him so worked up he couldn't help himself.
Her eyes flared wide at the physical contact.
"See," he said, "if you don't like my slapping you as a top, you can stop me, or basically top me from the bottom. But if I was dom'ing you, I wouldn't allow you to do that. I would have control and your complete submission. Do you understand?"
She nibbled her bottom lip and stared up at him, totally enthralled. "I think so. Topping and bottoming allow for give and take between the two, but between a dominant and a submissive, one gives and one takes. There is no give and take."
Yes, now she was getting it. "Very good. You've just completed your first lesson."
Electricity seemed to spark the air between them, and Micah was sooo tempted to forget the beer and pretzels, but he knew he should get going. All this foreplay would make for a much more satisfying postgame show in the privacy of their room later. If his calling could last that long, which he was seriously beginning to doubt it would. Halftime was sounding more and more enticing every second.
"I look forward to the next one," she said, her voice sultry.
"So do I." He forced himself to pull away from her, touching her face. "I'll be back. I love you."
"I love you, too."
Micah headed out and down the elevator to the store on the corner, where he picked up a bag of pretzels and a six-pack of beer. He and Sam weren't big drinkers, and neither was Trace, so a six-pack was plenty.
After paying, he made his way back out into the snow. It was just flurries now, nothing heavy, and before he could get powdered in white, he had returned to the Sentinel and took the elevator back up to the eighteenth floor.
He could smell Sam's chili before he even stepped out into the hall
. Damn, she sure could cook.
Shifting the beer and pretzels to one hand, he pulled out his keys and unlocked the door. The apartment was unusually quiet. Sam wasn't in the living room or the kitchen, pandering around to prepare for Trace's arrival.
"Sam?"
His body filled with tension. The last time he had left her alone in his apartment, Apostle had found her and bitten her, almost killing her. The memory was enough to make him bristle, and he quickly shut the door then set the beer and pretzels on the kitchen counter before heading cautiously down the hall to the bedroom.
* * *
Sam stood waiting in the room for Micah, slightly nervous. She had never done anything like this. After he left, she had changed into a matching black lace bra and panty, black garter, stockings, and high-heeled ankle boots she thought she'd never have the opportunity to wear but which had been a splurge on a careless shopping trip several months ago. She had almost returned them, but now she was glad she hadn't.
But her clothing wasn't what she hoped would spark Micah's blood to the boiling point. After he left, she had been in the closet looking for her favorite sweatshirt when one of the masks she had taken from the Black Garter Men's Club had fallen from the upper shelf. It was the black and red one Micah had said he liked so much and had pushed into her hands on the day she gave notice to the club's manager that she was quitting. Micah had told her he'd seen her perform once when she'd been wearing that mask. So, of course, it was his favorite.
When the mask fell on her, her mind had run off on a tangent, urging her toward an idea that explored this new world Micah had exposed her to with his dungeon of debasement.
So now she stood in the middle of their bedroom, clothed in scanty black lingerie, sexy high heels, and a black and red leather mask with black-out lenses over the eye holes. She was holding a wooden spoon she had swiped from the kitchen.
Micah opened the bedroom door and her heart clenched. Could she really do this? Could she go down this road? When Micah's gaze landed on her in the dimly-lit room, his eyebrows perked up and the barest of smiles flirted with his mouth. Instead of feeling self-conscious, his reaction and the growing bulge in his jeans made her stand a little taller, emboldening her and fortifying her resolve.
"Close the door," she said, smacking the wooden spoon into the palm of her hand.
When he only stood there, gaping and awe-struck, she arched an eyebrow which he couldn't see, being that it was hidden behind the mask. But she was sure he could feel her mock irritation.
"I told you to close the door."
Finally, he reached back and gently pushed the door closed. "Our lesson gave you ideas, did it?"
As the door latched, the room was robbed of the light being cast in from the living room, throwing them into an even dimmer light.
He was right, though. Their lesson had given her ideas. A lot of ideas, actually.
"Take off your clothes," she said.
Would a professional like Micah sense her nervousness? Hell, he was probably in her head right now. If he was, he didn't let on. So maybe he was making a point to stay out of her mind for once.
"You're doing wonderfully," he said.
Mmm, maybe he was in her head. If he was, she didn't care. To hear him compliment her made her feel good. It told her she was doing something right. Well, that erection obscured by his jeans told her that much, didn't it?
Still, if she was going to do this, she needed to sink into the part. And he needed to obey her. As she stepped to the side, she smacked the spoon harshly against her palm, showing her irritation that he still wasn't undressing.
"I told you to take off your clothes."
Calmly, he began untucking his shirt, watching her as she slowly walked around him in a semi-circle, inspecting him, watching him.
As more of his body was revealed, it became harder to stay in character. His body really was a beautiful piece of work. Sexy, sculpted, hard and muscular. When she had first met him, he had looked nearly starved to death. She had since learned that he hadn't been eating or feeding back then, which was why he had looked so gaunt. But now…? Mmm-mm-mmm. Micah was twice the man – male, whatever – he had been when they'd met, in that he had put on at least twenty-five pounds, maybe more, of pure muscle mass.
But then, he'd been feeding from her nearly every day. At first she had been concerned he would drain her, but then he'd explained that her new body could regenerate blood almost as quickly as he took it. And didn't that just work out beautifully?
Micah wasn't body builder big. Sev and Tristan were wider in the shoulders than Micah, but Micah was taller, leaner, and stronger. Hell, his physical form was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen.
"Would you like to assist?" he said, his tone and his gaze giving away that he was inside her head, enjoying her appraisal of his body.
Sam stopped and cocked her head to the side. "No. And turn away from me while you undress."
Two could play at his game. He might be inside her head, but she could take away the thrill he got from watching her.
Unbelievably, he did as she commanded, turning away, unfastening his belt and unzipping his jeans. And then he was pushing them down his long, powerful legs, kicking off his shoes before peeling his jeans all the way off and taking his socks with them.
He was gloriously naked.
"You're so sexy like this," he said.
Oh, now…she hadn't given him permission to speak. She needed to punish him for his transgression. Inwardly, she cringed. She had never struck anyone like this, when she was only playing. Would Micah get angry?
Thwack!
The spoon connected with his ass, and he flinched. She bit her lip and hesitated to see if he would turn and stop her, but he only stood in place, stoic and unmoving, so she stepped forward and, unable to keep from touching him any longer, raked her nails down the left side of his back to his ass while she followed along his spine with her tongue, kneeling the lower she went.
Micah's skin was smooth and supple, and he tasted slightly of salt, as if he had been sweating, but not much.
Bent down behind him, she saw the red mark where she had struck him with the spoon on the right cheek of his ass and slightly off center. After setting down the spoon, she dug her fingers into his hips and held him in place as she bent forward and bit the round, red mark. Hard. Micah tensed provocatively and a moan caught in his throat as if he was purposely biting it back.
Mmm, Micah. Sexy, hot Micah. She licked where she had just bitten, then bit him again. Back and forth she licked then bit, licked and nibbled. Suddenly, she wanted to lick and nibble something else.
"Turn around," she said.
As he turned, it wasn't his magnificent hard-on she saw first. It was his dark gaze. He was looking down at her, appearing as if a god, and for just a moment she felt like she was worshipping at his feet, kneeling before him. But then she caught herself. She was in control here, right? At least, that was the role she was playing.
And she would let Micah know it, too.
Sinking back on her heels, she gazed at his hard-on, her eyes obscured by the dark lenses of the mask, and thought about taking him in her mouth. Sam knew Micah would be in her mind, reading her thoughts, and she wanted him to see all the things she wanted to do to him. She wanted him crazy with lust, seeing all her torrid imaginings and yet not experiencing them as she simply sat back and looked at him.
His breathing increased. His body tensed even more. Yes, he was listening to her mind, wasn't he? And it was driving him mad.
See, she could use his tendency to read her thoughts to her advantage, couldn't she? Hmm, maybe his mind-reading habit could turn out to be an asset.
After a couple of minutes had passed, she picked up the wooden spoon again and immediately smacked the side of this thigh. Again and again, and still again. Then she switched to the other side and continued flaying him. But Micah didn't so much as flinch. He took the stinging strikes in stride, not moving, not making a sound
. His body tightening up was the only physical sign he was enduring pain.
As she smacked his thigh one final time, she pushed forward and took his cock in her mouth, sucking him in hard, licking and swallowing him down her throat.
Micah's legs practically gave out as he grunted, coming almost immediately. His entire body quaked, and his knees wobbled precariously, but somehow he remained standing as he unloaded everything he had against her tongue.
Fuck, but she was turned on. She was on the verge of coming herself, and as soon as his orgasm reached its end, she lay back on the floor in front of him, opening her legs and propping herself on one elbow as she shoved her black panties to the side and touched herself. She was wet and ready for him. So slick and swollen.
She wanted him to watch. This was a show only for him. He had always wanted a private performance with her when she had danced at the Black Garter. Well, now he had one. A very special private performance, because this was something she had never done for her clients at the Garter. Only he was worthy of seeing her splayed, aroused, and masturbating, because he was the one who made her feel this way.
Faster her fingers worked, circling her clit, dipping in and out of her slick channel, returning to her clit again.
His gaze nearly devoured her as he watched, clearly wishing to be between her legs, doing the honors with his tongue. Oh God! The thought made her moan. Each breath expelled on a gasp as she felt the delicious quickening in her belly, delighting in the way her muscles clenched ahead of her release.
Unbidden, her hips thrust into her hand, gyrating and grinding circles against the rhythm of her fingers until…
"Ungh!"
With an abrupt shiver, her hips rose violently off the floor and she felt moisture squirt against her hand.
What the hell?
She had heard of women who could ejaculate, but this was a first. She had never ejaculated her orgasm before. Micah's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as his mouth gaped. He seemed as surprised as she was.
