by Donya Lynne
Collapsing to the floor, she massaged herself with gentle forward and back motions, pulling her orgasm out, prolonging it, smiling with contentment as she stared up at him. Her Micah. He was awakening her inner sex goddess, wasn't he? This was a side of her she had never experienced, but had somehow always known was there.
"Come. Taste me." She beckoned him with her glistening hand and lay back as he practically plunged between her legs and lapped away her feminine orgasm.
Tonight, while Trace is here, know that I will be wearing no panties under my pants. I will be wet thinking about you. I will be thinking about your cock inside me. And after we've all gone to bed, you will take me out to the couch and fuck me like you've never fucked anyone before, where Trace could come out and see us at any moment.
Sam felt him grin against her nether lips before he lifted his head and said, "Yes, ma'am."
She rolled her head and grinned as she arched her back off the floor and languished under his oral caresses, stretching her arms over her head. Why did the idea of being caught having sex with Micah by Trace excite her so much?
Twenty minutes later, she hurried and got dressed after showering with Micah. He still had a towel wrapped around his waist and was reaching for a pair of sweats as the doorbell rang.
With his sweats in his hand, he tossed back his hair and looked at her with a shrug.
Trace was here. Playtime was officially over. But they had at least had a last-minute fix, and the promise of more to come later hung over them like an erotic shroud.
Micah disappeared down the hall, and Sam quickly skimmed her fingers through her still-damp, boy-short hair. After brushing on some lip gloss, she shut off the light and headed to the kitchen to check the chili.
She heard voices at the door, and a moment later, Trace walked into the kitchen.
"Hi, Trace."
"Hey, little lady." Trace leaned down and kissed her cheek.
He was such a sweetheart, but she could tell he was dangerous. Still, she felt safer when he was around.
"You might want to check the front door," he said quietly, leaning over the pot of chili and taking a deep whiff. "Mmm."
"Why? What's at the front door?"
"Jackson's here."
"Who? Jackson?"
Trace arched an eyebrow and dipped his head in the direction of the front door.
Sam frowned and hurried out of the kitchen.
"Micah, is someone –?" She hesitated when she saw Micah talking to a man she had never met. Well, male in this case, since Jackson was a vampire. She knew that much.
Jackson had been the reason why Micah had wanted to kill himself a month ago. Micah had partially mated Jackson, but Jackson had left him. And from the way it sounded, mated vampires — even partially mated ones — didn't take well to their mates breaking up with them.
Case in point: The beautiful, sexy male standing in front of her, with the navy blue eyes and black hair that cascaded in wet tendrils over his shoulder.
Micah had nearly died from the pain of Jackson leaving him.
Thank God she had come along to save him.
Micah turned and those gorgeous eyes of his smiled at her as his face lit up. Yes, she was Micah's mate now. So, why the hell was the guy here?
She hurried forward and wrapped one arm around Micah and pressed her hand against his back as she extended her other hand to Jackson.
"Hi, I'm Sam."
"Jackson, meet Sam," Micah said, looking at her with what she could only describe as complete adoration.
His loving gaze made her whole body tingle.
Suddenly, it felt like Jackson wasn't even there, even though Micah's next words seemed more for him than for her.
"Sam is my lifemate. She is my life now, always, and forever. I love you, my precious Sam."
Sam felt her face heat. She was sure she was blushing.
Micah turned back to Jackson, who looked positively forsaken. Clearly, Jackson had hoped for a different outcome to his surprise visit.
Your loss, my gain.
She didn't dislike Jackson, even though what he'd done had practically killed the male she had her arm around, and part of her felt sorry for him. Jackson had realized what he'd lost too late. If not for Sam, Micah wouldn't even be alive right now, and then where would Jackson be? Staring at a headstone in a cemetery instead of in Micah's doorway, most likely.
Sam imagined this was the lesser of two evils.
"So, as you can see, Jack, I'm spoken for now." Micah didn't sound as compassionate as Sam.
Jackson nodded and glanced between them. "I'm happy for you." He brushed back his wavy, black hair and glanced toward the elevator before looking back. "Congratulations. Um…." he gestured away. "I guess, um…I guess I'll head on out. I just wanted to say hi."
"Okay. See you Jack," Micah said, tightening his grip around Sam's waist.
"It was nice to meet you." Sam smiled at him.
Everyone made mistakes, and she couldn't fault Jackson for his.
"Nice meeting you, too." He smiled wanly at her and lifted his hand in a weak wave as he turned and made his way down the hall toward the elevator.
Micah shut the door and turned toward her. "Now that I have you, I don't know what I saw in him."
"He meant something to you once."
He nodded. "Yes, he did. But all that's past now."
She gazed up into his eyes for a heartbeat. "Come on, lover. You need to get dressed before the game starts." She took his hand and began to walk away with him in tow.
"Lover?" He stalled and pulled her back, a big grin on his face.
"Mm-hm. You got a problem with that?"
He shook his head and kissed her. "Nope. Not at all, Mrs. Black."
Sam groaned playfully and lifted her left hand. "No. Ring. See?"
Micah chuckled and kissed her ring finger. "You're. Still. Mine."
Oh yes. She was.
CHAPTER FIVE
Micah quickly clasped hands with Trace as he passed the kitchen on his way to the bedroom.
"Hey, brother," Trace said. "You gonna dance around in that towel all night? Coz if you are, I'm overdressed."
Micah flipped him off. "You only wish, fucker." He nodded down the hall toward the bedroom. "I'll be back in a sec."
Trace gave him a nonchalant once-over with his pale green eyes and chuckled. "Thank God. Coz I wasn't sittin' next you if you weren't gonna put some clothes on."
Micah rolled his eyes and flipped him off again then departed for the bedroom to change.
Jackson showing up had been unexpected. For almost a year, he and Jackson had been a thing. An item. A couple. Jackson had been the first male Micah had been attracted to, and when he felt the pull to mate him soon after they met, it had surprised him. The link between them hadn't been a full mating, but it hadn't mattered when Jackson left him. Micah had still responded as if he had lost a full mate, probably because Jackson's departure triggered the memory of the loss of his first mate, Katarina.
Katarina had been a full mate. He had experienced a calling with her and everything. Several callings, actually. Even so, his mating to Katarina hadn't been as strong as what he felt for Samantha.
He would die instantly if he ever lost Sam. His heart would simply cease to beat. And not just because she was his third mate and it was a miracle he had survived the loss of his first two. No, he would die for the simple reason that one couldn't live without their most vital organ, and for Micah, Sam was just that. She was more important to his survival than his heart or his soul. She was his heart. She was his soul. Nothing was more important to him in this entire world than she was.
After pulling on a pair of boxer briefs and the pair of nylon sweats he'd been holding, he snagged a black Under Armor shirt from the closet and pulled it over his head before heading back out to the kitchen.
Sam was spooning chili into bowls, and he walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly as he dipped his nose into her fragrant h
air.
"I love you," he whispered.
She giggled and pressed back into him, placing her delicate hand over his arm. "What's gotten into you?"
"I just wanted to tell you that." He grinned into her hair and inhaled before leaning his head to the side to capture her mouth in a tender caress.
Trace cleared his throat and Micah turned and gave him a smirk. "What? Do you want a kiss, too?"
With a harrumph and a frown, Trace shook his head. "Fuck no, shithead."
He and Sam laughed at him. "Awe, what's the problem, Trace?" Sam reached out and pushed him playfully on the arm. "Is Micah too much man for you?"
Trace ran his large hand over his shaved head as he turned and reached for some crackers. "Hell, no." Then he grinned out of the corner of his mouth and glanced at them sideways. "He's not enough of one to get with this." Trace waved his hand down his body then turned and shook his ass side-to-side twice before leaving them in his wake to take up residence on the couch.
Micah and Sam laughed as he went.
"Trace, my man, you have no idea how much of a man I can be!" Micah called after him then kissed Sam on the cheek and grabbed one of the other bowls of chili.
"Yeah, yeah." Trace waved his spoon over his head without turning around, and then propped his feet up on the ottoman. "Shut up, you braggart, the game's about to start."
Micah caught Sam's eye then trailed his gaze down to her ass as he ran his hand over her behind. "No panty lines." He kept his voice quiet and popped his eyebrows at her.
"I told you I wasn't going to wear any," she whispered.
"Mmm, I like it." He leaned in and nibbled her earlobe.
"Stop." She giggled and tried to pull away, but he clutched her and pulled her close.
"Micah!"
He pressed his lips to her ear. "You were serious then? You want me to fuck you out here later?"
She looked up at him through her lashes and bit her bottom lip, obviously aroused and a little surprised at his use of the f-word. Not that she should be surprised. He said fuck all the time. But when it came to what he and she did together, they usually referred to it as making love. Somehow, though, making love didn't sound right for what she apparently wanted him to do to her, because hadn't she herself referred to it as fucking instead of making love earlier when they were, um, playing.
After a moment's hesitation, she grinned and nodded. "Yes."
"Why, Miss Garrett, I do like how you think."
"Why, thank you, Mr. Black."
He purred. "Let the fun begin."
"Oh yes, let it."
After giving Sam's ass a gentle squeeze, he grabbed two beers in his right hand and led her to the living room.
"Here you go." He held the beers out to Trace for him to take one.
"Awe, you do care." Trace grabbed one and set it on a coaster.
"Only a little, but don't tell anyone." Micah sat down on the sectional and dug into his chili as Sam settled in next to him, tucking her feet up under her.
Trace glanced over at her. "This is fucking awesome, Sam." He pointed his spoon at his bowl, which was half empty already. "I want the recipe."
"You cook?" Sam took a drink of her beer then set it down next to Micah's.
"Sometimes. Surprised?"
"Surprised you're talking when you were the one who told me to shut up," Micah said, throwing him an amused look.
"Eat me." Trace shoved a spoonful of chili in his mouth.
"I don't do dark meat, bro."
"Micah!" Sam smacked his arm and he flinched and laughed.
Trace chuckled and grabbed his crotch. "I've got your dark meat right here, brother."
Micah grinned. Fact was he wasn't sure what Trace's lineage was. He didn't look African American, and he didn't look Caucasian. His skin was darker than everyone else's, but his features were unusual. Those pale green eyes of his were a startling contrast to his dark complexion. Was he Cuban? He thought he had heard that Trace's mom had been a Jamaican witch, but that just didn't sound right. His look was more Cuban than Jamaican. Or maybe his father had been Cuban, which would make sense since his father had given him his vampire blood and Trace's human side had come from his mom. Any way Micah sliced it, Trace was an enigma. A melting pot of physical traits from multiple cultures. At least, that's how he appeared.
Sam shook her head and stirred her chili. "I swear you two are like adolescents."
Micah leaned over and kissed her cheek. "We're as horny as adolescents, too. You'd better watch out."
Trace chuffed. "As if you'd even let me get close to her, Micah." He took a bite and chased it with a swig of beer. "I'd probably lose an arm or my head if you even caught me looking at Sam like that. Not that I would, but I'm just sayin'."
Micah sat back and looked at Trace, then at Sam before dashing his gaze into his bowl of chili. What Trace said held merit, but for some reason, the idea of Trace looking at Sam like that didn't bother him. How strange.
He looked back up and caught Trace's eye for just a second before glancing toward the flat screen. But his mind didn't register what was going on in the game.
Why didn't the thought of Trace looking at Sam with lust bother him? If it had been anyone else but Trace, Micah would have already been up and off the love seat, beating the holy living shit out of him for even joking about such a thing. Male vampires didn't take to their mates being looked at, touched, or coveted by other males, and yet Micah was as cool as a cucumber about the idea of Trace giving Sam surreptitious glances of interest.
Whoa!
This was a first.
Trace frowned curiously at him. "What? No snappy comeback there, stallion?"
Micah looked at Sam, who grinned as she ate another bite of chili, and then he looked back at Trace. "Not this time, bro."
Trace's frown deepened, and Micah looked back down into his bowl of chili as if he'd find some answers in there. All he found was culinary bliss.
What had just happened here? Was this part of what he felt between him and Trace? Was this part of the inevitable collision course they were on with one another, showing itself in his willingness to accept Trace in every aspect of his life, even where Sam was concerned? If so, what did it mean?
Micah turned his attention back to the game and ate. He had a feeling that all would reveal itself soon enough. And when it did, their lives would change forever. He only hoped it was for the better. Micah couldn't take another dose of bad news after what he had just been through. Sam and Trace were the two people he cared about more than anything in the world, and he wouldn't let anything harm them.
CHAPTER SIX
Sam noticed the change in Micah's demeanor when Trace mentioned looking at her with more than friendly intentions, but after a while, he and Trace had returned to their back-and-forth bantering.
At halftime, she excused herself to clean up the kitchen and put away the leftovers. She planned on sending a container of chili home with Trace, so she pulled two bowls of Tupperware from the cabinet.
Micah entered the kitchen a couple of minutes later and his hooded gaze told her all she needed to know about where his mind was.
"Hey you," she said as he stepped up behind her and corralled her within his arms and pressed his hands against the counter on either side of her.
"Hi." He nudged against her backside, his semi-erection caressing her ass.
Sam leaned back against him. "Is your calling calling?"
He nodded and bent down to kiss her neck. "It definitely has my number."
"It won't let you hang up, is that it?" She ran her hands down his arms.
"Nope. Damn fucker just keeps calling me back."
She sucked her tongue so that it made a mock sympathetic noise. "That's too bad. We have a whole second half to watch."
He pushed his groin against her ass and groaned quietly. "No halftime entertainment then?"
From what he had told her, she knew if he didn't succumb to his calling within a certain amount
of time, he would have to endure increasing discomfort until he did. "Only if you can't wait."
He nuzzled her neck and nibbled. "I can wait. It will make it that much better when I get to have you again."
"Do I stand a chance?" She turned and looked into his eyes, grinning.
He shook his head. "None."
In other words, as soon as he was able, he was going to be on her and in her in every way imaginable.
His lips meshed with hers and he pushed his erection against her and around in a tight circle one last time before pulling back and grabbing two more beers. With a quick adjustment between his legs, he flashed his sexy smile and left the kitchen.
"About time, asshole," Trace said.
Sam peeked through the entrance to the kitchen to see Trace reaching for a beer.
"Sorry," Micah said. "I got sidetracked."
"Uh-huh. I know what's got you sidetracked."
Sam smiled to herself as she listened to them trade jabs.
"You take a mate and then let's see how much smack you talk." Micah sat down as Sam shut off the light in the kitchen and re-joined them on the sectional.
"You know, I don't have to be here," Trace said gently, his tone understanding.
"Hey, Trace, I'm just kidding around. I didn't mean anything by it." Micah leaned forward and playfully punched Trace's arm.
"Yeah, Trace," Sam said. "It's okay. We want you here." Something in Trace's expression made Sam think he looked sad. Maybe it was the way his gaze danced down then back up affectionately.
"No, that's not what I meant." Trace ran his fingers around the label of his bottle of beer. "I just meant that I know what's going on. I know you're in your calling, Micah." He paused. "I was actually surprised you still wanted me to come over tonight. I figured you two would want to be alone."
Micah leaned back and put his arm around Sam, kicking his feet up on the ottoman. "It's not so bad now, Trace. Just be thankful we didn't have you over the first couple days. You might have gotten caught in the crossfire."
Sam was surprised at how normal it felt to be talking about such a personal subject with Trace. Maybe it was because he was a vampire, too, and to them, talking about what happened during a calling phase wasn't such a big deal.
