Micah's Calling

by Donya Lynne

  "You know why." She shook her head, amused. Incorrigible. Yes, he was.

  He chuckled. "But you love me this way."

  "You're pushing your luck." She smacked his arm playfully.

  Micah's laughter made her smile. Damn, but she loved his laugh. So rich and deep. How sad that he hadn't laughed for so long before she came along. The world had been robbed of a sound more precious than birds singing.

  "You flatter me, Miss Garrett."

  "That's better," she said. "And it's not flattery. It's true. You really do have a wonderful laugh, but then I'm repeating myself, aren't I?"

  His arms tightened around her. "Yes, but I love it. And I love laughing for you."

  "Why, thank you, Mr. Black."

  He squeezed her as he nuzzled closer, getting more comfortable as drowsiness began to settle over them both. She knew he would awake her in only a few hours, when the calling reared its head again and demanded he make another deposit in her infertile-for-now womb, but for the moment, she was still awake enough to broach one more topic.

  "Are you going to talk to me about the room in your basement, Micah?"

  He tensed only briefly then relaxed again.

  "What do you want to know?"

  Loaded question. She wanted to know everything. How long had he been into BDSM? What did he do with all that equipment? Did he want to use it on her? Who else did he use it with? Was it purely about sex? Did he want to get back into BDSM with more people than just her? Would he teach her?

  His arms tightened around her. "About sixty years, whatever I want, yes, nobody, no, maybe, yes."

  "Huh?" Had he really just answered all her questions?

  "Do I need to take it slower for you, love?"

  With a nod, she rolled her eyes and smiled. "Yes, that would be good."

  His lips pressed against the back of her shoulder. "Okay." He kissed her again. "Here's the deal. I got into domination about sixty years ago. Seems I had a knack for it, and I built up quite a reputation in the community, which was mostly underground then. You didn't really hear much about BDSM in open circles in the 1950s. Honestly, though, I had always gotten a bit of a thrill sexually by spanking and binding my partners."

  Sam wasn't sure she wanted to hear about his other partners.

  "Hey," he said. "I'm not with them, anymore. I'm with you, Sam. Now and forever. You're it for me, okay?"

  She knew it was stupid to be jealous of those Micah had been with before she had even been born, but she couldn't help herself. Micah belonged to her now, and damn anyone else.

  "I feel the same way, Sam. Believe me. I hate thinking about Steve or any of the men you've been with before me. But that's past." He snuggled against her and kissed her neck. "We're together now. I don't want anyone else but you."

  In a way, it was nice being able to talk to Micah without having to speak. He saw inside her thoughts and immediately addressed her concerns. Talk about an open line of communication.

  "I don't want anyone else but you, either," she said. "So, okay, go on. Give me all the gory details about your wicked past." She huffed and resigned herself to the reality that a thousand-year-old-male would have been with a lot of partners. Fact. Of. Life. Not much she could do about it being that she hadn't even been an idea in her parents' minds, yet, when Micah had become an adult. Hell, she hadn't even been an idea in her parents' parents' great-great-great grandparents' minds, yet.

  Micah smoothed his hand over her hip and back up to her shoulder reassuringly before going on.

  "Well, domination started out being more about sex for me, but then I realized it wasn't so much about sex as it was about trust. I really enjoyed providing the pain and, more often than not, the mental torture people needed. After a while, being a dom became less about sex for me and more about helping others achieve what they needed to feel…well, free. For some of my subs, it was what they needed to find sexual fulfillment, but I didn't necessarily have sex with them."

  "What about with me?" Sam couldn't help wondering why he wanted to invite her into his dungeon of dastardly deeds.

  "Oh, with you it's very sexual." He pressed up against her and briefly cupped her breast as he nibbled her ear.

  She grinned. "Oh?"

  "Mm-hm. With you, I'd like to exercise the kind of domination that would give us both a great deal of pleasure."

  "Really now." She didn't state it as a question.

  "Oh yes. Really." He purred and the vibration rumbled gently through her back.

  "What other kinds of domination are there?" This was all very fascinating.

  "Like I said," he flicked the tip of his warm, soft tongue against her neck, "the kind where I provide a service."

  "And that's not sexual?"

  "Not for me." He crowded her, obviously becoming aroused. "At least not anymore."

  "But for them…your subs?"

  "Sometimes," he said, his voice soft and wispy. "Well, usually yes. For my subs, it usually is sexual. Submission is the only way a lot of subs get aroused."

  "And you've been out of the, um, practice of domination for how long?"

  "A few years now."

  "Why do you suddenly want back in?"

  His hand skimmed lower, teasing her as he purred. "You woke me up."

  "Do you want to dom others?"

  "Maybe, but not sexually." His lips were pure evil on her skin. "If I worked with a partner, he or she could provide the sexual component." He nipped her shoulder and brushed his lips up the side of her neck. "I could just…." He licked her nape. "Do what I do."

  She was losing her willpower to resist him.

  "And what do you do?" she asked, turning into melted butter.

  "Would you like to see?"

  Did she? Did she really want to see him whipping or tying up, or whatever he did, another person? And if she did, how and where? At his house? She wasn't sure she'd like that.

  "No, not at my house." He pulled away and rolled her toward him until she was on her back, and then he slid on top of her, pushing her legs apart.

  "Where then?" She wrapped her arms and legs around him as he glided smoothly inside her.

  "There are parties." He closed his eyes to savor the moment his pubic bone met hers then opened them again and looked at her. "Scene parties. I can take you to one and show you what I do."

  She wasn't sure about this. Micah spanking her was one thing. Him spanking another was something totally altogether different.

  "Oh, I wouldn't be spanking anyone but you, baby." He rocked gently against her. "But it's up to you. I don't have to do it. Playing with you would be enough, but I wouldn't play as hard with you as I would with someone else; say, a true submissive who thrives on the pain."

  "Do you need that?" She tilted her hips as he pushed forward.

  "I don't need it." His body stilled and he looked down into her eyes. "Part of me wants to show off for you, though."

  Oh, now that lit her up and turned her on. Why the idea of Micah turning into a cocky rooster to strut his whip-lashing feathers excited her so much, she couldn't guess. But it did.

  He grinned and ground deeply into her. "You like that."

  There was no hiding the truth from him as the ache in the pit of her belly softened and made her feel loose and gushy at her core. "Yes."

  "I'm glad." He lowered his mouth to hers and latched onto her top lip, sucking softly before breaking away. "I want everyone at that party to know I'm with you." His body surged forward again, claiming her. "I want them all to envy you when they see what I'm capable of."

  She arched an eyebrow, feeling her insides clench at his words. Was it wrong to get so hot over such egotistical proclamations? "So sure of yourself, Mr. Black?"

  "I know my reputation." He pressed her hands into the mattress and out to the sides. "I know what I'm capable of. And so do they."

  "And they'll want you for it." She was going to come. Micah was going to make her come with just his words and his voice.

 
"And all I'll want is you."

  As he said the words, he rotated his hips just once while buried deep inside her, and her orgasm unfurled. She arched up off the mattress, stretching against the restraint of his hands holding down her arms, and came undone in about ten different ways.

  He pumped his hips three times in rapid succession then grunted as he joined her in climax as she crashed back down against the mattress.

  Slowly, he released her hands and she wrapped her arms around his back, both of them breathing hard.

  "Okay," she said, gasping for air.

  "Okay, what?"

  "I'll go with you. To a party. I want to see."

  His body shivered in victory.

  CHAPTER TEN

  A week later, on Friday night, two weeks after Sam had moved in with him, Micah pulled onto the long, winding driveway of what could only be described as a mansion. He was driving the new midnight blue Camaro he had bought for Sam. She had chosen the color, saying it reminded her of his eyes, which of course gave his ego a hefty boost.

  "Here?" Sam's astonished gaze swung to his. "The party is here?"

  Micah nodded. "Many in the BDSM community are quite affluent."

  She looked back out the window at the Colonial-style home as Micah pulled up in front. No doubt the valet who greeted him was one of the Domme's submissives, hired for the night with the promise of his reward later.

  Micah had already prepped Sam on proper etiquette: If she recognized someone from the outside world, don't acknowledge them. When watching a scene, no talking. No pictures. No touching the equipment unless given permission. Basic rules.

  "Is this…Domme…well, is she a vampire?" Sam stepped up beside him and took his hand as the valet drove the Camaro around to park.

  He nodded. "The one hosting the party is, but not the one who invited me."

  "And you know her? The hostess?"

  "Yes."

  "How?"

  "I've attended her scene parties before." He led her up the steps to the entrance.

  "You've never…?"

  He paused with his hand on the door. "Sam, she and I both work on the same side of the switch."

  "What's that mean, exactly?"

  Micah squeezed her hand. "I've never dommed her and she's never dommed me."

  Sam nodded awkwardly.

  "Are you sure you're okay with this?" Micah said.

  With a nod, Sam pursed her lips. "Yes. I'm just nervous."

  He let go of the door and pushed her to the side, up against the smooth brick of the house, before pressing into her. "Baby, I'll be by your side the whole time. And I don't want anyone in there besides you. You know that, right?"

  "Yes," she said. "It's just that I'm still getting used to this."

  "Are you jealous?" They might as well get to the meat of the issue right now.

  She didn't answer right away.

  "Sam?" He swept his fingers around the side of her face and down to her chin before gently lifting so she was forced to look into his eyes. "Are you?"

  With a sheepish roll of her eyes, she nodded. "Yes. A little."

  He grinned. "I thought so."

  Micah kissed her softly so as not to smudge her burnished red lipstick. "Baby, you so do not have anything to be jealous of. You're my mate. My biological other half."

  Her eyes softened as her plump lips turned upward into a shy smile.

  He ran his palm lightly down her neck, over the side of her breast, and then around to the small of her back before tugging her toward him.

  "And you're just about the sexiest thing I've ever laid eyes on," he said. "Inside," he nodded toward the entrance, "I'll only have eyes for you."

  Her smile widened, and she skimmed her hands up his chest. "You do say the sweetest things."

  "I only speak the truth."

  "And the truth is very sweet."

  Micah grinned wickedly. "You ready?"

  She nodded. "Okay. Yes. I'm ready."

  He lifted one of her hands to his lips and kissed the back of her knuckles. "Shall we go inside then, Mrs. Black?"

  She rolled her eyes at him. "Is that how you're going to introduce me in there?"

  "If you want me to." He arched one eyebrow.

  Her green eyes sparkled with mischief. "Just introduce me as your girlfriend, Sam Garrett."

  Oh, someday he would convince her she was indeed Mrs. Black, but until then he would play along. With a chuckle of surrender, he gestured toward the door.

  "After you then, Miss Garrett."

  "That's better."

  He followed her to the front door, reached around her, pulled on the handle, then ushered her in. He hoped she wouldn't find the goings-on here tonight to be disturbing. Micah really wanted her to embrace his lifestyle. But if she didn't, he would give it up for her. In a heartbeat, he would give up anything she asked him to. She was his world, after all, even if she did insist on being called Miss Garrett instead of taking his name.

  * * *

  What greeted Sam was…well, pretty normal. Except for the leather-clad servers wearing studded collars around their necks and carrying trays of Hors D'oeuvres and flutes of champagne, most everyone else she saw looked relatively normal.

  Micah guided her to a parlor off to the right that was serving as a coat check, and he helped her out of her leather coat. As he took care of getting them tickets, she glanced back toward the main room.

  Most everyone was wearing black, just like she and Micah. Still, she felt self-conscious, as if everyone would be able to tell with one look that she had never been to one of these parties.

  She felt like she was wearing a blinking neon sign: Scene Party Virgin.

  She ran her fingers through her boy-short hair, re-teasing the soft peaks nervously.

  Suddenly, Micah's hand landed on the small of her back, and she jumped then laughed at herself for being so twitchy.

  "Just relax," he said, leaning in and whispering into her ear.

  "Okay." She felt like such a noob.

  "You look lovely, by the way."

  She turned and looked up into his slightly-hooded eyes. His mouth lifted seductively at the edges.

  He had helped her pick out what to wear. Black. You have to wear black, he had said. So, she had selected a pair of black, flair-legged slacks and stylish, black patent leather, platform pumps, and he had chosen a scoop-necked, black knit blouse for her to wear, with material so thin and fine it felt like butter between her fingers and against her skin. It had long sleeves, but even though it was warm inside the house, it wasn't uncomfortable.

  The final touch to her outfit had been given to her right before they left when Micah secured a platinum choker around her neck. It was designed to look like a dog's choker collar, but was much too exquisite, with three onyx stones set in at the front. So that everyone knows you're taken, he had said with a sexy smile on his face.

  She wasn't sure if that was true or if he just wanted to see her in a fancy dog collar, but it was a striking piece of jewelry either way.

  "Very sexy," Micah said, staying close as he directed her back toward the main foyer. "I might get jealous myself."

  "Oh? Why's that?" She tried to act like she fit in, glancing around as nonchalantly as possible.

  "Because every male here will have his eyes on you."

  "Well, don't hurt anyone." She plucked a flute of champagne from a passing silver tray as the waiter nodded and smiled at her.

  "Mmm, I'll try to keep that in mind."

  She giggled up at him as his gaze followed the server almost threateningly.

  "Down boy."

  He looked back at her. "Funny. I thought that was my line."

  She shook her head at him. He really needed to get the word incorrigible tattooed on his forehead.

  "I'll think about it," he said, reading her mind.

  "So, when does everything start?" She sipped her drink as he navigated her through a throng of people.

  He checked his watch. "In about t
en minutes. That's when the doors will be locked and everyone will retreat to the basement."

  She took a deep breath. It was getting easier being here. No one had jumped out and pointed a finger at her, yet, announcing that she was a BDSM scene party virgin, so maybe she would make it through the evening unscathed.

  "No one is going to point you out, baby," Micah said.

  She glanced at him. He really did look good tonight. He had chosen an Under Armor, long-sleeved, skintight shirt that hugged his body like a second skin. She could actually count the muscular ridges in his abdomen. His tailored black slacks hung low on his hips, and he wore a thick, black leather belt with a brushed silver buckle. He looked good enough to eat. It was easy to see why someone would want him to work them over. He looked as good as his reputation claimed he was.

  When he glanced askance at her and licked his lips, she knew he'd heard every word of her thoughts.

  She blushed.

  "You sure know how to boost a guy's ego." His arm slipped more securely around her waist.

  "Don't go getting a big head about it," she quipped, smirking with amusement and taking a drink of her champagne.

  "Wouldn't dream of it, Miss Garrett." He steered her toward the back of the house. "We should head downstairs."

  She linked hands with him and let him lead her. He had warned her about what she would see. There would be naked men and women here, tied and bound and on display as they were worked over for the others in attendance. Apparently, some submissives enjoyed the public humiliation.

  They were exhibitionists…like she was, only different.

  Micah nodded to a male dressed in leather, who nodded back.

  "Do you know him?" Sam said, turning and watching the man walk away.

  "Yes."

  She lowered her voice. "Is he another dom?"

  "Yes."

  They reached an open staircase made of brown stone, which half-spiraled around a circular wall. Murmuring noise and soft music echoed up from the basement, and they began the descent into what Sam could only imagine calling the Temple of Doom.

  "It's not the Temple of Doom," Micah said quietly.

  "I know, but I don't know what else to call it."

  "Just call it the dungeon."