Micah's Calling (12 page)

"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.

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.