Micah's Calling (15 page)

Trace glanced down and saw a cat o' nines sticking out of
his mistress's bag.

"Grab that, would you?" He nodded his head toward
the bag. "Use it on me."

With his back turned, he heard Micah push away from the
wall. Then he heard the leather flogger rustle out of the bag.

"You sure, Trace?"

"Yes." Trace began stroking feverishly. It should only
take a couple of strikes and he would come. He reached for a hand towel on the
shelf next to him.

He heard another rustle of the cat o' nines a second before
it struck his raw back.

"Again." He clenched his teeth as his orgasm
coiled tightly in his scrotum.

The flash of pain blistered him again.

"Again!" His voice cracked.

The leather tails whipped down over his back at a diagonal a
third time, and then a fourth, but his orgasm stalled. Nestled into his balls,
his release kicked its feet up and smiled, making itself right at home.

Fuck!

Micah continued whipping him, but it was no use. No matter
how hard he stroked or how fast, his orgasm wouldn't budge.

He cried out in frustration.

Everyone in the room knew he was stuck as he reached for the
wall and leaned on his outstretched arm, out of breath, in pain, gripped by the
overwhelming need to release but unable to do so.

"Can I help?"

He and Micah whipped around to see Sam standing only a few
feet away, her face painted with concern.

"Do you want to?" Micah frowned curiously. He
looked almost awed that Sam had offered.

And wasn't that about as expected as a flood in the desert?
Micah allowing his mate to assist in making him come? Holy fucking cow, but
Trace thought he could hear Hell freezing over this very instant.

Sam nodded, her eyes meeting Trace's.

"What can I do?" She tentatively touched his bare
back.

Just her touch eased him. Trace craved the feminine. He
longed for a female's touch to be enough to bring him to completion, but he
feared it never would be. He would always need the pain, harsh brutality, and
humiliation to give him sexual pleasure.

Micah seemed to sense the change in Trace at Sam's touch and
stepped back.

"Sam, I want you to hold him," Micah said.
"Trace, back up. Come here."

Trace pushed away from the wall and did as Micah told him,
stepping back until Sam was in front of him. Her eyes met his with a beautiful
innocence that shamed him. Sam didn't deserve to be exposed to his depravity
like this.

"I'm sorry," he said softly to her.

She smiled and cradled his cheek in her palm. "It's
okay, Trace. I'm a big girl. I can handle it."

"You shouldn't have to."

"Never you mind that. I want to help or I wouldn't have
offered. Especially after…."

Sam's voice trailed off, but Trace was sure she was
referring to when he had watched her and Micah on the couch. They had been
undeniably thankful for what he'd given them that night. Maybe this was Sam's
way of showing it.

Trace would never understand the relationship between Micah
and Sam, or the one he was forming with them both. But he was grateful for it.
It had been a long time since he'd had friends who were there for him when he
needed them.

Micah's hand pressed against Trace's back. "Let her
hold you, Trace."

Sam opened her arms until he relinquished and stepped into
her embrace. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close as he bowed his
head against her shoulder. He didn't deserve them. He wasn't good enough to
have earned such unconditional acceptance.

"Continue, Trace." Micah's hand smoothed down his
spine and then was gone.

Trace felt tears sting his eyes. "I can't."

"Yes, you can." Sam's arms tightened around him,
feeling like a safety net as her small breasts pressed against his chest.

He shook his head, struggling with his desire to feel the
warmth of her feminine energy by pulling her even closer. He couldn't insult
Micah like that. This was already too much. Trace was already taking advantage
beyond propriety.

The cat o' nines struck his bare back and he flinched. Sam
smoothed one of her palms over his shoulder and up his neck before cradling the
back of his shaved head.

"Use her!" Micah struck him again. "Do what
you need to do, Trace."

Trace was about to break. The pain of the flogger combined
with Sam's pure, feminine touch was more than he could stand, but still he
refused to touch himself.

"Trace," Sam's gentle voice pried him like a
crowbar against a locked door. "Touch yourself."

Her fingers brushed along the length of his shaft, and he
nearly fell over as he gasped gruffly. Sam's strong arms swiftly pushed back
around him, supporting him. The wick had been lit. Trace's hand slammed down on
his cock and he began pumping furiously, crowding her, pushing against her,
growling, his head still bent and resting against her shoulder as his free arm
wound around her waist.

Micah struck him again, and again, almost as punishment for
touching his mate like that. But Trace knew that wasn't it. Micah only wanted
him to think he was upset when he wasn't, but it added to the mini-scene they
had working here where no audience watched. The mix of sensations was what he
needed. The pain of the cat o' nines pushed him while Sam's soft femininity
eased him. Between the two, he knew he wouldn't last long.

With a surge of unbidden strength, he shoved Sam backward
against the wall, drawing suddenly close to coming. Her grasp on him never
wavered, despite a sudden growl from Micah that was quickly silenced.

The flogger lashed him again, and just like that, the first
wave of release unfurled.

His cock let loose, spurting semen against Sam's black
blouse. Trace's whole body jerked as he came harder than he'd come in years. So
hard, in fact, that his legs gave out. Micah caught him under the arms and kept
him from falling, and then pulled him back onto his lap as he sat down on the
small couch against the wall.

Sam came with them, easing herself up onto Trace's lap and
laying down on him like a blanket, holding him as his orgasm continued quaking
his body. He laid his head back on Micah's shoulder, unable to do much else
than lie there and simply
feel
…and twitch.

"It's okay. I've got you, buddy." Micah ran his
hand over Trace's shaved head as he wrapped his other arm around both him and
Sam.

I've got you buddy.
Usually it was Trace saying that
or something similar to Micah. Or at least thinking it. He had pulled Micah's
ass out of the fire several times in the past few weeks, and every time he said
or thought,
I've got you buddy.

Now it was Micah's turn to return the favor. Well, Micah's
and Sam's. He couldn't forget Sam's role in all this. Without her, he'd still
be suffering a case of the blue balls.

They rested like that for a while, all three of them nestled
together, until Trace's orgasm finally diminished and left his body spent and
completely undone.

Trace took a deep breath and blew it out. "I'm a fucked
up mess."

"We all are, Trace." Micah dipped his forehead
against Trace's temple affectionately.

"I wasn't ready for you guys to see me like this."

"Well, we did." Micah rocked him gently as Sam slowly
peeled herself off of him, stood up, and reached for a towel to wipe off her
blouse. She smiled endearingly at him.

"You okay?" she said.

Trace bowed his head sadly. He was ashamed. This wasn't how
he had wanted them to find out his secret. "Yeah. I'm okay."

"You sure?" Micah asked. "I worked you pretty
hard back there."

Trace disengaged from Micah's hold and sat down on the floor
in front of him, facing him. "I needed to be worked hard."

"Why?" Micah leaned forward, his elbows on his
knees.

Sam sat down next to Micah and wrapped one arm around his
back. Micah reached over and tucked his hand between her knees. They were
completely devoted to each other, even after what had just happened.

"I shouldn't have used you like that," Trace said
to Sam, looking down shamefully.

Micah tsked and growled. "She's okay, Trace."

"What about you?" Trace looked up at him.
"She's your mate. I took advantage of our friendship. I never should have
allowed—"

Micah held up his hand, cutting him off. "Trace. I'm
fine with it. You didn't do anything wrong. Sam and I are both okay. Now, tell
me. Why do you need to be worked so hard like that?"

Trace took a deep breath and looked down. "It's how I
keep my power from consuming me."

Micah slowly sat back. "Fuuuuuck me."

It was clear Micah understood what he was saying.

"Yeah, brother. If I don't do this, my power will
consume me."

Micah bent over again and rubbed his hands over his face
before combing them back through his hair and looking at Sam as if pulling from
her strength. "Fuck, Trace. I didn't know. I thought…shit, I don't know
what I thought. I guess I didn't realize your powers were so strong. I mean, I
knew, but…I didn't know."

"Nobody knows. Just me. And, well, now you. Don't tell
Tristan or anyone else."

"Fuck them. They don't have to know. Your secret's safe
with me, buddy."

Trace looked at Sam, who seemed to be following along as
best as she could. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

What she had just witnessed had been pretty intense.

She nodded. "Actually, yes. More than okay. I
feel…." she hesitated and looked at Micah, searching for the right word.

"She feels…wow, really?" Micah's eyebrows popped
at Sam as if he was surprised. He had to be in her head again, seeing her
thoughts.

"What?" Trace was suddenly curious. How did Sam
feel about what she'd witnessed?

Micah turned toward him. "She liked it."

Sam blushed and looked away.

"Like the other night at the apartment, when you caught
us in the living room," Micah said. "She's surprised by how much she
enjoyed it."

Sam leaned in and hid her face against Micah's shoulder,
embarrassed.

Micah grinned and glanced down at her. "It's okay,
Sam." He caressed the side of her face and her hair.

Trace bit his lip and looked down. What did all this mean?
What was happening among the three of them? He clearly wasn't forming a mating
connection to either of them, but a powerful bond was obviously forming to join
them on a higher level.

"She'll be okay." Micah turned back toward Trace,
still holding Sam's face in his palm. "I want you to come back to the
apartment tonight, Trace. I want you with us after what I just did to you,
okay?"

Trace reached out his right hand and clasped it with Micah's
as he briefly let go of Sam. "If you're sure it won't make Sam
uncomfortable and it won't be an imposition, sure. I'll hang with you guys
tonight."

Sam finally pulled away from Micah's shoulder, still
flushed. "It won't make me uncomfortable, and it's no imposition. I'm with
Micah on this one. Come home with us, okay?" She chuffed. "I think I need
it as much as you do."

Micah leaned forward and man-hugged him. "I agree. I
think we'll all feel better if you stay with us tonight. You're as important to
Sam as you are to me." He exchanged glances with Sam, and she nodded.
"She needs to see you're okay and that I didn't hurt you, and I think she
wants to know you're okay with her, too. She needs to know this is normal for
you — for us." He let go of Trace's hand.

Sam's expression made it clear Micah had hit the nail on the
head. But then, if Micah was in her thoughts as much as he suspected, he knew
everything about Sam.

"Thanks," Trace said.

"We'll be out front waiting for you." Micah stood
and helped Sam up.

Trace frowned. "I can drive myself over."

"No. You'll come with us." Micah's tone was final.
Clearly, he was a dom worth his weight in salt. The guy intended on taking care
of him after what he'd just done to him. "I'll handle Diamond."

In other words, Micah would compel his mistress's mind so
she didn't expect Trace to return home with her.

Like a lost soul who had just been found, Trace suddenly
felt like he fit in somewhere. After what had happened the other night at
Micah's apartment, he had felt a deepening bond with both Micah and Sam, and now,
after this, despite the shame rolling through him that they had both seen him
that way, he had a feeling the three of them would become even closer.

He hoped so.

Micah and Sam were more important to him than anyone, being
that he no longer had any family left.

Sam stood to the side while Mistress She of the White Teeth
got her mind jimmied to alter her memory of who should be going home with whom.
Queen Dominatrix might have come to the party with Trace, but she wasn't
leaving with him. Trace was going home with her and Micah. They could take
better care of him than this woman, who would likely send him on his way.

The last person Sam had expected to see here tonight had
been Trace. Sam glanced toward the hall that led back to the storage room. What
had just happened here? She couldn't deny that it had excited her, which was
surprising. She didn't want to have sex with Trace or anything like that, but
she felt protective of him. Based on Micah's behavior, so did he. How strange?
Was this normal? Was she feeling this way because Micah's blood coursed through
her veins and she would automatically be tied to his feelings?

There was so much about this mystical world she didn't
understand, but she did know that she wanted to help Trace and that she
wouldn't mind being involved if Micah ever had to work him over again.

Micah smiled and hugged Mistress D, and she hugged him back.
Clearly, the mind job was complete.