Pup (4 page)
was at the horizon, the last of its subdued orange and yellow rays mixing with those cast from the small fire Rig had started in the stone-and-iron fire pit. Tackett had to admit, roughhousing in the pool with Micah had been fun. The teasing, flirting, kissing between them, even more so.
The little shit was too much of a temptation for Tackett to resist. He still hadn’t decided if that was a good or bad thing at this point, but he was willing to concede that Micah was right about letting go of the other shit bugging him and taking what he wanted and needed. That mentality had served him well for many years.
Tackett sipped at his soda, relaxing in the lounge chair while the subs went about cleaning up, going in and out of the house, replacing the remnants of dinner on the buffet table with desserts. He tried not to stare at Micah as he moved about. When that became hopeless, he tried to be discreet. However, when Micah bent over, tight ass high in the air as he picked up a bowl of fallen potato chips, Tackett gave up all pretense and openly ogled the man.
Bobby settled in the lounge chair next to him, a big grin on his round face. “He really is quite lovely. I’m surprised you’ve been able to resist him this long.”
“That he is,” Tackett responded lackadaisically. “But I feel I must ask, what am I getting myself into? There has got to be something wrong with him. I mean, you and Rig don’t seem to have any problem resisting him.”
“Ah, but that is why BaskinRobbins offers thirty-one flavors, my friend,” Bobby said with a shrug. “We all have our own distinct tastes. Rig and I tend to go for the underdog, so to speak.”
“Needy, you mean.”
“But are we not all needy in some way?” Bobby nodded in Micah’s direction. “He yearns for a strong, seasoned hand that is both harsh and loving. Someone like you. What Rig and I need isn’t always easy to find. It takes someone very special to accept the needs of two very demanding old Doms that are so set in our ways.”
That was quite the understatement. Bobby and Rig had been together for as long as Tackett had known them—twenty years with the same person was incomprehensible—and only once had they found a sub who could handle them in a long-term committed relationship. Not only were they demanding, they were into some of the more extreme kinks—humiliation, piss play, and complete and unquestioning slave-type submission. It was too bad really, because any sub who could handle them surely would be rewarded tenfold. Bobby and Rig were demanding, but he’d never met a more committed, loyal, and loving pair.
Micah, hands full of dirty dishes and cutlery, headed toward the house, his eyes on Tackett as he went and a flirty smile curling his lips.
“He’s very young,” Tackett said absently as he continued watching Micah until he disappeared into the house.
“Young, yes, but not stupid. He’s a lot like you in that way. He knows what he wants and isn’t willing to settle for less.” Bobby patted Tackett’s forearm, waiting until he turned his attentions away from Micah and toward him before speaking again. “He’s a good match for you, my friend,” he said sincerely. “Give the pup a chance. He might just surprise you.”
Bobby was right; what did he have to lose? He hadn’t been laid in months and was beyond tired of the dolorous feelings that had been messing with his mojo. What did he care if the kid was twenty years younger than he was? Micah was young, hot as hell, and had practically been begging for his attention for months. Just what Tackett needed to stroke his bruised ego.
Tackett’s smile was sly when he raised his bottle of soda and tipped it toward Bobby. “And if not, I’m sure I’ll enjoy spanking that naughty ass.”
Bobby clinked his beer bottle against Tackett’s. “Now there is the Tackett Austin I know and love.”
“Hey, Bobby. Where did you hide that bottle of scotch I was saving?” Rig called out, standing at the sliding patio door to the house.
“Oh good Lord,” Bobby muttered, then pulled himself to his feet. “Excuse me, but I better go find his scotch before he tears the house apart looking for it.”
Tackett waved him along, his attention already taken up by the dark, curly-headed man stepping out the door past Rig. He heard Bobby chuckle as he walked away, but paid him no mind. Micah was heading to the table in nothing but a pair of shorts, loaded with plates of small cakes and cookies, hips swaying and his tanned naked torso reflecting the orange glow from the setting sun and fire.
“There he goes to save the day.”
Tackett laughed and turned to Blake, who was sitting across from him, his boy curled up next to him. “I swear he’s the only man I know who works harder now that he’s retired than before. Has he missed a day at the club since you bought it?”
“Nope. Comes in every day when we open and walks out at night when we close. Says I still need some training.”
That sounded like Bobby, all right. Always worrying and fussing. If the man wasn’t such a damn fine chef—cooking and eating to combat the worriment— he’d be skin and bones. “So how did you talk him into finally taking this vacation?”
Blake smiled. “Shutting down Monday. Going to be closed for a week or so while we do some remodeling.”
“Wow, more changes?”
“Club’s getting too busy, I hate that fucking dance floor,” Blake growled. “Hard to pay attention to what’s going on and who’s coming in and out. We’re going to turn that big banquet room in the back into a private club. Close the playrooms to the general public.”
His skin itchy from chlorine and sun, Tackett absently rubbed at his thighs, stealing glances toward the house. “Sounds like a smart move. I definitely would like a place a little lower-key to hang out. Not much for dancing—at least, not the vertical kind.” Speaking of which,
what the hell was Micah doing in there?
“It is, but I can’t take the credit, it —”
“Bobby?” Tackett interrupted. “Christ, the man really does need a vacation.”
“—was my boy’s idea.” Blake ran his fingers across the metal collar around Ty’s neck, an expression of near wonderment on his face as he touched it.
“Ah, your Master finally drove you to drastic measures, I see,” Tackett chuckled, addressing Ty.
“He was getting a little neurotic, sir. Figured we had to make some changes or he was going to have an ulcer and gray hair by the end of the year.” Ty reached up and pointed at the side of Blake’s head. “Oh wait, is that one there? Here, let me get that for you, sir.”
The slap to Ty’s ass was loud, followed by peals of laughter from Ty as Blake started manhandling him. It was nice seeing the two of them so happy and getting everything they were hoping for out of their relationship.
Tackett glanced again toward the house and spotted Micah.
Finally!
Micah approached, his smile growing with each step he took. Tackett grabbed Micah’s hand and tugged him down on his lap.
“Amazing what a little sun and pool fun will do for your temperament, sir.” Micah laughed as he settled on Tackett, straddling him, pushing in close.
“Knowing I’m going to get laid soon does wonders for my mood.” Tackett grabbed a handful of Micah’s silky curls, pulling him down. “Don’t get used to it, pup,” he said gruffly, then softened the taunt by nipping playfully at Micah’s earlobe before releasing him.
“Oh, I won’t. I kind of like the grumpy top persona.”
Micah kept rocking, shifting those lean hips, and pressed his ass down against Tackett’s groin. The friction was sweet; his dick swelled as his need and desire increased.
Tackett stopped Micah’s movements by placing heavy hands on the younger man’s thighs. “You keep doing that and I will fuck you right here and now.”
“Do what?” The little tease ground his ass harder against Tackett’s cock, blinking, his attempt at an innocent expression thwarted by the glint of mischief in his expressive blue eyes and slight grin on his full lips.
Tackett met his gaze, hands tightening, fingers digging into the muscles of Micah’s thighs, steadily increasing the pressure until Micah stilled with a gasp. “Are you trying to see how far you can push me or is exhibitionism one of your kinks?”
“A bit of both,” he answered, his voice breathless.
With patience long learned from the numerous subs he’d encountered, Tackett studied the man before him. Micah’s chest rose and fell too quickly, body tense and eyes slightly unfocused as he struggled to process the pain in his thighs. A small test? Perhaps. It wasn’t a determining factor; Tackett already knew he’d wake with the boy in his bed come morning. What he wanted to know before that happened was whether Micah was a cocky little bastard playing a game or if he really did enjoy the pain he was begging for.
Slowly, Micah’s breathing returned to normal, his eyes clearing, and once again focused on Tackett, giving him his full attention. Only when the tension left Micah’s muscles did Tackett loosen his grip to massage and caress.
“Did you drive?”
“No, sir. Blake and Ty picked me up.”
“Good.” Tackett moved his hands to Micah’s crotch, pressing one palm against his cock. “Not looking for a scene, just wanting a fuck. You choose, here or at my place. It’s the only choice you get.”
“Whichever one you want, sir.” Micah didn’t hesitate in his response, the perfect one in Tackett’s eyes, one that had his dominant nature jumping for joy.
Tackett released his hold on Micah’s cock and gave him a little shove. “Let’s go.”
They gathered up their things, said goodbye to their friends, and headed out, leaving Blake and Bobby with big knowing and smug smiles on their faces.
“Nice,” Micah whistled when Tackett opened the passenger door on his black Mercedes CLS.
“It gets me where I need to go,” he said nonchalantly.
It was a sweet ride. Tackett loved the way it sounded, the power. He didn’t normally go for flashy or go out of his way to display his wealth. However, high-performance luxury cars were his one guilty pleasure.
Micah slid into the passenger seat, petting the dark leather seat, the dash. Micah emitted a hum of approval as his hands continued to roam along the dash. Touching, stroking every inch he could reach, Micah was very tactile, vocal in his pleasure. Tackett couldn’t wait to feel those hands on him.
He was wrong: fast, powerful cars weren’t his only guilty pleasure. Sexy and powerful submissive sensualists with a penchant for pain and bondage was another one. Tackett shut Micah’s door and hurried around to the driver’s side.
“You have so got to do me in this fucking car,” Micah said excitedly. “It’s nearly as sexy as you are.”
“I don’t know,” Tackett teased. “You’re going to have to prove whether you’re worth soiling my leather for.” He inserted the key, turned it, the engine roaring to life before settling to a purr.
“Ah, God,” Micah said breathlessly. “I’ll be more than happy to prove it.”
Micah’s hum turned to a husky, provocative sound when Tackett revved the engine. “So Doms and cars pop your boner,” Tackett chuckled, easing out onto the road. “What else?”
Micah pulled the seatbelt across his lap, buckling it into place. “Not just any Dom,” he clarified. “Older, grumpy, sexy Doms.”
“I stand corrected. So besides older, grumpy, sexy Doms and cars, what turns you on?”
“Oh you know, the standard stuff. Whips, clips, canes, pain, sticks, dicks,” Micah listed rapidly. “No chicks. I don’t do the v-jay. It does zero for me. Come to think of it, you’d probably get a better understanding of me, sir, if you ask me what I don’t like.” Micah pointed out the window. “Hey, I live right over there.”
Tackett glanced to where Micah was pointing, the lights of the city twinkling, huge. “That doesn’t help.”
Micah tapped the window. “See that blinking sign right there, the one off Jefferson? Oh wait, no, that one is Jefferson.” He tapped the window again in a different place.
“There’s a lot of blinking light, Micah. You’re easily distracted, aren’t you?”
Micah turned toward the driver’s side window, excitedly pointing. “Ooh pretty, a shooting star!”
“What the—”
“Just messing with you.” Micah winked at him. “But, yeah, I’m easily distracted,” Micah admitted, lowering his arm and sitting back in the seat. “When I was a kid they called it ADD or ADHD, brat, troublemaker, whatever. I try, but I have a hard time staying focused. Head’s all staticky and wonky at times.
“As a kid, I did the Ritalin, therapy, special classes, the works; none of it did any good. Docs told my mom I’d outgrow it, but here I am, twenty-five years old, and I’m still a scatterbrain.” Micah shrugged. “Now I’ve just come to accept it as part of my charm.”
“So is that what you’re looking for in a Dom, someone who can make you focus?” Tackett bet he could get the man to concentrate, ground him. Micah quite certainly piqued his interest, but he wasn’t yet hooked or even sure he was interested in taking on the challenge. The jury was still out.
“I’ve only been fortunate enough to find one Dom that could get me to focus for any length of time—not for lack of trying, I assure you. But yeah, that among other things,” Micah purred seductively.
Damn, that was a sexy sound. Tackett pulled around the car in front of him, speeding up, wanting to get Micah naked and under him. “Tell me about the other things.”
Micah shifted in his seat until he was facing Tackett a little. “I told you, it’s easier to tell you what I don’t like. It would take all night and I’m pretty sure, by the way you’re weaving in and out of traffic, you’re not hurrying home to chat.”
Cheeky sub. Tackett pulled into the private garage, lowered his window, and ran his key card. “Okay, let’s hear your dislikes and limits,” he asked as the arm went up. He had time for that.
“I’m pretty simple, really. Haven’t found my limits on most things and as long as you don’t shit on me, I’m good.” Micah’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “And I don’t mean that figuratively, I mean it literally.”
“I don’t like it figuratively or literally,” Tackett assured him as he pulled into his parking spot and cut the engine.
“I like it hard and rough. I’m not a pain slut but I get off on pain. But no permanent marring.” Micah unfastened his seatbelt and opened the door, stepping out of the car at the same time Tackett did. “I mean, I’m cool with tattoos, piercings, and scars but nothing that’s going to leave me disfigured or incapacitated, you know? And no messing up my face or fucking with my hair. A man has to look good when he’s slinging suds. Oh, hey! Is that the new Mustang?” Micah asked and whistled at the sleek black car in the next row. “And dude, don’t ask me to do your dog or some shit like that. I’m the only pup in the play.”
Tackett shook his head at the hilarity. This kid’s mind really was on hyperactive mode, the thoughts in his head pouring out and jumbling together. He pushed the button on his key fob, the alarm echoing off the concrete walls.
“Dude?” Tackett challenged.
Micah’s eyes went wide and he stopped dead in his tracks. “Shit! I’m sorry, sir. There goes my charm running amuck again.”
Tackett wrapped an arm around Micah’s waist, tugging him close. “I told you, you don’t have to call me ‘sir’. I only demand that of my subs.”
Micah started to open his mouth to respond, but Tackett smashed their mouths together, demanding entrance and plunging his tongue in when the man opened to him. He explored Micah’s mouth, tasting until Micah clutched at his shoulders, lean body trembling against his. Only then did Tackett end the kiss. A small whimper of protest escaped Micah.
“No more ‘dude’. Tackett is fine.”
“Yes, sir,” Micah responded, sounding a little stunned.
Keeping his laughter in check, Tackett kept his arm around Micah and steered him to the elevator, then punched in the code. As they waited for the doors to open, Tackett leaned over and placed a kiss to Micah’s temple. The kid just tickled him, made him laugh. Micah was also hot as hell, turning him on and causing his dick to throb with just a kiss. The intriguing mind was a bonus.
The bell dinged, signaling the car had arrived, and when the doors opened, he ushered Micah in, pushing him against the wall and taking his mouth in another hot kiss. He’d explore that mind later. What he wanted right now was to find out how hard and fast Micah liked it.
