Micah's Calling (10 page)

His sorrow over not having a mate had been enough to push
back his power, and being subjected to Micah and Sam taking pleasure in each
other had added to the mental beating. Their love and closeness made him ache
for companionship he didn't think he would ever have, and that, combined with
his sorrow, had shoved his power into the shadows so his body could awaken.

If just hearing them was enough to send his power into
time-out, what would watching them do? Could it give him just enough of a fix
to sustain him longer before he had to visit his dom? He had to find out,
because he needed every weapon he could get to use against his power.

Trace sat up and looked at the door then swung his legs over
the side of the bed. Was he really considering playing Peeping Tom on Micah and
Sam? He rubbed his palm over his shaved scalp and took a deep breath.

He had to know. He needed to know if watching them have sex
could give him a reprieve from the power that cursed him. But he couldn't let
Micah catch him. To look upon Sam like that could be the death of Trace. The
two of them had joked earlier, but when it came right down to it, Micah surely
wouldn't tolerate Trace looking upon Sam in that way.

Fuck. Damned if I do, damned if I don't.

Trace took a deep breath and blew it out as he stood, and
then he made the short walk to the door and carefully opened it. He couldn't
even breathe, he was so nervous. And yet, something drove him onward.

After entering the hall, Trace quietly followed the sounds
of their muffled grunts and gentle, rhythmic gasps. A soft cadence of slapping
flesh beckoned him forward, and his cock kicked up to full mast as he thought
about the two people dearest to him making love in the way of true mates.

Damn, but he wanted what they had so fucking badly.

He kept to the shadows, using his power to partially cloak
himself, which wasn't hard to do in the dark hour before dawn. The blinds and
drapes hadn't even closed over the windows, yet, and no lights were on. Only
the lights from the city below, brightened by the snow, illuminated the room.

And then he saw them.

On the couch.

Their coupled forms faced each other, and their bodies moved
in perfect synchronization. Sam was on top, her hands pressed against the back
of the couch on either side of Micah's head, her body churning and bouncing
aggressively as Micah took her hard from the bottom. She faced Trace, but her
eyes were closed. Her face was the picture of bliss with her bottom lip dropped
open as she breathed heavily.

Her breasts were small, but buoyant, and they jiggled with
the power of Micah's thrusts.

Trace pressed his back against the wall and watched, his
cock straining as he gaped.

The two of them together were beautiful. So in love. What
did it feel like to love someone like that? And to be loved the same way in return?
To want someone so badly you didn't care about anything else?

Micah suddenly changed tempo, slowing down, breathing hard.
Sam's eyelids opened halfway as she smiled at him and rotated her hips around
and around.

Trace hardly dared make a sound for fear of being
discovered. He didn't want them to stop.

The air smelled of sex and of lilacs mixed with Micah. Sweet
and sultry. Heavenly.

Then it happened. Sam's gaze lifted and caught Trace's. He
froze, unable to turn away, unable to move, and unable to speak.

Almost immediately, Sam's body seized and shuddered as she
fell into orgasm. Her eyes rolled back as her body collapsed forward against
Micah, her breathing erratic and choked as she wrapped her arms around Micah's
head and held his face against her chest before opening her eyes and staring
right into Trace's once more. And she came again, gasping, but not looking away
from him.

Oh fuck! Fuck! He was dead. Micah was going to kill him. And
yet, Trace couldn't move.

* * *

He's watching us. Trace is standing in the hall watching
us.

Micah heard Sam's thoughts as clearly as if she'd spoken
them, and he grinned against her breast before taking her nipple in his mouth
and sucking.

Now he knew why she had come so hard. Twice no less. He
thought he had sensed Trace's presence, and now Sam had confirmed it.

She continued rocking against him through her second orgasm
and then finally pulled away and kissed him, her gaze still averted toward the
hallway.

His little Sam wanted to put on a show, did she? Well, Micah
was more than game for that.

Pushing her away, he stood up, jumped around behind her, and
shoved her forward against the back of the couch before he pressed up behind
her and pulled her hair, jerking back her head. She gripped the top of the back
cushions, her fingers curling over the fabric.

"Are you my little minx, Sam? Do you like to
play?" He dove his hand down the front of her to between her legs and
clamped down.

Sam cried out and shivered, her arousal spiking. "Yes.
God, yes!"

Micah looked up and caught Trace's eye. Trace looked
positively besmirched, but in the way a child plays in the mud and thinks it's
the greatest thing on Earth. With a sneer, Micah thrust forward and into Sam,
pulling her back to meet him with one arm while releasing her hair from his
other hand and pushing her upper body forward.

She splayed against the back of the couch, her knees split
wide on the cushions as he climbed up behind her and fucked her hard.

With one hand, he pressed against her spine, holding her
down as he spanked the side of her ass with his other.

"Mine, little one. You're mine." He glanced up at
Trace again, leering for effect. As much as it turned him on to see Trace
watching him take Samantha, pretending to play the possessive mate intensified
the electric heat in the room even more.

What a fucking turn-on this was. Nobody else but Trace could
get away with watching him make love to Sam. Nobody! But with Trace, he liked
it. Sam liked it. Trace liked it, even though all he did was stand in the
shadows and watch. Trace didn't even go for the obvious erection in his boxers,
but Micah wouldn't have cared if he did. Hell, it might have upped the state of
excitement even more.

"Micah! Oh God, Micah!" Sam's body tightened yet
again, and he could tell she was looking at Trace, too.

"That's it, baby. Come for me. Come for both of
us." He met Trace's gaze again, making it clear who
both of us
meant. "Come for us, Sam."

Their plan had turned out better than they had expected.
Neither of them had dreamed Trace would actually come out to watch them. They
had just thought it would be sexy fun to flirt with the possibility. But the
reality was turning out to be hot as hell.

And Micah was about to lose control and go over with his
on-fire mate.

Locking his gaze with Trace's, Micah felt his orgasm tighten
his balls and coil inside his body, and then he exploded just as Sam fell into
spasms again. He came so hard he practically pushed Sam over the back of the
couch as he collapsed against her and pushed her forward.

Then it was over, the two of them a heap of spent flesh
draped over the back of the couch, his cock still twitching inside her
quivering core.

"Oh baby. Fuck." He could hardly breathe, and his
hair hung over his face.

"That was…." Sam's voice trailed off.

"Fucking hot." Micah finished for her.

Micah slowly lifted his head and looked at Trace, who was
still rooted in his place against the wall, his chest rising and falling
deeply.

Trace was clearly lost for words, probably wondering why
Micah hadn't ripped his head off for looking on his mate's naked body. Fact
was, something was happening among the three of them. A bond was forming,
connecting them to one another at a level deeper than mere friendship, and it
was happening quickly.

Micah pulled out of Sam and stood up before helping her off
the couch.

She joined him and wrapped her arms loosely around his waist
as she nuzzled her face against his neck and shoulders. Sam was still turned
on. He could feel it. What they had just done in front of Trace had startled
her and set her aflame all at once, as if she couldn't believe how hot being
watched by Trace had made her. Micah had been inside her mind the whole time,
and she had been lost in intense pleasure playing the exhibitionist to Trace's
voyeur.

They walked arm-in-arm toward Trace, who didn't turn or
retreat back to his room. Hell, he didn't even look away. It was as if he
didn't realize he wasn't actually a shadow and that they could see him.

As they got closer to Trace, Micah let go of Sam and held
out his arm as she ducked shyly behind him. Trace took his arm, his expression
calm but wary, joining their hands together as if they were about to arm
wrestle. But Micah just leaned slightly and clapped him on the back of the
shoulder with his free hand.

"Night, bro."

Trace seemed to be in a state of dismay or confusion and
nodded feebly. "Night."

Micah let him go and looked around at Sam, who smiled
bashfully at Trace before her gaze flickered away. Micah could tell her face
was flushed. Apparently, the reality of their actions was dawning on her as the
passion of the moment ebbed.

"Night," she said softly.

Trace's gaze darted to Micah's, and he looked almost
fearful.

If Micah could read Trace's thoughts, he would probably hear
a lot of
why hasn't Micah killed me, yet?
bouncing around.

"It's okay, Trace. Don't ask me why or how, but I don't
mind if you look at her." He paused and shook his head in disbelief before
huffing out a burst of laughter. "Fuck, but I don't even think I'd mind if
you touched her." The notion was just as shocking to him as the look on
Trace's face conveyed he was.

Sam's hand slid around his waist from behind, but she
remained silently hidden behind his body.

"I don't know what to say," Trace said, fidgeting.

"I know." Micah looked down, an odd sense of comfort
and contentment coming over him. "If you were anyone else, Trace, you'd
already be dead for laying eyes on Sam."

Trace fidgeted again and Sam's grip tightened on Micah's
waist.

"But…" Micah looked up. "I can't explain it.
I don't mind with you."

Trace's eyes darted to his in surprise, and the two stared
at each other.

"What are you saying, Micah?"

Micah looked back at Sam, who was still grinning, then
turned back to Trace. "I think what I'm saying is that Sam and I wouldn't
mind having you over more often. Right Sam?"

She nodded bashfully. "Yes. I'd like that." She
squirmed and her slender fingers curled so that her nails scratched Micah's
stomach.

Trace glanced back and forth between them, his expression
making it clear he wasn't sure if he had heard them right.

"Would you like that, Trace?" Micah's eyes
narrowed. Would Trace agree to do again what they'd all just done, or had this
been a one-time act of spontaneity he didn't want to repeat?

After considering Micah's question, Trace finally nodded once.
"Okay. Sure."

Trace's tone indicated to Micah that he was more interested
than his lackadaisical demeanor implied. Trace was just as hot for an encore as
Micah and Sam were. Maybe even hotter.

"Well then. That's settled." Micah turned away
from Trace and pulled Sam in front of him to protect her sudden modesty.
"Good night, Trace."

Trace didn't immediately respond and Micah looked over his
shoulder. His friend looked positively stymied, staring at the floor.

"Trace?"

Trace looked up. "What? Oh…yeah. Good night."

Despite Trace's befuddled expression, one thing was clear.
Whatever had just happened among the three of them was a good thing. A very
good thing. And Micah got the feeling it was another piece of the puzzle he was
slowly putting together about mysterious Traceon.

Trace stood in the hall for at least two minutes after Micah
closed his bedroom door.

He was still alive. Micah hadn't killed him for watching
them, or for seeing Sam naked. In fact, it seemed as though Micah had actually
approved. Had he somehow slipped into Micah's inner circle without knowing it?
Did Micah even
have
an inner circle?

Seems he did now. And Trace had just been inducted.

How many others did Micah let in? Besides Sam? And she didn't
count since she was his mate. In all the time Trace had known Micah, he had
never seen that male be anything but a hard-ass to everybody. The Lone Ranger,
some called him, because he was supremely independent and followed no one's
rules but his own. The guy didn't
do
friends. Yet, suddenly, that's
exactly how Trace felt: like Micah's friend.

 Trace wondered over what Micah had just said to him. Did
Micah want to replay the events of the evening at some future date? It sure
sounded that way, and it sounded like Sam wanted to, as well.

Trace swallowed and leaned his head back against the wall.
Why did the thought of voyeurism with those two excite him so much? To the
point of dimming his oppressive powers enough to get an erection no less. Could
this be part of the solution to controlling his inner beast without succumbing
to total submission as frequently as he had been?

He looked down and saw that he was still blessedly hard
after torturing himself with the show Micah and Sam had given him, and he breathed
out a soft snort. He needed to take advantage of the moment before his power
reawakened and overtook him again.

No sense letting all this wood go to waste.

Trace turned on his heel and went back into the spare room,
closed the door, and got ready for a little personal time.