Pup (20 page)
learned.
That’s how Micah was looking at it: another lesson learned. Viewing the past few days as an opportunity to become a better person, a better sub, and someone worthy of having a man like Tackett in his life was the only way he’d survived.
He’d been thankful, after the disaster at the art fair, Tackett hadn’t banished him from his bed and sent him back to the spare room to sleep. The bed in the spare room was cozy, but he couldn’t sleep a damn wink in that lonely room, knowing Tackett was just across the hall. Now as he lay in Tackett’s king-size bed, the man’s heat next to him, the rumbling sounds of his deep breathing and the look on the sexy Dom’s face as he slept made Micah almost wish he were in the spare room. Having his hands bound to the headboard, with a pillow placed between their bodies, not allowed to touch Tackett or feel the warm body against his, sucked.
Not only did it suck being denied Tackett’s touch, it was maddening he couldn’t touch himself. His balls itched, dammit.
Micah shifted to his side, rubbing his legs together carefully to alleviate the tickling sensation in his nut sac, but it didn’t help. He tried rolling onto his stomach, hoping he could rut against the mattress, but his bound hands wouldn’t allow for it. He’d seen a show on torture once. One of the captives had a drop of water dripped steadily on his forehead, nose, somewhere on his face, and he’d thought at the time,
What a pussy
. It was a drop of water, for God’s sake, how bad could it hurt. Now he knew.
When the itch had first made its presence known, it was a tingling feeling, no big deal, and he’d tried to go back to sleep. That hadn’t happened, because that little tingly feeling didn’t go away. It kept getting more and more and more irritating, and holy fuck, he was now ready to scream. He shifted again.
Oh, thank God.
“Good morning, Sir. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He turned his head and met sleepy hazel eyes.
“Problem?” Tackett asked, stretching, covering his mouth when he yawned.
“Oh, that is a problem, pup.” Tackett chuckled. “You probably need a shave.”
“Okay, can I go and do it right now, Sir?” His voice was a little pleading as he shifted again without getting any relief. “Please?”
Tackett turned on his side, giving Micah his full attention, but he didn’t reach over and grab his nuts, nor did he untie his hands. “I think I should get to shave them. It’s a very intimate act, pup.”
“Yes, Sir. It takes a lot of trust to allow someone to place sharp, dangerous objects against delicate boy parts.” He gave Tackett a pained smile. “I trust you. Would you like to do it now, Sir?”
“That probably wouldn’t be wise. I haven’t had my coffee yet. Wouldn’t want to damage your delicate boy parts.” Still Tackett didn’t reach over and give him a hand. The smile on his face was proof he was doing it on purpose, just to watch him squirm.
“You promised to take care of me, Sir. Remember? Take care of all my needs, that’s what you said. Well, I have a really bad need to have my balls scratched.” Micah put as much woeful pout in his tone as he could.
Tackett did laugh. “Yes, I did promise to take care of your needs, and I will.” Tackett gave him a disbelieving look. “How do I know it’s not just a naughty pup trick to get me to touch your balls?”
“Oh, Sir. I do know the difference between wanting and needing. I really, really, want you to touch my balls. Hell, you can stretch them up over my head if you take a mind to, I won’t care. But I really
need
you to touch them before I lose my fucking mind.” He rolled on his side, facing Tackett, and did his best to hump the pillow between them.
He’d obviously been convincing in his pleas, since Tackett took pity on him and released his hands from the headboard. His hands flew to his crotch, and he moaned loudly as he finally got his hands on that damn insistent itch. “Ugh, God, that feels good.” His eyes rolled back in his head a little.
“How would you like the chance to earn the privilege to touch me again?” Tackett asked coolly.
Micah’s fingers froze, eyes flying open as he turned to meet Tackett’s gaze. He searched his face, those hazel eyes. “Yes, Sir! I’ll do anything.” The last few days had been fucking hell on earth.
“Anything?” Tackett arched a brow.
“You know I will, Sir,” Micah said adamantly, sitting up straight. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”
“All right, pup,” Tackett chuckled, throwing off the covers. “Let’s get you showered, brushed, and paddled, and we’ll discuss it over breakfast.”
Micah quickly followed after his Dom, excitement beginning to flutter in his belly. He was disappointed he wouldn’t be given the chance to earn back the right to touch before shower time. If there was anything comparable to how horrible it was sleeping next to Tackett without being allowed to touch him, it was standing in the shower watching the man wash, ordered to keep his eyes on Tackett’s hands at all times, and not allowed to touch.
sting in his ass was familiar, a reminder that Tackett was in control. That the man not only demanded Micah’s focus, but he also deserved it. Had he not had the memento of a fiery ass, the lost feeling he was experiencing, now the cuffs were removed, would be hard to bear. It was the same odd sensation he’d experienced after the cock cage had been removed. As badly as he’d wanted the cuffs gone, after two days of their constant presence, Micah missed the perpetual reminder of his Dom’s touch.
“How’s your breakfast?”
Micah looked up from his plate and smiled. “It’s very good, Sir. Would you like a bite?” He held out a forkful of his ham, cheese, and mushroom omelet.
Tackett leaned across the table and accepted the offering. Micah watched as Tackett closed his lips around the tines of the fork, slowly pulling back and humming as he chewed. Micah swallowed hard when Tackett licked his lips. “That is very good. Not as good as your cooking, but good.”
Micah smiled at the compliment. “Thank you, Sir. I would have been more than happy to cook you breakfast this morning.” Without taking his eyes from Tackett’s mouth, he scooped up another forkful of egg, offering it.
“I know,” Tackett agreed, taking another bite. “But you’ve been such a good pup, you deserved a break.” He glanced around the crowded diner and scowled. “Now I’m regretting not getting our breakfast to go.”
“You don’t like this place, Sir?” He held out another bite to Tackett, who waved it off and took a big gulp of his orange juice. Shrugging, he popped the bite into his mouth.
“It’s fine. I was just thinking, I’d much rather be on the couch with you sitting on my lap feeding me.”
Micah’s belly flipped. “I would so enjoy doing that for you, Sir.” He kept his voice low, seductive.
“Be a good boy today and you’ll get your chance.” He took another sip of his juice, looking over the rim. “And Micah,” he said behind his glass, “it would please me very, very much.”
Micah’s toes curled at the heat in the man’s gaze and growl in his voice. “Then I’ll have to be sure to be a very, very good boy, Sir. Tell me how I can win back my privilege, please.”
“You’ve already begun to earn the right. Finish your breakfast, pup. I want to take you somewhere.”
He had? He’d already begun to earn back the right to touch Tackett? His mind scrambled over what he could have possibly done, anything that might give him a clue so he’d be damn sure to keep doing it, but he came up empty. “Yes, Sir,” he said absently, picking up his fork once again and shoving in a big bite of omelet.
What the hell did I do?
Think.
They’d showered, same routine as the previous two days, Tackett washing him and then washing himself. Teeth brushed. Got dressed. Followed Tackett to the car. Ordered breakfast. Ugh, he couldn’t think of a damn thing he might have done.
Shoving the last bite into his mouth, he set his fork down, grabbed his glass, and washed the food down with the remainder of his apple juice. “I’m finished, Sir.”
Micah followed Tackett to the counter, his mind still replaying every minute of the morning while Tackett paid for their breakfast. By the time they walked out of the diner, he was still clueless. He fell naturally into step behind Tackett, following the man without worrying where they were going when they turned right, instead of left toward the parking lot.
They stopped at one of the sidewalk sales tables. Tackett held up a hideous, brightly colored floral shirt. “Is this me?”
Micah shook his head. “Only if you’re planning on going to Hawaii, and even then I’d have to say no, Sir.”
“I didn’t think so either.” Tackett laughed and thankfully returned the shirt to the rack.
Tackett led him into the park. Once past the gate, Tackett reached back, took Micah’s hand, and entwined their fingers. He was pulled forward to walk at Tackett’s side, and he nearly tripped over his jaw.
“Tell me, pup. What were you thinking about while we were in town?” Tackett asked casually.
Micah tried to meet his eyes, tried to figure out what the fuck was going on —Tackett never held his hand—but he couldn’t see them past Tackett’s dark wraparound shades. Oh shit! What had he been thinking? “Um… well… I remember thinking about what I’d done this morning, between getting out of bed and eating at the diner, trying to figure out what I might have done to start earning my privilege back. Then we left the diner and…. Oh, I was thankful you didn’t buy that ugly shirt. It so was not you, Sir.”
“Did you see anything you liked at the sidewalk sale?”
Micah thought about the different tables they’d passed. Shit, hopefully this wasn’t a trick question, because he really hadn’t been paying much attention to the tables filled with leftover junk the stores couldn’t sell. “I did kind of like the coffee mugs you were eyeing outside the pottery store, they’d match your dinnerware, but other than that, not really. Sorry, Sir.”
Tackett tugged him over to sit on a park bench. “Why are you sorry, pup?”
Micah stared down at their joined hands and smiled. He liked the warmth of Tackett’s hand in his. “I’m not sure, Sir.”
“Well, don’t be.” Tackett cupped his face, thumb caressing Micah’s cheek. “I am so fucking proud of you.”
Huh? What the hell for?
But the words were only in his head, because right there in the park, with peeps walking their little dogs, little old men feeding the pigeons, late-morning joggers, Tackett took his mouth in an allconsuming kiss that did curly things to his toes and cozy warm things to his chest. As the kiss went on and on, Micah didn’t care why he was getting it; he was just damn glad he’d done whatever.
Tackett was smiling broadly when he pulled back from the kiss. “The best thing is you don’t have a clue what I’m talking about, do you, pup?”
Micah sucked in his bottom lip, savoring the traces of Tackett’s flavor there, and shook his head. “Not a clue, but I hope I keep doing it if you plan on kissing me like that.” He touched his still-tingling lips.
Extending his arm along the back of the park bench, legs stretched out, ankles crossed, Tackett kept grinning. “I plan on doing a lot more than kissing you as soon as we get back to the house.” Tackett waggled his brows at him. “But first, tell me what you’ve learned since the art fair.”
“Not touching you sucks!” he blurted out, squeezing Tackett’s thigh for emphasis and moving into his side. Now that he was allowed to touch, it sort of consumed him and he almost forgot to add, “Sir.”
“That’s a good thing, pup. We’d have a problem if you didn’t.” He ruffled Micah’s curls playfully. “What else? I’d like to hear your thoughts on being denied.”
Not touching you sucked
had popped into his head first because it did, but he pushed the feeling down. If he wanted to keep touching the man, he’d be wise not to give the same answer twice. He wasn’t really sure what to say, but maybe saying aloud some of the things he’d been thinking and feeling since the art fair would help him.
“I’ll admit, at first I was pretty pissed off at you. I walked to heel, watched your every move, and honestly, Sir, I thought being punished for petting a puppy or eating an almond was just fucking mean. I felt that same way when you made me strip for my punishment, but I begged you to forgive me even though I really didn’t think I deserved them. I convinced myself the strikes were for your pleasure, so I’d endure them for you, even if I didn’t agree with the reason behind them.
“It wasn’t until you made me realize I hadn’t been focused on you, I was only going through the motions, that I started believing I might in fact have deserved the punishment.” He squeezed Tackett’s thigh again and said sincerely, “You are worth much more than an hour of my time, Sir.”
“Thank you, pup.” He placed a kiss to Micah’s forehead. “Continue, please.”
God, he’d missed those warm lips on him. He blew out a breath, forcing himself to focus on what they were talking about rather than the tingling sensation left behind by Tackett’s lips. “Anyway, it’s really kind of funny. I knew my head was scattered and I was missing that all-important filter between my mouth and my brain, but I never realized the filter didn’t work for my hands either. It’s weird. Until you forced me to wear the cuffs all the time, I never realized how often I randomly touch shit without knowing I’m doing it. It feels weird not to be wearing them.” Micah shrugged. “I kind of miss them.”
“The cuffs?” Tackett asked.
“They were irritating, heavy, and made everything I had to do with my hands more difficult, but yeah, I kind of miss them. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with my hands anymore. Weird, huh, Sir?”
“I think what you’re doing with your hands right now is fine.”
Micah looked down at where they rested in his lap and back up at Tackett with confusion. “I’m not doing anything with them, Sir.”
“Exactly. Do you know that you didn’t touch anything in the car this morning except your seat belt, and at breakfast your hands were in your lap except when you were looking at the menu or eating? The entire time we walked among the sidewalk sales, your hands were at your sides. There was a purpose for your touch the last few days. It wasn’t just a random movement you were unaware of.” Tackett ran his fingers through Micah’s hair, a gentle smile on his face. “When you laid your hand on my thigh, you touched for the first time in days for pleasure, and it showed in your eyes and in your smile.” “I…. Wait….”
Jesus! How many times had he touched something and not realized it, taking no pleasure from the act, desensitizing himself through his constant touching? He looked at Tackett with a new level of admiration.
Tackett, who was always watching, had an uncanny ability to read Micah’s thoughts and knew the moment it sank into his crazy brain. Tackett’s smile was growing, with just a hint of smugness. Micah reached up and touched Tackett’s face, the coarse stubble on his jaw tickling his palm, taking in the heat of the smooth skin of his cheeks, relishing it. “I fucking worship you, Sir,” he said in awe.
“How about we head back to the penthouse and you can show me just how much?”
His feet never even touched the ground as he floated next to Tackett as they walked back to the car, hand in hand.