Saving Micah (Sequel to Conquering Jude)

by Dakota Trace

  He wet his lower lip. “Slim to none but it can’t hurt to ask.”

  She shifted against the leather seat. “Are you sure you want him as our permanent third?”

  “Are you seriously doubting the rightness of the three of us being together, Olivia?”

  She shook her head and dropped her hand. “No, but I’m not going to lie – this is going to get rough.”

  He sighed. “I expect nothing less.” Giving her a soft smile, he leaned towards her. “Can I kiss you, Mistress?”

  She sighed and offered up her lips. With a soft groan, he pressed his mouth to hers. The lush feel of her soft lips came first then he tasted the hint of the Irish tea she’d drunk at Bête à Bon Dieu. He gave a muffled plea as he ran his tongue over the seam of lips. “Please, Mistress.” Something akin to a giggle escaped her before she allowed him entrance. He moaned in appreciation as their tongues intertwined and dueled within the wet confines of her mouth. Without thought, he lifted his hand to cup her face when her hand intercepted his. She pulled him closer and pressed his hand against her heart.

  He protested as she ended the kiss. Staring into her eyes, the look of love in them nearly took his breath away. “My heart beats for only you and the stubborn ass inside, pet.” She gave him a slightly crooked smile. “Remember that when the going gets rough and I have to be a dominating bitch to get through to him.”

  “I’ll never doubt you love us, Mistress.” He traced a finger over her check. “Just that you’re acting true to your nature.”

  “You’re damned near perfect, pet.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. If I was you’d drop me in a heartbeat because of boredom.”

  She arched a brow at him. “Really, and why’s that?”

  Giving her a solemn look, he nodded. “Yep. You’d have no reason to punish me.”

  She pushed him a way with a grin. “You’re a total loon, pet.”

  He smiled at her. “That’s right. And this total loon has an idea? Wanna hear it?”

  * * * *

  Micah looked up from the Scrabble game he was playing with the damned Injun when he heard the sound of a car door slam. They had moved to the kitchen to play the board game Ethan had found in the hall closet, after they realized there wasn’t even a television set in the house. Who the hell didn’t have a TV?

  “That’ll be Dickens and your Mistress.”

  Micah gritted his teeth to keep from protesting that Olivia wasn’t his Mistress because he knew it would do no good. The man was stubborn and once he decided something, it was like talking to the north end of a southbound mule. It didn’t get you anywhere.

  Ethan laid down some titles on the board. “Ha! Beat that.”

  Cranking his head to read the word, Micah scowled. “What the hell is a MUNGO? You made that shit up, White Hawk. There’s no way it’s a word. I should’ve known your Injun ass would cheat.”

  “No more than your black ass would.” Ethan leaned back in his chair crossing his arms. “I didn’t protest when you spelled that.” He pointed to the word on the board. “Or the triple points you got from it.”

  “TYROTOXISM? I told you it means to be poisoned by cheese. Besides it let me use that damned X.”

  “And I didn’t protest, now did I?” Rocking back in his chair, Ethan balanced it on two legs, looking smug. “Dude, just take my word for it – it’s a word.”

  Micah crossed his arms – mimicking the way Ethan sat. He couldn’t believe he was arguing over a damned board game with the man and enjoying it. “So what’s it mean, smart ass?”

  Before Ethan could answer, a cool breeze rushed through the room. Olivia walked into the kitchen carrying several plastic sacks. Setting them on the counter, she took one glance at the scene and gave them a puzzled look before shaking her head. Shedding her light jacket, she hung it over the back of one of the chairs.

  “Can you help Jude with the supplies, Ethan? There are several more boxes in the back of the rental”

  “Sure, no problem, Ms. Olivia.”

  The crashing of the chair being brought back down on all four legs seemed abnormally loud to his ears. He couldn’t help but devour the sight of her. Her lips were swollen and her hair in its normal French Braid looked slightly mussed. It was obvious that she’d been recently kissed. A flare of familiar jealousy didn’t surprise him. He knew who had been kissing her and it pissed him off. Get over it, Beaumont. She’s not yours and he has every right to kiss her.

  He was vaguely aware of Ethan leaving the room as Olivia stopped next to him to observe the game in progress. “Scrabble? I expected to find you tied to a chair, or to find Ethan lying in a pool of blood.”

  Micah shrugged. “It still might happen if he doesn’t quit cheating.” He pointed to the word. He didn’t know why they were talking about the game, but it was better than having her prod at wounds he figured might finally be healed in the year 2525.

  “MUNGO. It’s a word. It means dumpster diver.” She glanced at his tiles before picking up several and arranging them around the O. He frowned as he read it. “But I have a better word for you.”

  “HONESTY?” He stilled as the implications settled in. Did she think he was lying to her? “Are you implying I’m not being honest with you, Mistress?”

  She gave the table a shove, making room for her to slip between it and him. His eyes widened as she crawled onto his lap, being careful to keep her slight weight evenly distributed. When she started to slip a bit, he wrapped his hands around her waist without thinking.

  “Whether I’m implying you’re withholding information from me or lying to yourself, there will be honesty between us. But right now I need you to hold me, mal-chich.” He stared down helplessly at the crown of her head as she wrapped her arms around him.

  “I…”

  “Just hold me. We can talk later. It’s been too long since I’ve felt your arms around me.” Flabbergasted at her actions, he tried to catch Jude’s attention when the other man came in toting a box of food. But the other submissive only gave a short nod of greeting before setting down the box on the counter.

  What the hell was going on here? Why the hell was he sitting here with a woman he’d sworn he’d never allow to get close to him again? He tried to shift her off him, but she pinched his side. “Quit squirming, mal-chich, or I’ll tie your ass to the chair.”

  His heart started to race at the familiar pinch. It wasn’t the first time she’d ever pinched him while sitting on his lap, or threatened to tie him up. But back then I was squirming to please both of us. I can’t give her my submission again and have her walk away. He needed this to stop. “Jude? Wanna help me out here?” He shifted a bit uncomfortably as Olivia continued to cling to him.

  Jude looked up from the box he was unpacking. “Why should I do that? One spanking a day is my quota. Either sit still and give her the snuggling she wants, or keeping squirming.” He pulled a bag of sugar and several cans of beef stew out of the box. “But if you choose the latter, you know she’ll tie you up and then climb right back onto your lap. Either way she’s going to get what she wants.”

  “Unless I safeword, right?” He spit it out, tired of fighting both of them and his own need to take what they seemed to be offering.

  Micah jumped when Jude slammed the can he’d been holding down onto the counter. “Are you honestly so fucked up that you can’t give her a hug without freaking out, Micah? The sub I knew had more control. Fuck, he’d have moved heaven and earth to please his Mistress.”

  “But…” Micah began to protest as Olivia stilled in his arms. He could tell she was listening to their conversation, but why hadn’t she interrupted or taken over from Jude. This was new and he didn’t understand. She was always the one in control.

  “Give it a break. Quit fuckin’ lying to yourself. She’s still your mistress as much as she’s mine. I talked to Sampson. I know how you’ve been living since you came back down here.”

  Panic began to build inside of him. “So what? Mayb
e I was too busy to…”

  Jude braced his arms on the counter island and glared at him. “Yeah, right. You spent every freakin’ night in a blues club, down the street from your office, when you came into the city.” He let out a frustrated sigh. “I know there’re trust issues between us, but give her a break – she’s asking for comforting after a trying day, not your total submission.”

  “Then she should get it from you…you’re her slave.” Impatience with his friend’s ignorance of the facts would’ve had him pulling out his hair if he had any.

  “She could…but she didn’t.” Jude shifted. “Put the BDSM shit on the back burner for a second. Ignore the fact we’ve had a bond since the first time you took me under your wing if it makes you uncomfortable. But you have to look at this situation realistically. It was YOU she came down here to see. It’s YOU she wants to protect after seeing your bruises. And it’s seeing YOU trying to refuse what’s between us that has her feeling so raw. So be a fucking human for once and give her the comforting hug she’s asking for.”

  Micah groaned helplessly as the familiar urge to give Olivia what she needed grew.

  “Is that true – all you want is to snuggle – no submission?” he croaked.

  He felt the nod against his chest and his resolve weakened. Even knowing it would mean more pain for him in the end when she left, he couldn’t deny her. He wrapped his arms around her. “All right.”

  Chapter Nine

  The sun was just cresting the horizon when Jude stepped out onto the porch. It was a new day and for the first time since they’d arrived in New Orleans, when he’d seen how badly damaged Micah was, he actually felt optimistic. When he’d suggested last night that perhaps instead of going in and demanding Micah to submit, that Olivia try reaching out to him as one human to another, he’d only been slightly hopeful of it working.

  He hadn’t expected to come back in with the first box of food to find Olivia straddling a rather stiff Micah. She’d evidently taken his suggestion to heart, and in her own domineering way had done what she could to assure its success. It still brought a bit of a smile to his lips at the way that Micah had all but begged him to remove Olivia.

  “Stupid ass,” he muttered, thinking about how Micah had finally given in.

  “Talking about me?” Ethan asked as he joined him in the cool morning breeze.

  Jude glanced over at his friend. He’d expected White Hawk to leave last night after they’d returned, but instead the man had stayed to help put away the groceries after claiming his wife had given him explicit orders to not attempt the hour and half drive back to their house.

  “Nope.”

  “Ah, then it has to be the other stubborn ass inside the house?”

  Jude shrugged, not at all certain about sharing his true feelings towards another man with a man he’d served with in the Rangers.

  “Then how about an early morning run?” Ethan offered.

  He arched an eyebrow and glanced around the terrain. Now in the light of day he could see the rough, swampy looking ground. With his bum leg, it would be a suicide mission for him to even attempt it. “Are you insane?”

  “Not the last time I was checked. The doctors gave me a clean bill of health…and I got the papers to prove it.” Ethan bent over and stretched. “How about a fast walk? We can do a quick tour of the yard and call it checking out the perimeter. Then you can go back and tell your mistress what a good sub she has.”

  Growling, Jude gave a half-assed swing at the other man. Ethan danced back lightly on his feet. “Aw come on man, you can do better than that. Where’s the all mighty protector of Company B?”

  “I’ll show you almighty protector, you smart ass.” Jude lunged for him. He winced when Ethan proved why the rest of the company had called him Lightfoot, and Jude slammed his bad hip into the wooden railing enclosing the porch. It wouldn’t have been so bad but part of the wood must’ve been rotten because it disintegrated beneath his weight sending him spilling onto the dew covered ground. His eyes stung as he tried to catch his breath. “Da…dammit! You we…were…supposed to stand still!” He gritted out between clenched teeth. Rolling to his knees, he scrambled to his feet, using the broken rail to brace himself. Jude knew Ethan would flip out if he actually thought he’d hurt him.

  Ethan jumped down from the porch. “Are you okay?”

  Jude nodded - rubbing his outer thigh as beads of sweat popped out on his upper lip. “Yeah.” He tentatively swung his leg back and forth before he groaned as stabbing pain shot through his hip to his groin. “I think.” Hobbling over to the steps, he managed to navigate them with the aid of the railing before collapsing onto the old swing attached at the far end. “Can you go see if we have any ice in the freezer?”

  “Yeah, right on it. Fuck, I didn’t mean to…” Ethan’s voice faded as he headed back into the house. The screen door slammed behind him. Tipping his head back, Jude cursed himself. He knew better than to fuck around with Ethan. The bastard had been slippery as an eel in the service, and it was obvious he hadn’t lost any of his speed. Jude knew he’d just acted like a first-class fool. Micah needed him to be in top form, not nursing an old war injury if his attackers found them. Right now, as much pain as he was in, he wouldn’t be able to fight his way out of a wet paper sack.

  The screen door opened, then slammed shut. Opening his eyes, he expected to see Ethan back with the ice pack or possibly Mistress coming out to see what the racket was. Instead it was Micah. Standing in the cool morning air in nothing more than a pair of drawstring pajama bottoms, he looked as if he just crawled out of bed. In the early morning light, all the fading bruises along Micah’s chest and abs paled in comparison to the darker bruise around his neck.

  “What are you doing out here dressed like that? Go get some clothes on, man.” He swore mentally as his former partner studied him with too sharp eyes. It wouldn’t take much for Micah to read the lines of tension he was sure were around his mouth. It wouldn’t be the first time his old war wound had flared up, but it was the first time it had happened in front of Micah. The last thing Jude needed was to have Micah go off the deep end, the same way their Mistress had the first time she’d seen how the cold Chicago mornings caused it to flare up.

  “What happened?”

  Jude grunted. “I took a spill off the porch. It jarred my leg. It’ll be fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.”

  Micah moved closer and Jude stiffened. “Just leave it alone, Micah. White Hawk is bringing out an ice pack.”

  “You’re a dick, Larson.” With those quiet words the man turned and went back into the house. Jude gave a sigh of relief. It turned into a groan of misery when Micah returned moments later with Olivia in tow. She looked as if Micah had dragged her out of their warm bed. All sleepy looking with a crease on her cheek from the bedding, she was wearing only a pair of sleep shorts and a chemise so thin that he could just make out the dark hue of her nipples. This wasn’t happening to him – it just couldn’t be.

  * * * *

  Olivia yawned behind her hand as she trailed behind Micah. Still half asleep, she wasn’t sure what had brought the man to her and Jude’s room but she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She vaguely remembered him shaking her awake before telling her something about Jude sitting on the porch. But why her ex-ranger, sleeping-in lover had left their bed to sit on a frigid porch should’ve been a surprise but wasn’t. They’d both been under a lot of strain. She must’ve been more tired than she realized because she hadn’t felt him leave their bed.

  She shivered as the cool air touched her bare arms and legs left exposed by her chemise and shorts. Then Micah moved out of the way. Her eyes landed on her other lover. He was sitting on the front poor swing with both legs sprawled in front of him with a very familiar look of pain on his face. She glanced around the porch, saw the destruction of the porch rail and drew the most obvious conclusion. The fool had somehow managed to aggravate his old injury.

  “
You need your pills, pet?”

  As Jude started to shake his head, her temper snapped. “Don’t lie to me!” She placed a hand on Micah’s arm. “Please go into our room and in the black canvas carry-on – the inside pouch to be exact, there should be a prescription of diazepam for Jude. Please bring it and a tall glass of water back to us.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” She let the pleasure at hearing the words pass Micah’s lips sooth her temper. She knew he had done it without thought, but it was still a good thing.