The Key To Micah's Heart (Hell Yeah!)

by Sable Hunter

  Madison wrapped her legs around his waist. “Are you sure I’m enough?” She’d seen those women out there and some of them had been gorgeous.

  “You’re so beautiful, so goddamn perfect.” He held himself up and fucked her in earnest. “Take me. Take all of me.”

  Madison was willing. She wanted Micah Wolfe–all of him for as long as he wanted her.

  “Beg me for it, beg me to make you cum.”

  “Oh, yes, Micah. Make me cum. Please.”

  He sat up, placing her legs over his shoulders. His jaw hardened as he gripped her hips, pistoning in and out of her with quick, hard strokes. Her whole body moved on the bed. “I love to see your breasts jiggle.”

  Madison loved all of it. She was at his mercy, a toy for his pleasure. A gasp escaped her lips with every intense crash of their bodies. “Don’t break this headboard,” she cautioned him and he snorted a laugh.

  “I can afford it.”

  Madison knew he could, she just didn’t know if she could ever afford the heartbreak if Micah grew tired of her. With each passing day, she realized how far apart their worlds actually were.

  “Fuck, this feels good,” he grated out between his teeth as he hammered inside of her.

  Madison lost herself in his loving. He wasn’t especially gentle, there was a sense of desperation to him that she didn’t quite understand. But whatever he needed, she would give.

  With every thrust, the sparks of a possessive fire burned hotter within him.

  What was it about this girl?

  Why was he so obsessed with her?

  His desire fed the flames as they burned their way through his body, making sparks dance along his nerve endings, causing every muscle to burn as he laid claim to what he wanted most. “Can you cum for me, Madison?”

  “I think I’ve proved I can,” she murmured almost drowsily. This was a dream she didn’t want to awaken from.

  Her response took him by surprise. “I think you’re right. Humor me, show me one more time.”

  His request wasn’t a chore. She made herself happy, rubbing on his chest, playing with his nipples. Her hands weren’t the only things that were busy, Madison tightened around him, using her inner muscles to grasp his cock, milking it with her every breath. She’d learned in their brief erotic association that giving Micah pleasure only increased her own. Watching his face, she could see her efforts weren’t wasted.

  Micah moaned, his whole body wracked by shudders. Madison’s little pussy was a furnace. He had no idea how she’d become so sensually adept in so short a time. Grasping her hips, he dragged her body tighter to his, burying his aching cock to the hilt time after time, pushing her nearer and nearer to the point where she’d fly apart in his arms.

  “Love me, Micah, love me.” Now Madison wasn’t just begging for an orgasm, she was begging for much more. Each time he made love to her, he claimed a little bit more of her heart. She knew it was foolish to dream of forever, but she couldn’t help it.

  When Micah felt the inevitable pressure build in his balls, he released her legs and coaxed her flat so he could cover her horizontally.

  Holding her gaze, he felt his heart flutter when she gave him a thousand-watt smile. “Cum for me, Fellows,” he demanded again.

  Madison’s body was humming with ecstasy. He was riding her high, every buck of his hips put pressure on her clitoris and it felt amazing. “I can’t stop,” she cried.

  “Don’t try,” he growled.

  “Cum with me, at the same time. Please?”

  Her soft plea, her complete surrender, flipped every switch inside of him. A rising, rolling wave of pleasure crashed over him. As she trembled beneath him, Micah lowered his mouth to her breasts, pulling a nipple into his mouth, his shaft sliding in and out of her hot, tight walls.

  “Micah…Micah!” She began to orgasm, quivers and shudders of bliss.

  Micah felt it, her creamy channel fluttering around him. He shouted, filling her with hot pulses of his essence. “What am I going to do with you?” he whispered.

  He’d said earlier that he was obsessed.

  That was true–he was consumed.

  Amazed.

  And terrified.

  For once, true happiness was within his grasp–and he honest to God didn’t know what to do with it.

  Memphis…

  “I think I made a mistake,” Avery said out of the blue.

  “What’s that, Sable?” Micah asked as he perused a newspaper. It’d been a long time since he’d actually held newsprint in his hand.

  “When you’re around, none of the fans pay any attention to the rest of us.”

  Madison hid a smile. She liked Avery and Cato. They were a blast. Once they’d arrived, things had started hopping. The actual signing and party had been a rousing success according to Renee, their publisher. She said she’d have to arrange for additional boxes of books to be shipped to Memphis. Don Juan’s novels were selling like hotcakes.

  Micah waited for the stewardess to finish her announcement. They could now unfasten their seatbelts. “Hey, I have done nothing to warrant their devotion–except be hopelessly talented and devastatingly sexy.”

  “Oh, my Lord. You sound just like Isaac. Lord, save me from men with big egos.”

  “Are you sure it’s his ego…” Micah laughed when Madison punched him. He looked at her with adoring eyes. “I’ll behave.”

  “What’s on the agenda for tonight?” Madison asked, wanting to make sure she had all of her ducks in a row.

  “We’re going to be at The Peabody Hotel. This is a conference, but it’s limited to a few authors and about a hundred fans who were lucky enough to get a ticket. We’ll sign books of course, but the highlight of the evening will be a writer’s panel where we’ll open the floor up for questions.”

  “My God, look at this.” Micah held the paper over to Madison. “There was another rock thrown off an overpass in Fort Worth. This time someone died. Whoever’s been foolish enough to play this game has just become a murderer.”

  “How awful!” All three women leaned over to see the picture of the car and its shattered windshield.

  “A woman was killed. She wasn’t driving, she was a passenger. Apparently, she died instantly. The brick hit her in the head.”

  Their jovial mood was dampened. “This has been happening in Austin too.” Cato murmured.

  “I know.” Micah interjected. “Saxon and I have been working with the Governor and the police to set up a surveillance system. This copycat in Fort Worth will only heighten the effort to catch the culprit in Austin. Damn, that’s a shame.” He folded the paper and laid it aside. “What kind of questions can I expect tonight?”

  Avery shrugged. “I’m no more of an expert than you are. This is my first round of public appearances as Sable Hunter. Remember, my father is a minister. My reputation back home was as squeaky clean as Isaac’s was tarnished. When the Badass of Kerr County hooked up with Miss Purity, you could hear the explosion break the sound barrier all over Texas.”

  “The news that I’m Don Juan might shock some people, but not for the same reason. I’ve always been out-going and brash, but I’ve also built a wall. People only see what I want them to see. But now…some will be astute enough to connect the dots. You know as well as I do, Avery, that we can’t create without pouring a part of our own soul into our writing.”

  “True,” Avery agreed. “Every story I’ve penned, every heroine I’ve crafted, is me. All of my insecurities, my fears, the questions I have about my own worth–I weave all of that into every character I birth and every story I tell.”

  “Exactly, you do understand.” Micah nodded.

  Madison watched the two bond over what they had in common. She wasn’t jealous of Avery, but she wished she could connect with Micah over something other than just sex. Although–she had to admit–sex was a very important and amazing way to connect.

  Yea, she was being silly. She couldn’t be happy with what she had for wanting somet
hing more.

  As soon as they landed, the day passed quickly. Madison was enthralled with the Peabody. It wasn’t as big as the Ritz-Carlton, but it was classy. Elegant. And it had the Peabody ducks that lived in the fountain in the lobby. Micah had problems keeping her in the room, she kept sneaking off to see the ducks.

  They didn’t have as much time for sightseeing, but he did manage to buy her some Memphis BBQ and take her by Graceland, Elvis Presley’s home.

  Deciding what to wear became an issue. Micah had made good on his promise, buying her a suitcase full of clothes. He actually bought her a new, bigger suitcase to carry all of the purchases. Madison had been so overwhelmed, she’d cried. To make it even more sweet, he’d picked everything out himself. She’d never owned so many pretty things.

  Tonight for the panel and the signing Micah had put on a stylish dark blue suit and matching hat. He’d been dressing up more for the events at Renee’s insistence and he’d asked Madison to wear a soft blue dress that molded her body like a glove. There was a filmy wrap that she clung to, feeling a tad exposed. Although when he escorted her downstairs, Madison realized she was dressed modestly compared to some.

  “Okay, PA, I’ve got a task for you.”

  Madison squared her shoulders. “I’m ready. What do you need?”

  He groaned. “Don’t say need. You know what I need.”

  She laughed, snapping her fingers. “Focus, you’ll get the other later. All you want, I promise.”

  “I’ll hold you to it,” he replied. “Now here’s the thing, if I take my hat off, I want you to call me on the phone. Got it?”

  “Yea, I guess so. Why?”

  “It doesn’t matter, just do it. I drop my hat–you call. Simple.”

  “Agreed.”

  She and Cato made certain Micah and Avery had everything they needed. Water. Pens. Swag. Books. Snacks.

  “Go sit down, you two!” Avery shooed them away. “We’ll be fine! Go enjoy yourself.”

  Easier said than done, Madison learned. She knew Micah had to be pleased with the reaction of his fans. They’d embraced him wholeheartedly. His writing was hot; it was erotic–but Madison didn’t think that simple explanation was the crux of the matter. What made Don Juan’s stories special was the glimpse it gave the readers into the heart and soul of the writer. What could have just been risqué tales were actually windows into his soul. These women were tantalized by the personality behind Don Juan and now they had a chance to indulge–to verify–to claim a little bit of Micah for themselves and they were going for the gusto.

  Being quiet and just listening to Micah and Avery compare notes had brought a greater understanding to Madison about the dynamics between writers and readers. Although neither of them had made a practice of meeting fans face to face, they had interacted with them lavishly on social media platforms such as Facebook and Twitter. She heard Avery say how times had changed–before the internet there was very little interaction between authors and their fans. Books were written and read, sometimes fans would write letters to the writers via their publishing companies and the likelihood that the communication actually made it to the author was an iffy prospect. Not so nowadays. A writer can finish a book, get it edited, formatted and loaded up as an eBook on a platform like Amazon in a fraction of the time that it took for a brick and mortar publisher to pull the work from a slush pile, assign it to an editor, publish it and get it on the shelves. Even faster is the reaction from the readers.

  “I’ve published a book in the morning and sometimes I have reader reactions before supper,” Avery commented. “Readers are invested in our work. They anticipate it. They get involved with the worlds we create. The characters are part of their lives, their friends. Some of them call the heroes their book boyfriends. So, authors have gone from being an obscure figure slumped over a manual typewriter to the new rock stars on the same level with actresses, singers and sports figures.”

  “I think I enjoyed the obscurity.” Micah breathed, as if referring to the good ole days.

  “We have to walk a fine line,” Avery continued. “We owe our readers the very best work we can produce, but they don’t get to claim a piece of our lives. I’ve had fans become obsessive to a degree, even to the point of becoming possessive–everything from wanting to monitor my water intake to demanding information about my private life.”

  “And yet, here we are.” Micah spread his hands.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Avery continued. “I love my fans. I adore them. I agreed to do this to give back to them. To gift them with a slice of my life–but I can’t give them the whole pie. Even though a part of me wishes I could. But I’m not going to share my address, information on my kids or the fact that my sexy husband is a practicing Dom.”

  Micah roared with laughter. “You might want to reconsider sharing that last tidbit. I bet the sales on your BDSM books would skyrocket.”

  As Madison took her seat, she let her eyes explore the crowd. Some of the women in attendance looked normal and some appeared to be ready for a night out on the town and they were dressed for the hunt. There were five authors on the panel: Micah, Avery and three others, one was a NYT bestseller and the other two were relatively new. An emcee took her place behind the central microphone and opened up the floor for questions.

  One woman raised her hand and waved frantically.

  “Francine? Who is your question for?”

  “Don Juan, I mean Micah…” she giggled.

  “Hello, Francine.” Micah smiled. “What’s your question?”

  “Are you married?”

  Micah hesitated, then answered. “No, I’m single.”

  “Do you have a girlfriend?” Francine got another question in before the emcee could go to the next raised hand.

  “Uh…yes.”

  Madison tingled from head to toe.

  “And that’s all I have to say about that.” Micah stated, realizing he sounded like Forest Gump.

  The emcee smiled really big. “Another question?” She pointed to an older woman wearing purple on the front row. “How about you?”

  “Hi, I’m Nancy. My question is for Micah.” She beamed.

  Micah fidgeted. “Hey, Nancy.”

  “Hi. Do you wear boxers or briefs?”

  Micah caught Madison’s eye and widened his. Madison clamped her lips together to suppress a smile.

  “You don’t have to answer that,” the emcee whispered over to Micah.

  “No, no, I’m an open book. I wear briefs. Cotton. Plaid.”

  A few snickers broke out over the room.

  “O-o-kay, moving on.”

  After that, the emcee lost control. The questions came fast, one after the other and all to Micah.

  “Do you prefer blondes or brunettes?”

  “Are the books you write autobiographical?”

  Micah actually tried to answer that one, but he couldn’t over the roar in the room.

  “What is your favorite sexual position?”

  “Would you consider doing private readings…in my home?”

  The emcee banged her gavel on the podium. “We do have other authors, ladies.”

  The three authors that Madison didn’t know, wore very perturbed expressions on their faces. Avery’s head was lying down on the table and her shoulders were moving–it was obvious she was dying with laughter.

  Micah removed his hat and placed it on the table in front of him.

  Madison couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The questions just kept coming.

  “What size shoes do you wear?”

  “How many girlfriends have you had?”

  The emcee called for order.

  Micah picked up his hat, put it back on, took it right off and dropped it on the table from high enough for it to make a noise against his microphone.

  It was only then that Madison realized she’d missed her cue. “Crap,” she fumbled in her purse, knocking things out, including the lock Micah had given her that she constantly kept wi
th her like a talisman. Finally finding her phone, she hit his contact button, letting it ring a couple of times before ending the call. Giving her a pointed stare, he did the hat thing again and she repeated the process.

  Micah took his phone out of his jacket pocket. “Dang, girls, I’m so sorry. I have to take this.” He stood, gave the crowd a salute and made for the door, giving her a head nod to join him.

  Madison left her seat, excusing herself to meet him in the hall. “You knew this would happen,” she said accusingly.

  “I was afraid it would, those other authors might as well have not even been here. Jeesh!”

  “Why do you think this happened?” Madison felt sorry for Avery.

  “Because I’m so dashing and attractive?”

  Madison laughed. “Full of yourself, much?”

  “Just stating the facts, ma’am.” He grabbed her arm and they made their escape.

  Savannah…

  Madison discovered the cities they traveled to all had different personalities. Dallas was out-going. Memphis was playful and Savannah was so laid-back she just wanted to find a porch, sit in a rocking chair and sip mint juleps.

  Their hotel was called The Bohemian and was by far the most luxurious of all. Both authors had been assigned huge connecting suites and they shared a meeting room between them. As they’d done in the last few cities, Micah had escorted her around the city, showing her the sights–all of the antebellum mansions and the oak-lined streets with beckoning antique shops filled with treasures from the past. He’d even escorted her through Bonaventure Cemetery and reminded her of the movie Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. She told him her favorite scene, when Minerva had performed hoodoo on one of the graves.

  “You’re weird.” Micah kissed her on the nose. “I love weird.”

  Her heart leapt. Every time he mentioned love in any way, Madison grabbed onto it with both hands. Here they were in Savannah, the next city they’d visit would be Boston and then it would be time to go home. Madison wished she knew what that meant. Being in Micah’s company was addictive. When their time was over, seeing him only on occasion wouldn’t be easy.

  This event was different from the others. Micah told Madison that they were attending a party, a party thrown by one of the high-society ladies of Savannah who just happened to love erotic romance. “Renee says our hostesses name is Miss Ridgeway and she has more money than God. From what I’m told, she is the very definition of eccentric. Her receptions are legendary and people actually connive and some say, even murder, to get invited.”