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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