Double Dare You

by Cara Lockwood

  “Do you want to stop?” he asked her, concerned.

  “No,” she murmured. She didn’t want to stop and that was the problem. She wanted Beck deep inside her, possessing her in all ways, to hell with the consequences, with what any of it meant. For one small moment, she just wanted to be Beck’s once more. When he was inside her, everything was perfect. And she desperately wanted to feel that perfection again.

  “You sure?” he asked, but he had himself in his hands now, and he moved so that his bulging tip rubbed softly against her. She moaned at the contact, soft, delicate. Her hips moved to meet him, as he continued to tease her, rolling himself across her in a way that drove her wild with want. He kept working her even as he dipped down to kiss her, now the full length of him between the folds of her most delicate skin. His tongue found hers as he began to move against her. The torture was delicious. She wanted him inside her, yet he seemed happy to keep her wanting. It drove her mad as the pleasure began to build. She realized even this little bit of him against her was enough. This bare contact would take her over the edge.

  She clutched at his bare back, the power of what was coming too big to control. She spread her thighs wider beneath him, a prayer for him to take her, to plunge deeper, but he refrained, as he skimmed her in a steady rhythm, stroking her clit, and before she knew it her body went rigid, and she was coming as she couldn’t remember coming before. Pure pleasure exploded in her veins, running from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. She squeezed her eyes shut and cried out, unable to keep quiet as the tsunami of her climax washed over her. She opened her eyes to see Beck studying her, a look of admiration and awe on his face.

  “You’re so beautiful when you come,” he said, voice low. “No one comes like you.”

  And that was when the words bubbled up in her throat. I love you. They almost tumbled out of her mouth, almost jumped straight out in the air, but she caught them in time, swallowing them back, realizing in horror that she’d almost done the unthinkable: admitted the hold he had on her. Then, suddenly, logic switched on again. What the hell was she doing? Letting Beck make her come, make her forget the last two months? Beck had been close to negating all of what she’d worked so hard to heal. He’d broken her heart, and if she let him inside her, let him come, part of her knew her heart would break all over again. What would happen after? When he’d had his fill, scratched his itch and realized he still needed the comfort of other women? She might not be able to recover this time. The thought of tumbling to rock bottom, climbing her way out of heartbreak once more, sickened her. Yet, looking at his intense blue eyes, she was willing to risk all of that and more. What she wanted was to give him the best climax of his life. She wanted to show him what he’d given up.

  “Al...” he breathed, and she felt his hardness against her thigh, his want. “God, Al, I want to be inside you.”

  “How bad do you want me?”

  “Bad.”

  She reached down and felt the thickness of his shaft, understanding all too well he was telling the truth.

  “What did you do the other night? When I left you like this.” She felt him heavy in her hands as she worked him, clutching him so tight he moaned for more.

  “I finished it myself later,” he admitted. “I...thought of you. I...always think of you.”

  She felt giddy with power then. Good. Want me. Need me. Like I need you. She shifted herself, and he moved, so that he was half sitting, half lying on the couch. She slipped off the side and found herself kneeling beside him, hands still working him. All she wanted to do was put her mouth on his big, throbbing self, make him groan with every lash of her tongue, make him remember just how very good she was at driving him wild. She had never felt like this with any other man, felt the need to worship him with her tongue.

  “Do you like this?” she asked, as she licked him, from base to tip. He shuddered at the contact.

  “Yes,” he groaned, as he lay back farther in the couch. She put her mouth around the head of his cock, flicking it with her tongue. He moaned again, closing his eyes. She released him once more.

  “Want more?” she asked him, and he nodded, once. “Good,” she said, feeling the vixen as she took him once more in her mouth. She worked him, with her tongue and her hands, the long, fast strokes that she knew he liked. His whole body stiffened and she relished the power she had over him. Now he would know what she felt like, when she was at his mercy, at the mercy to her own clawing want.

  “Don’t stop,” he pleaded with her, his hands in her hair. “Please, don’t stop.”

  But then she did stop. She pulled away, teasing him, relishing in bringing him to the brink of the ultimate pleasure, before backing away.

  “You’re torturing me,” Beck moaned.

  “You deserve it,” she said and grinned, wickedly. She laughed, feeling heady with power. She straddled him then, grinding slowly against him, making him grow even more.

  “You regret not calling me now?”

  “I’ve always regretted it,” he admitted, voice solemn.

  She paused then, a whirl of emotions floating inside her. “So, what is this we’re doing?” She rubbed against him, slowly, and he sucked in a breath. She could feel him grow stiff between her legs, this desire growing with his cock.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  “Do you want me?” she asked, grinding against him, but not letting him in. Not yet.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Are you going to let me in? For real this time?” She needed to know. What this was. She needed a label put on it. She needed to know. She was tired of him running hot and cold.

  Beck glanced away. “I don’t know, Al. I want to, but...”

  “But...?” She dug in, moving her hips, making him groan.

  Beck said nothing, but his eyes met hers, full of want. “Is this all we are, then?” She slid her hand between their stomachs and grabbed his cock. “Is it just sex?” She rubbed him harder. “I told you, I’ve changed. Maybe Allie 2.0 just wants this. Wants sex and nothing else.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BECK REALIZED THAT the gorgeous woman on top of him, wrapping her hand around his throbbing cock, was giving him an offer no sane man would ever refuse. Sex with her? No commitment, nothing but the beauty of their bodies pressed together in the way nature intended, finding ways to please each other that had nothing to do with emotion, and everything to do with pure sexual chemistry. They’d always had chemistry, he and Al, and that didn’t stop no matter how much reality got in the way. Any man would be crazy to turn down her offer, except that Beck wasn’t just any man. He didn’t want just her body; he also wanted her mind and soul.

  “No, this isn’t all we are.” He managed to say the words out loud. He almost wished it was. Just sex would be infinitely easier. Infinitely less terrifying.

  “Are you sure?” She laid a trail of delicate kisses down the side of his throat and he could feel the pulse there, thudding. There was no such thing as casual sex with Allie Connor. He already loved her. He’d forever love her. She was asking him to ignore every single beat of his heart.

  “Yes,” he murmured. “I’m sure. I’ve slept with other women. But I’ve never wanted to care for them like I care for you.”

  She dipped down and kissed him, long and hard. Then she pulled away.

  “Condom?” she asked, and he involuntarily glanced over at the small drawer in the unvarnished end table beyond her. She slipped open the drawer and pulled out a thin package.

  “I know how to help myself,” she said, and then she ripped the package open. He should’ve stopped her, told her that he couldn’t do what she asked: sex without emotion, and he doubted she could, either. He knew she was already as invested as he was, already in too deep. She slipped the latex sleeve on him, rolling it down slowly, so slowly that he thought he’d die from anticipation. He wanted her so badly
. He’d been without her for so long. She moved him with her hand, guiding him between her legs, and then, before he could react, she’d moved him inside her. He felt the walls of muscle inside her constrict around him and he nearly came right there. They were the perfect fit, he and Al, made for each other.

  She gasped, too, her beautiful green eyes widening with surprise, as she took him inch by delicious inch. He wanted to move faster, but he waited, letting her ease him inside, little by little. She bit her lip, and suddenly, he wanted to do the same, feel the delicate skin of her bottom lip held gently between his teeth. He wanted to feel all of her, all at once.

  She began moving, ever so slowly on top of him, rocking forward, taking him ever deeper. He held on to her hips as she whipped off her T-shirt, revealing her delicate lace bra. She was spilling out of it, her shell-pink nipples straining against the sheer fabric. She looked like a sex goddess, that was all he could think, a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. That was what made Allie a woman and not a girl, he thought. She was a force to be reckoned with. She never broke eye contact as she reached behind her and unhooked her bra. It fell forward and she tossed it gently aside, but his eyes were focused on her heavy breasts, now free, her pale pink nipples erect against her creamy skin.

  He reached up for them, finding them too big for his hands, and he loved that, feeling as if there were just more of Allie than he could possibly handle. Defying logic, he grew even bigger, even harder inside her, his body pushed to its limits by his want for her. He felt like a man starved of sex, and it was because he’d been without Allie for far, far too long. She watched him, green eyes never leaving his, as she rode him slowly at first, and steadily faster. She dipped down and he reached up, taking one delicious nipple in his mouth. He gently grazed the tip with his teeth and she moaned. God, he loved all the little sounds she made. They were guideposts for him, signal lights as clear as any he’d ever seen on the street. He read the language of her body as if he’d been born knowing it.

  He licked the other nipple now and she shuddered, squeezing him even tighter. She pulled away from him then, eyes on his, and then she moved faster, her need growing. He met her thrust for thrust. When she came, she cried out, but never closed her eyes. She kept her eyes intently on his, and he saw an amazing explosion of pleasure in them, of awe, and he thought he’d never seen a woman more beautiful in all his life, more raw or more authentic, than Allie.

  And then, seeing the pure joy on her face, he came, too, feeling the deepest, most secret part of him come a little loose then, and threaten to bob to the surface. He cried out, but he worried that it was all too late, that he’d never fully recover.

  She was looking down at him now, as she ran a finger down the side of his cheek.

  “Why don’t we spend Christmas Eve together,” she said.

  The offer came out of the blue. Christmas? His stomach tightened at the thought. The perfection of the climax fading quickly. He had a ritual at Christmas.

  “Christmas Eve, I ski,” he said. It was his tradition. He always hit the mountain, no matter how bad the weather, trying to outrun his memories.

  “And Christmas Day?” Something in her voice felt like a warning. He knew he should heed it, but he didn’t. Christmas Day, he’d wake sore in his bed, and treat it steadfastly just like every other day. That was how he coped with the holiday.

  “Al...”

  Allie rolled off him. He felt the loss of her warmth like a blow. She was unnervingly quiet. He didn’t like it. What was going on in that head of hers?

  “Why do you hate Christmas?” she asked him, voice low.

  “Come back to here.” He didn’t want to talk about Christmas. Or his family. He wanted to hold Allie in his arms and forget all about everything else.

  “If we’re going to do this, then you have to let me in. A little.” He knew by the rigid set of her back she was serious. “Maybe you should see a counselor. Maybe that would help.”

  “A counselor? No.” Beck shook his head. The idea was preposterous. He’d seen what counseling had done with his father, when he’d gone to sessions for addiction, and it hadn’t helped him, so why would it help Beck?

  Allie blinked. “Counselors help a lot. My parents went to marriage counseling when they were having trouble a few years ago. It helped them.”

  Beck shook his head. “No,” he said, determined. Going to a counselor felt like admitting defeat, admitting he was broken. He thought, with a little time, he could simply fix himself.

  “Well, if you don’t go see someone, then at least talk to me.”

  He sighed, feeling like he had no choice. “When I was eight, my dad was arrested Christmas morning. He’d been dealing and doing drugs. Opioids.” Beck glanced at her, blue eyes steely. “It was the first of many Christmases I spent at Child Services.”

  “Beck, God, I’m sorry.” She turned back to him, rubbing his chest with her hand.

  “This is why I don’t tell this story,” Beck said. “I don’t want pity.”

  “You’re not going to get it from me. I’m Allie 2.0.”

  He laughed at that.

  “How did he get addicted?” Allie asked, but Beck just wanted to close off this memory, wall it off and never think about it again, even as Allie seemed determined to drag it into the light and inspect all its ugly imperfections.

  “I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Beck said. “Come on, let’s do something else.” He ran a finger up the side of her leg. He knew it was meant to distract her, to divert. But she wiggled away.

  “Did he get treatment?”

  He stayed mute. Allie let out a frustrated sigh.

  “I think I should go.” She stood.

  Beck realized she was serious. She was going to walk if he didn’t share something. “It doesn’t matter about the treatment. He quit that like he quit everything.”

  She sat on the bed then, near him. But he wanted her closer, wanted her in his arms where she was meant to be. “You know you’re not him, right?” she said.

  “Most people who think they aren’t going to turn into their parents are just naive. It happens to all of us, eventually.” Beck grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “We either turn into them, or we spend our lives fighting to be the opposite. Either way, they drive us. Whether we want them to or not.”

  “And you think you’re going to be your dad or...”

  “Whatever the opposite of him is.”

  “Well, that would be a good thing, wouldn’t it? That would mean a sober family man.”

  Beck threw back his head and laughed. “No way that’s where I’m headed. I’ve got too much of Dad’s wildness in me.”

  Allie studied Beck. “I like the wild in you. That’s my problem.” She stroked his cheek. She looked suddenly sad, and Beck wasn’t sure why.

  “Come here.” He spread open his arms, hoping she’d walk into them. He’d never wanted anything more in his life than for Allie to stop being so serious and to just get onto this couch with him. Once their skin was touching, he was sure he could convince her all was right. Their bodies shared a better language than their brains, anyway.

  Allie sighed, though, and stood. “I think I’m going to go.” She grabbed her clothes from the floor.

  “Why? You could sleep here,” he offered.

  She smiled, faintly. “I think we’d better take it slow.”

  Beck didn’t understand. He’d given her what he thought she wanted, but she was leaving anyway. “Why?”

  “Because if I sleep here with you, then I’ll think it’s this whole thing that it might not be.”

  “Maybe it is this thing. Maybe it will be if you let it.” Beck reached out for her.

  “Or maybe I’ll just grill you incessantly about your childhood and you’ll flip out, and not talk to me again.”

  “I won’t flip out,” B
eck promised.

  She studied him, eyes growing cloudy. He didn’t like that look on her face, that studious one. She was overthinking things again. “I think you only want me when I’m leaving,” she said.

  “What? That’s not true. Al, you know it’s not.”

  “When I’m all in, you run for the door.” She considered this, nibbling on her bottom lip. “But when I leave, then you’re all after me. It’s all about the chase for you.”

  “That doesn’t mean you need to leave.” The thought of her leaving disturbed him greatly. He wanted to sleep with her in his arms, wanted to re-create that magical night in the lodge when they stayed together, bundled up, naked, for hours. Why didn’t she want that, too?

  She grabbed her bra and wiggled back into it, and then found her underwear on the floor and stepped into those. She walked to the already-open door of his utility closet and pulled her now-dry and clean clothes from the dryer. She dragged on her jeans and sweater from the night before.

  He badly wanted to peel those clothes right off her. He wanted to hold her in his arms, whisper promises in her ear, but most of all, he just wanted her here. With her in his arms. Her leaving felt like an icicle in his abdomen.

  “You don’t have to go.” This much was true.

  “I know,” she said. She tugged on one sock and then the other and twirled around until she found her boots near his front door. “But I’m going anyway. The old Allie, she would have stayed. I told you I was the new and improved Allie. This is Allie 2.0,” she said.

  She grabbed her phone and small cross-body bag off his console table, grabbed the folder of Excel spreadsheets she’d promised to audit and flipped her auburn hair back and gave him a vixen’s grin.

  He got up, but she held up a hand to stop him even as she reached out for the knob of his front door.

  “I’ll call you when I’ve looked at these,” she said. “I’ll see you around, Beck.”

  See him around? That sounded like something he’d say.

  And then she’d swung open the door and disappeared into the cold December air. Well, hell.