Quinn hissed out a breath, trying to gather her wits. She twisted away from Ty's touch and left her seat, creating some distance.
“I can't think when you're doing that.”
The men gave each other a meaningful grin. They thought they had won her over. Just because she was like putty in their hands…
She let out a long, slow breath. The fact was, she was putty in their hands. And she liked it. Logan seemed to be a skilled lover, and Ty, well, she could just imagine.
Stepping over to the sink, she gazed out of the window at a distant row of trees.
Her dilemma was, one part of her wanted to say yes. She wanted to experience what it was like to be a bad girl, not caring what people thought of her. Throw caution to the wind.
The other part of her was scared to say yes, because…because…
Fuck it.
When was she ever going to have a chance like this again? No one but the three of them had to know. Right?
It was only a weekend. She could leave if it became overwhelming.
She was going to do it. No. No, she wasn't. She couldn't.
“Okay,” she told them without turning around. She had to get this out before she changed her mind. “Here's the deal. Next weekend, I'll drive myself out, just in case. And we have to be safe. And if there is something I don't want to do…”
She heard nothing behind her, so she turned to face them. Both of them looked sort of shell-shocked. They hadn't thought she'd agree! Oh boy, what had she gotten herself into?
“Now, do you have anything decent I can wear? I need to get back to my car and go home. I have dinner plans with my parents.”
“We'll find you something. What do you want to do with your dress?”
“Burn it.”
Logan laughed loudly.
This had to be the most bizarre day of her life.
Chapter Four
Friday couldn't come soon enough for Quinn. After leaving Logan's farm last Sunday, it was all she could think about.
Her concentration at work was lacking. She would stop in the middle of the hallway and have to close her eyes. The sensation of her stinging ass when Logan had been plunging his cock deep into her came back to her like it was all happening right then and there.
Sometimes she was so weak after reliving those moments, she had to grasp a nearby wall to catch her breath for a few seconds. Her nipples had been constantly hard peaks, visible through her blouse every day, catching the eyes of some coworkers.
In fact, it was no wonder she had had two guys ask her out so far this week. After the second invitation she had gone into the bathroom and taken a good look at herself. Her flushed face, heavy eyelids, and hard nipples made her look like she had just been well fucked or wanted a good fuck. And it was bad enough that the anticipation for Friday night was keeping her wet constantly. Some of the guys were probably picking up on the musky scent as she walked through the insurance company's offices.
She was like a bitch in heat. She had never thought about sex so much before in her life. It was constant. Almost an addiction. The memories of the pleasure she had discovered with the boys continually interrupted her workday.
On Monday night, she relieved the tension brewing in her with her vibrator.
On Tuesday, she didn't even bother with her toy; she just took care of herself with her fingers. In the bathroom at work, in her car, and at home on her couch.
By Wednesday, she couldn't stop reliving Sunday in her head. She sat in her office with the phone off the hook, picturing her ride back to the banquet hall in Logan's truck.
Not remembering the ride out to his place the night before, she was surprised to see how far out of town he actually lived. The driveway itself was about a mile long, surrounded by well-maintained grass fields. Logan had explained it was sod. He ran a sod farm that provided turf to all different types of businesses. That explained why he had his truck all lettered up with the name LGR SOD, INC.: WHERE THE GRASS IS ALWAYS GREENER…
Their parting by her car in the parking lot had ended with a kiss and a promise: if she dared to show up, she would have the best sex of her life. Quinn didn't think it would be hard to beat. After she had been almost bored to death with Peter's performance in the bedroom, anything was better.
Quinn imagined Peter over her in missionary style—like always—no foreplay, just pumping into her a few times before saying, “Ooo, ooo, baby,” before grunting and shooting his load. It was all over before she was even wet.
In contrast, what could be better than spending a weekend with not one, but two gorgeous, experienced, not-uptight men?
Two, all for her. All for her pleasure.
At that thought she had to squeeze her thighs together to keep her pussy from quivering. But when she did, she came anyway. She gasped and slammed her hand over her mouth as her eyes rolled back from the pleasure skirting up her body. She was so glad she had closed her office door.
On Thursday she had second thoughts. When she got home from work, there was a message on her machine. It was from Peter. The prick started off with, “Quinn, I've been thinking…”
Quinn jabbed the Delete button before she could hear another word. That decided it; she was going to do it and enjoy every second.
After digging out an overnight bag from the bottom of her closet, she threw some essentials into it: panties (probably unnecessary), makeup and hair products, and… She needed something sexy. As she dug through her drawers, she realized she had nothing besides a glittery thong Lana had given her as a joke on one of her birthdays. She didn't think a thong stating Come In, We're Open would be very enticing, and decided to stop at Victoria's Secret on her lunch break the next day.
She had never shopped at the well-known lingerie shop before, preferring to buy her underthings at a local department store instead. But maybe it was time for her to shake things up a bit.
As she zipped up the bag, her doorbell rang. It had better not be Peter coming to beg for her forgiveness. It wasn't. When she opened the door, Lana and Paula pushed past her, chatting the whole way into her small kitchen.
Lana lifted the two brown bags she had in her hands and announced, “We brought Thai food!”
“And wine!”
Paula cleared off Quinn's small table, dug through her cabinets, and set out plates, utensils, and wineglasses.
The girls chatted on, whirling around the kitchen and serving up the food, while Quinn could only stand there doing a mental inventory of what she had put in her overnight bag and what might still be needed. What did one take for a sex fest?
Condoms? The guys would have those.
Lube? Again, if needed, the guys.
Toys? Not her department.
Icy Hot for aching muscles?
“Hey, what's going through your pretty little head?” Quinn's eyes focused to see Paula's face only inches from hers. “Let's eat.”
They made small talk and gossiped over dinner, while Quinn just said a few uh-huhs, okays, and mmms where appropriate. She was used to the other two blathering on and on about the latest scandals, whether it was someone they knew or someone in the latest tabloids. The girls only brought Thai when they wanted to dish the dirt.
After clearing the table, Lana filled everyone's wineglasses once more before settling back into her chair. “So…”
Quinn grimaced in expectation of a possible grilling. Quinn had a feeling she was the dirt they were going to dish tonight.
“So,” Paula echoed.
“Any plans for the weekend?”
“Not really.”
“Seeing your parents on Sunday?”
“No.”
“Quinn, you have to get out there and start meeting people. Try new experiences.”
If they only knew.
“What happened with Logan Reed?”
“Nothing.”
“I thought you said you were going home with him.”
“Well, I ended up striking out.”
“That d
oesn't surprise me,” Lana said. “Because I did some snooping this week, and the rumor is, he plays for the other team.”
Quinn lifted a brow and took a sip of her wine.
“He doesn't like women,” she clarified.
“That's a shame.” Paula sighed. “Another good one lost to the other side.”
The wine Quinn drank went down the wrong pipe, and she choked, sputtered, and then coughed, trying to catch her breath. Paula leaned over and whacked her between the shoulder blades.
“Ouch!”
Paula gave her an apologetic smile. “I didn't want to have to do the Heimlich.”
Lana was wrong about Logan not liking women. But they weren't all he liked.
Anyway, she wasn't going to be the one to verify or deny the rumor. This weekend was her little secret. The last thing she wanted was her friends to find out, even as well-meaning as they were. They were both blabbers, and before she knew it, her parents would find out. Her straitlaced, churchgoing, community-involved parents.
Quinn groaned at the thought.
She could feel their condemnation now. They would never speak to her again. They would be the laughingstocks of their country club.
Her parents had loved Peter, who worked at a very large brokerage firm. In fact, they blamed her for the breakup. In their eyes, Peter was perfect. It didn't matter Peter wasn't perfect for her; he was perfect for them, for their image.
Or more, for her mother's image. Her father was much more easygoing than Quinn's mother. She was the one worried about their reputation. She was the one who wanted to be in control. Of Quinn's father. Of Quinn.
It had always been that way growing up. They didn't have to keep up with the Joneses. Oh no. No, they had to keep up with the Roosevelts. Hell, the Vanderbilts.
And what could be better? A daughter and a son-in-law who were both successful financial analysts with their MSFA degrees, their accolades, and their prosperous careers…
But then, neither of her parents had to fuck Peanut. Er, Peter…
Chapter Five
Stones pinged off the underside of Quinn's car as she drove down the never-ending driveway to Logan's farm. Her heart pounded with nervousness, but her nipples pebbled in anticipation of what—or who—was waiting for her at the end of the lane.
She had come straight from work, and it was close to six o'clock, but the sun still burned high in the early-summer sky.
When she came around the last bend in the lane, the reflection of sunlight off the multitude of windows on the sprawling log-cabin ranch made her suck in a breath. The house was gorgeous. Like the two men who lived in it.
Quinn parked her Infiniti next to a large black SUV, wondering what the vanity plate of BB 17 meant. She didn't see Logan's truck anywhere. She was surprised, if not a bit bothered. They had wanted her here for dinner.
Maybe she'd end up on the table. Again. Served up for dinner.
She got out of the car, and when she reached into the backseat of her sedan for her bag, something nudged her in the rear. She spun around to face a large German shepherd. The shepherd wagged his tail and woofed at her in what she assumed—and hoped—was a playful manner.
“Magnum, leave her alone. Hold on, Quinn. Let me get that for you.”
Ty jogged down the steps of the deck and over to the car. He pulled her bag from her fingers. He had on a snug Boston Bulldogs T-shirt over long, gray, silky shorts that hung down past his knees, along with a pair of startlingly red Nikes. His red and black Bulldogs ball cap sat backward on his smooth head. Quinn's gaze was drawn back to the skin above his sneakers. He had a barbed-wire tattoo wrapped around his right ankle. His skin was so dark, it was extremely hard to see.
The dog, Magnum, nudged her hand with his wet nose.
“He wants attention.”
Don't we all? she thought, rubbing the dog's large, blocky head.
Ty tilted his head toward the house. “C'mon, let's go inside. Dinner's ready.”
Quinn followed him in, watching his muscular ass moving beneath the silky fabric of his shorts as he climbed the steps.
Inside, he dropped her bag in the living room and escorted her into the kitchen.
She came up short when she saw only two place settings on the table she was very intimate with.
“I don't understand.”
Ty kept moving toward the stove. As he stirred something in a large pan, he said, “Logan thought we needed to spend some time alone together, to get to know each other better.”
“But I don't know him really either.”
Ty gave her a smile over his shoulder. “You will.”
She hoped so. Okay, so she knew ahead of time she'd have to go with the flow. She was a guest here. If they wanted her to have an intimate dinner with Ty, then she would. And anyway, whatever he was cooking smelled delicious.
“We eat healthy around here. I hope you don't mind a chicken stir-fry.”
“No. Sounds good.” Quinn slipped into a chair, the same one from last Sunday. “It's refreshing to see guys eating well without a woman forcing—” Quinn bit off the rest of her foot-in-mouth comment. She gave Ty a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”
“No, you're right. I guess being a former athlete influenced my eating habits. I made Logan change his ways. He was a beer, pizza, and chips type of guy before we met.”
“You'd never know it by his body,” Quinn said, feeling the heat crawling up her neck.
Ty slid a plate of stir-fry in front of her, then placed another plate across from her and settled into a chair. He plucked his cap from his head and threw it on an empty seat.
He ran a hand over his smooth scalp and chuckled. “He works hard.”
“I'm sure. So you were an athlete? What kind?” She placed a forkful of veggies into her mouth and was pleasantly surprised how good it was.
Ty placed both hands over his heart and made a wounded sound. “Oh, that hurts.”
“What?”
“You really don't know?”
Quinn chewed thoughtfully but shook her head. She had no idea. Why would he think she would?
“I was a wide receiver for the Boston Bulldogs.”
She looked at him blankly.
Ty spread his arms wide, ignoring his cooling food. “The Boston Bulldogs? You know, the NFL team? In Boston? In the NFC division?”
Quinn was starting to get the feeling she was missing something, that she should know who he was. But she didn't. She didn't know squat about football. She'd never even watched a Super Bowl.
“So you were an important member of the team?”
“Shit, yeah. I was the wide receiver. That's important. I'd tell you my stats, but I don't think you'd—”
“Get it,” she finished for him. “Maybe you could teach me about football?”
“Sure, I'd like that.” He reached across the table to capture one of her hands. “But there are other things I'd rather teach you first.”
Quinn studied the sharp contrast in color between the two of them. She looked pale next to his rich, dark pigment. She had never been with a black man before; she had never really given it much thought.
It wasn't just the difference in color, though; it was the size of his hand. His was twice as big as hers. Big hands that had carried a football. His nails were neatly trimmed, and when she turned his hand over, his palm and the pads of his fingers were a light pink. Quinn ran a finger over the creases in his palm. He made a fist, capturing her finger for a moment before pulling away.
His voice was husky when he said, “Let's finish eating…”
Quickly was unspoken between them.
Quinn tried to get her mind off what was to come. “Why did you stop playing football?”
“Injury. I didn't want to be benched for the rest of my career.” And he left it at that.
Ty cleaned his plate and then waited patiently while she ate about two-thirds of her meal. She finally had to shove the plate away. She was full.
“Excellent,” she told him
while he cleared the table. She followed his movements with her eyes as he carried dishes over to the sink.
He had to have the most luscious ass she'd ever seen. Even in his shorts, she could tell it was full and muscular and round. Very round. She had a sudden urge to touch it.
Should she dare? Her fingers curled into her palms. Good girls like her just didn't grab a stranger's ass. Well, not quite a stranger, but close enough.
But hell, she was here to push her boundaries. Wasn't that what she was supposed to be doing? It would do her no good to hold back.
Pushing her chair back, she rose and came up behind him. His back was to her as he rinsed the dishes in the sink. She stepped into him, pushing her chest into his back and sliding her hands over his rump. She squeezed slowly, testing the firmness of his flesh, kneading the muscles flexing beneath her fingers.
A dish clattered. Ty braced his arms on each side of the sink and dropped his head forward as Quinn smoothed the silky fabric of his shorts over his ass. His cheeks were solid and impossibly firm, making Quinn want to sink her teeth into them.
“How?” She didn't even realize the question had escaped her until he answered, his voice a bit thicker.
“A lot of squats, weights, and sprints.”
She slipped her hands into the waistband of his shorts and skimmed her fingers along his hips, over the curve of his buttocks. There was nothing between him and the shorts; just skin and heat. She shifted closer and wrapped her arms around his waist, placing her cheek against his broad back, feeling her way around to his front.
There. There it was. It was hard to miss. Literally. His cock was caught crookedly in his shorts, and she moved it to what she thought would be a more-comfortable position. She stroked along its hard length, amazed how large he really was. Just as she had feared. She had heard jokes, of course, about black men being hung. But in Ty's case it was true. Her hand seemed miniature in comparison.
She wanted to lick him. Taste him. Suck him. See if his skin was as sweet, as decadent, as it looked.
When she murmured what she wanted, he peeled her arms from around him and shook his head. “Not here. Come with me.”
Double Dare Page 5