If You Dare

by Sandy Lowe

  “Spread your legs.”

  Emma’s blush went from a tinge of pink to a second-degree burn. “What?”

  “Spread your legs.” Lauren enunciated every word precisely, her eyes locked on Emma’s.

  Emma squirmed, and then slowly, as if not quite believing herself capable, spread her legs.

  Every so often life hands you a moment. The kind of moment where even in the midst of enjoying whatever splendor is before you, whatever emotions in your body, you’re compelled to stop and notice the significance of this moment and remind yourself not to forget it. This was one of those moments. Lauren took her time perusing Emma’s pussy, etching the memory of every detail. With one hand, she held Emma’s knee when she tried to cover up again. “Are you going to deny that this turns you on?” She knew it did, but she also knew the question, or rather, having to answer the question, would arouse Emma.

  “I…” Emma just looked at Lauren helplessly.

  She slid her hand from Emma’s knee up her thigh. “If you’re going to cover up, if you’re going to deny that you like it when I look at you naked, then you won’t be wet when I touch you. I very badly want to find out what makes you hot and wet. I want to discover all the things that make you moan, if you hide from me, I won’t be able to.”

  “Please, I…” Emma focused on her breathing, grappling with a storm cloud of conflicting and confusing desires that were turning her stomach into a watery churning mess. She wanted this. God, how very fucking badly she wanted this. But it was hard not to be nervous when there was so much riding on it. On her ability to show up and be the lover Lauren needed her to be.

  She huffed out her breath. Wow, lie to herself much? Sure, Lauren did need this from her, but she needed it from herself too. She needed to know she could. She needed to put the past behind her. She needed to be brave, not because it would make Lauren happy, but because she wasn’t the person she’d been last week. Lauren’s stoic resolve no matter how bad things got, her compassion and sincerity when she had every reason to be hard and jaded, her willingness to give Emma everything she wanted, and all the things she needed and didn’t know how to ask for—they had changed her and she couldn’t not face this. She couldn’t not try.

  But despite herself, the words, barely loud enough to earn the name, that she actually said out loud were, “I can’t.”

  “You can’t, what?” Lauren cupped Emma’s pussy and the heat of her palm seared. Emma whimpered as her need built, clawing and churning and rushing everywhere all at once. Need had compelled her to text Lauren. Need made her strip in the library and expose herself in the most wanton way possible. Need that made her want to surrender.

  Like hell. Perhaps it had a little something to do with Lauren pressed against a brick wall trusting you. Perhaps realizing you’d rather lose your job than lose a chance to be with her even if this goes nowhere. None of this is about sexual arousal. Except that it kind of, actually, really really was as Lauren slid her palm up and down her pussy, dragging her fingers lightly over her clit, pressing the heel of her hand at Emma’s opening.

  Oh yeah, this was most definitely all about sexual arousal.

  “Oh God. Please.” Emma grabbed the desk behind for support before she fell and gave herself a concussion. The longer Lauren touched her the more her anxiety moved to the back of her consciousness, floating behind her like a gauze curtain, shoved aside by her wet, swollen need pulsing impatiently against Lauren’s hand.

  “You can’t what?” Lauren asked again. “You can’t enjoy this? You can’t want this? You can’t admit that you need me to make you come?”

  Emma was experiencing prolonged tachycardia. Her heart wouldn’t stop racing and her mind couldn’t keep up. “Please.”

  Lauren shook her head slowly. “Which is it, Emma? You can’t or please?”

  “Please.” It was the only word there was to say. She hadn’t even realized she’d closed her eyes until Lauren made a cranky sound in the back of her throat and gripped the back of her neck in a hold gentle enough to be comfortable but strong enough to get her attention. Her eyes sprang open and Lauren’s look-at-me-damn-it gaze radiated through every cell in her body.

  “You’re not going to close your eyes. You don’t have to watch what I’m doing to you if it’s too much. But you have to be here. Be present. No checking out. Do you understand?”

  She swallowed. This was the side of Lauren that had been lurking just beneath the surface whenever Lauren had kissed her, backed her up against a bookcase or a counter or a bed and took over. The Lauren who got off on being in charge.

  But, no, this was more than that. Lauren’s gray eyes, usually so soft, were swirling with something she couldn’t describe. Lauren looked calm, relaxed even, but it was a deception. Like the eerie quiet before a tornado. Underneath was the fierce intensity of the dominant, ready to rip her world apart.

  That word, dominant, had hot ribbons of need twisting and twining over her skin. She wasn’t even close to understanding what it all meant. But she didn’t want to analyze it. She didn’t want to have to explain it even to herself. Lauren’s precisely measured tone, her clipped words, the way Lauren’s eyes were boring into her, it was doing it for her in crazy mind-melting, going-to-come-so-so-soon ways. Lauren’s fingers brushed her clit and she made a sound like the squeal of tires.

  “Oh God. Your hand should be considered a lethal weapon.”

  “Lethal to all those thoughts I can see swirling in your head. Are you ready to let it all go?” Lauren asked.

  “Yes,” Emma said, her voice sounding rusty even to her own ears. Lauren’s gaze never left hers, as if she was searching her brain and plucking out her thoughts.

  “I’m going to make you come,” Lauren said. “You’re going to surrender. You’re going to trust me enough to be vulnerable. Just as hot and needy and crazy as you were at sixteen. That’s what I want. So fucking turned on you don’t know your own name.”

  Short and sharp, Lauren’s words were a command.

  “I know,” Emma whispered, hardly able to breathe around the lump in her throat.

  “I want that to be what you want too.”

  “I want you.”

  Lauren frowned. “It’s not going to work if you’re only saying yes because you want to please me.”

  She touched the tips of her fingers to the frown lines on Lauren’s face. “I very much want to please you. I want to submit to you. I’m not sure I would’ve used that language exactly, if kink wasn’t a factor for you, but I can’t deny that it makes me hot when you take charge. I can’t deny that I’ve had fantasies about being tied up. Being blindfolded. Being ordered to kneel or bend over. Fantasies about being teased mercilessly but denied orgasm. Fantasies about being controlled. Fantasies about you and about this. About us.”

  Lauren’s breath hissed out of her. “Fuck. You’re really very good at that.”

  “Good at what?” Emma asked.

  “Talking dirty. You’re a natural. It’s driving me crazy.”

  “Oh.” Emma blushed. “Well…I…okay, then.”

  Lauren laughed. “Okay, then.”

  Lauren tugged her closer and kissed her. The touch of her lips was brief and so gentle Emma’s heart swooned. She held on to the moment, just one small moment, just one simple kiss, that acknowledged the wobbly, fragile, near-translucent faith they were putting in each other.

  “You’ll need a safe word,” Lauren said.

  Emma tensed. Fuck. A safe word. She hadn’t thought of that. With all the rumors flying around about her kinky night of whipping with Lauren, she’d actually managed to forget that pain was a pretty significant component of kink. Double fuck.

  “I don’t want one.” Emma could hear the tinny sound of her own unease coating her words and cursed herself. She didn’t want Lauren to feel bad if giving pain turned her on, but she’d been right the first time—being whipped wasn’t Emma’s thing. Pain and passion were fine for other people, but just didn’t do it for her
, even in theory. Why had she made that stupid joke and put the idea in both their heads? Thank you, brain, for being so incredibly unhelpful.

  Lauren took Emma’s face in her hands and held her still, forcing her to focus on only Lauren. “A safe word is mandatory. You need to be able to call a halt at any time if you’re uncomfortable. We’re going to push limits and if we go too far, we both need a way to communicate.”

  She bit her lip, wanting badly to wring her hands, but they were trapped between her body and Lauren’s. “I don’t want it to hurt. I don’t think I’d like that.”

  Lauren’s expression didn’t change. “Okay. That’s no problem. Do you have any other limits?”

  Did she? How was she supposed to know? She wasn’t experienced outside of her own head. “Is that…” she took a breath, “is that a sacrifice for you?”

  Lauren shook her head. “Being in control isn’t about being a sadist, at least not for me. It’s a psychological rush I get from having you surrender to me. Having you want me to be in control. Having you like it. It’s not about pain unless you like pain. It’s not about bondage unless you like bondage. My dominance is only possible through your submission, so if it doesn’t turn you on, it’s not going to turn me on either.”

  The relief that rushed through her made her just a bit dizzy. She should’ve known all of this. Lauren might be dominant in the bedroom, or the library, but she was still Lauren. “I definitely want to try the bondage thing some time. But I don’t get why we need the safe word. Why can’t I just say no or stop or something? Why does it have to be watermelon or ballerina or red?”

  Lauren hesitated, her face shutting down in that supremely annoying way she had.

  Emma flicked her on the shoulder. “Don’t do that. Don’t back off just because I asked a question. I’m here. I’m naked. I want to try this.”

  “It’s just that the answer might freak you out.”

  Emma lifted her chin. “You won’t know until you tell me.”

  Lauren stroked down Emma’s arm, the palm of her other hand moving against Emma’s pussy in a way that had her instantly clenching and needy. She tried to hold back the whimper. This was important, and Lauren was better at saying important things when she was touching her. Emma wanted to give her that, if Lauren didn’t drive her out of her mind first.

  “No can be a safe word if you want, but sometimes, during role-play or other kinky activities, words like ‘stop’ and ‘no’ are part of the scene.”

  Emma frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would someone say no if it’s consensual?”

  “Because it’s not real when you’re role-playing. It’s intentionally and consensually a fantasy.” Lauren’s voice was calm and steady. “There’s freedom in not having to admit what you really want. Pretending it’s not something you choose, that you’re being coerced or persuaded frees you to indulge in desires that would otherwise be illicit. By pretending not to want what you want, you’re free to have it without embarrassment.”

  Emma processed the information, and processed the fact that Lauren seemed to know a hell of a lot about it. “But doesn’t that just circumvent the real issue of feeling guilty for your desires? Shouldn’t that be what you work on?”

  Lauren tapped her lightly on the nose. “You tell me.”

  She smiled, silently acknowledging that she had more than a little guilt about her own needs. “Fair point.”

  “There are a lot of ways to work through things, and this kind of role-play is more common than you think. It’s not real, and it’s completely safe. If it makes you or me or anyone else hot as a fantasy, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

  Emma chewed her bottom lip. Could she really role-play being coerced? For real?

  “I don’t know if it’s really okay to pretend.”

  Lauren ran a hand through Emma’s hair and tugged on the ends playfully. “You’ve already pretended. Up here.” She tapped Emma on the temple. “Remember your fantasy, right here in the library? It’s not so different from being trapped against a bookcase. The fear of getting caught heightening your excitement. My hand covering your mouth so you can’t object. You imagined me not stopping, not letting up, until you had no choice but to come.”

  No choice. Not stopping. Forced to come.

  Emma nodded slowly. Lauren was right. More than that, being taken, was her number one, without fail, always-did-it-for-her, fantasy. The dirtiest of all the dirt piled high in her imagination. The fantasy that made losing control not her fault, the fantasy that made her abandon sexy. How had Lauren seen so clearly when she’d barely recognized it for herself?

  While they were on the subject, why did the idea turn her on so much? Lauren’s hand still cupped her pussy, applying just the right amount of pressure to make her squirm. But if she was being honest, really, really, no-one-ever-has-to-know kind of honest, the wetness coating Lauren’s palm wasn’t just from the pressure. The image of being trapped under Lauren, tied up, saying no, saying stop, and getting wetter and wetter when Lauren ignored her was making her crazy hot. Lauren telling her she had to take it. Telling her she’d never stop. Lauren forcing her to orgasm, forcing her to find pleasure in it, because Emma couldn’t stop her. She could finally let go by pretending not to like the very thing she craved.

  “So, I need a safe word then,” Emma said.

  I’ll need a safe word because I’ll want to say no when I really mean yes.

  “Anything you like,” Lauren said.

  Emma eventually came up with, “Filet mignon.”

  Lauren laughed, and the tension in the air broke like the snap of a branch. “Good choice.”

  “It’s ironic that I don’t want to admit, that I don’t want to admit what I want in bed.”

  “Makes perfect sense,” Lauren said gently.

  Emma looked at the water stains on the ceiling, at the stack of returns she had yet to process piled precariously high on a chair, and over Lauren’s shoulder toward the library entrance that was more appealing as an exit right now. But that’s what she’d done before. Run. She’d let Jessica mock her. She’d run and run, and it’d been the worst night of her life. It was time to stop running, stop hiding. It was time to be really truly naked.

  “Did you bring this up because it’s your thing?” Emma asked.

  Lauren’s expression turned puzzled. “My thing?”

  “You know, the thing you like to do most at Kink’s. Is this your favorite role-play?”

  Lauren rocked back on her heels and regarded her cautiously. “It depends on the other person and what works between us. When you told me your fantasy, I thought perhaps taking it a step further, getting out of your head with a partner might appeal to you.”

  “Does it appeal to you?”

  “It’s an option.” There was so much casual in Lauren’s voice she could’ve been selling flip-flops by the beach.

  Emma’s heart wrote a big fat red F on top of that answer.

  “Trust has to go both ways,” she said. “If I’m going to trust you with thoughts and desires I’ve only ever explored in private, then you have to meet me halfway. Be honest, otherwise, what are we even doing here?”

  Lauren shoved a hand through her hair and had the decency to look a bit sheepish. “Okay, Ms. Talking Is My Thing. Yes, it appeals to me too.”

  She waited, but apparently that’s all Lauren had to say about that.

  Emma sighed. “But what about what you want?”

  Lauren looked confused.

  “Are you going to deny that this turns you on?” Emma asked with just a hint of bite, using Lauren’s own phrase. Once she started, the questions tumbled out of her. “Are you not going to admit you’ll enjoy this? That you want this? That it will make you need to come? Are you going to hide behind your rationale and not admit that having me under you, nervous and battling, turns you on? Are you going to deny that you want me to say no just as much as I want to say it?”

  Lauren pressed her palm h
ard into Emma’s pussy, making them both groan. “Fuck.” She let her forehead rest against Emma’s. “Really really good at talking dirty.”

  “Okay, then,” Emma quipped, smiling despite the seriousness of the conversation.

  “Okay, then—It’s been a fantasy running on repeat all week, but that night, when you couldn’t surrender, I worried that what I wanted, that this, wouldn’t work for you up here.” Lauren tapped Emma lightly on the temple again. “Even though I suspected that it would work for you down here.” Lauren brushed a fingertip lightly over Emma’s clit.

  Emma swallowed, trying not to grind herself into Lauren’s palm. She knew better than anyone that some passions just didn’t make sense, that the very inexplicableness was what made them hot. She also knew, deep down under the surface of things, that Lauren was right. This was a choice and nothing like being assaulted. Finding a fantasy arousing wasn’t wrong, neither was acting it out with someone she trusted. Her body screamed too loud to be ignored, even if her brain was still catching up. She’d denied herself too long not to act on what would push every button she had.

  She’d said it herself, trust had to go both ways.

  “I want to do this.” Emma heard her own words and smiled. Not a single quaver.

  Lauren moaned, long and low, like it’d been trapped inside and was finally being freed. She sagged against Emma as if every bone in her body instantly liquified. Resting her forehead to Emma’s, she murmured, “God. Yes. Fuck.”

  Emma wrapped Lauren in her arms and held her, biting her lip to hold back tears that were suddenly stinging her eyes. This wasn’t just casual sexy times. This specific brand of pleasure was who Lauren was, and holding back because Emma wasn’t ready had cost Lauren a lot more than Emma realized.

  “I want this,” Emma whispered in her ear again, wanting to say it again and again. She’d needed time, and she wasn’t sorry for taking it, but Lauren’s moan when she’d finally said yes made her realize just how essential this was.