Once Upon a Dare

by Jennifer Bonds

  He started off slow, teasing her with the promise of ecstasy, until her body responded to their undeniable chemistry. When her hips rocked involuntarily and invited him deeper, he became ravenous. He devoured her. There was no other way to describe the heavenly sensation as he licked and probed, swirling around her clit and sucking her to the brink of madness.

  He seemed to know her body in a way first-time lovers could never know one another, applying the perfect amount of pressure in all the right places. And the things he was doing with his tongue… Dear God, where had he learned that? Her body quivered as the tension built within her, threatening to explode in orgasm. She laced her fingers through his hair, bringing him to a halt.

  He looked up at her from below heavily lidded eyes ripe with desire.

  “Not without you,” she panted. “I want to feel you come inside me. I need you inside me.”

  Cole was on his feet in an instant.

  Olivia went straight for the belt as he tore through the buttons on his shirt. She had the buckle undone in record time and barely stopped to register his sculpted abs. Desperate to free his erection and feel every last inch of him within her, she fought her way past the zipper.

  Before shedding the last of his clothing, he pulled a condom from his wallet. He ripped it open and rolled it over his length.

  Holy crap! The man was huge. Olivia gave silent thanks for foreplay and lubricated condoms even though she was more than ready for him.

  Anxious to resume her ascent to orgasm, she reached for him, but he pushed her up against the wall, her back flattened against the textured silk fabric that lined the room. He gently brushed his knuckles across her cheek, down her neck, and across her shoulders, eventually tangling them in the mass of hair that hung down her back.

  “You are so fucking beautiful.”

  The emotion smoldering in his eyes was unnerving. How could a man she barely knew make her feel this way? Free, uninhibited, cherished.

  Unsure of what to say and not wanting to ruin the moment, she wrapped her left leg around his waist. Tilting her hips, she opened herself to him, offering the only thing she had to give. She knew little more than his name, but it was enough. She felt more comfortable and alive with Cole than she’d felt with any of her past boyfriends.

  “Sweetheart, I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.” He didn’t waste any time delivering on that promise. He pressed forward, driving deep into her with the first stroke. Blistering heat tore through her. She sucked in a sharp breath, her body adjusting to his size. No man had ever filled her so completely and the feeling was exquisite. His hand slipped from her hair and came to rest on the underside of her rear, supporting her weight. She wrapped her other leg around him, locking her ankles and taking his full length.

  His hips slammed into hers over and over with deliciously perfect rhythm. Olivia fought to keep her orgasm at bay with every thrust deep within her. She didn’t want to come too soon, but it was impossible to fight the rising pressure as their bodies rocked in unison. As their flesh came together, she was surprised to discover a feeling she hadn’t expected to find in Cole’s smoky eyes: intimacy.

  “Cole,” she said, trying to warn him but failing as her body exploded in sensation. Powerful waves of ecstasy rolled through her and brought her to the edge of bliss and back again. She gave into the pleasure, screaming his name and digging her nails into his shoulder.

  “That’s right. I want to feel you come all around me.” He gave a feral growl and a final thrust before succumbing to his own orgasm. Cole’s body shuddered and his grip on Olivia tightened. He held her pinned against the wall, their sweaty bodies pressed seamlessly together a moment longer while he caught his breath.

  He brushed a strand of damp hair from her forehead and smiled. “I knew you’d be a screamer.”

  Refusing to be ashamed of her enthusiastic orgasm, Olivia laughed. She was a modern woman, after all. She could handle a night of great sex with no strings.

  Then Cole did something completely unexpected—he placed a tender kiss on her forehead. For a moment she felt connected to him on a level much deeper than the physical bond they’d shared.

  …

  Cole slipped quietly from bed and pulled on his boxers. He was damn thirsty and didn’t want to disturb Olivia, who was still sound asleep and breathing softly from deep under the down comforter. In the bathroom, he flipped on the light and flinched as the harsh glow of the overhead bulb assaulted his eyes.

  Shit!

  Given the nightly rate for a penthouse suite, surely the hotel could afford better lighting. He gave himself a moment to adjust and grabbed one of the glasses from the sink. He filled it with tap water, having exhausted the supply of bottled water in the suite’s fridge. Olivia’s appetite for sex was matched only by her enthusiasm, and he was bordering on dehydration.

  The woman was insatiable. They were three-for-three in the orgasm department and he was getting hard again just thinking about her lying naked in the next room. It was turning out to be a hell of a first night back in the city.

  Draining the glass, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was a mess, sticking up at odd angles, and he could use a shave, but that would come later. He needed a few more hours of sleep before he’d be ready to face the day. He refilled the glass and leaned into the vanity, thinking about Olivia.

  He’d been with a lot of women, but not like this. Never like this. He wasn’t exactly sure why it was different, except that there was usually more talking involved before a woman agreed to go home with him.

  Not that he was complaining.

  He knew he was good-looking, but in his experience, most women, even the ones who knew the score, liked to play hard to get. Maybe it was part of the thrill for them. Or maybe it was their way of dealing with society’s double standard when it came to the rules of sex. Either way, he wasn’t judging. He liked sex and he appreciated a woman who wasn’t afraid to go after what she wanted, especially in the bedroom.

  But what made Olivia different? Try as he might, he couldn’t put his finger on it. She emanated class, and he was certain this wasn’t characteristic behavior for her. That much was evident in her nerves. The fact she’d nearly bolted in the lobby said it all.

  No, this definitely wasn’t her typical Friday night.

  His rebound radar kicked in then, but he dismissed it immediately. It didn’t feel right. She didn’t have the desperate air of a woman nursing a broken heart, or of one looking to get even with a cheating boyfriend.

  Well, whatever the hell was going on with her, he liked it. A lot.

  Smiling, he flipped off the bathroom light. He would definitely have to get her number in the morning. After all, he hadn’t been in Manhattan for years. It wouldn’t hurt to have a gorgeous woman to show him around.

  As he slid back under the covers, she rubbed her bare ass up against him.

  Christ. The woman was going to kill him, but he wasn’t about to deny her.

  Chapter Four

  Olivia stretched lazily and rolled to her side. Screw the gym. It was Saturday and she was sleeping in. It wouldn’t kill her to miss one day on the treadmill. She deserved a break. Maybe she’d even go for brunch. She was starving and the thought of Belgian waffles with fresh blueberries and crème had her stomach rumbling.

  The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced she deserved to treat herself. She could take her Kindle and sit on the patio of that cute little café down the block. She’d always wanted to eat there, but had never made the time. Of course, that plan would require getting out of bed. As she peeked out from beneath sleep laden lashes, debating the merits of hibernation versus food, reality came crashing back.

  Olive or Twist.

  The dare.

  Cole.

  Holy. Crap. She’d really done it. Chloe would never believe her. If it weren’t for the super-hot, super-naked man lying next to her, she wouldn’t believe it herself. Knowing Chloe, she
’d want photographic evidence, but she sure as hell wasn’t going there just to convince her friend.

  She lay still, barely daring to breathe for fear of waking him. She studied his profile and smiled to herself. He had a wicked case of bed head, but it only seemed to add to his sexiness, something she was sure he wouldn’t say about her if he woke up and saw the tangled mess that was her own hair.

  After a quick look at his muscular chest, she resisted the urge to run her tongue over his pecs, down his hard stomach, and up over his… No! Bad idea, she scolded her inner sex kitten. He’d wake up and then, well, she knew what would happen: morning sex. And while she wasn’t fundamentally opposed to morning sex, her vagina might feel differently after the marathon session last night.

  How did a guy who practically screamed Wall Street get a body like that anyway? She sighed at the injustice of it all.

  Sex with Cole had been un-freaking-believable. She had never had two orgasms, let alone four, in one night before. There was no doubt about it, he was hands down the best lover she’d ever had, and despite the lack of actual sleep, she felt pretty damn good.

  Still, she was in the penthouse suite of a complete stranger, a guy she’d had crazy monkey sex with and whom she sort of hoped wouldn’t engage in any awkward morning-after talk. Maybe she could sneak out while he was still sleeping. It was a cowardly thing to do, but what the hell. There would be plenty of time to overanalyze the whole thing later. She’d be much more comfortable questioning her sanity and decision making skills from the privacy of her own bed.

  Peeling back the comforter, Olivia dropped her feet to the plush carpet and slipped from bed as carefully as she could, to avoid waking him. He was sprawled on his back and, thankfully, dead to the world. She tiptoed to the living room to collect her clothes. It didn’t take long to figure out she was short one bra.

  “Damn!” She scanned the dark room again. Where could it be? She’d looked everywhere. Well, everywhere except the bedroom, although she doubted it had made it that far. It was her favorite bra, but it was a sixty-five dollar piece of luxury she was willing to sacrifice in order to avoid waking him. They’d had an amazing night together, but that didn’t mean she wanted to hang around and chat about it.

  Hell, she could hardly wrap her mind around the fact she’d actually done it. No, what she needed right then was to put her brain on lockdown and focus on getting out of there before he woke up.

  After grabbing her purse, she shut herself in the bathroom. She put on her wrinkled clothes, quickly tugged a brush through her hair, and refastened her ponytail. Time to steel herself for a swift, ninja-like exit.

  She cracked the bathroom door and peeked out, relieved to find he was still sound asleep. They hadn’t slept much and there was a good chance he’d sleep late into the morning, but she wasn’t planning to stick around to find out. Opening the door just enough to slip through, she forced herself to walk slowly from the bedroom, despite the urge to make a mad dash for it. The last thing she needed was for him to wake up and find her running out the door like a lunatic.

  When she reached the front door to the suite, she did a mental happy dance and threw the lock back as gingerly as possible. The bolt slid home with a loud thwack, ringing through the suite like a gunshot.

  She held her breath, praying he hadn’t heard. After counting to three, she opened the door carefully, closed it, and hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the outside knob.

  Safely in the hall, she sighed with contentment while she waited for the elevator. In a few short minutes she’d return to the real world, losing herself in the city’s masses, the warm glow of great sex plastered all over her face.

  She hated to admit it, but if this was what the walk of shame felt like, she just might be able to get used to it. Too bad she’d never see Cole again. They’d had an incredible night together and she’d felt connected to him.

  Scratch that.

  This was a one shot deal—one night only, no repeat performances. She needed to get her head on straight and forget about Cole Bennett. This was going to be a big week, possibly the biggest of her life. Now was the time to remain focused, not turn into some sex-crazed nympho.

  By this time Monday, he would be a distant memory—one she seriously doubted any other man could live up to, but a memory nonetheless. That was just how it had to be.

  …

  Cole rolled over and reached for Olivia, wondering how she felt about morning sex. Unfortunately, all he got for his efforts was a handful of the overstuffed down comforter, which definitely wasn’t going to get the job done. He sat up, quickly scanning the room.

  The open bathroom door confirmed what he already knew: she’d bailed on him. No need to check the living room. Olivia was gone and chances were she wouldn’t be returning with a piping hot cup of coffee.

  Normally he’d be relieved at the prospect of not having to deal with awkward morning-after pleasantries, but he’d never had a chance to get her number. Plus, he had another problem. He was hard as a rock.

  There wasn’t much he could do about the latter except take a cold shower and let nature run its course, but damn if he didn’t feel disappointed—and a little insulted—at Olivia’s sneaking out. Would it have killed her to say goodbye? He knew she’d had a good time last night. There was no denying her responsiveness or the pleasure they’d given one another.

  So what then? Was she having second thoughts about her decision to come back to his room? Wouldn’t that be a kick in the balls? He’d just about decided last night he wanted to take her to dinner. The urge to unravel the mystery that was Olivia Masterson was pretty damn strong. Even stronger was the urge to explore their scorching chemistry in the bedroom.

  He had her first and last name. It would be easy enough to track her down…except that was creepy and probably qualified as stalking. And Cole Bennett definitely wasn’t that guy. He didn’t have to chase women; they had always come to him freely, no strings attached.

  “Shit,” he groaned, falling back on the bed and slinging an arm across his face. He needed to get a grip. One night in the city and he was pining like a teenage girl? No fucking way. There were millions of women in New York and he wasn’t about to get hung up on one woman, no matter how great her ass was. It wasn’t his style.

  Sure, Olivia was exciting, but it was just sex. From the time he’d lost his virginity at sixteen, he had never had a problem getting women to drop their panties—the ones who wore them, anyway. With one major exception, he’d always had casual flings. He was good at them. They were so much easier. And he’d created some guiding principles to keep him out of trouble.

  Rule #1: No staying for breakfast. Ever. Breakfast was a game changer. It was like a daytime date that gave women the impression things were getting serious. Then they started getting ideas about the future and relationships, which inevitably screwed up the sex.

  Rule #2: Don’t plan anything more than three days in advance. The three day rule kept things casual. He never saw the same woman more than once a week and never got roped into weddings or other volatile events that had the potential to blow up like an emotional minefield.

  Rule #3: No commitments. If she wants to have “the talk”, it’s time to get the hell out.

  The rules were simple. They ensured things never got too serious and no one got hurt.

  He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was only ten, so he had plenty of time for a trip to the hotel gym before meeting his realtor. The hotel was convenient, but it wasn’t a great long-term set up. He needed to find an apartment, and experience had taught him that, with his discerning taste and busy work schedule, it could take some time.

  That meant he needed to stop thinking about Olivia and start thinking about more practical things, like finding a place to live. If only he could get the sound of her screaming his name out of his head.

  …

  Olivia’s phone vibrated uncontrollably, sliding across the kitchen counter and threatening to take a dive to th
e slate floor below if she didn’t answer it, right now. She seriously considered tossing it in the utensil drawer, but knew that wouldn’t put an end to Chloe’s endless calls.

  There was only one way to do that, and it meant answering the phone.

  “Hey.” She did her best to sound casual, despite the fact she’d been dreading this call. And the six that had come before it.

  Olivia knew she couldn’t hide forever, but she’d given it her best shot. Problem was, Chloe tended to be relentless when she wanted something, and the odds were good she was going crazy trying to figure out if Olivia had actually gone through with the dare.

  “She lives!” Chloe sounded put out by the need to make a seventh phone attempt. Hard to blame her. “I was seriously starting to wonder. I almost alerted the police, you know.”

  “You almost alerted the police?” She bit back a laugh. “Because the text message I sent didn’t put your overactive imagination at ease?”

  “I’m fine. Call you later.” Chloe’s words dripped with sarcasm. “Not so much. For all I knew the guy had you bound and gagged with one of those strappy little ball things!”

  “A ball gag?” Olivia offered and burst out laughing. It was unlikely Chloe would have called the police. On the other hand, she did sound pretty ticked off that Olivia hadn’t answered her phone all day. “I’m sorry I scared you,” she apologized, feeling a twinge of guilt. “I had some errands to run, but I should have called sooner.”

  “Damn straight!” Chloe agreed, perking up. “Now you can make it up to me by sharing all the juicy details from last night. And don’t even think about leaving anything out.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

  Walking to the fish bowl on the kitchen counter, she dropped some flakes in for Rufus. Her busy schedule didn’t allow for a four-legged pet, but she didn’t mind. Rufus, the colorful betta fish who shared her apartment, was the perfect roommate. They had such clear relationship parameters. He didn’t talk back, and he wasn’t too needy. And unlike Chloe, he didn’t require intimate details of her sex life.