The Dare

by Lauren Landish

  “Shall we get to work?”

  Her smile is full of ice and poison. “You don’t fight fair, Mr. Wolfe.”

  “Nor do you, Miss Stryker.” With the starting gun still smoking, we’re off in a race against the clock.

  Most of the day is grunt work, setting up the details for our trip. We start off with booking tickets to Heathrow, business class, of course. There’s no way I’m sitting in economy for twelve hours, and I’m not going to put Elle through that, either.

  “Should we book for extra baggage?” Elle asks at one point. “I mean, a week of suits plus casual clothing is going to mean laundry. I might have to get Tiffany to plan out my outfits so I can be efficient. She’s a pro, where I’d pack everything I own, just in case.”

  “This is a business trip, not a fashion show,” I remind her, tapping my chin as I consider other options. “One and one is fine. If you need anything beyond what you pack, I’ll put it on my credit card.”

  Elle looks up, surprised. “What?”

  “I said, I’ll take care of it if we’re going somewhere and you need appropriate clothes,” I repeat. “And maybe, just for fun, I’ll take you to AP for a shopping spree.” I wink, but I’m not kidding in the least.

  “AP?”

  “Agent Provocateur,” I say, smirking. “I bet they have a few pieces you’d look . . . smashing in. I could dare you to give me a fashion show right there in the dressing rooms.”

  With the afternoon sun coming in the windows, I can see the flutter of her racing heartbeat in the exposed line of her neck. I think she’s rather excited by the idea, as am I.

  “We’ll see, but I feel like you’re counting your chickens before they hatch. I haven’t even said I’m for sure going.”

  While that is technically true, we’ve booked two seats on the flight, a two-bedroom suite at the hotel, and she’s planning her wardrobe as we speak. She’s going. She’s just not ready to admit it.

  “Touché. And hatched or not, why, exactly, would one need to count chickens?”

  Elle’s laughter is raucous. “I have no idea. It’s just an expression.”

  “Another delightfully odd one. I’m sure you’ll find some of the slang in London to be amusing as well. I’ve lost the habit of some of it, but hearing Lizzie always makes me smile. I suspect you’ll need translations as much I do here sometimes.”

  I’m still talking as if she’s going, and she doesn’t correct me this time, but that she hasn’t said it straight out is beginning to make me nervous. I assumed Daniel would balk and Elle would have some reservations, but I honestly expected her to be certain by now. Truthfully, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d sassily told her father where to stuff it with his overbearing protectiveness. I have a feeling it will come to that before he backs off and lets her alone.

  The looming question, though, makes me long for surety, for her to be as invested in this as I am. But she is right about one thing. I don’t fight fair, and there’s one thing I can offer her that Daniel can’t. Well, actually, there are several—a career not based on nepotism, freedom to be her daring self, and world travel. But I have one other thing in mind.

  “I’d say we’ve had quite a productive day, wouldn’t you?” Elle looks up and nods agreeably. “Just one thing we haven’t done today.”

  She pushes her glasses up, tangling them in her hair as she narrows her gaze. “And what’s that?”

  Smart girl. She can hear the change in my tone, the dark desires creeping into what has been our professional conversation.

  “We made a dare of twenty-fours of abstinence, and it seemed we both held to the letter of the dare, down to the slowly ticking hands of the clock. However, you did not sound particularly satisfied by your . . . what did you call it? Lackluster and battery-operated evening? That seems a shame after we teased and taunted each other so mercilessly.”

  Elle may be torn about what to do about her father and this trip to London, but she has no reservations about our fun. At least I have her there, for now.

  Her lips purse, fighting the smirk. “I did tease you quite a bit, didn’t I? Perhaps I should drop another pen? Pick it up slowly with my ass in the air? Guess you finally noticed.”

  She’s planting images in my head, erotic and seductive ones, with the scalpel-like precision of a surgeon. But she’s not the only one who’s been paying attention to what’s arousing.

  “That would be a sight to behold. But I have another idea.”

  I wait, letting the dramatic pause add flair to her anticipation. “Come here, Elle.”

  She’s out of her chair in a second, coming around behind my desk where I’ve turned my chair. I spread my legs, manspreading, I’ve heard it called, and she steps between them as though she’s going to sit on my lap again.

  “Na-ah-ah. On your knees.”

  I see the hesitation, her mind whirring so loudly I can almost hear her thoughts. With narrowed eyes that communicate that she’s still not committed to this course of action, she follows the order, dropping to her knees.

  “Good girl.” Her brow arches sardonically, warning me. I lean forward, getting in her space the way she’s in mine. “I want to be crystal clear. This has nothing to do with work or with London. This is just you and me, like before. Agreed?”

  She seems relieved, her shoulders dropping from their scrunched position and the line of her lips relaxing. I can’t resist giving her a smacking kiss, my hand wrapped around the back of her neck. She calms even more.

  “Okay. What did you have in mind, sir?”

  There she is. My daring girl.

  “A dare, of course. Helen will be here at three to coordinate her workload for the week, and you know she’s a stickler for punctuality. I thought we could make good use of the fifteen minutes until she arrives.”

  “I’m guessing I already know what you’d consider a ‘good use of our time’ given our current positions?” She’s grinning, and I can see the hum of energy flowing through her as she wiggles like a happy puppy about to get a biscuit.

  I smirk back. “Well, I did have some options I thought you might take under advisement.” Corporate babble has never sounded so weirdly sexy as it does right now. I even consider making a joke about mergers, but she jumps in before I get the chance.

  “I dare you . . .” Her fingertip goes to my chest, pushing me back in my chair. “To take your dick out, right here in your office. I’m going to suck you off. I know that’s what you want, but I’m not going to make it that easy for you.”

  I hoped she wouldn’t. My fingers are already deftly undoing the button of my pants, though I give a sly glance to the door. It’s closed but not locked.

  “Fourteen minutes, Elle.”

  I undo the zipper as well, shoving everything down and pulling my already hard cock out. Precum leaks from the crown, running a single clear rivulet down my shaft. Elle groans hungrily, and it’s taking all I have to not lift my hips toward her mouth.

  “Want to hear the rest of it?” She bites her lip, knowing she’s driving me mad and loving every second of it.

  Tick tock. The clock is moving too fast, and her mouth isn’t full of dick yet.

  “I’m going to suck you down my throat, and you are not going to do a damn thing. Hands behind your head, hips still. You’re going to sit there and let me service you, sir.”

  Another drop of precum oozes from my tip, and victory is already written on her face. “If you can make it until two fifty-eight without coming, I’ll be still and you can fuck my face and come down my throat. But either way, you’re done by three.”

  I hiss, already on the edge. There’s no way I’ll make it, but the idea is sexy as fuck.

  “Agreed?” Elle bats her eyelashes at me like she’s got all the time in the world.

  “Yes, yes . . . please.” I know I’m begging like a weakling, but she’s driving me bonkers. My fingers are already interlaced behind my head, my neck craned to have to the best view.

  But her f
ingers go to the waistband of her jeans, undoing the button and unzipping the zipper. “You didn’t think you were the only one going to get off, did you?”

  Fuck it, I think. I could just lay her over my desk and slide into her heat right now. We’d both come in record time, I predict. But her brow arches haughtily, a silent reprimand, and I stay still like a fucking good boy.

  As I watch closely, her hand disappears and begins moving inside her jeans. “Fuck, Elle.”

  She smirks, an evil seductive temptress destroying me without even touching me. But finally, blessedly, she does. Her mouth kisses my crown, sucking the precum that’s pouring forth, and she moans in delight as my flavor coats her tongue.

  She swallows me halfway on the next stroke, and a jolt shoots from my spine through my hips. Though I manage to stay still, I can’t stop my mouth. “That’s it, love. Take all of me. Suck my cock and rub that pretty pussy. Are you wet for me?”

  In answer, she takes her hand out of her jeans and pushes her fingers into my mouth. I suck them clean, savoring her flavor. I whimper when she takes them away, shoving them back into her snug jeans.

  She’s bobbing over me with haste now, messily and loudly sucking me down deep. Her eyes cut to the clock and she pulls off. “Two fifty-eight. Do it.”

  Not needing to be told twice, I grab her head, guiding her as she takes me back into her mouth. I use my hands to hold her still, fucking her mouth as I watch her carefully. My cock disappears down to the root as she takes me deep into her throat.

  “Fuckin’ hell, Elle. Make yourself come because I’m going to come down your throat.”

  She cries out around me, falling over the edge, and her thighs quiver beneath her. The vibration of her pleasured sounds pulses in her throat, milking my orgasm from me. I hold her against me, buried as deep in her as I can get, and she swallows every drop.

  The clock on the wall ticks over the hour. Perfect timing.

  Elle wipes the corners of her lips daintily as if we’re at fucking tea with the queen, which makes me smile. Sexy minx and mannered lady, with a healthy dose of crazy daredevil added for spice. She’s so fucking perfect.

  “Best get back to your desk. Helen will be here any second.” As she turns, buttoning her jeans, I swat at her ass.

  Her head whips around. “Mr. Wolfe. That is inappropriate at the office. If that happens again, I’ll have to talk to HR.” Teasing heat shines in her eyes as she scolds me, and I can’t help but laugh.

  I tuck myself away too, soft and spent. “Maybe we’ll both have to chat with HR. I was just sitting here, minding my own business and being still, when my assistant just gave me a jobby out of nowhere.”

  “Shh,” she hisses. “It’s three o’clock, and you know who might hear you.”

  As if her words conjured Helen, I hear papers rustling outside the door. A moment later, the knock is loud, as though Helen doesn’t want to interrupt anything. I wonder if she suspects something? But Elle and I have been discreet at the office, just silliness, mostly. The sexy teases have been behind closed doors.

  I quickly double-check that both Elle and I are righted and at our respective desks and call out, “Come in.”

  Helen comes in like a woman on a mission. “Good afternoon, Mr. Wolfe, Elle. Shall we get to debriefing on the week’s bullet points? I trust Elle has made the travel arrangements?”

  “She’s finishing them up now, actually. Why don’t we step back to your office so she can focus on that and we can go over your week?” Helen nods and spins, immediately heading for her desk.

  Our travel plans are already made, though there are several more items I’d like research on before we make the final proposal. “Elle, can you pull the most recent tax laws, please, including anything currently proposed and expected to pass? I know I looked at them before, but I want to really dig into the potential benefits and pitfalls there.”

  I leave Elle to that assignment, hoping she’ll also spend some brain power deciding whether to accompany me, and go into the outer office, helping Helen with the handover of the duties she’ll be overseeing here. Thankfully, she’s already up to speed on most of them, having been my right-hand woman for so long. But we do a run-through of everything so that we’re on the same page, with aligned expectations.

  “What if something hits the fan?” Helen asks. “Afternoon here is past bedtime for you in London, and if there’s no time—”

  “Helen, you’re as keen as any executive here. So go with your gut and send me an email with your decision on any issues. I’ll back you. It’s not like I’m unreachable, either. I’m going to London, not the moon. I’ll call in daily to get updates, both from you and from Gary and Debra. I’m not abandoning you, but I do trust you in my stead.”

  It’s simple and truthful, but Helen’s touched by my endorsement. From that moment on, we fly through the rest of our work, Helen trusting her instincts and brains more and more. By the time four thirty rolls around, I feel fully confident in her, and equally important, Helen feels confident in herself.

  “Go home,” I tell Helen finally. “Have a good dinner, a nice bottle of wine, and relax. Because tomorrow’s going to be your debut on the big stage.”

  “Sounds good . . . and thanks, Colton,” she says, grabbing her purse and disappearing. I give her a minute to get to the elevator before going back into my main office, where Elle’s gnawing at the tip of a pen, looking confused.

  “Have you made your decision?” I ask without preamble, assuming what’s got her nose wrinkled so adorably. “We’re wheels up tomorrow, Elle.”

  “I . . . I just don’t know,” Elle says, tossing her pen on her desk. “Colton, I need you to understand something, to truly get what it is you’re asking of me. It’s been Dad and me for so long. Mom left us, walked out and said fuck you to the two of us, and we were destroyed for a while. Ever since, he’s done everything he can for me. He doesn’t want me to get hurt or let me out of his sight. He doesn’t want to lose all he has left.”

  I grit my teeth, both understanding and not. I don’t have family like this. As I told Elle, I’m the black sheep of my family, so this parental protective streak feels foreign to me. But I can see that it’s coming from a place of love. Truth is, I don’t hate Daniel. In almost any other situation, I’d consider him a mate and be happy to share a pint with him down at the pub. It’s just that he’s between me and my dream, and now, between Elle and what I think her dream is.

  There’s a time for every baby bird to leave the nest.

  “A caged bird stands on the grave of dreams.” I’m sad for her, angry for her. I can see her wings being clipped before my very eyes.

  “What?”

  “It’s from a Maya Angelou poem I read as a boy. Your dad loves you and has created a beautiful life for you, but no matter how golden, it is still a cage. I won’t begrudge you if you’d rather live comfortably there. I can even understand the appeal. But I’m standing here with the key to your future, the cage door open, and yet, you’re too afraid to fly.”

  She flinches, the smallest tightening of her jaw, when I say she’s afraid. Daring girl doesn’t much care for that.

  “But what if I’m already flying? Have you ever seen a hummingbird eating? They look like they’re floating in midair. Like magic. But they’re working their asses off, flapping their wings like mad. We just can’t see it. Maybe I’m flying and you don’t want to see it.”

  “Perhaps.” I don’t want to admit that she’s right, but she may have a point.

  “You say I’m caged, but what you’re offering isn’t freedom. It’s just a different cage. One of your making instead of Dad’s.”

  I swallow thickly, unprepared for the depth this whole situation has taken. I meant for this to be fun, an adventure for us both. Yes, with the boon of pissing off Daniel and increasing my odds of realizing my own dreams.

  But somewhere along the way, it became about the battle for Elle’s dreams and her heart.

  Whether she gives t
hat to me or not, I truly want her to recognize the power she wields in making her own dreams come true.

  “Come on,” I tell her, reaching over and taking her hand. “I have an idea, a dare.”

  Chapter 18

  Elle

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “What?” Colton asks, following my eyes. “I’ve seen this place from the highway dozens of times. Before, I never gave it much thought. Now, it seems like fun.”

  He doesn’t have to say that he means he never considered doing something this outrageous before I came into his life. I hear that underlying truth loud and clear.

  My eyes are currently fixed at the top of a crane towering over us, the blinking light at the top mocking me and probably warning low-flying aircraft to stay away. Around us, miniature golfers do their thing, go-karts scream around a track, and off to the side, neon lights advertise an arcade with something called a ‘Tilt-A-Hurl’, but the pride of Fun Land towers over us. This is not the same family friendly putt-putt place I took him to. This is a three AM, crack-high crazy idea of an amusement park for adrenalin junkies.

  “Colton, that damn thing’s half a mile in the air!” I protest, my stomach sinking as someone leaps from the crane, their screams the only way I can track their progress through the darkening sky. I keep waiting for the sound of a human body bouncing off the asphalt surrounding us, but instead, laughter soon rings out . . . whether that’s relief or just insanity, I’m not quite sure.

  “It’s 125 feet,” Colton corrects me, pointing at the sign advertising the ‘Leap of Faith’ bungee jump. He takes my hand, giving it a squeeze. “You said you were afraid of heights but that you’d base jump if given the chance. And if a dare were involved, of course. I thought you’d like the challenge of this. Seems appropriate, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe, but I suddenly have a very strong desire not to place my life in the hands of what’s basically a giant rubber band,” I reply.

  “Come here.” Colton leads me over to a picnic table, the smell of cheap pizza and churros wafting like perfume from the garbage can full of greasy paper plates and leftovers nearby. Sitting me down, he straddles the bench, turning me to face him, his knees outside mine.