by Hazel Jacobs
“Mikayla likes it.”
“Mikayla likes you, so she’s willing to choke down that shit. Sersha spat it out the first time she tried it.”
“Tommy just scared her.”
Logan nudges Tessa’s thigh with his boot. “Whatever happens, do not feel obligated to pretend you like his cake.”
“Go have sex with your wife,” Dash says, shooing his older brother upstairs and closing the door behind him before he can answer.
Tessa watches Logan go, then directs a concerned look to the container in Dash’s hands. “You made it yourself, huh?”
“Yeah,” he says. Then he starts shuffling from foot to foot. “Yeah, and the guys always joke that they don’t like it. I don’t really know…” he glances up to the ceiling in thought, “… I like it. But you might not.”
“My mom taught me how to bake when I was younger,” Tessa says, scooting closer and grabbing him by the wrist to pull him down to her. “If it’s no good, then we can figure out how to fix it.”
“You wouldn’t lie to me, right?”
She gives him a look. “Never,” she replies, as seriously as she can.
There’s a brief moment where Dash just stares at her. Her lips, in particular, but also her eyes and her nose, and the curve of her neck. Tessa feels like she ought to be self-conscious, but all she can think about is how much his expression reminds her of the look Jackie would wear when she was on the ice, or the look her father had worn when Tessa had graduated college. Like there’s something magical happening, and he’s not sure what to do about it.
“Here, give me the fork,” she says.
He does, mutely. Still wearing that expression like he’s trying to decide if she’s real. “You never talk about your mom.”
“That’s because I despise her,” Tessa replies. “But she was good for something. She taught me how to cook.”
“My mom didn’t want us,” Dash tells her.
Tessa and Dash share a look. The awe is gone and replaced with comradery. The comradery of two kids whose mothers sucked and didn’t know what to do with them.
He opens the Tupperware container, and Tessa dips her fork inside, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. After a while, she swallows.
“Needs another egg,” she says, reaching forward to take another bite even though her taste buds are going to hate her for it. “And you need to change the chocolate. It’s not cooking chocolate, is it?”
He shrugs. “I don’t think so?”
“And I think you need more baking powder.”
Dash licks his lips, takes the fork out of her hand and tastes the cake. Tessa ignores the little flutter in her chest that happens when he puts the fork in his mouth without a second thought. The man has walked her through a step-by-step plan for how he would eat her out—the fact that he’s giving her indirect kisses is not the most erotic thing he’s done.
“Show me?” he asks.
“Okay,” she replies.
Would I lie to you? By Charles and Eddie plays in the background.
The chilled out guitar filters through the iPod jack in the middle of the kitchen table, the gentle drums competing against the banging of the mixing bowl as Dash whisks the cake batter.
“Would I lie to you, baby? Would I lie to you?” he sings along.
Tessa shakes her head at him, which only makes him shake his ass in response. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re sexy.”
She sticks her tongue out at him because that’s the only way to avoid blushing at the matter-of-fact way that he says it.
They’ve nearly trashed the kitchen with their attempts to make a cake. Dash had shooed Sersha and Harper out and immediately started pulling bowls and ingredients out of the fridge. Tessa had briefly supervised until he’d tried to smash an egg directly into the cake mix and she’d been forced to step in. Then he’d set up the iPod and started twirling her around, completely distracting her. She tried to put him to work, but it was like wrangling a cat into a basket.
“You’re going to spill it.” Dash tries to lick the spoon, and she quickly covers his mouth. “Don’t you dare.”
Dash gives her a cheeky wink, but instead of licking her hand like she would expect one of her brothers to do, Dash slides the bowl onto the table and takes her hand, spinning her around. He takes her hip, scoops her up and holds her bridal style. Tessa throws her head back and laughs as he shakes his ass with her in his arms.
The song changes and Little Mix’s ‘Love Me Like You’ starts. Dash drops Tessa to the ground and twirls her again, before settling both of his hands on her hips and pressing his chest against hers.
“Having fun?” he asks.
Tessa nods, grinning. It’s warm in his arms, and the first thing she thinks is that she doesn’t ever want to leave, but she knows she has to eventually. For one thing, they’re going to need to make this cake together. For another, they’re in the middle of a kitchen where anyone can walk in at any time. Tommy and Slate had disappeared with Mikayla after their bathroom incident, and Logan and the girls could walk in at any time.
Feeling Dash pressed against her does feel good. She can feel him everywhere, and she can imagine him all over her. Especially after the amount of times they’ve exchanged ideas and plans. With how close they are, Tessa can feel the heavy bulge between his legs.
Holy shit! That thing seriously deserves a fucking postcode, she thinks.
But you got that nasty. And that’s what I want. Tessa realizes that she’s singing out loud, and Dash is watching her lips like he did with the spoon covered in chocolate cake batter. Tessa is hyper aware of his body. The way his hands reflexively clutch at her hips. The way his Adam’s apple bobs when he looks at her. And she feels herself starting to heat all over.
“Hey Tess…” he says, then he swallows and closes his mouth like he’s changed his mind.
“Yeah?” Tessa prompts.
There’s something going on behind his eyes. Something that, on anyone else, she would have called nerves. But that can’t be right because Dash doesn’t get nervous. Dash doesn’t hesitate to flirt, to send pics, to demand that she touch herself and tell him how it feels. He doesn’t hesitate to say what’s on his mind and make sure that she’s enjoying it. So why would he be nervous now? When it’s just the two of them. Two friends making a cake while cheesy pop music plays on the iPod?
He wants to impress you, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Logan’s floats through her mind.
Achievement unlocked, she thinks.
He dips his head down to press against her forehead, and Tessa’s eyes flutter closed. She tilts her head up just a little bit, inviting the kiss she hopes is coming, but Dash seems content to just rest there.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he says, his voice nearly lost to the music.
“So am I.”
“I never thought I’d really get to meet you,” he continues. It’s as though he hadn’t even heard her, and when she opens her eyes, she can see him staring at her earnestly like he wants her to understand something unsaid. “And you’re… way better than I thought you would be. Like, way better.”
She reaches up to put her hands on his jaw and feels the sharp intake of his breath when his chest moves against hers. “Likewise,” she says.
“It’s… no, that’s not even close to it. You’re just—”
Tessa cuts him off by pressing their lips together.
It’s a sudden, impulsive decision, but at the same time, she feels as though she’s been waiting for this from the moment he’d sent her that picture. It’s the culmination of five months of texting, of several days of flirting, of half a day spent talking and learning each other in the comfort of his home, surrounded by the people he loves the most.
Dash immediately responds to the kiss. He pulls her hips closer and brings his arms up, caressing her ass and up her back so he’s half-hugging her, holding her in his strong arms with his shoulders broad enough to completely envelop her
. Tessa has never felt so completely warm and safe in a kiss. It’s as though his arms have created a wall between her and the world, and there’s nothing that can get to her as long as she doesn’t break the kiss.
Not that she would want to. Because while his arms are pulling her closer, his tongue and lips are expertly making her shiver. Dash used to brag that he could make her fall apart—that he could ruin her for all other men—and now that he’s got her in his arms Tessa is starting to understand that his words may not be as exaggerated as she’d thought that they were when he’d first said it.
Tessa pushes herself as close to him as she can get, running her hands over his strong jaw before wrapping her arms around his neck and practically leaping up to wrap her legs around his hips. He holds her easily, not even bothering to try and put her on the table. He doesn’t need to. She grinds down on the bulge in his pants and feels him groan beneath her.
It isn’t until the song changes again, and she can hear their heavy breathing and the smacking of their lips in the silence of the kitchen, that Tessa realizes that she’s making out with her best friend in the middle of his family’s kitchen.
She pulls away—reluctantly—and breathes into his mouth for a moment.
“Can we take this somewhere else?” she asks.
Dash nods. They’re too close, so she can’t see his face, but when she goes to pull away, he holds her right where she is. Instead of putting her down so they can walk, he turns toward the door with her still in his arms, walking out of the kitchen. Tessa presses her forehead to his, desperate to feel the safety she’s come to associate with him when they pass through the living room because she doesn’t want to see whether someone is sitting in there—her boss, Logan, or the girls. That would be mortifying.
He carries her upstairs to a door along a tiny hallway. He doesn’t even fumble with the doorknob, and just as the door is swinging open Tessa’s mind registers just how well-practiced he is at this.
How many women has Dash carried through his house?
Probably a lot.
This is most likely a normal Saturday for him.
Tessa feels a pang of jealousy, then accepts it. She is kissing Dash.
She is finally kissing her dorky D.
She knows that she’s not the first, and she’s not going to be the last. He’s her friend first, and that’s important, but she’d be a fool to think that this is love. To think that he’s going to suddenly change would be completely irrational. But she can enjoy this, at least. She can be his best friend and enjoy his fun, dark, playful side at the same time.
When he finally drops her onto a bed, she takes a moment to look around. She can’t smother her grin—the room is a massive nerd cave. There’s so many different posters on the walls for various fandoms that she can’t even tell what color the wall is. And so many bobble heads and figurines on the shelves that she wonders where he even puts his clothes. The bed she’s on is a huge king with gray sheets that feel soft, but not unnecessarily so. There’s a desk against the wall absolutely covered in books with complicated titles on the spines, and stacked ten high and fifteen deep. She can see at least three different guitars from where she lays—two acoustics and one electric—as well as an amp beside the bedside table.
Tessa realizes that she’s been staring around the room too long. She looks up to see Dash looking down at her, watching her. That hesitant flicker is back in his eyes again. Tessa wants to reach out and draw him in, but she wonders if that’s even what he wants. Maybe he’d brought her up here on a whim, and now that he has her here, he’s not entirely sure if he wants to do what their kiss had clearly been promising.
So she smiles, relaxing her shoulders and body to show him that it’s okay. She sits up on the bed and slowly opens her legs inviting him in.
Something in his posture, changes. He smiles slyly and reaches for her hand, stepping between her legs and dipping down to kiss her again.
“Do you want a drink?” he asks, muttering against her lips.
“It’s… a little early, isn’t it?”
“Time is a construct,” he replies.
Tessa wonders if he needs a little liquid courage. That doesn’t seem like Dash. But she nods, because that’s clearly what he’s expecting, and maybe this is a way to divert attention from the fact that they’re in his bedroom for the first time since he’d sent her that picture five months ago. This moment has been building up between them for a while.
Dash leans over her, and for a second Tessa thinks that he’s pressing her into the bed. But he’s reaching over her head to the shelf on the wall, pulling a bottle of whiskey down.
She raises her eyebrow at him. “Do you have glasses?”
Dash smirks. There’s something, almost well-practiced about it. Tessa isn’t sure if she can put her finger on it, but it doesn’t feel the same as the genuine smirks and smiles she’s gotten used to seeing on his face since they met properly.
“Don’t need them.” He puts a hand on her shoulder and gently presses her onto the bed. “I’ll need to take your shirt off, though.”
It sounds like he’s reciting a script. Like he’s done this a hundred times before, and maybe he has. Maybe this is his signature move. Maybe this is what he does with all the girls that he takes into his bedroom. Tessa chooses not to be disappointed about that. Sure, there’s a tiny part of her that would have liked to be special. But now, in this moment, she just wants to give in to this obsessive, adoration she feels for him.
Tessa allows herself to be pushed onto the bed. Dash rips her shirt over her shoulders, and she lets it go willingly, feeling the cool air raise goosebumps on her skin. Leaning back, Dash stares down at her with his eyes scanning like he’s trying to memorize her, and that touch of uncertainty returns to his face. But when she reaches for his shirt, he shifts back and pushes her hand away.
“No, don’t,” he says slowly, hovering right in her space with an animalistic gleam to his eyes. “I’m not that easy, Tess. I want to play a little, first.”
Tessa wants to disobey, whimper, do something, but she’s almost dumbstruck by the sight of him leering down at her with such a darkness that it makes her freeze. He unscrews the bottle. His eyes never leaving hers, then lets a splash of whiskey trail down her stomach.
Before Tessa can gasp at the cool liquid, he’s following it with his tongue, lapping at her skin and humming. Tessa shivers for an entirely new reason. Her mind supplies her with the texts and the calls that they’ve shared, where he would describe exactly what he would do with her if he had her in front of him. He’d never mentioned whiskey before. But the way he’s making her feel right now like she’s a ball of liquid fire that he can’t wait to dive into, is intoxicating.
“Dash,” she says. His name is the only thing on her mind right now.
He finishes licking up the last of the whiskey and leans up to kiss her, sharing the taste of the burning liquid. When he breaks the kiss, he hums contentedly and leans his head against hers.
“Yes, Tess?”
“Please take your pants off. Like now.”
Not the most risqué thing she’s ever said to him, but it makes his breath hitch, and she sees darkness flash through his eyes again. He pulls away from her infinitesimally. Then his face morphs back into the smirk that makes her think that he’s planned this in a little too much detail.
“Like I said, baby, I’m not easy. Besides, this is more fun. Don’t you think?”
He splashes the whiskey onto her chest, and Tessa hisses at the cold contact. She feels it seeping into her bra, and she wonders why he hasn’t tried to take it off yet. But then she realizes that he’s too busy licking her clean to worry about it. Some of the whiskey pools in her collarbone, and he kisses along the bone when he’s done cleaning her off.
Tessa wraps her legs around his hips, pulling him closer so she can grind against him. She feels him warm and hard. The feeling of that pressure against her pussy and his hot, ragged breath against her skin
makes her whine.
“Dash—”
“Tess,” he says sternly, “Good things come to those who wait, baby. And trust me when I say good things.”
I want the good things now.
Tessa groans as he leans over to kiss her again, sharing more of the amber liquid. He pours a little into the hollow of her throat and breaks the kiss briefly to dip down and take the shot.
It is at this moment that Tessa realizes how utterly powerless she is here. Not that he would force her—she doesn’t need to be forced. In this moment, she would do anything, say anything, be anything, if he wanted her to. This is completely new to her. She’s never felt so painfully desperate and so obsessive. And the fact that Dash has gone all dark and erotic, the fact that he’s become this entirely new person when she’s taken her shirt off, only adds the fuel to her burning need.
Dash leans back onto his knees and stares her down, his eyes dark enough to look almost black. Instead of getting scared, it makes Tessa bare her throat in submission.
Dash’s hand scoops her up, and she feels herself turning so that she’s on her front with her back displayed. Before Tessa can do anything, she feels the cool liquid pouring onto the small of her back, and she remains perfectly still while she waits for the delicious warmth of Dash’s tongue to follow it. Sure enough, he slowly licks, leaving a trail of burning need hitting her insides, running the tip of his tongue over the edge of her lace bottoms before biting her hip.
If he can make her throb with need with just his tongue on her back, imagine what he would do to her if he put it in other places…
Tessa wants to turn around, wants to demand that he fucks her all the way into tomorrow. In the past, she’s always been a demanding lover. Mostly because she knew that the men she was with wouldn’t know how to please her. But this time, it’s pretty clear that she doesn’t need to give directions. And even if she did, with Dash in this dark, bossy mood, there’s no guarantee that he would even take the directions she gave him.