In the Pines

by Laura Lascarso

  Dare pulled his car into the garage, closing the door behind us. It was a five-car garage, but only Dare’s Jag and his mom’s Mercedes were inside. Mason’s truck was probably still impounded for evidence. Our footsteps echoed hollowly as we crossed the concrete floor.

  Inside, the Chalmers house felt a little haunted, and it wasn’t just because of all the antiques and fancy furniture. When we walked past Mason’s room, Dare turned his head as if it was habit to see if Mason was there, but of course, he wasn’t. At Dare’s bedroom, I stood just inside his doorway, wondering if this was a friendly sleepover or if Dare had something else in mind. Without the cover of dim lighting and loud music, I felt very shy and nervous.

  Dare reached for my hand and drew me inside. He shut the door behind us, which seemed significant to me in a way I couldn’t describe.

  “That boy with the rainbow hair was hitting on you.” Dare stared at me intently, perhaps to gauge my reaction.

  “Was he?” I said with a slow smile. If he was jealous, that must mean he cared.

  “I leave you alone for one minute….” He shook his head, then leaned closer so I could see the delicate hollow where his stubbled jaw met his neck and smell his cherry-cola breath. My eyes fluttered a little, and my head tilted forward, falling under his spell.

  “Did I mention my parents aren’t home?” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple dipping a little in his elegant throat.

  I touched the tip of his pointed chin with my finger. “You did.”

  He bowed his head and looked up at me under his thick, dark lashes. His lips curved into a teasing grin. “I think we should take advantage of the situation.”

  I could feel the heat of his body and smell his sweat and cologne, a heady cocktail that thrilled my senses and made my body ache for him, even while my mind was telling me to be careful.

  With the exception of solving crimes, I was cautious to a fault. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d actually end up in Dare Chalmers’s bedroom, being invited to make out with him so sweetly and tenderly. I didn’t want to take advantage of Dare’s shaky emotional state. Still, I couldn’t resist the needy, vulnerable look in his eyes.

  “Whatever you want, Dare.”

  I placed my hand on his waist as though we were dancing, a slow one this time. Starting at my wrist, he ran his fingertips up the inside of my forearm and traced the hill of my bicep.

  He drifted closer, as if by accident, and nudged the tip of my nose with his own. I inhaled him, letting his scent wash over me and flavor my mounting brew of desire. I went for the underside of his jaw, leaving a constellation of kisses until I reached his neck, still with the subtle spice from his cologne. His stubble scratched my lips where I brushed up against him.

  “Mmmmm…,” he murmured, leaning back and rolling his shoulders. He reached for my buckle and unfastened it, slowly pulling the belt from around my waist one loop at a time while watching my expression. Slowly, as if building the suspense. I tugged at the elastic collar of his shirt and kissed him from his collarbone to his shoulder and back, becoming better acquainted with the taste of his skin. Dare slipped his thigh between my legs and pressed against me. I answered the call, my hard-on surging against the fly of my pants, stretched tight to contain it.

  “Thanks for coming out with me tonight,” Dare whispered. His hand trailed down to the outside of my pants, and he gave me a proprietary squeeze. “Did you have fun?”

  I moaned in assent. My hands found the angles of his shoulder blades, and I pulled him closer, so there was nothing between us except the thin, swishy fabric of our shirts. “You’re a good dancer. And kisser. And you’re so, so hot, Dare.” I panted on his neck. His skin was like fire, or maybe it was my own. Even when my mouth wasn’t on him, I felt like I couldn’t get a full breath.

  “Is this for me?” He rubbed me with slow, rhythmic strokes. I leaned on him for support, my forearms resting on his shoulders, unable to think about anything outside the sensations he was coaxing from me. Peaks and valleys of pleasure, electric tremors, he put me in a throbbing torpor.

  “It’s for you.” I was breathless, each word coming out in a rasp. “All… for… you.”

  I ran my hands up under his shirt, over the hard planes of his chest, then around to his smooth, muscled back. Unsatisfied with that barrier, I tugged at it, and like magic, his shirt came off. His chest was smooth with hardly any hair, and I wondered if he shaved. His nipples pebbled from the cold, and I touched one of them with my fingertip experimentally. I wanted to taste it, but there was so much bare skin, I was a little overwhelmed by where to begin.

  Meanwhile his nimble fingers unbuttoned my shirt, and I shrugged it off my shoulders. Our chests pressed together, and it felt like metal being forged by fire where our skin touched. My fingers scaled up his back while his hands fisted the curls atop my head and his tongue drove deeper into my mouth. Then he pulled me back by my hair and latched on to my neck. Sucked hard.

  “Dare,” I groaned, the vibrations rumbling in my chest like an idling engine.

  He pushed me back so that I was sitting on his bed. I scooted backward, and in my utter inexperience, prepared for him as a catcher might for a curve ball. Dare’s eyes went from soft and dewy to sharp and catlike as he crawled toward me. He saddled my lap with his ropey thighs digging in on either side of my hips and pressed his warm mouth against mine. His kiss was aggressive this time, his teeth scraping against my lower lip with urgency.

  “I am so here for this,” I murmured, trying to match his tempo. How many times had I fantasized some variation of this scene with only my hand to inspire me? This was a whole new dimension for me, like a color never before seen by my naked eye. Dare’s skin-lips-muscles-moans-scents… so much to process all at once. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “Believe it…,” Dare murmured, nibbling at my earlobe.

  He slowed it down a little as I kissed his neck and chest, making my way down to taste one nipple and then the other. I hoped I wasn’t being too slobbery, but his skin tasted so good, and I liked leaving a bit of myself behind. I tried not to think about what came next and to just enjoy these sensations as they built within me. Dare ground against me in a languid motion, both of us still constrained by our pants. Damn these clothes. As if knowing my thoughts, Dare reached down and unfastened the button of my jeans, yanked open the zippered fly, and caught me squarely in his fist.

  “Oh shit, Dare.” I gasped as he squeezed with just the right amount of pressure. I didn’t know what to expect in all this, but I trusted Dare to know what to do. He’d take care of me.

  “Like that?” he whispered, his hot breath tickling my ear, followed soon after by his tongue.

  “Yesssss,” I hissed as his hand slid over me a few more times. I curled inward while trying to maintain some semblance of control, but Dare was swiftly undoing me. Somewhere in the back of my mind I thought I should be doing something for him in return, but my need for him to keep going was louder than my reason.

  Then he stood above me on the bed, peeled back his pants—no underwear—shoved them down to his ankles, and kicked them off.

  “We bare all,” I quipped, and he smiled devilishly before dropping back down to my lap and grinding against me once more. I leaned up to close the gap between us as he dug his knees into my sides.

  “Tell me what I can do for you.” I didn’t want to be selfish.

  “I got this one, Charlie. Just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

  Still smiling, Dare reached over to his top drawer, pulled out a plastic container, and pumped some gel into his fist. He rubbed his hands together to warm them, then grabbed on to both of us. His slick hand rolled up and over the tip of my straining cock with practiced skill while his hips echoed the motion. My heart galloped in my chest, and I gasped like we were in the last sprint of a marathon, trying to ride out this sensation before I climaxed and proved to him just how enthusiastically new to this I was.

  “Kiss me,” I begg
ed. I wanted every part of him attached to me.

  His mouth found mine again, and I grabbed ahold of his smooth asscheeks. We locked on to each other like two pistons, grinding hotter and faster. His motions were so in sync with what I wanted. I squeezed the globes of his ass and urged him on. He bucked against me, getting us both off with a mounting friction, and I gripped him hard enough to leave bruises, loving his weight and the pressure of his pounding. I imagined impaling him from that angle, driving right up into him, and that’s when I exploded into Dare’s fist. Stars danced behind my eyes and my vision went fuzzy as Dare groaned, a deep guttural utterance that sounded as old as time—for as long as humankind has been satiating their carnal lust with the flesh of another. Dare lifted up to his knees and arched back, letting go of his cock completely. It twitched twice, then spurted hot ribbons of cum that cascaded over my chest like paint splashed across a canvas. Dare howled a deep, thundering war cry that reverberated in my chest.

  “Whoa,” I said in response to his stellar performance, almost theatric in nature. Dare shuddered once from the aftershocks, then smiled triumphantly and pushed me back against the decorative pillows with his now messy hand. He spread his palm across my chest and mixed our juices together. What a delightful mess.

  He kissed me softly, then sat back on his heels and finger painted symbols around my nipples.

  “I’m marking you,” he explained.

  “Consider me marked,” I said with a grin.

  “It’s going to be a bitch getting all that jizz out of your chest hair,” he said, rubbing it in even more.

  “Not even worried about it.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “Well, I am. That’s my pillow. I’ll be right back.”

  He walked over to the bathroom, and I watched his naked form—long legs, tight, twitching ass—still shocked that this was my life. I heard the water running, and he returned with a warm towel and carefully wiped up the traces of our mutual orgasms. It reminded me of Daniela’s hot towel when she gave me my first facial. His tenderness disarmed me.

  “Hop up,” he said when he’d finished cleaning me. He turned down the comforter and threw the fancy pillows on the floor so only the sleeping ones remained. He gestured for me to climb in. I wasn’t sure if I should dress or not, but he was still buck naked, so I left just my boxers on, still too shy to sleep completely naked. At any point I expected Dare to pull away, but once under the covers, he sidled up next to me again. “You a cuddler?” he asked.

  His question put me in a tailspin. Was I a cuddler? Shouldn’t I already know that about myself? There was so much about my sensuality I had yet to discover. I lived most of my days in the land of logic while observing from a safe distance. Perhaps part of me knew, in watching Dare onstage, that I needed someone like him to come along and shake me up. Draw me out of my own head and poke me in the best possible way. “I think I am,” I said with more confidence than I felt. I wrapped him up in my arms and nuzzled my nose in his hair, feeling content and fully satiated. For once, my mind was completely empty.

  I was suddenly very tired and didn’t want to think about the fact that we both had to wake up early for school the next day. My eyelids drooped, and I felt myself slipping off into dreamland.

  “Did you think that guy was attractive?” Dare said, rousing me.

  “What guy?” I asked, playing dumb.

  “Gay pride.”

  I smiled into my pillow. “Nathan? Yeah, he was cute.”

  “But I’m cuter.”

  I couldn’t believe he’d make the comparison. “There’s a lot more to a person than what they look like, Dare. Obviously, or you wouldn’t be interested in me.”

  That set him off. He sat up and climbed on top of me, straddling my hips again. “You don’t think you’re hot?” he asked with a dismayed look.

  I glanced away, feeling bashful. “I don’t know. I may be cute to my mother and little old ladies.”

  He planted his palms on my chest. “Charlie, you’ve got a definite hot dork vibe going on. You’re the guy who never dated because you were too focused on your studies and kept so much to yourself that no one knew you were available. Lucky me for figuring it out. I am just getting started with you.”

  I laughed. Did that mean we were together? Or that I might have the opportunity to do that with him again? I didn’t ask. I’d already promised not to force him into anything he wasn’t ready for.

  “I’m the lucky one, Dare.”

  He leaned down and kissed me again, nuzzling my cheek a little. “Don’t ever let me hear you doubt your sex appeal again. I find it personally offensive.”

  “Yes, sir.” I dug my fingertips into his skin, liking the way our scents mingled and formed something new. Dare Chalmers naked on top of me? This was something I could get used to.

  “Charlie?” Dare asked when he was sidled up next to me and I was once again skirting the edges of sleep.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Do you think Coach Gundry did it?”

  I pulled him closer to me, so my mouth was resting comfortably by the shell of his ear. His brother must be on his mind every waking second. I wanted to guarantee him that GPD had gotten their man, but I wasn’t so sure.

  “I don’t know, Dare. But I swear to you, we will find whoever did it. Mason’s death won’t go unanswered.”

  “That’s what I thought,” he murmured. I couldn’t see his face, but I heard the disappointment in his voice, and even though he was right there in my arms, I felt him drifting away.

  “Get some sleep now, Dare. We’ll know more in the morning.”

  He scooted backward against me so we were two concave circles, overlapping. I kissed his shoulder, hoping that even if my words couldn’t reassure him, my body would.

  Chapter 15

  I AWOKE the next morning to the door to Dare’s bedroom being flung open. Standing in the doorway was none other than my mother and Lieutenant Hartsfield, both with guns drawn. I pulled up the covers to hide my near-nakedness and glanced around for Dare. He was gone and I was alone with the early morning light streaming in through the edges of the window blinds like a bald accusation.

  “Mom?” I sat up on the side of the bed and reached for my jeans to tug them on. “What the hell’s going on?”

  “Where’s Darren Chalmers?” Hartsfield barked.

  “I don’t know.” I searched the room again. No Dare. “Maybe in the bathroom?”

  My mother stalked over to the en suite bath and threw open the door. “Clear.”

  Meanwhile, I heard heavy footfalls tromping throughout the house and orders being given. They were searching the entire house. For Dare?

  “Is he okay?” Did something bad happen to him? Is that why they were here? Hartsfield looked at me like I was a criminal. “Did I do something wrong?” I asked Mom, who looked only slightly less wary.

  “Dare is missing, Charlie,” Mom said.

  “Missing?” I ran to the window, looking outside as if they might have walked right past him.

  “Is his car still in the garage?” I asked.

  “No,” Mom said.

  “Where could he be?” My panic was escalating by the second. If the police were here already, that meant he was in trouble, and how could I have let this happen on my watch?

  “Finish getting dressed,” Hartsfield said. “We’re bringing you down to the station. We’ve got a few questions for you.”

  I glanced to my mom to see if what he was saying could possibly be true. She only nodded slightly. “Am I in trouble?” I asked her.

  Before she could answer, Hartsfield cut in. “You know your Miranda rights, don’t you, son?” It sounded like he was giving me fair warning, that anything I said could and would be used against me in a court of law. Sure sounded like they thought I was guilty. I pulled on my shirt, the one Dare had picked out for me just yesterday and buttoned it up. My mother avoided making eye contact, and I could only surmise the investigation had taken a horrible turn.


  Dare was missing, and I was now their number one suspect.

  WHEN I was little, as my parents and I were going over the Sunshine Skyway, a very large and high bridge that spans Tampa Bay, they told me a very horrid story. In its former iteration, the bridge was the site of several tragedies, including an accident in 1980 where a freighter collided with a support column during a blinding thunderstorm and broke the bridge. The drivers, not realizing the bridge had collapsed, continued to plummet, one after another, over the edge of the broken bridge and into Tampa Bay, where most of them died on impact or drowned inside their cars.

  As a result, there was a nightmare that has plagued me most of my life. In it, I’m driving up a bridge that closely resembles the Skyway, but when I reach the apex, the bridge curves up and around, so that inevitably I will get caught in the curled arm of the bridge and fall off. In my dream I try to accelerate fast enough so that my vehicle will mimic a roller coaster, but I can never reach the centrifugal force necessary to hold me to the bridge, and so, like those drivers of old, I too plummet.

  I thought about this dream as I waited to be questioned in the interrogation room of the Gainesville Police Department. The room was a gray cinder block box, cold and impersonal. The metal chairs were bolted to the floor, as was the table, and every surface was smooth, hard, and reflective. The room was designed to make suspects want to get out of there as quickly as possible, and even though I knew the psychology behind it, I found myself having the same compulsion to leave.

  They made me wait. For some reason I thought my loyalty to GPD and my service over the years might afford me some special treatment, but either they were purposely making me sweat or they were busy following up on some other lead. Even though I presumed myself to be in a world of trouble, the main reason I wanted to get the hell out of that interrogation room was to help them find Dare.

  Somebody took him, right from under me, and I might never get him back. The thought of it nearly brought me to tears. How could this have even happened? I was with him—he was literally in my arms when we fell asleep last night, so either he left on his own, or someone snuck in and stole him away.