I hear the truck start, and he hesitates for a minute. I can feel him looking at me, but I don’t meet his eyes. He denied me when I was on my knees for him. My ego took a blow, and I need a minute to recover from the embarrassment of the situation.
Dare huffs out a breath and starts to drive once he realizes I’m not going to budge. My knee bounces restlessly as I stare out the window. This part of town is decked out for Christmas already, all the buildings and trees glowing with lights. It’s such a difference from the city. It’s like something out of a storybook. I focus on a huge tree with color-changing lights, when I feel Dare’s hand on my knee, stopping my movements. He gives a squeeze, and this time I do meet his eyes. Their blue so bright, even under the night sky. Holding my gaze, his thumb moves back and forth, soothing. I swallow hard, resisting the urge to clamp my thighs shut. He trains his attention back on the road, but his hand stays on my leg. His fingers ghost the inside of my thigh, putting the slightest amount of pressure as he slides them up and down the thin fabric of my leggings. My breath comes out in short pants, and I feel myself clench when he gets closer to where I want him. He teases, getting close to the apex of my thighs, only to glide back down.
“Lo,” he says, his voice thick and gravelly.
“Yeah?” I ask, trying to sound normal, as if I’m not all hot and bothered from his touch alone.
“Where does Henry live?”
I do my best to give him directions while he continues his ministrations, but when he grazes my pussy, I freeze. I can’t form words. What are words? I don’t know anything other than I don’t want him to stop this time. I give up trying to act like I’m not affected, my head thrown back against the headrest, gripping the door handle for dear life.
At first, his touch is feather light, but as my breathing grows harsher and my leggings grow damper, he increases pressure until he’s rubbing firm circles against my clit. “Oh God,” I breathe, unable to keep quiet any longer. I feel my nipples harden against my bralette. Every part of me is hypersensitive, ready to combust.
My eyes are screwed shut, but I sense him slowing down and pulling off to the side of the road, never faltering in his assault between my thighs. Once we’re stopped, his hand is gone for half a second before he shifts and replaces it with his left hand.
“You’re so fucking wet I can feel it on my fingers,” he rasps, like he’s somehow as affected as I am. When I open my eyes, Dare’s closer than I expected, one arm propped on the center console as he stares at the hand moving between my legs. The sight of him watching what he’s doing to me turns me on even more, and a sound somewhere between a whine and a whimper slips free.
I pull his face to mine and lick the seam of his lips. This kiss is all tongues and teeth, rough and clumsy and desperate. I suck his bottom lip into my mouth, and he groans when I tug on it with my teeth. His lips trail down to the corner of my mouth, then my jaw. Dare dips his hand under the waistband of my leggings as he sucks on my earlobe. His warm fingers slip through my lips, and my back bows off the seat. Oh, holy shit, why does this feel so good?
“God, I wish this was wrapped around my cock right now,” Dare says, pushing a finger inside me. The heel of his hand presses against my clit, and I gasp as he adds a second finger, tangling a fist in his T-shirt. “Are you going to come on my hand?”
I nod repeatedly, unable to find words.
“Come for me.”
I’m holding my breath, waiting for my orgasm to wash over me when his teeth dig into my neck, biting hard before sucking away the sting. That’s all it takes for me to contract around his fingers, over and over. It’s never-ending, completely uncontrollable. Dare continues to lick and nip at my neck, shoulder, and jaw as I come down, still pulsing and completely boneless.
“Holy shit,” I breathe when I can finally form words. Slowly, Dare pulls his fingers from me, then rubs me over my leggings—I assume to clean them off—but my hips shift forward, seeking more friction.
“You’re fucking killing me, Lo.”
I lazily turn my head to look at him when I realize we’re parked on Henry’s street. It takes a minute for my brain to catch up to the fact that I never ended up telling him where he lived.
“How did you know where to go?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
“Your employee file,” he says, without an ounce of shame. I want to ask him why he didn’t just say that in the first place, but I decide I don’t care enough to press.
Dare cuts the engine and hops out before coming over to open my door. I right my damp pants and tighten my ponytail that has become a tangled mess. Dare helps me down, and when my feet hit the pavement, my still-weak knees almost buckle, but I recover before he notices.
It’s so quiet and dark here. The complete opposite of where I’m from. This place doesn’t even have streetlights. The upside is you can actually see the stars out here. The downside is I can’t sleep with all this…silence. Ironic, right?
We walk toward the dark-brown battered cabin with the rotted, wooden steps. Henry’s truck isn’t out front, so he must be staying
in the room above his shop. I open the front door as quietly as I can. Jess is sprawled out on the couch, dead to the world. I expect Dare to follow, hoping to finish what we started, but he hesitates in the doorway.
“Coming?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe, my double meaning clear. Dare runs a hand over his mouth, indecision warring on his face.
“Fuck it.” He moves past me, and I close the door behind him.
I put a finger to my lips and whisper, “Shh,” before taking his hand and wordlessly leading him to my temporary room. I should probably be embarrassed by my setup. Most girls would. But I’ve never cared much about material things.
I expect Dare to cringe or at the very least look uncomfortable when he sees where I’m staying, but when I flip on the lamp, he doesn’t even bat an eye. Eric wouldn’t have even made it this far. He would’ve taken one look at Henry’s house and turned up his nose, insisting we get a hotel room.
But I don’t want to think about Eric. I want more of the feeling Dare gave me in his truck, and earlier at Bad Intentions. When he’s making me feel good, I’m not thinking about Eric or Jess’ school, my mom…none of it.
Going for bold, I peel down my leggings, kicking them off along with my shoes. My shirt is next, as I push the buttons through each slit. Dare watches me intently. I lift the bralette over my head, feeling my nipples harden in the cold air. Dare’s nostrils flare, and he prowls toward me, curving a hand around my waist.
His thumb comes up to trace the sore spot on my neck as his fingers curl behind my head, his eyes lighting up in a way that tells me he likes that he put his stamp on me. And I like that he likes it.