The Marriage Dare

“But what you will not do is get me to walk away. It’s not going to fucking happen. And if you think that you, Monica Blast, can possibly scare me? Then you have absolutely no idea who you’re dealing with.”

The way he’s looking at me, the fire and passion in his gaze, should scare me. What it shouldn’t do is turn me on even though that’s exactly what I’m feeling, and the way I’m straddling him, it’s only going to be moments before he notices. Even if I don’t have very many choices, I still have my pride.

I’m not going to let him conquer me with a few stern words. But my voice is far breathier than I like when I manage to speak. “I remember who I’m dealing with,” I say. “I remember a thin and scraggly boy who never spoke up to defend himself. I remember a boy who was so afraid that he made himself an easy target. I remember that you just took anything that anybody threw at you because you weren’t strong enough to fight back.”

It only takes a second, and I’m on the floor. Daniel is over me, his presence overwhelming. All I can see is him. All I can feel is him, his hands on my skin where he grabbed me to bring us down here. The thin nightgown has ridden up exposing my panties and most of my stomach. I can feel the scratch of his jeans on my legs and it’s all I want to feel. The cold metal of his belt buckle sends shivers across my skin along with memories of undoing it on my knees last night.

“You forget that I remember you too, Monica,” he breathes in my ear. His voice is dark, suddenly riding that sharp line that shows itself when he lets go. “And you like to push people. Push and push until people did what you wanted. Even if you had no right to ask it of them. You pushed me. Literally. Figuratively. And I took it because I had more important things to deal with in my life than being your goddamn lapdog. I bet you never even noticed when I left school did you?”

He said last night that he had to drop out of school, but in the haze of seeing him again, that was a detail that I didn’t remember until just now. And I hate that he’s right. Until the moment he introduced himself at the bar, I hadn’t thought about Daniel Argent in probably ten years. I didn’t notice that he wasn’t at graduation. I didn’t notice that he was gone at all. “No,” I whispered.

He drags his hand up my skin, starting at my knees and not losing contact until his hand is wrapped around my throat. Not squeezing. Not threatening. But to show his dominance and strength. “I am not that boy anymore,” he says. “Do you want me to prove it to you? Do you want to push me until I go over the edge? Until I can’t do anything else but sink my teeth into you and never let go?”

I am no longer in control of myself, and the groan that comes from me is completely involuntary. Yes. I do want that. I want his harsh, brutal, self. I want him to punish me for everything that I’ve done wrong. There’s plenty of it, and if it’s Daniel doing the punishment and not a stranger, at least I know that I deserve it.

His mouth crashes down on mine, and I’m lost. Heat and darkness and lust surge through me. God, the way he makes me feel is indescribable. I’ve never had anyone make me feel this way before. This raw, natural chemistry.

Hate and lust are a thin line—I’ve always known that. But this is the first time I’m actually experiencing it. His hand is still around my throat, the other one slowly inching down toward my pussy. I want him there. I want him there so badly that I can’t breathe.

Daniel’s tongue invades my mouth, reminding me of exactly what he can do with it elsewhere. I’m shamefully wet from just his kiss. I hate that he can do this to me. Capture my body with his pleasure and make it his. And at the same time, I love every single second.

His fingers slide over my panties, coming to rest right over my clit, and freeze. Nothing but the thin lace separates him from touching my skin, and I wiggle my hips to try to get him closer. He doesn’t move.

“You know what to fucking do, Monica.”

Oh God. My mind goes blank. He wants me to beg for it. My mind is screaming no, but my body is screaming yes. It’s exactly what he wants. He moves his finger just a fraction, adding enough pressure to make me moan. “Please,” I say against his lips, my voice barely a whisper. “Please touch me.”