Dare Me

He sputtered with laughter. “Yeah, the sneakers didn’t help. Look, this is new to me. I come from a background where I yell jump, and a bunch of men ask ‘how high.’ It won’t be easy for me to just snap to attention, and I don’t want to intimidate you.”



She raised her chin. Pure challenge sparked in her eyes. “I understand, and this is all new to me, too. That’s why I didn’t want to meet you at a club dressed to the nines. I can’t help that I look like this. This is who I am day to day. I like a man to buy me dinner and open the door. I love knowing he’s stronger than me, can kick some major ass, and won’t back down from a good, old-fashioned bar room fight. But in the bedroom, I want to be in charge. At least, I think I do.”



He sucked in a breath at her honesty. Hmmm, a bit of a spitfire in a nice, neat package. Isn’t that what he craved? A woman who wouldn’t be afraid to tell him what she wanted, and what she wanted him to do? He was sick to death of being a leader every waking moment. Domination came easily to him, always had. In school his classmates gravitated toward him for captain; he’d always been picked by his teachers to lead group discussions. When he joined the military, his natural confidence and quest for perfection pushed him to the head of the class. He’d risen quickly up the ranks, until he found himself in the scorching desert, leading a brigade of men in war. Every order equaled life or death, with no room for error.



His decision not to re-up changed the game. He went back to Atlantic City with an open mind, and enjoyed getting back to his main love—dealing cards. But when a long line of women with endless needs began draining his energy instead of fueling it, he knew something was wrong. His mind tired of doing all the work, and his body began to suffer. When a gorgeous woman who wanted to be subservient begged for his command and his cock never hardened, he’d gone into hibernation mode.



Maybe he needed Summer Preston.



Maybe.



He raked his gaze over her figure. Tipped back his glass and swallowed the burning liquid. “Let’s go.”



She shot to her feet and pressed a room key in his hands. “Castillo Resorts, the penthouse. Give me a fifteen-minute head start.”



He nodded and watched her disappear into the crowd.



Chapter Two



Summer paced the lushly carpeted suite and tried to ignore the flutter in her tummy. In a minute, she’d open her door to an overpowering, sexy male predator who she’d try to subjugate to her every sexual whim.



Yeah, right.



She pushed the doubt firmly out of her mind. Rafe Steele was unexpected. She’d always had a weakness for the tall, dark and handsome type, but the man put them all to shame. Sinfully inky eyes promised a quick trip to heaven, and dark curls begged a woman to thrust her fingers in deep and hang on. His face was all rough planes and angles—sharp cheekbones, a crooked nose, shaggy dark brows, an unshaven chin. His mouth held a sensual, almost cruel curve that stripped away any pretty boy looks and made a man look twice and a woman salivate.



His body appeared rock hard and unforgiving. Even in his black shirt and matching pants, the muscles rippled beneath the fabric. She guessed he topped six feet, but it was the sheer dominance of his presence that pressed upon her. An aura of command when he spoke. He struck her as a man used to being in charge.



She bet women lined up to do his bidding. Yet, he hadn’t backed off when she’d adopted a forceful tone in their conversation. In fact, his dark eyes flashed with a gleam of interest. And lust.



A knock sounded on the door.



Showtime.



She took a deep breath and let him in.



Her throat tightened. Dear God, the man practically exuded sex. Even his scent screamed animal mating, like smoke and musk and earth rolled together. He stalked into her room as though he owned it. He still wore his regulation uniform, pegging him as a dealer, but the silk surrendered to his carved chest and molded to his powerful thighs and ass.



His shocked stare told her she’d done her job well. Satisfaction flared, along with a hint of feminine power. The girl next door had turned into a vixen, and she relished every moment of enveloping sexual authority. The skin tight leather cat suit with heels transformed her from sweet teacher to badass.



She pursed her lips and studied him, making a circling motion with her finger.



“Turn around.”



One brow shot up. His face tightened with a mingling of emotions. Arrogance. Denial.



Excitement.



Yes, he loved taking orders from a woman, as much as she loved giving them. The problem centered on his acceptance and trust of her as a mistress. She ached to give him what he craved, but first he’d have to submit to his own dark desires. A man used to control and leadership in all other areas of his world would be hard pressed to easily accept such a switch of power even if he wanted to.



“What?”



He looked as if he didn’t recognize her from the strip club and had entered the Twilight Zone. Satisfaction coursed through her at his response. “Tonight you will address me as Summer. I have not earned your trust yet to be called Mistress. The rules are simple. You obey my every order without question. If you refuse, you will be punished. Your body belongs to me until dawn breaks. Are we clear?”



He nodded.



Her voice snapped like a whiplash. “I didn’t hear you.”



“Yes. Summer.” His instant response surged heat through her veins. A tight ache settled between her thighs.



“Very good. You will need a safe word. Think of one you’ll easily remember. If you use your safe word, the scene will immediately stop. We will decide if the evening can continue afterward. What is your word?”



“Blackjack.”



“Blackjack, it is. Now, turn around in a full circle. Slowly.”



The simple test confirmed her assumptions. He obeyed, his muscles tight with tension. He shot her a look hinting he’d do what she said, but she also knew restraints would definitely be needed for the night.



“Your body is incredible. I can’t wait until you’re able to pleasure me. But we’re not ready for that yet. Strip.”



He blinked. Refused to move. She closed the distance between them with two long strides and met his gaze head on. “I don’t like to repeat myself.” Her voice was icy. “Take off your clothes so I can see every gorgeous inch that belongs to me. Hesitate again and you’ll be punished.”



He jolted as if awakening from a dream, and removed his clothes.



She caught her breath. Wide shoulders. Carved muscles, broad chest. Cut abs. The line of a wicked scar ran down his ribs and disappeared into a swirl of dark hair. A heavy erection jutted forward and strained against his black boxers. His thumbs hooked on the elastic and paused. She narrowed her eyes in warning. Then he pushed the fabric down his thighs and stepped out of his underwear.



He stood with his feet apart, hands on hips. She took in the raw male glory. His cock rose to full attention. Her mouth watered and she ached to dip her head and suck on the long, thick length. Her hot gaze traveled over every inch of his body and she nodded in approval then ran her tongue along her lower lip. His cock twitched in response to the gesture.



“Beautiful.” She walked around him for a full inspection. Her fingers clenched at the sight of his tight ass, imagining how he’d jerk in response to a paddling. Pressing her breasts against his back, she placed her hands on his shoulders and stroked him. His muscles jumped under her touch. “I’m already wet,” she whispered in his ear. Her teeth nipped at his earlobe. “Would you like a taste?”



“Yes, Summer.”



His voice hissed and she gave a low laugh. Running her hands down his arms, she squeezed his biceps. Her hips pushed against his ass. “Not yet. I want to play with your body for a while. You are not to touch me until I give you permission. Do you understand?”



“Yes.”



“Very good.” She slid her arms around his waist and splayed her palms over his chest. His heart thundered against her hand, and a fine sheen of sweat beaded his skin. Oh, yeah. He liked her attention, but how would he handle not being in charge? She dug her nails into his abs and kicked his feet apart with one black heel until his legs spread wide. He locked down his body to avoid moving and his breath came in heavy gasps. Murmuring approval, she drifted her palms downward and played with the nest of hair at the base of his cock, running one finger down the ridged length, up and down, never applying more than a hint of pressure.



He bit back a groan.



Her fingers circled the tip, spreading around the bead of moisture that dripped. Slowly, she cupped and stroked his balls.



His temper exploded.



With a curse, he spun and pulled her into his arms. His mouth lowered to take hers, but she took a quick step back, and grabbed his balls in a merciless grip. She allowed her face to reflect her cold displeasure. Shock blazed back at her and his cock jumped in response.



“Remove your hands.” His arms dropped to his side. She shook her head in mockery. “Not enough control, I see. The rules are simple. Your body is mine for my pleasure. You obey my commands, and you don’t touch me unless I give permission. Since you can’t listen on your own, I’ll need to give you a little help.” A slight twist of her hand exerted more pressure and he winced. “Don’t move.” Releasing him, she walked to the small bureau and pulled out a pair of leather handcuffs from the top drawer.



“No fucking way.”



Her brow arched. “Yes fucking way. You proved you can’t be trusted on your own. This will make sure you keep your hands to yourself.”



“I’ll obey next time.”



“Yes, you will,” she said. “Because I’ll make sure of it. Follow me.”



With his feet rooted to the ground, they’d reached a turning point. He’d either take the leap and put himself in her hands, or stalk out the door with his pride intact. Of course, pride made a cold bed partner and ranked unnecessary in the pursuit of pleasure. Conflict flickered in his dark eyes as he processed his options. Summer gave him the only gift she owned. Her truth.



“Aren’t you as tired of running as I am?” she asked softly. She extended her hand and waited.



He stiffened and glared at the handcuffs before slowly sauntering over to grasp her hand. Heat and comfort radiated from his fingers straight to her heart. An age old connection sizzled and settled between them in a steady hum. She led him to the bedroom where she’d already had certain equipment installed at her request. Both Madame Eve and Castillo Resorts were quite accommodating.



She moved him to the far wall of the suite. The bedroom boasted a Tuscan feel, with rich gold, browns and burgundy. The bed held piles of pillows against an ornate oak headboard. The cream satin sheets beckoned and glistened under the last rays of the dying sun that sneaked through the Venetian blinds. With one last moment of hesitation, he surrendered his hands. She fastened the handcuffs, checking the fit and his comfort. She grabbed the chain from the drawer, attached it to the hook that hung discreetly from the ceiling, and connected the cuffs. He sucked in his breath, but she never glanced at him or hesitated, just pulled the chain up and connected it so his hands stretched over his head. She released some slack inch by inch until satisfied. “How does that feel?”

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