The Dare

Groaning, he spins me around and backs me up against the fridge. His lips muffle my sound of surprise, his tongue penetrating my mouth.

There’s something different about him tonight. Hungry. I reach for his T-shirt, but Conor catches my hands and lifts them above my head. Holding my wrists in one hand, he uses the other to tug free the bow on the front of my pajama shorts and lets them fall down my legs. Still kissing me, his fingers slip between my thighs, beneath my bikini underwear. The stainless steel of the refrigerator is cold against my back as he gently rubs up and down my slit, teasing my entrance.

I hold my breath, pulling away from his lips as he glides one, and then a second finger inside me. My knees bend of their own accord at the wonderful feeling of fullness and Conor’s thumb rubbing over my clit.

“I love making you come,” he says, his voice rough. “Will you let me?”

Excited bumps erupt over my skin as a rolling wave of arousal washes through me. My body goes a bit limp as it surrenders to Conor. My eyelids flutter closed. “Yes,” I beg.

He pulls away abruptly.

I open my eyes and stare at him in a daze. “What’s wrong?”

“Let me look at you.”

I’m not sure what he means until I watch him cup his erect cock through his jeans. The long, thick outline protruding beneath the denim makes my heart race. He squeezes, waiting for me to comply.

We’ve never crossed this threshold, not with the lights on anyway. But I don’t want to say no. I don’t want to feel self-conscious or embarrassed in front of him anymore. Conor makes me feel safe, beautiful, desired. And right now, here in this moment, I don’t want to be the thing standing between us.

Slowly, I pull my shirt over my head and drop it on the cold tile floor. Then I slide my panties down my legs and kick them aside.

His hot gaze freely roams my naked body as if he owns it. “You’re gorgeous, Taylor.”

Once more he hoists both my hands above my head, exposing my breasts to his lust-drenched eyes. He bends his blond head and wraps his lips around one nipple, licking and suckling until I’m squirming against him, needy for attention elsewhere.

“Con. Let’s go to bed. Or at least the couch.”

“Nah.”

God, that California surfer-boy drawl kills me every time. I shiver as he kisses his way down my abdomen and kneels in front of me, pulling one leg over his shoulder to open me to his mouth.

I moan the moment his tongue licks my slit. He flicks it over my clit and sucks purposefully. He devours me with practiced precision, and it’s all I can do to hold on to his shoulders while my hips move against his mouth.

My thighs clench as I feel the orgasm building low in my belly. “Keep doing that,” I plead. “I’ll kill you if you stop.”

His husky chuckles vibrate against my core. But he doesn’t stop. Knowing I’m close, he laves my clit with his tongue and slips one long finger inside me, thrusting slowly as he coaxes me to climax. I shatter, panting in shallow breaths, the pleasure detonating in my core and surging through my body.

Before I’ve completely recovered, Conor stands up and buries his face in the crook of my neck, kissing and sucking on my flesh while I continue to quiver from the orgasmic aftereffects.

“I am so fucking addicted to you, Taylor.” His voice is gravel. He lifts his head, and I see his eyes gleaming with need.

Then he suddenly scoops me up in his arms, eliciting a squeal of protest from my throat.

“Put me down,” I yelp, as my hands instinctively loop around his neck so I don’t fall on my ass. “I’m too heavy for you.”

His laughter tickles the top of my head. “Babe, I bench like twice your weight on a slow day.”

I relax slightly as he carries me off to my bedroom. I don’t feel light as a feather in his arms, but he doesn’t seem to be struggling at all, which is encouraging. Note to self: always date someone who can bench-press twice your weight.

He lays me down in the center of the mattress, carefully placing my head against the pillows. Then he stands at the foot of the bed, his hands moving to the collar of his shirt.

“Permission to get naked?” He grins adorably.

“Permission granted.” Man, now my voice is the one that sounds gravelly.

I watch with hooded eyes as he strips out of his T-shirt, jeans, and boxer briefs. I never get tired of staring at him. The planes of his chest, the shadows that accentuate his muscular arms. His beautiful, broad, athlete’s physique robs me of breath. He’s perfection.

My eyes fall to his long, thick cock and a resulting bolt of heat goes right between my legs.

This is a first for him, too. Being completely naked in front of me. And I appreciate that he does it not because it was a difficult step for him, but because he wants me to be comfortable.

Conor climbs onto the bed and covers me with his body. His lips find mine and we start kissing, tongues greedy and desperate, until we’re both breathing heavily. I’ve never made out with anyone while we were both naked. Conor’s dick lies heavy between my legs, slightly nudging my opening. It’d be so easy to just say yes, part my thighs a bit wider, grip him, and guide him inside.

His tongue teases mine again and for a moment it’s all I want.

I want to say yes.

But.

“I don’t think I’m…you know…there yet,” I whisper against his mouth.

He lifts his head. Hazy arousal has darkened his eyes.

“I mean, I want to be.”

“Okay.” Conor rolls onto his side beside me. His dick is at full salute, and the pearly drop pooling at the tip makes my mouth water.

Swallowing, I sit up. “There’s a big part of me that just wants to do it and get it over with, but—”

“You don’t have to rush for me,” he says easily. “I’m not in a hurry.”

“No?” I search his expression for any signs of annoyance.

“No,” he promises, sitting up too. “When you’re ready, I hope it’s with me. If not, I’m content right here with the way things are. I mean that.”

I kiss him. Because despite all his protestations to the contrary, Conor is a good guy. He’s sweet and funny and I think somehow he’s even become my best friend. My best friend with dick benefits.

Releasing his lips, I take his cock in my hand. He’s still hard, throbbing. His entire body tenses when I wrap my fingers around him and slide my fist up, down.

“Babe,” he breathes, and I don’t know what he intends by it—babe, stop? Babe, keep going?

If it was the former, it quickly turns into the latter when I slide to the floor and settle on my knees in front of him. His hands brace against the bed and his head drops forward at the first swipe of my tongue along his length.

Conor’s legs tremble while I suck him. He breathes slow and deep, as if it’s taking all his concentration.

“Don’t stop,” he mumbles as I take him deep in my mouth. His hips start moving, gently thrusting forward. “Please don’t ever stop.”

It’s hard to smile when my lips are wrapped tightly around him, but I’m smiling in spirit. I love doing this to him, love driving him to the edge of blissful desperation. I know when I’ve almost got him there because he groans as his hands reach for my breasts and his hips lift off the bed just a little.