The question throws me. No one ever asks that. I’ve always been Dare, and no one’s ever questioned it. I haven’t been called my given name in years. I decide to tell her, if only to hear what it would sound like from her lips.
“Stefan.” It’s been so long since I’ve said that name out loud.
Logan’s head cocks to the side, as if I’ve surprised her. “Really? I would have guessed Darren or Derek or something.”
“My last name is Adair. Being the scrawny kid in foster care with a name like Stefan? Not exactly intimidating. But Dare was. One of the other kids started it and it stuck.” I shrug. I’ve been Dare longer than I was ever Stefan, but somehow, it still feels like mine. Like most people would feel about their childhood bedroom or their old favorite song.
“Okay, Stefan,” she says, emphasizing my name, and fuck if I don’t like the way it sounds. She saunters over to me, not stopping until she stands between my spread legs. She brings her mouth close to my ear, her dark hair swinging forward and brushing my lips. “I choose Dare,” she whispers, her lips touching the shell of my ear. I feel my dick swell in my suit pants, but I don’t move my hands from my desk.
“I dare you to let me kiss you.” My voice comes out huskier than intended.
Logan swallows hard, and my eyes follow the movement in her throat. “A kiss? That’s it?” she says, challenging, but I see the nerves she’s trying to hide and the pulse fluttering in her neck.
My hands are on her in an instant, roughly turning her so we switch places, her ass on the desk, and me in between her thighs. I fist her hair at the base of her head and tug back, just a little…testing, hinting at how I want it. She closes her eyes, letting a little moan slip free. I ghost my lips along her neck, and she waits, eyes still closed, for me to make my way to her mouth.
Instead, I run my free hand from her knee up to her thigh, slowly, to gauge her reaction. When she opens for me, ever so slightly, my dick jumps. She wants this. I drag my teeth along the tendon in her neck as my hand moves closer to the heat between her legs, my fingers digging into the holes of her fishnets, clawing through to her flesh on my way up. When I touch her pussy over her tights, she shifts toward my hand.
With that one, little move, all bets are off. I drop to my knees in front of her, roughly grabbing her thighs as I place my face between them. Logan gasps, but doesn’t object as my tongue darts out to lick her through her holey tights. Her palms are flat against the desk, her head thrown back as I flatten my tongue and give another long lick.
Logan grabs the back of my head, pulling me into her, then I plant her other foot on the desk, opening her wide for me. She starts reaching for the band of her tights, lifting her ass, struggling to get them off, so instead, I hook my fingers through the holes and rip. Logan sucks in a breath, her wet, pink pussy on display for me. I bite the fleshy inside of her thigh hard enough to leave a mark. She flinches, but then she lets out a low moan, tossing her head back, rocking her hips toward my face. Oh fuck yeah. So
mething about Logan brings out my baser instincts. She makes me want to tear her apart, to bite and bruise. To let her do the same to me, to claw her fingers down my back and fuck me up. Because I’d never mar her permanently, but I’d gladly bear her scars.
I sink my teeth into her one more time before burying my face between her legs. Her feet slip off the edge of the desk and she crosses them behind my head. I smooth my hands up the outsides of her thighs to her lower back, bunching her dress as I go. I suck her clit into my mouth, causing her to rub herself against my face. There aren’t any inhibitions or shyness in her movements. Just two people making each other feel good. When her legs start to shake, she stops me, pulling at my face until I stand. Her hands shoot out to the fly of my pants, quickly unclasping and unzipping, and then her hand pushes down into my boxer briefs, wrapping around my cock. I groan, my eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck.”
Logan grips me so right, so tight. She strokes me a couple of times before placing me at the wet place between her legs. When my cock meets her slick flesh, our eyes meet, maybe for the first time during this entire encounter. Me, silently asking if this is okay. Her, silently nodding her consent. Logan rubs her thumb across my lips and chin, wiping her wetness away, before she brings it to her mouth, seductively sucking it off.
Fuck, this girl.
I bring my hands to her waist, digging my fingers into the soft flesh. I start to push inside of her, but then there’s banging at the door.
“What the fuck!” I yell over my shoulder, still positioned right at her entrance. Just barely inside. Not enough. Not even fucking close.
“There’s a kid at the bar about to get jumped! Says he’s Logan’s brother,” Cam shouts from the other side of the door.
“Jess?” Logan shrieks, dropping her legs, effectively breaking contact. She shoves me out of the way and hops down, running for the door. She blows past Cam and his perpetually amused expression, tugging her dress back down, not giving him a second look.
Well, that was one hell of a first kiss. And I didn’t even make it to her mouth.
* * *
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU doing here?!” When I finally find Jess, he’s being held back by Cordell, while Jake and some other guys I don’t recognize hold back two preppy looking assholes as they lunge for Jess.
“I heard there was a party,” he says smiling, with a dark curl of hair hanging in his face, cigarette dangling from his lip, like he’s not in the middle of a barroom brawl.
“Jesus Christ, Jess. What did you do?”
“He sold us this bullshit!” Preppy Douche Number One chimes in, holding up a plastic baggy.
“Don’t be mad just because you can’t tell the difference between bud and oregano.” Jess laughs. The other guy lunges for him again.
“We want our sixty bucks back!”
“Just give them their money back,” I say. Jess doesn’t make a move, but Dare walks up, standing between Jess and the other guys.
“Get the fuck out,” he says to them. I hear the shocked gasps and whispers, but I don’t understand why.
“Give me my money back and we’ll go,” the bravest and blondest one says, crossing his arms across his baby blue Lacoste polo.