“Fuck yes,” he groans. I dig my fingernails into his ass, pulling him deeper, wanting to take all of him, to make him lose control, to make him feel a fraction of the kind of crazy he makes me feel. The hard floor hurts my knees, but I ignore the pain, working him with my hand and my mouth.
Dare tenses up, hips stilling. “I’m gonna come.”
I suck him harder in response. He mutters another curse and pulls back to jerk himself while the tip is still between my lips.
“You’re gonna swallow my cum, Lo?”
I nod, holding my tongue out.
“Touch your pussy while you do.”
I clench at his words, bringing my fingers between my legs once more. It only takes a few seconds before my orgasm hits, right as Dare’s does, the salty liquid hitting my tongue. When he’s done, I swallow before wrapping my lips around him, giving one last light suck.
Dare shudders, pulling me up. I’m surprised when he presses his lips to mine. Most guys are weird about that kind of thing, but Dare is unconcerned, his tongue sliding along mine.
He reaches between my thighs, two fingers swirling around in my wetness.
“Does that mean you like your tattoo? Because that was one hell of a thank you.”
I laugh, sagging against him. “I love it,” I say honestly, ignoring that pang in my chest that tells me it might not be the only thing I feel that way for.
“Are you coming over tonight?” Dare asks
, nuzzling into me, his stubble scratching against the thin skin of my neck and shoulder. I want to feel it between my thighs.
“I can’t,” I breathe, feeling raw and vulnerable from the crying, the tattoo, the closeness, the orgasm—all of it. “I need to be with Jess tonight.” We need to figure out our next move. I honestly don’t know which way he’ll lean, but I know he deserves to be included in the decision.
Dare nods, kissing my forehead. He bends over, retrieving the forgotten basketball shorts and slides them up my jelly legs, careful not to touch the fresh ink. We walk back into the main room, and I pull my hoodie back over my head, hearing my keys jingle in the front pocket.
Dare gives me instructions about caring for my tattoo. He tells me to take off the wrap in a couple of hours, then wash it with a mild soap and water. I thank him again, promising to call him later tonight. I have a lot to think about.
* * *
WHEN I GET BACK TO Henry’s, Jess is freshly showered, his hair a mop of damp curls. He’s sitting on the couch with his eyes glued to the phone.
“What’s up?” I ask, kicking the door shut behind me.
“Watching Mad Men on Netflix,” he says, dropping his phone to the couch.
“We have Netflix?” I ask, doubtful.
“Nope. I just keep creating different email accounts to get the free trial.”
“Seems legit.”
“What the fuck are you wearing?” Jess asks, looking me up and down.
“Oh, I got this today,” I say, pulling the loose fabric up to expose the tattoo. “I’m part of the no pants club for the next few days.”
“Hell yeah,” Jess says, examining the ink through the plastic wrap. “Think he’ll do me next?”
“When you’re eighteen,” I say, raising an eyebrow.
I head into the kitchen and make all his favorites—eggs, sunny-side up, pancakes, and bacon, mentally weighing the pros and cons of moving in with Dare.
“Do you like it here?” I ask as we eat our breakfast-for-dinner on the couch, since there is no kitchen table to speak of.
“Yeah.” Jess shrugs, crunching on a piece of bacon. “Coach wants me to play lacrosse in the spring. I think I might.”