The Dare Collection May 2020

“You can have as long as you like, Jenny.” The remains of his grin were still on his mouth, but his eyes were in shadow. They seemed darker now. And connected to all those things inside her that she wasn’t looking at. That she didn’t want to process.

Not now, maybe not ever.

“Good thing you’re not worried about falling in love, Dylan,” she said lightly, teasing him. “You look a little wobbly there.”

And she couldn’t say she regretted saying it, precisely. But there was something in the air of the sprawling room, suddenly. Something like grief, raw and encompassing. Powerful and thick.

But she forgot about that when he rose to his feet.

“I told you,” he said, his voice low enough to be a growl. “No chance of me falling in love with you.”

And she had to wonder why she’d brought up the subject again, when it hurt to hear him say that just as much as it had the first time. More, if she was honest, because she knew better, now. He had been right. He’d been upsettingly right, in fact, about how little she knew about the things that sex could do.

But Jenny still wasn’t thinking about that. Not now.

Not while he was stripping off his clothes, tossing them into the chair behind him, and then standing there a moment when he was done, astonishingly naked.

She buzzed a bit, all over, as if her skin couldn’t contain all the things her body did in response to the sight of him. It was different to see him naked, even if she’d seen so much of him before. In his running shorts, for instance. And it was certainly different to look at that huge cock, standing away from his body, and understand not only that she’d taken all of that inside of her, but remembering precisely how it had felt.

She heard a greedy little noise, and was only dimly aware that she’d made it.

Jenny didn’t intend to move, but she did. And next thing she knew she was kneeling down before him, her hands moving over his strong, muscled thighs.

“Kneeling already, Jenny?” he asked, in that dark, commanding voice that she was sure she’d never get used to. It seemed so unlike the man she’d known for all these years—and then again, it was the man she’d met last night, and he made her shiver, hot and ready, and it was all Dylan. All the sides of the man she knew best. “You’re taking to this quickly.”

“I want to taste you,” she told him, solemnly.

And she kept her head tipped back, so she could watch his face as she reached up and wrapped her hands around his enormous cock. Her mouth watered, but she maintained eye contact as she tipped herself forward, then licked the broad head.

Gently, like the first, sweet taste of an ice cream cone.

He muttered something filthy.

“Is that a yes or no?” she asked. Then she took a moment to suck him, deep into her mouth, so she could play with suction. And the flat of her tongue. Then she grinned at him. “You’ll have to speak up.”

Dylan laughed, then, a dark and wondrous thing.

She felt him move, though she didn’t understand what he was doing for a moment, because the taste of him was rolling through her, male and salty and a hint of what she thought was her, too. The blaze of it surged through her, igniting a new fire and making her pussy clench.

But then his hand was in her hair. He twisted it around, until she realized he was gripping her hair like it was some kind of leash. And something about that made her feel almost sluggish with longing. As if she might not be able to bear it—she wanted this so much.

She dragged her eyes back up the perfect, beautiful length of his body, and found him watching her.

“Hands behind your back,” he told her, softly.

“Behind my back?” She didn’t understand. “But then I can’t—”

“Use them. Or control a thing. I told you I was bossy.”

She couldn’t tell if it scared her or she liked the challenge of it. Or something in between. But it didn’t matter, because when he looked at her like that, with his cock so hard, she rather thought she would do anything he asked. Anything at all.

Jenny let go of his cock, though she didn’t want to. And she slid her hands behind her, lacing her fingers together. The position made her arch her back a bit, so her breasts jutted forward, and she saw the appreciative gleam in his eyes.

Worth it right there, she thought.

She liked it even better when he smiled. And Jenny liked it best of all when he tugged a bit on the hair he held in his fist while his other thumb tracked over her mouth.

Not entirely gently. Rude and rough, and it was like a coarse fire consumed her.

“I remember you and Erika trading stories about the dicks you’ve sucked.” There was a faint, dull ache from how tight he held her hair and that drugging glory of his rough thumb against her lips. “She always loved sex, and we know you didn’t, but both of you wielded blowjobs like weapons.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Exactly.”

His thumb pressed over her lips, silencing her.

“I’ve spent years wondering what it must have been like to be one of those undeserving gobshites, too bleeding stupid to realize you were literally leading them around by the cock.” His head tilted slightly to one side as he regarded her, and her stomach quivered. “Is that what you think will happen here? You’ll suck me off and reduce me to a blithering mess like all the rest of them? Prepared to follow you to the ends of the earth, desperate for one more lukewarm touch?”

But his thumb was over her mouth, so she couldn’t answer. And that was just as well, because she didn’t know what she would say. Because he had always talked about her sad love life as if she had all the power when Jenny hadn’t exactly seen it that way.

Though tonight she had only the driving need to taste him. That made a stark difference from how she’d treated getting a man off in the past, admittedly.

Men are easy, Erika had declared long ago, dancing with a bottle from the off-license in the street, just begging for trouble. All you need to do is gaze up at them, beg them for their cock and they’re yours.

Jenny had never done it because she’d found men easy. She’d done it because they were complicated, and wanted things from her she’d had no intention of giving. And because sometimes sex itself didn’t do the trick.

Men were visual—wasn’t that what everyone always said? They liked a girl kneeling in front of them, or crawling down the length of them on a bed. Until tonight, she’d never really understood the appeal of oral sex. Personally.

She did now.

Back then, however, she remembered giggling wildly with Erika as they’d shared their thoughts on how best to go about handling the boys who’d followed them around. Had they really admitted to that in front of Dylan?

But he was Dylan. He’d always been right there. She might have said anything at all.

“Keep your hands behind your back,” he told her, another quiet command. “If you lift them up, I’ll stop. Do you understand?”

She nodded, and as she did, he worked his thumb between her lips. It was rude. Obvious. And even so, she sucked on him anyway, and her pussy clenched tight.

“Tell me, Jenny. How’s your gag reflex?” Dylan laughed, with his thumb against her tongue. “That gets you all wide-eyed, does it? I guess we’ll see.”

He pulled his thumb from her mouth and she felt herself sway, even though that shouldn’t have been possible. Not with him holding her like that. A fist in her hair, his cock huge and hard between them and that implacable look on his face.

He made it impossible to remember all the sharp and clever things she’d planned to say. All the ways she’d intended to make him laugh, and remember that she wasn’t just another one of his giddy, disposable girls.

But her mouth watered, because his cock was so beautiful, though she had never used that word to describe that part of a man’s anatomy before. It was different when it was Dylan. Or maybe because it was so big.

“You can have it, Jenny,” he promised her, in that low, insinuating way of his. “You’ll have to beg me.”

And before she’d gotten on that plane, Jenny would have laughed at the idea that she would ever kneel before anyone and beg. For this or anything else. Even earlier tonight, as she’d waited for him by the opera house, she would have rolled her eyes if he’d sauntered up to her and predicted she would beg for the privilege of taking him in her mouth.

But he’d been right about that, too. She felt like a different person. Like a stranger to whoever that Jenny had been.

Because this Jenny knew that if she didn’t get the chance to taste that cock, to feel him in her mouth, she would die.

“Please,” she said, with no hesitation. “Please, Dylan. I want it.”

“You want what?”

She gasped a little, but she couldn’t have said if it was her breath tangling in her throat or the sudden understanding of what it was he wanted her to say. And she didn’t care. She could picture what she looked like, kneeling here on his floor, her head pulled back with his faintly cruel hand in a fist there. And his cock close, but not close enough.

Jenny pictured it, and she didn’t understand how that could make her clit ache, but it did. Oh, how it did.

She shifted, trying to get her thighs closer together to give herself some relief. And was somehow not surprised at all when Dylan stopped her, putting his foot between her knees and holding her legs apart.

“You come when I let you come,” he told her. “I thought you understood.”

“Please, Dylan,” she heard herself say again, more frantic this time. It was no longer clear to her what she was begging for, only that he needed to give it to her. Whatever it was.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, all dark command.

“I want you to fuck my mouth.” Jenny felt her nipples get even harder at that. Just as her pussy felt soaked. And her clit pulsed with a need like pain, but better. Much better. “Make me come, Dylan. Please.”

“You’ve come a thousand times, by any estimate.” As he spoke, he wrapped his own big hand around his cock, then worked it, and it was an agonizing thing to watch. And not only because it was so like that image she’d had of him doing precisely this. “What makes you think you deserve more?”

“Please,” she begged him.

His eyes no longer looked green at all. They were black and fierce, and she was all fire and flutter, and she made a sobbing sound she didn’t recognize.

Then she didn’t care what she sounded like, because he was pressing his cock between her lips at last.

She half expected him to thrust in deep, the way he had earlier, but he didn’t.

He wasn’t gentle, exactly, but he started slow. He let her taste him. He made a rumbling sound of approval when she used her tongue, teasing that ridge that separated the head from the shaft, then taking him in deeper.

And it was different. It was wildly different from anything she’d ever known, and she couldn’t understand why. But her clit kept pulsing, she was soaking wet and as he moved, his thighs brushed against her breasts. That sent delicious spirals of pure sensation arrowing through her. Once again, there was moisture in the corners of her eyes, as her mouth stretched wide to take as much of him as she could.

He used his grip in her hair to guide her, or to hold her still. Whatever he wished. He surged into her, backing off if he went too far, but then—once he knew how far he could go—he did exactly what she’d asked him to do.

And fucked her mouth.

It was a lit match, then a wildfire. It was an ecstatic, glorious thing, so much sensation crashing over her and through her that she almost felt skinless. There was his dark gaze. The implacable wall of his gorgeous body. His hard hand in her hair and the other at her jaw.

There was the ferocity on his face, and in between all of that, part of it and because of it, there was her.

And that was it, she understood as she tipped herself over and gave herself up entirely into his hands. Less a surrender than a becoming.

She wanted to taste him, and she got that, raw and real.

And when he gave a shout and flooded her mouth, she felt her own body convulse, and realized she’d pressed her greedy pussy against his leg. And the sheer joy of tasting him, that intense punch of salt and man, made it go on and on.

He pulled her off his cock, and for moment he stared down at her, his chest heaving.

And she thought she recognized him at last, in that wild expression he aimed at her—

But something in her shied away from naming it.

And then he was lifting her up, hauling her into his arms again, then carrying her into his en suite. He set her down in his shower that was three sides glass, and when he turned the water on it was as if they were standing in the Tasman Sea itself.

The water beat over her, she found herself speechless as she slumped there against the wall, watching him.

She’d had a mouthful of Dylan. And that thought was so wrong and so perfect at the same time that it almost sent her over that edge again.

And maybe she’d made some kind of sound, because he looked over then, and she understood in a flash why it was that sucking Dylan’s cock—a sentence she never would have allowed herself to think before in all her life—was so different. She couldn’t remember ever doing something like it before.

Because she hadn’t.

Because she’d always done exactly what he’d accused her of doing. She’d kept a blowjob in her back pocket to change the conversation. To end a fight. To make unpleasantness go away with a little bit of suction.

This was different, not only because Dylan had taken complete control. In such a masterful fashion that it made her breasts feel heavy and her belly feel unbearably light. Shivery. This was also different because she hadn’t thought of what she would gain from it at all. She’d wanted the taste of him, but more than that, she’d wanted to make him happy.

She’d wanted to please him, far more than she’d wanted to please herself.

That struck her as the kind of revelation that if she thought about too closely, might make her curl up into a ball somewhere.

And she was naked in Dylan’s astonishingly luxurious shower, and it was no time or place for the fetal position.

“Look at me,” she said softly, all too aware of the rough scrape of her voice. “Trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea. Literally.”

“Very droll.” He moved closer to her, and he didn’t ask as he took some of his shower gel and began to lather her up.

He didn’t ask, but she didn’t mind at all, because that meant his hands were all over her, but extra slippery. And there was a wickedness in his gaze as he tended to her breasts with particular care, until she was rising up on her tiptoes, arching her back, pressing herself even more fully into his palms.

And by the time they were both squeaky clean, she was panting again, with this maddening need for him that only seemed to get worse.

He took her out of the shower, toweled her off and then he led her out into the bedroom again, where it was still night, but barely. And they were both a bit damp as they rolled together on that great bed of his, and Jenny moaned out loud with sheer delight at the feel of his full, naked body stretched out against hers. All the places they were the same, and far more places where they were different.

Dylan brushed her wet hair back, and he took her mouth, and still they rolled this way, then that, as he kissed her with the same raw power he’d done everything else. And she could feel him again, hard and ready.

He pulled back, and then went for his nightstand, but she’d had him in her mouth. She didn’t want to feel anything between them. She wanted the full experience.

“I’m on the pill,” she panted at him. “I told you already. And I fully trust your test results. We’re both gloriously adult, we’ve had a frank discussion and I really, really want to feel you inside me. Just you, Dylan.”

It seemed to take him a long, long time to look back at her. And when he did, she felt everything tremble. The way he looked at her made her quake.

He reached for her, and then pulled her over him, settling her into place astride him.

“Go on,” he said as she braced herself against his chest, and looked down at him with delight. “For that, you can play awhile.”

“I’m on top. Does that mean I get to be in charge?”

There was a flash of his grin, but it was a sharp, edgy thing. “I said you can play. Make yourself come, however you can. See how long it takes you.”

She was in the grip of that fever that never ended, so she didn’t waste time asking for clarification. She didn’t care. Dylan was sprawled out beneath her and she lifted herself up, canting her hips back so she could find the broad head of his cock with her pussy. Then she began to work him inside of her.

She was wet and slippery, and so hot he hissed a little as he slid into her.

And she had half a mind to tease them both, to draw it out.

But he felt too good. She wanted him too desperately. And his hands were looped around her waist, part of this but not helping her, as she settled herself down and took all of him.

And then she began to rock herself silly.

His cock was a wonder, so big it rubbed up hard against that spot inside of her that made her feel loopy. And every time she rocked herself against him, the hard wall of his abdomen rubbed against her clit.

And she was shaking and sobbing as she moved, faster and faster, using every part of her that she could to make it better. Worse. Whatever those words even meant when it was this good. This hot. This wildly intense.

And then she was coming again, in a great, shuddering, tight wriggle of sensation.

Jenny thought she heard him laughing, dark and low.

She slumped against him, tears streaming down her cheeks again. She was gasping for breath, aware of too many things even as the aftershocks ripped through her.

The way he cradled her head against his chest. The way his other hand tracked down the length of her spine, as if to remind her where she was.

But best of all, he remained hard as steel deep inside her.

When she lifted her head, his green eyes were glittering.

Dylan wrapped his arms around her, shifted slightly and then he took control.

He fucked her, hard.

The harder and wilder he went, the more she felt like liquid gold with the rush of it. She was lost again. She was part of him. Coming and coming, until she couldn’t tell the difference between coming and not coming, when there was only him. And the relentless way he drove inside of her.

On and on, until there was no difference between the way she sobbed and the way she shuddered. It was all Dylan.

And when he came again, he shouted out her name.

Then held her there, still sprawled on top of him. She tucked her face against his chest, and listened to his heart thunder beneath her ear.

Outside, dawn was breaking.

And Jenny knew that she’d gotten exactly what she’d wanted. What she’d asked for.

She’d been properly fucked, finally.

And more than that, she was well and truly fucked, in every other sense of the word.

Because somewhere during that last, abandoned sprint into the deepest joy she’d ever known, the truth had slammed into her along with yet another orgasm.

She’d been keeping this door shut tight as long as she’d known him. And there’d been a reason for that.

Because now that door between them was wide open, and it was far worse than she’d thought it would be.

She was in love with Dylan Kilburn. She suspected she always had been.

But he’d made it clear that he wasn’t going to fall in love with her.

And Jenny had no earthly idea how she was going to live with that once she left Australia, returned to her life and married Conrad, as planned.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

HE EXPECTED HER to leave, but she stayed.

She stayed, and they fell face forward into one of those dreams Dylan knew all too well. The dream where Jenny lived here, with him. She slept in his bed and left her things cluttering up his countertop in the bathroom. Bizarre female things that he found fascinating, given the size of her collection and how little she used them. She started to hum again, tuneless little ditties beneath her breath as she moved around the place, and the big, heartbreakingly bright smile she gave him when he joined in made them both laugh.

Dylan knew it couldn’t last, that it wasn’t real. That was why he didn’t do anything truly foolish, like tell his office he would be unavailable for the foreseeable future. And while he thought that his daily forays into reality would make this stolen time with her better, it didn’t.

Because if he’d holed up with Jenny on a deserted island somewhere, it would have been a holiday for both of them. And he knew full well that holidays couldn’t last. They never did.

Instead, he just…had Jenny. In his life. The way he’d always wanted her.

Sometimes she met him out in the city, and he took her to his favorite restaurants. New flash bars and local dives. His club, when he couldn’t make it home without having her. Other nights, he met her back at his and cooked for her, if he had a mind to. Or sometimes, he came in to find her throwing a dinner together for the two of them.

It all made his heart do strange and terrible things inside his chest.

Having Jenny in his bed made it far too easy to imagine what it would be like if this was real. Jenny, there in the mornings. All that texting they did, but with Jenny actually there to pop in for lunch. Or to walk the coastal path with him. Jenny to reach over and hold his hand while they talked, as if that was the most natural thing in the world.

And in between all those sweet, domestic moments he’d never wanted, and yet found he hungered for, he got his hands on her. His hands, his mouth, his cock. And he got to live out every last fantasy he’d ever had involving this woman. From cranky morning sex to long, slow, torture for them both. He got to experiment with tying her up to his bed, bending her over the furniture, and watching how melty and sweet she got when he ordered her about.

He kept waiting for a hitch. For something to change, and ruin this thing they had going on. He expected that sooner or later, the fire would dim a bit.

But it only got stronger. The more he had her, inventive and mad, or intense and quiet, the more he wanted her.

He didn’t see how he would ever be over it. The clutch of her pussy on his cock, the eagerness of her mouth. And that virgin ass he’d claimed as his, and his alone.

One night, he came home after a particularly long day filled with irritating meetings and the kind of bad mood that even the thought of his Jenny couldn’t alleviate. That was what he thought, anyway, as he came in and saw her curled up in the chair in his bedroom, a book in her lap and her gaze on the sea outside.

And she made his heart flip around inside his chest, but today that made his temper kick in.

Because the longer she stayed, the easier it was to forget that this was only temporary. Dylan couldn’t let himself get used to the lift he got when he walked in his house to find her there, because soon enough there would be nothing there but memories. For all the talk they’d had about proper fucking, he knew full well who it was who was getting well and truly fucked here.

“You don’t look happy,” she observed, quietly.

“I don’t want to talk,” he told her, his voice a low growl. “I want to fuck.”

Jenny stared at him a moment, but she didn’t snap back at him. Instead, she stood. And as he watched, peeled off the long-sleeved shirt and flowy pants she wore. Then, still holding his gaze, she walked over to the bed with all her natural elegance, and sat there on the foot of it.