Page 43 of How Dare You
In an instant, I’m standing, drawing her up to join me with the hand she was just teasing, and using the other to brace her low back. The orange glow of the campfire lights up one side of her face, sparks reflecting in her twilight eyes. Dropping her hand on my shoulder, I cup her face, rubbing my thumb along her jaw. “The first thing I would have done is ask for your number.” She laughs again, her body rocking against mine.
“And after that?” She blinks up at me, running her tongue across her lips.
I tilt her face up to meet mine, and she closes her eyes, surrendering to me. It’s natural to have her in my arms, vulnerable to my proximity, like we’ve been here a thousand times before, instead of once. I stop just short of kissing her and speak against her lips. “You don’t get to wake up tomorrow and say this wasn’t you.” She hums in response, pulling me closer with her hands at my back.
“Say it, Dev,” I command. “Admit that this is you.” She presses her lips into mine, but I pull back. “I mean it.”
She huffs a frustrated little breath, and I think I’ve lost her. But she doesn’t pull away, and when she speaks it’s a whisper between our lips. “It’s me. I want you to kiss me.”
I’m stealing her kiss before she has the last word out, her lips as soft and supple as her body in my arms as they press back into mine. She belongs here, and this time I’m not letting her go.
Her hands tangle in the hair at the base of my neck, and my hand begins to travel from her waist, lower. But I stop myself. I’m still not sure what spooked her last time, so I shift gears, wrapping my arm all the way around her slim waist instead, my fingertips pressing into her side. She leans in tighter to my hold, and the slightest sound of moaned pleasure vibrates through our joined mouths.
Her hands trail down my shoulder blades, and across my low back, resting at the hem of my shirt, like she might try to pull it off. I release the kiss. I rushed it last time, and she disappeared. I won’t let that happen again. Pulling back, I hold her stare. “You’re a goddess,” I whisper into the space between us.
Her face is unreadable. I smile, hoping it’s the one she called panty-melting. Her eyes widen, and she nibbles at her bottom lip. Yeah, this has to be the one.
“Dare,” she says, releasing my hips and dropping her lithe body back into her chair, reminding me again of the game I keep forgetting we’re playing.
“You got it, maw-am.” I catch myself halfway through her usual nickname and switch to ma’am as I’m returning to my own chair.
“That was a close one, daddy,” she teases.
“I knew you were gonna love calling me that.” I lean back in my chair, folding one arm behind my head.
She taps her foot against mine. “I do not.”
I tap her foot back. “You’re past the required number of five.”
“Am I, daddy?” The teasing tone returns to her voice. “I haven’t been keeping track.”
Looks like I just outed myself for keeping track. Whoops. I change the subject. “I dare you not to wear panties tomorrow.”
She sputters a laugh. “It has to be something for tonight.”
“You didn’t say that in the rules.”
“It’s how truth or dare works.”
“Okay, I dare you to take your panties off now.”
Without hesitation, she stands up, holding my stare as she slowly unbuttons her top button, then the next and the next, until her army green shorts are folded open, pulled down far enough to reveal the solid black fabric of what she wears underneath. She tucks her thumbs into the waistband. “These?” she asks.
“Unless you’ve got another pair under those,” I answer. “Take them off.”
She doesn’t go inside the trailer or walk around to hide herself behind her chair. Instead, she says, “Yes, daddy.” Torturing me further, she turns her back to me and pushes her shorts over her hips, dropping them in the seat of her chair and leaving her black panty-clad ass less than a foot from my face. She keeps going, sliding her underwear down slowly, teasingly, revealing the full rounds of her cheeks, and then she bends, bringing her ass even closer to my face, along with the bared lips of her sex. Holy fucking hell.
Before I can fully enjoy the sight of her, green fabric covers her again, and she turns around, buttoning them back over her bare body.
“You’re up,” she says, gracefully sliding back into her chair.
“You want my panties?” She arches a brow at me. “I mean, my boxers.”
“Not particularly.” She laughs, unrestrained. “Truth or dare?”
I swallow audibly, still trying to catch my breath. “Truth.”
Her hand runs over mine again, tracing my knuckles with her nails. “Did abandoning your life in Texas make you happy?”