Page 51 of Dare Me
I spin around, hopping onto the stage before anyone else can claim the next song. I lean over to the DJ. “You got ‘Your Man’ by Josh Turner?”1 He nods with a smile, and I clap him on the back. “My man, thank you.”
I step up to the mic stand, pulsing with energy as the first chords of bass echo out of the loudspeakers. I begin rocking my hips and find Stella in the back. When I start singing, she covers a laugh with her hand. I’m enraptured by the way her eyes seem to shine brighter as she watches me, because of me.
I’m not the best singer, but I’m also not half bad, and people holler and clap when I hit the chorus. I mimic Turner’s deep baritone and classic country twang, which makes Stella laugh harder. Her eyes crinkle, and I bet her cheeks are flaming hot. This feeling is addicting, all her attention on me, making her laugh. I crave it.
I jump down from the stage and weave my way through the tables until I reach her. She presses herself tight against the wall as people turn to follow my movements. I plant my hand on the wall by her head and lean into the mic. She turns her face away, chuckling. “You’re ridiculous.”
I remove my hand from the wall and cup her cheek. I can feel her skin burning and my heart pumps harder. Stroking her with my thumb, I love that I can physically feel her emotions.
I drag my palm down her waist while I continue to sing, wanting to tangle my fingers in the net of crotchet and pull her even closer. She dips her chin and looks into my eyes as my hand hesitates on her hip. Her lips part, and her pink tongue barely flicks out to wet her lips. The small movement drives me crazy. I have to keep moving before I throw away the mic and take her right here.
I sing the last few lines while returning to the stage. She mouths the words along with me, swaying to the chorus of string instruments. I hook the mic back on the stand and jump down to a wild storm of applause. I make my way back to Stella, cheers still going. But it’s all empty noise because when I see the big smile beaming on her face, nothing has ever mattered more.
The DJ is announcing the next song by the time I reach her, the crowd’s attention back on the stage.
“What did you think, Stella Mae?” I say jokingly, holding out my arms in question.
She answers by grabbing my collar and pulling me into a hot, feverish kiss that makes my head swim. She shuffles back, hitting the bathroom door and pushing it open in one hurried move. She tugs me in after her, and I’ve never felt more alive.
She moans three short words against my lips.
“Fuck me, Lochlan.”
Stella
I am dizzy, hot, and out of my damn mind as we crash into the bathroom.2 One second, I’m hearing Lochlan flip the lock on the door, and the next he’s slamming me up against the wall. He’s already stripped his shirt and growls, “Fuck, pretty girl, I’m never going to get used to hearing you say those words.”
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to saying them. Or wanting them.
Being with Lochlan is a high. He doesn’t think about anything but the here and now. Something I feel wholly incapable of doing except when I’m with him.
It’s not sustainable. But right now, when I’m falling headfirst into the present with him, the past and future cease to exist, and along with them, all of my worries.
The only thing I care about is the passionate way he rakes his hands over my hips and squeezes my ass, pulling me close so I can feel the hard outline of his cock. Or the way he makes breathing feel inconsequential when he’s constantly snatching my breath away with his hungry moans and possessive tongue.
His fingers get tangled in my dress. I don’t make it easier for him to remove by keeping my hands wrapped around his neck. He curses, “Get this thing off before I fucking rip it off.”
Impatience imbues his being. It spreads into my bloodstream as I hurriedly pull the dress over my head, panting. As soon as it’s off, he roughly tugs down my bikini top, palming my breast and pinching my piercing. I moan, screwing my eyes shut at the pleasurable pain as he nips and licks my neck and underside of my jaw.
I reach into his swim shorts, enjoying the feel of his silken skin. Our effect on each other is so potent, every brush of skin is amplified. His head rolls back when I circle his shaft, giving it small strokes still in the confines of his pants.
The muscles of his neck flex and his jaw clenches. I continue as I drag my nose up his strained neck and bite his earlobe, making him groan. “Would you come for me just like this?”
“Fuck, easily.”
I push his shorts down and free his cock, swirling the wetness of his tip with my thumb, and I hear his heavy exhale. I trail my other hand down his bare chest and whisper, “And what about my mouth? Would you let me taste you? Would you coat my throat with your cum?”
“Stella,” he growls in warning, but it only makes me want to tease him more. My eyes are fixed on him, watching every flick of muscle and crumble of control as I slide to my knees. I lay my hands in my lap and only touch him with my tongue, dragging it heavy and slow from hilt to head.
“What do you think’s wetter, my mouth or my pussy?”
“Jesus Christ,” he spits, wrapping his hand around my throat and wrenching me to my feet. I gasp as my back slams into the wall. The crazed look in his eyes makes me want to giggle with a mix of nerves and excitement.
He keeps me pinned by the throat and slides his other hand into my bathing suit bottoms. I arch into his palm as his rough fingers push through my folds and over my clit. His voice is tight and husky. “You can suck me off later. But right now, it’s this dripping pussy’s turn to take my cock.”
I try to respond, but he takes his hand off my throat and shoves two fingers into my mouth. “You think I’m desperate? Well, I have news for you, réalta. This needy cunt is begging to get wrecked.” He pumps his fingers back and forth over my tongue while working circles over my clit. “Always so wet and ready, hmm? I’d say that’s pretty fucking desperate. Desperate to be stretched and fucked full.”
I mumble a mewl and nod again and again, gagging as he pushes his fingers a little farther back. His eyes somehow soften and darken at the same time. “What a pretty sound. Maybe I do want you on your knees.”