BigBadDare

Content copyright © Nicole Snow. All rights reserved.

Published in the United States of America.

First published in January, 2014.

Disclaimer:
The following ebook is a work of fiction. Any resemblance characters in this story may have to real people is only coincidental.

All individuals depicted in this work are adults over the age of eighteen years old.

ONE DARE. ONE DOM. ONE EVERLASTING LOVE.

Cupid strikes when Jessica Casey least expects it. Forever single, overworked, and really scared of pointy objects, Jessie can't believe she's collided with him.

The inked up Adonis in her friend's favorite tattoo shop dares Jessie to do the unthinkable: step into his back room for a tattoo of her own, or else spend one night on the town with him. That's not so hard...right?

Garrett Foster moonlights as a tattoo artist. In another life, he's Dom and co-owner at the Red Widow, an exclusive bondage club for exquisite tastes. Soon, Garrett has Jessie in his arms and on his private bench, lending a strong hand into submission.

He's never needed to possess a submissive so badly. She's finally found a man worthy of pushing every carnal limit.

But one innocent dare can domino dangerously with this Dom's dark past. Love beckons, but it won't be theirs unless Jessie survives a vile scheme crafted by Garrett's most fearsome rival...

Word count: 31,000+ word erotic romance novella.

I: Dare Me!

“Check it out, Jess! Doesn't it just make you want to squee?”

I looked up from my boring magazine in the waiting room. My roomie and best friend Ava had the stupidest grin I'd ever seen plastered on her face.

She yanked up her shirt, held it just beneath her snug little bosom, showing me the tattoo artist's handiwork.

I threw the magazine onto the empty seat next to me and stood, walking over to her. I had to admit, the new ink was pretty badass.

“See? Just like my sketch – only a lot more colorful!” She chirped, happy as a bird in paradise. Her tall, skinny frame made her resemble one too.

“Looks amazing,” I said, marveling at the way her crude drawing had been brought to life.

Just last week, she yammered on and on about it, drawing out the big heart shaped with barbed wire.

Inside, all the names of the women in the Ava Don Carlos family were beautifully scrawled, starting with her great grandmother Maria and going all the way down to her baby niece, Meghan.

“You really mean that?” She cocked her head.

I didn't blame her for asking. Getting all inked up wasn't my thing and she knew it. At twenty-two, I remained unmarked, plain, skin as unblemished as a good girl's life.

Make that
my
life.

“Yeah, he did an awesome job. I really mean that, Ava. Way more colors there than anything I expected!”

She threw her arms around me and gave me a hug. I haphazardly caught her, and embraced back softly.

Just my luck that the six foot four Greek god in the backroom chose that exact moment to step out into the waiting room.

Oh, God.
I froze, wrapped in Ava's embrace, eying every rugged, masculine inch of him.

He stopped too, leveling his dark eyes on me, fires of amusement blazing like giant golden discs set into a mountain.

His broad chest held my gaze, but the muscles rippling beneath his tight gray shirt were what really drew me in. He wasn't one of those scrawny, bearded guys like the tattoo artists I'd seen a thousand times in Ava's amateur rocker friends.

No, this guy was a little older – probably early thirties or something – and cut like he spent as much time at the gym as he did working his inks.

Had he always been an artist? Maybe something darker, more dangerous, a Marine or a pro fighter.

My brain flashed through a dozen fantasies at once. I saw him lined up in uniform, camo twisting around his powerful arms and legs as he ran into some dingy desert bunker. Or maybe he was in a gym, lifting huge iron bells over his head, sweat pouring down the hard grooves between his slabs as his competitor groaned and collapsed in defeat.

“So, how 'bout it, Princess? Are you next or what?” His very first words left me speechless.

My lips opened, but I couldn't get anything out except dry, crackling air. I threw myself off Ava, probably much faster than anyone should to be polite with their best friend.

“I...I'm not in the market for a tattoo just now. But I really like what you've done for my
friend
here!”

I grinned like an idiot, stressing the friend part.

The last thing I needed him to think is that we were lesbians.

No, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Rock Hard. I'm straight as an arrow, and don't you dare forget it!

“That's too bad,” he said, taking a step closer. “It's a slow day and I was just getting warmed up.”

He looked me up and down, never hiding the way his eyes traveled my curves. I folded my arms, pressed my legs together a little tighter, ignoring the smooth, insistent heat building inside me.

I was startled. Horny. More than a little irked too.

Uh, hello? The face is up here, buddy. I don't mind being ogled by older, sexy men, but we've just
met!

“Besides,” he continued, finally meeting my narrowed eyes. “A great design could really add to your beauty. You've got perfect skin. Blank slate, a canvass built to show off something hot, something fearsome. Same as your friend...”

He winked toward Ava, who stood next to me. It was obvious his compliment to her was more a formality than anything else.

Again, I gawked, open mouthed and unblinking.

“Jessie's a straight-edge, Garrett. You won't get the inks on her today. Or any time this century.”

So, Garrett was this Adonis' real name. And – shit! – now he knew mine too. Thanks a million, Ava!

I shot her a wicked glare. We'd always quarreled like sisters, especially over mouth watering boys, and this was definitely one of those times.

I wasn't going to give her an inch. I turned back to Garrett, wondering how many big, bright tattoos he had lurking beneath that thin shirt.

“Maybe I want to look at designs,” I said in a quick burst. “Maybe.”

Garrett raised his eyebrows. He was only a foot or so away now, but it still shocked me when he reached out and took me by the hand.

His big fist rolled up past my wrist, moving up my sleeve, exposing my bare arm. My skin twitched and sizzled at his touch.

“Yes, that's good skin. Very good.” He looked up. “How about something on the shoulder? We can do it on your upper back if you want something truly concealed. Your skin's so perfect. Just a soft warm canvass waiting for my inks.”

I listened to him inhale. His big chest rose, a vast wall of granite moving toward me.

I hesitated. Deep inside, my instincts were screaming to get on with it, if only to feel him moving over my naked skin, stamping my flesh with his eyes and his inks.

Then there was fear. That stupid, mind numbing fear of needles I'd had since I was a kid.

I gnawed my bottom lip, tensing at his touch. When he tapped me gently above the elbow and withdrew his hand, I jumped a little.

“See, Garrett? She's scared. Jessie doesn't even have any piercings past the ears.” The icy tone in Ava's voice razzed me.

I held my anger, a hair away from tugging her skinny pink tongue out of her mouth. “I'm not that afraid. I really like new experiences, actually. Especially if there's an expert involved.”

Crap. Now I'm just dribbling desperate nonsense...he can see right through me, can't he?

Garrett stared at me and laughed. His chuckle made goosebumps stand up on my neck, a glorious music as deep and hard as the rest of him.

“I'm definitely an expert, Jessie. I like pushing boundaries too. I'm sure you just need a little push in the right direction to break in that beautiful skin.” He winked at me as I nodded over-enthusiastically. “I
dare
you to pick out a design and get a tattoo. How about it?”

My heart stopped. It took me several seconds to draw another breath, wondering whether or not he was joking.

There wasn't a bit of humor on his hard, muscular face now. His thin lips were flat and slightly turned up on his tight, square jaw, the world's handsomest instructor waiting to see if I'd pass his test.

“Haven't had a dare since High School,” I whispered, giggling slightly. “What's in it if I win?”

“A free design, free inks. Good work by yours truly. That's all the payment I need. Working on skin like yours is a privilege. It's not like I've got tons of other clients lined up waiting today either.”

I smiled. Well, it was a good offer.

“And what if she chickens out? Just like I know she will.” Ava glared, trying to beam her energy into the shallow space between us – anything to break up the way my eyes were anchored to his, locked in total unyielding submission.

“What if?” Garrett repeated ominously. “Well, then she's gonna be all mine for an evening. I'm in the mood for a night out later this week and I need a pretty lady to accompany me. One date. My choice of venue.”

Now, it was Ava's turn to crack her lips and let her jaw drop. Finally!

The smug satisfaction I got from seeing my feisty friend put in her place didn't stop my heart from racing at his offer.

Jesus, what exactly was he really offering here?

The refined, almost polite way he said it didn't hint at wild monkey sex or a trip to his bed. His eyes, though – those round, dark, beautiful gems blazed with pinprick stars, unmistakable signs that
anything
might happen if I couldn't pass muster.

“Well, Princess? How 'bout it?” He repeated the very same question he asked when he stepped into the room. His smile came slow, firm, like a heat ray melting my resistance by the second.

“Okay! I'll do it.” I said at last. My arm shot out and gripped his hand, more than a friendly handshake, underscoring my dedication to this new, exciting challenge.

I shuddered as soon as he released me. I looked at Ava, watching as her beady, jealous eyes focused on my face, quietly asking,
have you lost your fucking mind?

“I'll be back soon,” I whispered to her, trying to smooth things over with an apologetic tone.

Damn!
Just what had I gotten myself into?

Garrett already had his back turned, heading toward the small room in the back where he turned human flesh into works of art. He leaned in the doorway and gestured.

“Come on, Jessie. I promise I'll take good care of you. Nothing but the very best for a virgin.”

“There. That's the one. It's so beautiful.”

Garrett pulled the big book toward him and smiled, soft lines of surprise showing on his face. His arm flexed next to me, bulging through the shirt, drawing my eyes like the world's handsomest magnet.

“Didn't take you for much of a snake lady.” He stood up, stroking the short stubble on his chin.

“Then again...you're traditional. Conservative. Cautious.”

No, no, and no!
I wanted to stomp my foot on the ground.

I hated the way he had me pegged without even knowing me. All because of the fear I'd shown, not to mention Ava's stupid comments.

Really, it was much worse than that. All his descriptions were a hundred percent accurate.

“It's an ouroboros.” His big Greek mouthful made me look up, ears buzzing. “Been around since ancient Egypt, if I'm not mistaken. You see how that snake's devouring his own tail?”

Garrett pointed, drawing my eyes.

“Yes, I noticed that. Very striking.”

“That's all about creation. Repetition, cycles, renewal. Are you trying to re-make yourself, Jessie?”

His words hit deep. On the face of it, I absolutely was, throwing myself into this tattoo parlor with a dumb, immature attraction to its hunky owner.

Or does it go deeper than that? What am I really trying to do here, with him?
I pondered.

Something mysterious was happening. It wasn't just a mouth watering attraction that brought me back here with him, that caused me to rebuff Ava.

How many years had I watched her misadventures with jealousy seething in my heart? While I was inside studying or suffering through dull accounting internships, she was out drinking, rocking, and fucking the night away.

I hadn't even lost my virginity yet. All I could do was lurk in the background, drooling at godly men like Garrett, waiting for him to drop the tough guy veneer and expose the Prince Charming underneath.

The men I'd dated were always too soft to take it any further. I secretly wanted the bad boys, but only the ones who were refined underneath.

Yeah, I wanted Mister Perfect, and I knew it. Always been a sucker for psycho-analyzing myself.

“That's a very personal question,” I said finally, hoping the ice bitch tone in my voice would deter him from asking more. He had an uncanny way of probing deeper than I intended. “It just

seems...appropriate for this point in my life. You really like to push the perfect tattoo, don't you?”