Devlin's Dare (5 page)

One night. One fling. Just one.

“Okay.”

Shock flickered over his features, but only for a moment. Then he regained control of himself and gulped. “Okay?”

She nodded. Grinned. Elation swamped her, body and soul. Because she’d made a decision. When Tara Romano made a decision, she was all in.

And because she really did love peanut butter.

She’d said yes.

He could hardly believe it.

It didn’t matter if he won or lost the stupid game. Someone was licking someone tonight. And he doubted it would stop there.

Of course, there was always the possibility she was playing him, as she did last week. There was always the possibility she would lather his cock up with creamy peanut butter—it would be creamy, wouldn’t it? Crunchy might be a little too kinky for his tastes—and then laugh and walk away.

That would be a hell of a mess to clean up.

But what the heck. A guy had to take a risk once in a while. Especially if the potential prize was a woman like this on her knees, lapping at his…

Shit.

He focused on calming his raging hard on. He could barely bend over the table to shoot. Not that it mattered. Win or lose, he won. The thought of licking peanut butter from between her delicate toes was nearly as alluring. She would probably choose the foot. Judging from what he knew of her, she would revel in having him kiss her feet. He would revel in that as well. God. What he wouldn’t give to watch her squirm…

“Darlings!”

It took a moment for Devlin to emerge from the fantasy he’d been weaving in his head to realize the high-pitched call was directed at them.

A beautiful nymph with long flowing blonde hair tripped in six-inch heels through the pistachio shells scattered on the floor—heading straight for them.
Crap.
Devlin tried not to grimace.

She stopped, repositioning her Gucci purse beneath her arm. “I didn’t know you two were here this weekend.”
Her gaze skated from Ponytail to Devlin and back again. “And I didn’t know you knew each other.” Her lashes batted. They were long and lush and probably horribly expensive. Everything Avery Warner did was expensive and over the top. She wiggled her lacquered nails in their direction. Her diamonds flashed, even in the dim light. “Are you two…a thing?”

“No,” Ponytail snapped, a little too quickly.

They exchanged a glance. She responded to his frown with one of her own. “No.” Devlin repeated. “We just—”

But as usual, Avery didn’t let him finish. Avery rarely let anyone finish. “
Well, you look good together.”

“We are not together,” his companion bleated. She shouldn’t have. The heat in her tone captured Avery’s attention. Captured it so much, she narrowed her eyes and
scrutinized them both.

It was uncomfortable being
analyzed by Avery Warner. Something like that never ended well. Avery excelled at mischief. And it was usually always a little twisted.

She smiled. Like a reptile. If reptiles had glossy, pink lips. “Well,” she gushed. “You must come to my birthday party tomorrow. You simply
must
.” She leaned in and winked. “It’s a BDSM themed party.”

Devlin
swallowed heavily. He’d been to one of Avery’s parties before. He’d barely escaped with his manhood intact. “Tomorrow? Gee, I…”

“I’d love to come,” Ponytail said with a glint in her eye. It was a glint that surprised Devlin. He hadn’t pegged her for a kinky girl. But he liked that she was open to…options.

“Wonderful.” Avery pinned Ponytail with a gimlet glance. “And are any of the other Dawgs here?”

“Holt and Bella—”

A low, evil chuckle. “Oh, they
have
to come.”

“And Kristi and Cam.”

Avery wrinkled her nose. “You can invite them, but Kristi is pretty
vanilla
.”

Ponytail grinned. “Drew is supposed to come this weekend, as well as Lane. But I don’t know when they’re getting here.”

Devlin stiffened. Lane was coming?
Great.
The last time he’d seen Lane Daniels, the bastard had threatened to flatten his nose. For a divorced guy, Lane was pretty territorial about his ex.

That sealed it. He was definitely not going to the party.

“Well, invite them all. The party’s at my place tomorrow and starts at nine on the dot. Don’t be late,” Avery said with a smirk. “There are forfeits for latecomers.” She chuckled at her own joke. Avery always appreciated a pithy double entendre. Even when no one else got it. “And you!” She spun on Devlin, pointing an exquisitely manicured finger in his direction. “You’d better be there. With fucking bells on.”

“Yes ma’am.
Jingle, jingle.” He tendered a little salute. He had no intention of going, of course. If things went his way tonight, he and Ponytail would be deep in a playtime of their own. Far too busy to go to the big house on the bluff and prance around in leather, sucking on penis-pops and avoiding the outrageous games Avery liked to play. Games where one never knew who might end up wearing handcuffs and a dog collar.

And if it was Avery’s birthday party, there would, no doubt, be spankings. Probably a lot of them.
While Devlin didn’t mind the prospect of bringing his hand down on Ponytail’s shapely ass, he knew, if roles were reversed, she’d be ruthless.

Yeah. Party or not, his plan was to seduce her tonight and keep her in his bed all weekend. The party would have to go on without them.

Avery didn’t stay long after exacting the promises she required. She flounced to the bar to flirt with Darby. Devlin knew she was flirting, and mercilessly so, on account of his blush—visible even from here. Darby, who owned and ran the only bar on the island, was painfully shy and never dated, as far as Devlin could tell.

I
t seemed as though Avery wanted to eat him alive. She probably did.

“Shall we continue our…game?” Ponytail’s low sultry tones recaptured his attention and he turned back to the table.
Her expression pole axed him. “We were playing for peanut butter, I believe.”

“Yes. We were.” He swallowed. “I, ah, where were we?”

“It was my shot.” The way she tried to hide her impish grin told him it was not her shot, but he let it go. He hardly cared who won.

He waved at the table. “Be my guest.”

She flicked him a thoughtful glance before bending to sight along the cue.

Devlin stepped back. And enjoyed the view.

Yeah, he wouldn’t mind draping her over his lap and having those lush globes splayed before him. Preferably bare, but he would work with whatever he got. His fingers curled at the thought of how nice his handprint would look on those rounded globes.

A minx like this deserved a spanking. Especially
after the way she’d teased him. Was still teasing him.

As though she could read his thoughts, she gave her ass a little waggle as she prepared to shoot.

Damn.

Damn, damn.

Maybe he did want to win. The thought of her ass covered with peanut butter made his knees weak. But if he won, there was no doubt in his mind exactly where that peanut butter would go. She’d be finishing what she started last week. He quickly reviewed the contents of Ash’s pantry, wondering how much peanut butter there was.

She sank the first ball but missed on the second. “Your turn
,” she grunted.

“Yeah.” He stepped up to the table and surveyed the layout of the balls. There were a couple cheap shots—he took them—and then one that was a little more challenging. A trill of excitement
slashed him as the ball banked off the felt and landed in the pocket with a neat click. One more to go.

He bent and sighted the ball, and drew back the cue.

Just as he was about to shoot, she cleared her throat. “Is it me, or is it warm in here?”

His gaze
snapped to her. Not only because her tone was low and sultry. But because a flutter of movement in the vicinity of her breasts—which were always somewhere on his radar—indicated she was unbuttoning her blouse.

And hell. She was.

One. Two. Three buttons. Until the cleft of her cleavage was clearly visible. She fanned herself there, much lower than was precisely necessary, and then drew her fingertips slowly along that shadowy crease.

Devlin’s muscles locked. His pulse set up a manic tattoo
that resonated throughout his body—pounded in his cock.

Shit.

He affected a nonchalant mien. Clucked his tongue. “Cheaters never prosper, Ponytail.”

“I’m not cheating.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I’m
simply making an observation. It is warm in here. Isn’t?”

Hell yeah it was.

“You know…I think I’d like peanut butter here,” she murmured in a pouty voice, tracing her cleavage again. She leaned closer. Touched a nipple, clearly outlined against the fabric of her blouse. “Or here. What do you think, Devlin?”

Think?
There was no thinking.

Without glancing at the table, he took his shot. Satisfaction flared as he heard the telltale thunk as the eight ball found its home.

“I win.” He hardly needed to say it. Judging from her grunt of dismay, she knew damn well her ploy hadn’t worked. But it felt good to say.

It also felt good to take her hand and lead her from the bar.

And even better when she followed without demur.

Ash’s house wasn’t far from town, but on this night, the trek felt like a million miles. They did not speak as they made their way along the beach path. The moon was out and the sky was clear. A thousand pinprick stars glittered in the heavens. A gentle breeze carried the briny scent of the ocean inland. Waves shushed in the distance.

And her hand. Her hand was warm in his.

He loved that, as they walked—with a little more purpose than one might normally stroll home after an evening at the bar—her fingers wove through his.

He paused at the stairs leading up the hill to Ash’s house. Tipped up her chin with two fingers. “Are you sure about this?” he asked.

She narrowed her eyes and puckered her brows. “A bet’s a bet.”

Yeah. It was. Still… “A game is a game too. And I’ll be frank Ponytail…” She opened her mouth to respond but he silenced her with a finger. “I want you. I want you pretty fuckin’ bad. But not because I won a bet.”

This seemed to surprise her. Her lips worked. “But… You did win.”

“I know. But despite what you may think of me, I’m not the kind of guy to take advantage of a woman simply because she can’t resist a dare—”

“That is—”

“If you come inside, it’s because you want to come inside. Because you feel it too. This draw between us. Understood?”

Where this chivalry came from, he had no clue. Then again, maybe it wasn’t chivalry at all. Maybe it was a deep scorching need to know. Know that she wanted him with the same aching desperation.

She studied him for a moment, the moonlight kissing her face, imbuing her with an ethereal glow. Her eyes were magnificent. Wide. Clear. Her mouth ripe and full. He ached to kiss her
, but he did not. Could not. Not until he knew.

“Are you releasing me from the bet?” She spoke so softly he almost didn’t hear her.

He nodded. “If you want to be released.”

It seemed to befuddle her, this concept that the choice was hers—to come in or leave.
That or the fact that the choice came with a declaration. She had to admit she wanted him. Agree that whatever happened with him was her choice, and not a result of the obligation of some stupid dare.

This took her a moment
—
an eternity
—to process. His heart thudded into the silence. Then she tipped her chin and nodded. “Yes.”

He cupped her cheeks and
tipped her chin so he could see her. “What? I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes.” He stared at her lips as they moved. Fascinated by them. Beguiled by the scent of her. The feathery tease of her breath. “Yes. I want to come in.”

The words barely escaped before he sealed her mouth with his. And holy God, what heaven it was. She was soft, submissive, open to him, and so warm. She tasted like ambrosia, a sweet mixture of arousal and surprise.

When she opened to him, welcomed his tongue in its tentative foray, his knees locked. He turned his head and deepened the kiss, pulling her closer, sealing them together
. Pleasure skittered through him. She was curvy, pillowy and firm in all the right places. They fit together like puzzle pieces long lost.

She arched into him, wiggling against his cock. Agony speared him. When she tunneled her fingers into his hair and scored him with her nails, he nearly wept.

“God,” he groaned. “God.” It was all he could think to say. It was all he could manage.

She pulled back first, but it was to whisper, “We should go inside.”

She was in the shadows then, her expression hard to read. But he fancied he didn’t need to. Her intention was clear. And her hand was on his ass.

He led the way up the stairs and fumbled with the keys for a bit before he finally got the slender metal shard to fit in the infinitesimally small slot.
His mind was a little muddled by thoughts of an entry of another kind.