Devlin's Dare (6 page)

The door opened and they spilled inside. He meant to reach for the light switch, but completely forgot about that when she stepped into his arms and pulled him into another scorching exchange.

Tongues. Lips. Nibbles. Nips. They consumed each other. Madly, hotly, a rampage of need. He backed her up against the wall and kicked the door shut, then found the hem of her blouse and skated his hand beneath it.

Ah.

Her skin was warm. Velvety smooth. He eased higher and higher until he found and cupped her full breast. Snarls of delight and anticipation danced along his spine, nesting in his balls at the weight, the give, of this treasure. Had he ever felt anything more perfect?

Unable to resist he cupped the other breast, though her shirt. He pressed them together and dipped his head to
explore the cleft between them with his tongue, as he had been aching to do since she’d traced it in the bar. He buried his face in her softness and drew in her scent.

Ah. She was fragrant. Some light perfume, or powder or
maybe just her.

He found a nipple, a pouty protuberance, and scored it with a nail. She shuddered and released a guttural groan. “Oh, God!”

She took his head in her hands, turned it to the side and nested in his neck, licking and laving and nuzzling the sensitive skin there until he thought he might expire. Unable to move away from such bliss, he held still, held his breath and simply savored the sensations she drew on him with her tongue.

When she nibbled his earlobe, dabbed into the shell of his ear, he nearly lost his load.
His overwhelming response to something so simple and small was astounding. But her touch was potent. It took everything in him to hold back the prickles of need goading him, lancing him. He wanted to come, but he needed more.

He reached down and yanked up her leg, wrapping it around his waist. She scrabbled for purchase, but he balanced her, pinned her against the wall, pressing his aching cock against her groin. And rubbed.

She threw back her head and met his gaze.

What he saw there scored him to the core.

Need.

Hunger.

Desire.

“I want you,” he grunted. “I want you now.”

“Yes,” A whisper. But threaded through it, a passion that was not tentative in the slightest.

He flicked open the snap of her jeans. Released her leg and yanked them down, along with her panties. She kicked them off and reached for his zipper.

In her frenzy, her hand brushed against his cock and Devlin closed his eyes. Fought back a whimper.

When she followed his jeans down and knelt before him, his vision went red. She hooked her fingers in the elastic of his briefs and slowly eased them down. His cock, rampant and ready,
stood proud.

She released a ragged moan and cupped him, took him in her fist and tested his girth.

Good. So good.

He’d wanted her on her knees before him. Dreamed of it for the past seven nights. Wanted her on her knees before him with his cock buried deep in her throat. But now…

But now, all he could think of was owning her. Possessing her. Planting himself so deeply into her cunt he might never find his way out again. He wouldn’t want to.

Gently, he took her shoulders and brought her to her feet. He answered the question in her eyes with a kiss. A ravenous kiss.

Passion rode him. Need and hunger crawled in his belly.

Her moans inflamed him.

Without thought, without premeditation or sanity or finesse, he ripped open her blouse and yanked down the cups of her bra. Though it was dark and they tangled in the shadows, barely in the foyer of the house, the moonlight filtering through the window gleamed off the creamy globes of her breasts. They bobbled as he lifted her up, pinned her against the wall. As though she knew what he needed, as though she needed it desperately too, she wrapped her legs around his waist and tipped her hips. He captured a rosy peak in his mouth and sucked as he slipped inside. Slipped into heaven.

God, she was hot. Hot and tight and slick. He moaned as he sank deeper and deeper still. The tiny muscles of her channel quivered around his invading cock, sending pings of
pleasure, shards of exquisite torment, over every nerve, invigorating him. He sucked on her nipple again and felt the reverberation of her groan to the base of his balls.

He shifted her higher, repositioning her against the wall. And began a slow, decadent rhythm. At the end of each thrust he twitched his hips to the side, exploring her depths until he found it.

And oh. He knew when he found it.

She shivered and quailed. She buried her nails in his back and scored him through his t-shirt. She clenched him tight and hissed a sigh.

“Is that it?” he huffed. “Is that what you like?”

“Yes,” she growled.
The growl became a wail as he withdrew and drove home again. And again. And again.

His pace increased, though there was no intent, no thought behind it. Simply instinct fed by need, hunger, a desperate ache to feel her come around him. To make her loose every scrap of control. To make her wild.

Make her his.

He pounded, hell for leather. Whipping in and out of her cunt.
Relishing the illicit slap of skin against wet skin. And she drenched him. As her arousal rose, her body released, easing the friction, allowing for a riotous ride.

He knew when she came.
Heard it, felt it, wore it. Her cunt devolved from a tight measured hold to a series of savage spasms, clenching, clasping and then finally clamping down in a manic grip he could not escape. Then again, he didn’t want to.

His cock swelled. Cum burned at the base of his balls. He dipped his head and suckled her nipples, dug his fingers deep into the flesh of her ass.

Sanity flew in the force of his orgasm. Like a flood of lava, hot and scorching and delirious to be free, he erupted, filling her.

Even when it was over, he couldn’t stop moving, though his thrusts were slow, sleepy, reluctant for it to end.

She was slow to recover too. He held her there, against the wall, buried in her warmth until she caught her breath. She looked up at him and hitched a small laugh.

“What?” he murmured through a kiss.

“We forgot…” she said.

“We forgot what?” His brain was barely functioning, but he was sure they’d left out a lot of things…

“We forgot the peanut butter.”

She said this with such a pout, he couldn’t help but throw his head back and laugh.

Because there would be time for that…later. They had all night. All weekend. Maybe longer…

Afterwards they curled up together on the sofa to recuperate. He must have dozed off because when he awoke, she was gone. Even though that pissed him off, he found himself laughing.

Because, again, she’d taken his jeans.

His humor didn’t stall until he remembered…he still didn’t know her name.

Tara nibbled at a smile as she slipped in the back door of the house she shared with her friends, clutching a pair of rumpled jeans to her chest. They smelled of him. Fresh, clean and manly.

She was
well on her way to amassing quite a collection.

Sex
with Devlin had been amazing. More amazing than she could ever have imagined.

The memory
of his cock sliding in and out of her, even now, made her tingle.

She’d awoken from her nap, curled against his hard, warm body on the couch
, steeping in the euphoria still bubbling in her womb…until mortification had set in.

Not that she’d fucked him. Hell no. That was an experience she’d clutch to her heart for many long, lonely nights to come. He’d been magnificent. Feral in his passion.

But she hadn’t intended to tumble so easily. She’d planned to give him what he wanted…a peanut butter blow job. Planned to bring him to the very edge of insanity, licking and lapping and exploring his thick cock…and then sashay away.

It hadn’t worked out that way.

He’d backed her up against the wall and touched her. Kissed her. Fed on her until she was in such a frenzy, she completely forgot about her evil plans. She’d wanted nothing—nothing—but the long slow slide of his cock inside her.

Everything else had been stripped from her brain, as though he’d peeled her civility away and tossed it aside like long-forgotten panties, reduced her to her most primal core.

They hadn’t even used a condom.

She was
not pleased that he’d forgotten to use a condom.

She was
not pleased that
she’d
forgotten to insist. She always insisted. Even though she was on the pill.

She’d never forgotten.
Never been so swept away by passion, by sheer animal lust, that she’d neglected to politely ask a man to wear a raincoat. She lived in Seattle, for God’s sake.

That in itself should be enough to remind her how treacherous her feelings for him were.

But it had been phenomenal.

Almost too phenomenal to bear.

Certainly too phenomenal to stomach the awkward
after
.

So she’d slipped away. Like a thief in the night, skulking through the shadows back to the safety of her den.

The lights were on in the great room and she could hear murmured conversation rumbling in the room. She closed the door quietly, tiptoed down the hall and peered into the kitchen, dreading what she might be interrupting.

Anymore
, when one was bunking with Kristi and Cam or Bella and Holt, one never knew what kind of shenanigans one might walk in on.

Earlier
, she’d blithely tripped downstairs into the rumpus room and discovered Bella and Holt in a…compromising position. Well, Bella was in a compromising position. Tied hand and foot. Getting spanked.

Holt hadn’t been compromised at all.

He’d been so into it, he hadn’t even noticed the interloper.

Tara had turned tail and sprinted back up the stairs.

Honestly. Would it be too much to ask for them to hang a necktie on the doorknob? Or, in this case, a leash?

But there were no naughty reindeer games happening now. At least, not of the sexual variety. She was relieved to see Cam and Holt, along with Drew at the table playing cards. Probably poker, if she knew them. And she did.

She dumped the purloined jeans on the kitchen counter and pulled out a glass, availing herself of the open bottle of Bombay on the counter. “Hey guys.”

“Hey Tara.” Drew grinned.

“Where’ve you been?” Cam asked, tossing out a card.

She tipped up the bottle, sloshing in several fingers of gin. She needed it. “I went to Darby’s.”

Holt pointedly checked his watch and arched a brow. He didn’t need to say a word. She’d been gone far too long for a quick drink at the bar.

She decided to forestall his question with one of her own. “Where are Bella and Kristi?”

“Bella’s…taking a nap.” Holt’s lips quirked. Judging from his expression, Tara didn’t want to ask. She didn’t need to ask. Poor Bella. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a nap.

“Kristi’s in the hot tub.” Cam thrust his thumb toward the deck.

Tara sliced a lime and squeezed a wedge into her drink. “And you’re not with her?”

Cam shrugged. “We don’t have to be together every minute of the day.” Snorts rounded the room. The two were inseparable lately. “Besides, she likes to stay in there until she prunes.” He shifted in his seat. “And I don’t want to cook the boys.”

Tara chuckled and began rooting around in the fridge. “Anything to eat?” She’d planned to grab a sandwich at Darby’s and gotten…distracted. Now she was starving.

“Didn’t you eat at the bar?” God damn Holt and his too-sharp eyes.

Tara pulled out a loaf of bread and made a quick turkey sandwich. She would have preferred peanut butter…but she wouldn’t think about that. “Hmm. I ran into Avery.”

“Avery Warner?” Drew perked up.

“Mmm hmm.” She took a bite of her sandwich. “Did you know it’s her birthday this weekend?”

“Really?” Holt stood with a scrape of his chair and meandered to the fridge to grab another beer. His gaze stalled on the jeans on the counter
and then flicked to her blouse, which she’d tied around her breasts leaving her midriff bare—the way they’d done when they were girls and wanted to pick up guys. She hadn’t wanted to pick up guys. But she’d had to do something creative…as Devlin had popped off nearly all the buttons.

Holt
said nothing, but the way he cleared his throat was telling.

Tara shot him a
mischievous smirk. “You’re all invited to the party tomorrow.”

Holt twisted the lid off his beer and tossed it into the trash. “But I didn’t bring a gift.”

“You know Avery. She’d consider your luminous presence at her BDSM party as a gift in itself.”

“Christ.” Drew buried his face in his hands. “It’s a BDSM party?”

“You expected Hello Kitty?” Cam chuckled, popping a handful of cashews into his mouth.

“Only if Hello Kitty was sporting a
cat-o-nine.” Sometimes Holt had a dark sense of humor. Or maybe it was usually. He turned to Tara. “Are you going?”

“I was thinking about it. She was rather…adamant. Insisting we come.”

“We?” Holt didn’t miss a thing.

Tara cleared her throat. “I told her
you
would be there,” she quipped, grabbing her sandwich, scooping up her prized jeans and heading for the stairs. “Don’t be late. There will be forfeits.”

“Of course. And Tara…” The high, slightly panicked tone of Holt’s voice
on her name stopped her in her tracks.

“Yes?”

“Bella’s in the green room.”
Oh crap.
And then, at her horrified expression, “She’s…on timeout.”

She nodded and blew out a breath, mentally thanking him for the warning.

The last thing she wanted was to walk in on Bella in a compromising position again.

Once a weekend was plenty, thank you very much.

Tara didn’t sleep much that night. Her mind kept drifting back to that amazing ride with Devlin and for some reason, her pulse would start to pound and her body got all warm and she
had to take care of business.

Thank God she had her own room. Hopefully she didn’t wake anyone with her moaning.

The third time she woke up from a scorching dream with a burning hunger, it became a little annoying. Honestly. It was only a tryst. With a guy. She’d had trysts with guys before and walked away with absolutely no residual lust.

But they weren’t Devlin
, a voice whispered in her head.

She told it to shut up.

He was just a guy. Like any other guy.

Okay, he was hotter than any other guy. And he smelled better. And the low thrum of his voice as he whispered in her ear kick-started something deep in her core…but there was no reason to
moon
. She hated mooning. She never mooned.

Though, when she thought about it, she had to admit, it had been phenomenal. Phenomenal enough to want more.
One more fling.

Too bad it wasn’t going to happen.

Fucking him again would only encourage him.

Best to put him from her mind altogether.

Yet, for some reason, when she woke up, he was there, lingering in the mists of her mind, teasing her sanity. It put her in a seriously bad mood.

She yanked on a t-shirt and some jeans and padded downstairs, delighted to see no one else was up yet. She made the coffee and an omelet and then, because she knew it would get eaten, fried up a pan of bacon.
Then she took her breakfast out on the deck, sat at the patio table and stared at the sea.

It was a beautiful morning. The
gentle fingers of dawn painted the water in soft orange and yellow. The evergreens on the shore swayed in the gentle breeze. Tiny sandpipers chased the waves, dancing along the surf line. It was peaceful and quiet.

It was a benefit to being a baker, she supposed, that one could get up early enough to enjoy the sunrise, and still feel as if one had languorously slept in.

“Morning.” Holt’s voice was gruff with sleep. Or perhaps he’d been growling at Bella all night. Tough to tell.

“Morning.”

He pulled out a chair and plopped down beside her and cradled his coffee mug in his hands.
“What a view.”

“It is beautiful, isn’t it?”

He grunted and took a sip. She glanced at him. He had
sleepy face
, which she found adorable on a man, especially a man as handsome as Holt. His eyes were half-open and a little blurred, there was a pillow crease on his beard-speckled cheek and his muscles had a softness that was not present in his usual demeanor. She wondered what Devlin’s sleepy face looked like, then caught herself and forcibly thrust the thought away.

“It’s always a thrill, coming here,” she said, just to have something to say. Something to fill the moment. She did not expect his attention to snap to her, to fixate on her, the way it did.

“Why don’t you come more often?”

God. She shouldn’t have said anything.

“I come often enough.”

“No. You don’t. I think I’ve seen you twice in the past year.”

She shrugged. Studied her mug. It was empty. Damn. “I need more coffee.” She pushed back from the table but he stopped her. Caught her wrist in a warm grasp.

“Why
don’t
you come more often?”

She blew out a laugh. “I have a job, Holt.”

“We all have jobs.”

“I have a
business
.”

The screen door opened and Bella came out onto the deck, carrying a mug and a plate piled with
the pastries Tara brought and, of course, bacon. For a self-proclaimed vegan, she ate a lot of bacon. She caught Tara mid-scowl. “Well, don’t you look chipper this morning,” she said, setting her plate on the table.

She and Holt shared a kiss
, which was a relief because it meant he would get distracted and drop this uncomfortable topic.

But she was wrong. Once Bella
sat beside him, he snagged a slice of bacon and continued. “So you have a business. How does that keep you away? If you love it here, how could that keep you away?”

She
forced a saccharine smile. “Are you saying you miss me, Holt?”

He held up his hands. “Hey. I’m just curious, is all. We all come pretty regularly—except Patrick, who has good reason—and
you
.”

She stared at him, lips working. Couldn’t help it. What was he talking about? She wasn’t one of
them
. She wasn’t a Dawg. She was an interloper, here because one of them had so graciously invited her.

“Yeah,” Bella chirped, crunching into a chocolate croissant. “Why don’t you come more often?
And why didn’t you bring more cream puffs?”

Holt’s arched brow
provoked her, so Tara snapped, “Because I’m not one of
you,
that’s why.”

His eyes narrowed. “You
are
.”

“I’m not on the lease, Holt.”

“So?” This he said as though it made no difference at all that she had no legal right to squat here with impunity.

“So. I’m not part of the
clan
.” She was on the outside looking in. She knew it. He knew it.
Everybody
knew it.

“We’re hardly a clan.
” Bella licked some chocolate off the side of her hand.

“
Just a group of people, who happen to like each other, who happen to like spending time together.” He shifted in his seat, his intensity swelling. His sleepy face was definitely gone. “Are you saying you don’t feel comfortable coming here?”