The Dare (Truth or Dare Book 1)

His eyes bore into mine, with no subterfuge, just raw desire. I can feel the same echoing through my blood.

Is this a dare I dare to accept?

So many thoughts run through my mind at the same time, a tornado of ‘what-ifs’ and ‘then-whats’ that make me dizzy as chaos reigns inside me. I’m not wrong that this could be the most dangerous dare I ever take, both professionally and personally.

Big risks, big rewards, I think.

Big dick, Devil-Tiffany interjects, reminding of the hard ridge of cock Colton pressed against me as he helped me aim my mini-golf shots. There’s definitely nothing miniature about him.

I shouldn’t make a decision like this based on dick, though, or at least not solely on dick, right? But fire is working its way through my veins, not just hot but bubbly and bright. If I do this, I know exactly what’s going to happen, and I want that too.

Let the chips fall where they may.

He waits patiently, watching my every thought flash across my face. I’m not exactly known for my poker face, unless it’s lying about a dare, so there’s no telling what he sees.

Even as I think, I know what I’m going to do. I’ve been waiting for his attention for years and now I have it. It’s uglier and more complex than I wish it were, but I’m not going to lose this opportunity any more than I’m going to sit around at work and let the big boys play while I watch.

That’s not who I am, a sideline sitter. I’m a jump into the open waters of the dark ocean at midnight with no life vest kind of girl. Even if I can only doggie paddle, metaphorically speaking. Cannonball!

“Let’s go,” I say with a smile as I push on his chest. “But you’d better not disappoint. I’m gambling big here, Wolfe, so you’d better make it worth it.”

I aim for lightheartedness, but there’s a note of truth to the words. I’m risking a lot here, maybe even more than he is, given our roles at work and the complication my dad adds to the equation.

He lets me off the hook kindly, another point in his favor. “I’ll make it so worth it, love.”

“Love?” I question, one brow raised sharply. “Is that what you call your harem?”

He laughs loudly. “Harem? Do people even use that word anymore? And what makes you think I have a harem?”

That devil on my shoulder must be to blame for what pops out of my mouth. “Big dick energy.”

Colton’s mouth drops open for a moment, gaping like a fish, and I like that I’ve shocked him speechless. Especially when he starts shoving me out to the parking lot toward his Lotus. “Let’s go.”

Each block that passes as we wind our way deeper downtown ratchets up the tension between Colt and me.

His hand strokes up and down my leg, from knee to the edge of my thigh highs, leaving a trail of heated tingles. “Do you wear stockings often?”

“Why, do you like them?” I ask, trying not to whimper as his fingers move a little further between my thighs before stroking back down.

“Fucking love them,” he grits out, and I store that away in my deck of cards to use in my favor. Colton’s finger reaches my knee and then turns around, making the return trip to high on my thigh. “Any other surprises under here?”

“Hmm . . . play your cards right and you might find out,” I promise him.

Colton’s answering smile is full of hope. “I can’t wait to see what you dare me to do.”

It sounds like he means it, and I feel like we’re in this together. Adventures to a new land. Maybe I’ll call it Elle-topia because Colton-topia is too much of a mouthful. I can’t help the adolescent giggle that I hope he’s a mouthful.

Though, I might dare him to clean the toilet just to torment him . . . and to check out that ass. Nah, on second thought, maybe I’ll dare him to wiggle it for me Magic Mike style? Seems like that might be a bit more of a shock to his staid, stoic system.

And I want to shake him up a bit the way he does me.

Colton makes a left turn, pulling into a parking garage. “You live in Tristone Towers?” It’s a stupid question, considering he waves at the guardhouse and the security arm rises as we approach.

But Tristone Towers is the crown jewel of downtown’s residential district. The three slanted, triangular-shaped towers group together to make an even larger triangle, like a housing complex designed by a Zelda nerd.

Colton doesn’t seem at all phased by the opulence around us, and I wonder again at his past beyond what little I’ve read. He said he’s the black sheep of his family, but I can’t imagine that’s true with his success.

Colton pulls into a reserved spot, getting out and coming around to my side. He reaches in as though he’s going to help me from the car like a gentleman, but at the last moment, his hand traces up my thigh once more. “You ready?”

I nod silently, my eyes laser locked on his hand before I look up. But I don’t meet his eyes. Instead, my gaze stops at his waist and the very large bulge straining to break free of his slacks.

Holy shit! Mouthful? Definitely more than a mouthful. Can you get choked by cock? Because if so, I think I might gag on him.

As that particularly filthy thought shoots through my mind, I must make some noise because Colton moves his hand to cup my jaw. “Elle?” The tension in the single syllable is so sexy in its hesitancy. He’s giving me an out, but that’s not what I was thinking at all.

I’m standing on the edge, making that last instant decision. Do I jump and pray that I fly, risking that I might crash? Or do I play it safe and back away from the possibilities that lie ‘out there’ somewhere with no safety net?

It’s not the dare this time sending butterflies through me. It’s him. His very presence, dark and deliciously dangerous, along with the peeks behind the façade he wears to the kind and maybe even injured boy inside who wants to experience fun for the sheer joy of it.

I look up at him, still in his Lotus as he waits to help me out. “I dare you . . .” His breath catches excitedly. “I dare you to show me those Calvins.”

Who said that?

Colton looks surprised, shocked, and then delighted, so it must have been me.

I’m on the verge of laughing it off as a joke, but as his head turns left then right, scanning the parking garage and noting that we’re blessedly alone, I stay silent.

I’m not sure if people being around would make a difference to me now, though I’m not usually quite this adventurous in the bedroom. But I’m feeling more daring than ever, so I’m all in and praying he is too. I think it’ll be good for him, in more ways than one.

“Here?” The pause is so readily obvious, a sure sign that I’m pushing him outside his comfort zone.

I nod, letting him decide, but I help him along by dropping my gaze hungrily. I’m not exactly a pro with lots of tongue tricks, but I’ve never had complaints about my oral skills, and I’d like to show him that blowjobs can be a footnote on my list of talents.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Colton groans. His accent suddenly got thicker, like he’s forgotten to moderate it for being in America. “This is bonkers.”

But his fingers deftly work at his belt and then the button slips free. The quiet teeth of the zipper sound loud from my proximity, and then I see the thick ridge of his fully erect cock covered by black cotton. I lean forward, nuzzling it against my cheek as I walk my fingers to the waistband of his boxer briefs.

I hold my breath as I pull the cotton down, revealing his hard length. There’s a clear drop of precum on the tip, and I lick my lips, imagining how he tastes.

“Elle . . .” He’s muttering deep and dark, barely words. I feel like all the power is in my hands, or well, in my mouth, and whether I choose to give him what we both desperately want.

I lap at his slit, groaning as his salty-sweet flavor covers my tongue. I kiss the crown and then envelop him in my mouth, taking him deeper and deeper with every bobbing movement of my head. I hum against him, feeling the vibrations in my palms where I grip his base.

He steps forward, blocking me in the car. If anyone came into the garage right now, they’d see him air humping his car, not knowing that my open mouth was right here in the passenger seat, gobbling him down.

He fucks my mouth, his intensity building as he gets impossibly harder in my mouth. “Fuck . . .” he grits out a moment before I feel his balls tighten up against my fist and then the first spurts of his cum splash across my tongue. I swallow him down, not wanting to miss a drop.

My legs scissor, and I know I’m soaked through with desire. I just blew my boss in the parking garage after our first date . . . was this a date? I should be freaking out right now, but the thought turns me on even more, giving me the same high that a successful dare does even though this dare was for him.

“Holy shit,” Colton whispers softly, more emotion than I would’ve expected post-orgasm from a powerful man like him. “Let’s go.”

He takes his cock from my mouth, and I whimper like he’s taking away my favorite candy. He quickly adjusts his underwear and half-ass fastens his pants, leaving the belt undone in favor of grabbing my arm to help me from the car.

He hustles me toward an elevator that seems unexpectedly fancy for a parking garage. But as the doors close and we rise just one floor up, the glass walls suddenly make sense. The view takes my breath away as we float higher and higher into the air, the entire town unveiling itself slowly as we climb toward the clouds.

“How do you leave your place with views like this?”

Colton chuckles and steps behind me, his hands resting on my hips as he lightly presses his body against me, almost the way he kept doing on the putt-putt course. I still can’t believe I got him to do that, but I arch instinctively now the way I wanted to then. My ass presses back toward him, and my nipples harden in my bra as I lift my chest. “I’ve seen much prettier things tonight.”

I know he wants to take me right here in the elevator, both of us riding a torrid tidal wave of sexual arousal that would steam up the glass walls of this great elevator. But he holds back, wanting to draw this out.

Because he’s not on edge the same way I am. I’m hungry, needy, ready for this.

The elevator dings, opening up to reveal a sight even more opulent and stunning than the elevator ride. The far wall of the space is two floors tall, sloping with the slant of the building’s roof downward to the doors to an outside balcony that rings half the building.

The inside’s just as beautiful as the outside. Just as classically opulent as his office, everything’s high quality, black marble and cherry wood, chocolate-brown leather and high-end electronics. It looks exactly how I’d expect, like a British bachelor pad.

“Nice place,” I say with a wink. Nice is the understatement of the century.

Colton gestures to the couch, his lips twitching at my slight. “Have a seat.”

I sit down, and Colton goes to the open kitchen area, where a cabinet door reveals a well-stocked liquor cabinet. “What’s your poison?” he asks, already pouring himself a whiskey.

He’s slowing us down, something I don’t want. I want the unrestrained lust we were floating in moments ago, the mindless drive of our bodies toward one another, and the pleasure pinging from him to me and back again. I don’t want to think. I want to do.

My blood rushes in my ears as I stand up, heading over to the kitchen to pluck the whiskey tumbler from Colt’s fingers. “Whatever you’re having,” I purr, letting the liquid rush down my throat. It’s smoky, deep, and rich . . . like him.

He takes the now-empty tumbler back, setting it on the counter behind him. His thumb comes up to trace my lip as he lowers his head toward mine. His tongue peeks out, licking at me, tasting the whiskey from my lips. Before he even truly kisses me again, he pulls back, eyes searching mine.

“So?” he questions me, but I don’t know what about, nor can I pull together a reasonable thought right now.

Fuck him, get fucked by him. Missionary, doggie, sixty-nine, pretzel, cowgirl, prone bone, butter churner.

My brain is listing out sex positions like a Cosmopolitan writer who moonlights for Penthouse and consults for Pornhub.

“So?” I repeat cluelessly.

His grin is pure arrogant bastard. “The dare was to come home with me and do what you want with me. So, what do you want to do? Or was the scene in the car the sum total of your fantasies?”

Oh, if he only knew the filthy images flipping through my mind like a retro ViewMaster.

Click . . . bent over the counter. Click . . . spread eagle on his bed like he described earlier. Click . . . slick and soapy against the shower wall. Click . . . face down on his desk with him licking me from behind.

“Bedroom. Now.” My voice is steady and certain, no doubt that I mean precisely what it sounds like.

Colton’s jaw clenches, and he takes me by the hand, leading me to a staircase and upstairs to a huge bedroom suite. The space is blanketed by rich navy walls, giving it a warm, masculine feel, and it’s easily bigger than my apartment.

His bed’s just as big as the rest of the bedroom, a fluffy white comforter roughly the size of a tennis court stretched out over the thick mattress. Well, maybe it’s not that big, but you could fit three or four people in there easily.

Maybe Colton has. I don’t know.

The errant thought gives me a moment’s pause, but no more. Especially when Colton steps in front of me, looking at my lips like he wants to consume me.

“I know I won, and the prize is for you to call the shots, but I’d like to offer a new dare if you’re game.”

My brow jumps, inviting him to tell me more. Anticipation, excitement, and restlessness begin their familiar buzz again.

“You tell me your boundaries, exactly how far you want to go tonight, and then let me get us there.”

I purse my lips, not surprised at all that he wants control back. “Are you a control freak, sir?” I use the endearment intentionally, wanting to gauge his response. If I agree to this, I want to be specific in my rules.

“I do prefer to be in charge, but I’m certainly fine if you’d prefer to call the shots.” He shrugs, and that answers enough.

“Okay,” I say, thinking carefully about tonight but also the future, about what my choices now are going to mean at the office tomorrow. “No sex.”

Colton flinches, disappointment shooting through his eyes, but he swallows thickly and nods. It’s a test and he passed.

“I want to come. I want you to come. And I want to go home tonight. I won’t pull up to the office tomorrow in your car like the whore people already think I am.” He tries to argue that, but I stop him. “Focus on now. Can you do that? Because I am.”

“How many times? For you, for me?” he clarifies, letting me know his focus is right where it should be.

I smile, knowing I’ve got him but also that it’s going to be to both of our benefits. “Well, you’re one up already,” I tease. “Let’s go with two for me and one for you. Make it even.”

Colton nods. “Counter. At least two.”

“Feeling pretty good about your own talents, are you?” But I smile my agreement. And the deal is struck.

“Hold still,” Colton murmurs in my ear as he steps a slow circle around me, his eyes drinking in my figure through my dress. “I want to see you.”

“I . . . I want to see you too,” I tell him. “I’ve been undressing you with my eyes for ages.”

“You will.” Colton’s voice is thick with want and hidden humor. I still can’t believe he had no idea I was crushing on him as he strutted through the lobby. The clueless, hyper-focused man needed to be clubbed over the head—or flashed my naked ass, apparently—to get his attention. “For now . . . just hold still.”

I do as he says, not moving as his fingers trail over my shoulders and down my arms, goosebumps pricking my skin right behind his touch. Coming back up my arms, he explores my back and neck with just his fingers but still setting my body on fire by the time he starts lowering my zipper.

My dress slithers down my body, leaving me in just my lingerie, stockings, and heels. “My God, you’re stunning.”

His bald admiration makes me flush with pride, and I lift my chest a little bit, preening for him under his gaze. Colton steps around me, looking me up and down as he slips his suit jacket off and undoes his tie. “I want to undress you.”

Colton surprises me by shaking his head, grinning as he hands me his tie. “I have a different idea. Cover your eyes with my tie,” Colton dares, leaning in again until I can feel the heat from his body though we’re not touching . . . yet. “Then we’re going to play X marks the spot.”

A game? He’s learning . . . fast, and I like it.

“I think you mean G spot? I’ve never heard of an X-spot, though if you want to find mine, I wouldn’t mind a bit of a wild goose chase.”

“Goose chase?” he echoes like a parrot.

I smile. “It’s an expression. It means running after something that isn’t there . . . like an X-spot.”

He smiles, getting it. “Not a goose chase.” The phrase still sounds like a foreign shaping of his tongue, like the expression amuses him. “X marks the spot. You will think of a spot but not tell me. I’ll test to find out where the spot is, with my fingers, my lips, my tongue, touching you wherever I think it might be, with whatever I want. We play until I find the X.”

“Or the G?” I barter.

“You’re not a very good listener, are you?” he teases. “You’re not supposed to tell me the place you’re thinking of or it ruins the game.”

“Just to be clear here, finding my G-spot is never, ever going to ruin a game. It’s basically a touchdown, field goal, score, hole in one every time.”

His lips do that twitchy thing again, like he’s barely holding back from laughing at me.

I trace the tip of his tie over my skin and along the edges of my bra. “Okay, so other than the obvious worship and G-spot discovery—that’s a hint, by the way—what do I get if I win?”

“Damn near anything you wish,” Colton promises me. “Well? Are you up for it?”

Oh, it’s on. Biting my lip, I place Colt’s tie around my eyes, cutting off all light. At the last minute, I pull it back down, lifting one sculpted brow his way. “No feet. No shame, but that’s definitely not my kink, and your feet have been in dirty socks all day. Not to mention whatever hazards were on that putt-putt course. Gross.” I shudder exaggeratedly and curl my own toes, breaking the tension of the moment when Colton laughs out loud.

Sex, or not quite sex, doesn’t have to be the Serious Thing people make it out to be. It can be fun, filled with heat and humor. Or at least that’s my experience.

Having said my piece, I lift the fancy silk tie back up over my eyes, shutting out the light once again. I hear a shuffling of sound and I realize that he’s shucked his clothes. I’m naked . . . well, nearly naked in my lingerie and stockings, with a nude Colton Wolfe, his tie blindfolding me as we prepare to play what I think might become my new favorite game.

He starts easy, his fingertips tracing my ears and his tongue licking a line along my collarbone. It relaxes me, and soon, I’m having fun, any trepidation forgotten.

But then Colt starts really playing. His fingers work at the clasp of my bra, sliding it down my arms before his mouth engulfs my right nipple and I surge upward in surprised need. He lets go too soon, driving me crazy. I can feel the air around me, heated but empty, and I try to figure out where he’s standing.

To my left. No . . . to my right. I don’t sense him there, either.

I feel a nudge along my hip, something blunter than a finger.

“Oh, my God, is that your toe? Did you stick your big toe on my hip?” I laugh as I say it, hearing how crazy it sounds a second after it leaves my lips.

His answering laugh only makes me blush beneath the blindfold. “If you think I can get my big toe up to your hip from here, you might be sorely disappointed in my lack of flexibility, Elle. I’m not exactly yoga-bendy.”

I giggle. “You said bendy. That doesn’t seem like a Colton Wolfe word.”

“Touché.”

“Yeah, that’s more like it. Fancy and French.”

This game is weird and silly, and I love that he came up with it. The serious and staid Colton Wolfe playing putt-putt and not just seducing me but being playful as he does so. I like it. A lot.

I take matters into my own hands, reaching out to find something long, thick, and incredibly hard lined up against my belly.

Colton hisses.

“So, not your big toe then?” I say coyly.

“You’re forgetting the rules,” he says gruffly as I stroke him from base to tip. “I’m the one finding the X.”

I lick my lips, knowing he probably sees the flirtatious movement. My God, he’s huge. I can feel the head of his cock pressing against my inner wrist even as I push down to his base, and as I jack him slowly, he hums in pleasure. “You didn’t say anything about distracting you from your hunt, though. I play dirty. I’ll provide the distraction, and you . . . you keep searching.”

“Play dirty? I’ll show you playing dirty.”

It’s the only warning I get before I’m swooped up into his arms and flung through the air. I have a split-second shock of freefall before I bounce on his tennis-court-sized bed. A second later, my legs are resting on his bare, broad shoulders and he’s running his fingertips along my inner thighs.

“Oh, shit,” I say huskily. I’m not even going to pretend he isn’t rocking my world just by being between my thighs, and he hasn’t even really touched me yet. “Do you want a clue about the X?” I ask, but there’s a begging plea in my tone for him to get on with this.

Fuck, I need him, need this. No matter how crazy it might be, no matter how stupid I might feel tomorrow. Right now? I’d agree to give Tiffany carte blanche on dares for infinity if it’d get Colton to lick my clit. And to be clear? Tiffany can come up with some crazy shit. But I think Colton’s tongue would be worth it.

“No more cheating. This is my game, Elle.” A tease of punishment paints the edges of the words, and I have to consciously decide whether I want to see what that looks like from Colton or play nice.

His breath whispers across my core, hot through the satin, and I decide to shut right the hell up and let the man play his search and destroy game.

His tongue licks slowly along the right edge of my panties. “Is this the X?”

I bite my lip and shake my head, not trusting my sassy mouth.

“Here?” he asks, kissing the other edge. I shake again, more than just my head, damn near my whole body, screaming for him to go a little more central and he’d be just right. Like a goddamn Goldilocks bear’s porridge.

He moves my panties to the side, exposing me to his gaze. Though I’m blindfolded, I can feel his eyes like a palpable caress. “So pretty, Elle. Look how wet you are. All this for me.”

It’s not remotely a question, and I’m not going to deny that every bit of my arousal is for him. Any denial would be a lie and he’d damn well know it, so why bother? I’m not ashamed of how turned on I am. I’d shout it from the rooftop if I thought it’d get me what I want.

His finger traces my slit first, circling my clit at the top, and I surge upward at the powerful sensation. I’m completely at his mercy, gone in my own goose chase for pleasure. But I hope there’s an actual goose at the end.

What? My brain is so weird sometimes, but I forget about goose, geese, and every other flying bird when I fly apart under Colton’s fingers and tongue.

I’ll definitely be adding this to his list of talents, I think as he sucks on the nub of my clit, his fingers deftly and expertly shoving inside my wet heat to tap at my G-spot like he had a fucking map the whole time. Cheater! But I don’t care as long as he keeps doing whatever magic he’s doing.

“Oh, God, Colton. I’m going to come.” Some women say it nice and polite, like they’re complimenting their partners on doing a good job and to please continue. I growl it out like I’ve been possessed by a demon, threatening a beheading of both of his heads if he dares to stop.

Sharp tightness clenches my entire pelvis, my pussy clamping tight on his fingers and my hands fisting his hair so he can’t get away. I buck and thrust, riding his mouth wildly as I fly through outer space. I don’t even need the blindfold because my eyes are shut tight as I lose myself to pleasure.

A fierce quiver takes over my whole body, making me shake and shiver in release. “Wow,” I think I hear Colton whisper. But maybe I’m wrong because suddenly, I’m falling in a blind tangle of limbs.

“Oh!” I yell out as I come to a rather abrupt and hard stop. I hear an Oof from below me and reach up to remove the blindfold.

Colton is sprawled out on the floor next to his bed on a fluffy rug, a big grin stretching his lips. He looks like the cat that got the cream, but I got the cat’s tongue so he can be as smug as he wants because I’m still the winner here.

I’m half laid on top of him. “What happened?” I ask, looking around. The lights are dim, but I’m still adjusting to the brightness post-blindfold.

“I think I found the X,” he brags. “And then you started shaking so hard, you knocked me over.” He sounds rather pleased with himself so I decide to take him down a notch.

“That makes it one to one. Unless you concede that I win our battle?”

I don’t want him to admit defeat. I want that second orgasm, and I want him to have another too. Okay, I want my second one a smidgen more than I care about his. I’ll discuss my selfish lover tendencies with myself later, but right now, I want to do whatever he just did to me again.

Because that was not an orgasm. That was a freaking unicorn of rainbow-sprinkled epicness that I never knew existed.

“I want us both to win.” He shifts on the floor, pulling me astride him.

And I get my first good look at a naked Colton Wolfe.

Holy hell, he’s like a playground of delights—bumps and ridges I want to trace with my tongue, nooks and crannies I want to suck and kiss, and that thick cock peeking up from where it’s nestled against my pussy. I’m used to appreciating his handsome face, with the chiseled jaw I want to nibble and high cheekbones I want to hold in my hands. But his body only makes him that much more handsome . . . and sexy as fuck.

I feel him throbbing, his cock trapped between us, and I rub myself up and down. There’s only the thin slip of soaked-through satin stopping him from entering me, but I can tell he remembers the boundaries I set before we began playing and is being careful to uphold them.

That alone tells me something significant about Colton Wolfe. He may be a machine in the boardroom, a monster in the bedroom, and a black sheep of his family, but he’s a good man underneath it all.

“Want me to ride you like this until we both come again? So close to fucking, but not . . . quite . . . there.” I’m teasing him, but I’m teasing myself too, and we both groan at how good the friction between us feels.

“Fuck, Elle . . . yes, ride me.” His fingers make divots in the flesh of my hips as he guides me. Faster and harder, I jerk against him, letting his crown bump at my clit with every thrust, sending pulses of pleasure through my body. “So wet, you’re soaking me.”

Any other time, I’d probably be embarrassed as hell by that, and maybe later, I will be. Right now, I’m thankful as fuck for every bit of juice I’m spreading along his length and the pre-cum from his cock, too, because it’s only making this slip and slide of almost-sex that much better.

He reaches up, tangling his fingers in my hair and pulling my face to his. Forehead to forehead, he kisses me hard and hot, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth. Conquering, claiming, devouring. And then he nibbles my earlobe, groaning like it tastes good. I think he has a thing for them, and when his whispers go forceful, I think maybe I do too.

“Come on me, Elle. Enjoy how good I can make you feel and know it’ll be even better when I get inside you.”

Fancy promises, but damned if the promise of another go with Colton doesn’t do it for me.

I cry out his name, bucking and riding him like a mechanical bull I once rode at a shitty bar in college. Forward and back, never losing contact as I pulse over him, hanging onto his shoulders for leverage and dear life as my body spasms and jerks.

His arms wrap around my waist, fully encircling me and holding me immobile as he takes over, using me to take what he needs. He thrusts fast and hard against the soaked satin, so close to where we both want him to be. And with a grunt of release, I feel him cover me in his cum.

I sprawl over him, giving zero fucks that we are messy as hell and I’m only making it worse. Sex is not a neat and tidy affair unless you’re doing it wrong, and prissy folks who think it should be need to get over themselves. Or maybe just have sex so good that they don’t care about sweat, saliva, and cum on every available inch of skin. I laugh at my own random thoughts.

My legs rest outside his, my arms noodles against the fluffy rug, and my head in the nook where his shoulder meets his neck. “Wow is right,” I say, copying his earlier sentiments. Well, the sentiment I thought I heard him say, but real or imagined, it’s the damn truth.

He chuckles beneath me, jostling me. “That good?”

“Don’t be fishing for compliments, Wolfe. You know it was.”

“Fishing for compliments? You Americans do love an animal idiom, don’t you? Goose hunting, compliment fishing, and I’ve heard others.” He hums as though he’s thinking, which is impressive because my brain is still coated in rainbow-sprinkled fog. “Oh, ‘elephant in the room’, which made me literally look around, and ‘hold your horses’ instead of ‘wait, please’, and ‘wouldn’t hurt a fly’, which seems rather ridiculous because why wouldn’t you kill a fly?”

At that one, I do find the energy to laugh. I lift up, blinking to clear my eyes. “Just don’t be a one-trick pony.” I’m baiting him, and he grins.

“Think I’ve already proven that’s not the case, haven’t I?”

“Touché,” I admit.

He throws my earlier words back at me too. “Oh, fancy and French, Miss Stryker.”

We both laugh at that. Two sex-exhausted, animal idiom-loving, fun-seeking people who definitely should not be together. But I can’t imagine a more ridiculously amazing way to spend the evening.

It’s been a wild night, but there’s one thing I know.

Dare done.

In so many ways, with the insertion of games and fun, laughter and seduction, we made the dare for a night out our bitch.

I just hope we don’t pay the price tomorrow.