DARE: A Rock Star Hero

by Scott, S. L.

  Her back is to me, her head dropped forward. Rubbing her temple, she replies, “I used to think all guys were assholes.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “I met you.” She brushes her teeth.

  “I’m an asshole too. You just haven’t given me enough time to prove it.”

  Laughing with a mouth full of toothpaste, she spits in the sink, and then says, “Let’s hope you don’t. I like the notion of one perfect guy.”

  “I’ll do my best not to shatter the image.” With my ego fed, I brush my teeth.

  Wrapped in a towel, she leans against the counter next to me, waiting for me to finish before pouncing into my arms. “So,” she starts, “what should we do next?”

  I can’t hide my smile as I look at her. Grabbing her ass isn’t half bad either. “And by next, what do you suggest? It’s two in the morning.”

  Kissing me, she stops and squeezes her legs that are wrapped around me. “I have a few ideas.” She smirks.

  So fucking hot for this woman. “Does it include the bed?” Please, God, say yes.

  “God, I hope so.” Finally. Praise the Lord.

  I carry her into the bedroom. “Now that we’re clean, we should definitely get dirty again.”

  “That was so cheesy.” She’s too busy laughing to feel the way my heart beats against my chest or the way I gulp a little too hard around her. Being smooth is not something that comes easy when she’s near. I set her down, and she tucks her legs under the covers.

  “Can’t always live up to the lyrics, babe.” I push the covers aside and crawl over her, kissing her along the way to my side of the bed. Relaxing back, I feel the mattress shape to my body, but I want to shape to hers, so I move on top of her and settle my legs between hers.

  Holding me to her, the laughter has died down, and she says, “I’ve never felt like this with anyone before.”

  The word anyone bounces around my head. I’m not letting others invade our space. Happiness sings in her kiss when our lips reunite. When she opens her mouth to speak, I kiss her, ending the conversation. We have time for that tomorrow. Tonight is only about this. Us.

  16

  Dare

  I kiss her neck and then lick her earlobe before taking it between my teeth, tempted to skip the foreplay. I’m ravenous—skin-to-skin, heat-to-heat, thrust-for-fucking thrust—for her. Abiding by my own rules, I ensure the lady always comes first. Every time.

  The memory of watching her come made me come. Getting her off got me off in the shower. It’s going to feel so fucking amazing to be inside her. I might not last long, but I know it’s going to be worth the wait to feel her body squeezing around mine.

  My lips return to the creamy skin of her shoulder, kissing her until a small red mark begins to bloom. Her chest is rising and falling, her mouth open, as I appreciate her body with mine. My mouth is on her. My hands run over her hips. My lyrics are sung to a symphony of soft moans. She whispers, “We can have sex, Dare.”

  There’s no confusion this time. She doesn’t bring up the notion of creating or making love. My chest constricts. Love. I need to keep my head in the game. Love has nothing to do with sex. They live miles apart, so there’s no use deliberating the issue.

  Except we’re different. Not just from a few days ago, but inside as if my insides have rearranged to make room for something new.

  For love?

  For her?

  For both?

  I’ve always believed it’s impossible to love someone you just met. But when I rise from kissing between her breasts, I see more than lust in her eyes. I don’t think Weatherly could hide her true emotions if she tried. Yet, I’ve become a master of disguise.

  I can appreciate her body and listen to her as she speaks of her goals. That’s what I do to try to show her the emotions I hide. But now I wonder what it would be like to drop my guard, or to talk about the changes she created inside.

  “Dare?”

  I regain my focus on the woman in front of me. “Yeah?”

  Stroking her fingers through my hair, she asks, “Are you okay?” Her voice is so quiet I’m worried I’ve made her feel less. The way she studies me, I almost expect her to have a pen and pad in hand.

  “More than okay, babe.” Hide. It’s what I do best. “How are you?”

  “I’m good,” she replies unsteadily with her heart on her sleeve.

  Closing my eyes, when I kiss her chest, I’m greeted by a strong beat. Looking up once more, I catch a glimpse of the smile on her face. I savor the feeling, the emotions she doesn’t voice but shares through her touches.

  My skin comes alive every time she grazes the tips of her fingers across the plains of my back. I lean forward and kiss her stomach as I go lower. I want my mouth on her. I want to taste her on my lips, to have her call my name like a sin that she’s possessed.

  “I’m nervous,” she whispers just as my hand reaches between her legs.

  “Why are you nervous?”

  I hate when she looks away from me. Her gaze is trapped on the ceiling and she shrugs. “I just am.”

  “What are you feeling?”

  She looks at me and nods. “This matters.”

  “It matters to me too.” Then I swallow the pride that protects me, and add, “You matter to me, Weatherly.”

  I’m given a smile that feeds my soul, making me feel more than liked . . . “You matter to me too, Dare.”

  “Do you want to stop?”

  “No, I want to be with you.” She lies back, inhales a long breath and then exhales. “Okay, we can continue.”

  I don’t know why that makes me laugh, but it does. “All right. I’ll be down here if you need me.”

  That makes her giggle. Then another nod is given as her shoulders relax against the mattress. I stop wasting time because there will never be enough time to spend with her.

  Lifting her knees, I situate my shoulders under them and kiss between her legs like I kiss her mouth. Gently, I take my time to get acquainted, then deepen to satisfy the hunger I feel inside.

  The first taste has me pressing my erection into the mattress. The second reminds me of the peach I called her, the nectar juicy and summer sweet. The tip of my tongue teases her clit, and then I suck until she can’t restrain her hips.

  So I do, holding her steady and intensifying the sensation.

  My hair is tugged, but she’s stubborn, not giving into me just yet. Her heat has me fucking this mattress like I want to fuck her. When my hair is yanked, I look up with my mouth still on her. The blue of her eyes is overcome by the pupils as she watches me.

  Regulated breaths turn ragged, and her back arches. “Oh God, Dare.” A murmur that builds like her orgasm. And then I win.

  My name rolls off her tongue like a swear word that’s done her wrong. I ground my dick into the bed until her body releases and then stills.

  I lick the glistening sweat that’s formed across her chest and higher until I’m firmly planted on her lips. Her dark hair is a mess, and her eyes wild with a lusty fire. Lips red from bee stung kisses and teeth that dug in. As much as I want to fuck fast and fuck hard, I savor her—the way she looks, the moment we’re sharing. Her. It comes down to her, making sure she’s satisfied and that she’s happy.

  Am I worthy of this woman?

  I fucking hope so because she’s become the answer to every question that pops into my head. That’s got to be a sign of things to come.

  Not minutes, hours, or days. I need more than tonight to explore Weatherly Beck’s body. If I kiss her just below the collarbone, she giggles. If I gently bite her earlobe, she moans. When I pull her down the bed by her hips, she sits up, wide-eyed.

  Kissing her neck is one of my favorites, though. She smiles with her eyes closed, and goose bumps cover her arms. Seeing the bliss on her lips makes my heart beat faster and puts my soul at ease. I think it’s called happiness, but I don’t let myself delve into that too deeply. I can overanalyze that another day.

  As
she comes down from her orgasm, her gaze finds me in the light filtering in from the bathroom, and then kisses me with her craving getting the better of her. I recognize the hunger.

  Positioned between her legs, I scatter kisses across her shoulder, ready, so ready to push in. Oh shit. I stop. Opening my eyes, I sit up. “I don’t have a condom. It was in my gear.”

  “I have condoms.”

  “Thank God.” I don’t even try to hide my relief. Making out and getting off has been fun, but my body is high on her—her taste, the feel of her, those little moans she gives.

  My body is heavy as I lie still, resting my arm on my forehead while she stretches toward the nightstand. “I should have been prepared.” I haven’t been thinking straight since I met her.

  “I got us covered.” She laughs through her words. “Literally.”

  “Funny girl.” Eyeing her backside, I check her out. She’s got a fine ass—round hips, fullness to her backside. I give it a good squeeze because fuck it, that’s my girl’s, which means it’s mine.

  She turns back to me, a satisfied grin sitting squarely on her cheeks. “Like that, hero?”

  “I do. A lot.”

  Her smile grows, but the smugness is gone. A rosy glow colors her cheeks against the white sheets. It’s a sight I could get used to. Maybe I can clean up—not just my appearance but also my life—for her. Maybe Weatherly is the one who will inspire that change like she’s inspiring my music.

  She snaps with one hand, and a foil packet appears in her other. I chuckle. “Nice magic trick.”

  “Don’t get too excited. It’s all the tricks I have.”

  Taking the condom from her, I rip it open. “It’s the only one I need. At least for now.” While I slip my hands under the covers, she runs her fingers into my hair.

  The lightness from a moment ago has slipped from her expression out through the open curtain where the moonlight sneaks in. When I’m covered, I shift back over, resituating myself. Reaching between us, her pussy is still wet and ready for me. I kiss her forehead before kissing her sexy mouth.

  Holding me by the back of the head, she sinks back into the pillow, our eyes latched on to each other’s. Her grip is strong, the muscles in her arms tense.

  “Don’t be nervous,” I whisper, “I’m going to make you feel so good.” She nods, but she doesn’t relax. I wait until her gaze settles back on mine. “I’ll go slow. Nothing to worry about, babe.”

  “I’m not worried.”

  When we kiss again, her body opens for me, and I start to sink into the heat, but stop . . . or should I say, I’m stopped. Finding her eyes again, I kiss her cheek. “You all right?”

  “I’m good.” She clears her throat. “Fine. Just fine.”

  “Wow, you seem fine. Just fine.” My sarcasm slips out, but I follow it with a grin to lighten the mood. Unlike any woman I’ve been with—elegant, wholesome, yet sure of herself in every other way—she’s throwing me off this time. “You’re tense. You sure you want to do this?”

  Exhaling, she closes her eyes. When they reopen, she touches my cheek. “I want this. I want to be with you like this.”

  This girl is a goddess. How is she . . . unsure? She said that she hadn’t been loved properly, so it’s my job, my fucking privilege to do just that. “We’ll make love slowly. I promise.” The words were said before I could stop them, my damn emotions joining in.

  I lean into her caressing hand when she smiles. Busted. No use hiding the slip. I get back to business and reach between us to dive into her heat again until her hips start moving.

  Now she’s ready.

  Pushing forward, I replace my hand with my cock as her warmth welcomes me. An exhale coats my neck, and she butterflies open so I can go deeper. Her pussy embraces me, and my breath gets choked in my chest. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

  “Too much?” she asks, her eyes fluttering open, the nerves returning by how her hands hold me.

  “God, no. You feel incredible.” So right. Overwhelmed, my eyes beg to close. “I want to stay like this forever.” The mattress is firm enough to rest my forearms while I start a slow glide until I’m engulfed inside her. “Fuck.” I drop my head down, needing to take this in. “So good, babe.”

  Her body relaxes, the tension escaping. Rubbing my back, she coaxes me up again, and a gentle smile urges me on. “So good.”

  God, she’s got me so wound around her finger already. This can’t be normal. It’s not for me. Is it healthy to feel this . . . what’s the word, optimistic, about someone you’re fucking? That can only mean one thing. Trouble.

  “Are you going to move, Dare?” she whispers in my ear.

  “Huh?”

  “Less up here,” she says, rubbing my temples. “And more down there.”

  I like that she’s loosened and having a good time. Can tease and smile. As it should be. “You’re cute. You know that?”

  She waggles her eyebrows. “No, but I like that you think I am.” Squirming beneath me, she adds, “Now about that down there part—”

  “Yeah. I got you covered.” I pull almost all the way back and then push back in. Not fast, but taking my time and watching her face, making sure she feels as good as I do.

  From her eyes to how she holds a smile or lets it slide away, I take every clue and hint to what she likes and give her more of it.

  We kiss.

  Thrust.

  Moan.

  Move together.

  I’m so close. So close too fast. It’s not fair to make demands, but fuck . . . “Come for me, babe.”

  “I want you to come. Come for me,” she replies, wiggling her hips and thrusting right back. Her eyes close as her nails begin to dig into my arms, our bodies slick with desire. Her breaths stagger, and then her body tremors; little earthquakes embrace me, and I fall into her sweet abyss.

  My head lands beside hers, and my body settles sated with my weight balanced on top. Not for long. The desire to see her is too strong. I toss the condom and push up so I’m above her to see that glow has deepened. Fucking gorgeous.

  I need her to feed this fix, a yearning that’s growing to be a bigger part of her life. I take instead, kissing her because she’s become my weakness. “How are you?”

  “Good,” she responds, sweeping my hair away from my eyes. “And tired, but in a good way.”

  “Yeah. Me too.” I maneuver to the side, and my eyelids dip closed. I don’t like the distance or that we’re not touching.

  Reaching between us, I take her hand in mine and bring it to my lips to kiss. Being with her is more than good, it’s . . . That four-letter word keeps coming to mind, but it stops in my throat before reaching my lips. Thank fuck. Feeling an inkling of connection like that is normal, I convince myself, but saying it is a whole other animal.

  My eyes fly open, and my regulating heartbeat speeds up again. I clamp my mouth closed and try to settle back into the bliss. I can’t, though.

  I look at her again. It’s when I lay eyes on this angel that I realize it’s not just me she has wrapped around her finger, but my heart that’s in trouble.

  17

  Weatherly

  The outline of Dare’s face can be traced in the faint moonlight of the room, his upper body revealed after the sheets slipped down. As my eyes adjust, I can make out the details from the tattoos that cover his arms and part of his chest to the stubble that must be at least three days’ growth.

  I love how manly he is—thick muscles, hair on his chest, a man who uses his hands for more than tipping a caddy. I don’t just feel wanted around him. I feel needed as though I’m a positive addition to his life instead of a responsibility.

  Seeing Dare Marquis in my bed is unexpectedly satisfying. Or maybe this is how sex makes you feel. A new version of my old self. Have I changed? The molecules of my makeup rearranged? Is this a new start to my old life? Can sex give me a fresh start? I’m not sure. I hope so.

  Muscles I’ve never used have come to life. It’s all so new I’m no
t sure what to think except that he’s a good man. He could have had sex and walked away days ago, but he stayed to get to know me first. We don’t have our full histories detailed out or even a lot of how we spend our days. We have what we’ve built inside these walls, what’s become ours alone. I find so much comfort in his presence and peace lying in his arms that this night could never be a regret.

  I scoot off him and check the sheets, just in case, but it’s not like I don’t have a toy I use to get off. Of course, it’s all clear. But honestly, there’s nothing like the real thing. I feel incredible. God, I’m so glad I waited for Dare, though. The pleasure . . . I blush thinking about him inside me.

  He’s sleeping as if it’s his own bed—deep with contentment on his face. I try to see beyond looks with people. I’ve been judged my whole life. My pretty face is a nice distraction to my “heavier hips” as my ex referred to them.

  I’m “pear-shaped” according to April and criticized for how I look, but with Dare, I like me. I like the way he sees me and treats me as though I’m just as pretty as I’m supposed to be when you’re a part of high society. Growing up in this world exposed me to the trappings, but I see through their money and jewels. I see their greed and the backstabbing.

  My friends tend to focus on more shallow things to keep up appearances. Even knowing this, April’s comments still sting. For the most part, I’m treated like a frenemy.

  Dare is a breath of fresh Austin air.

  I smile looking at him. There’s a bump on the bridge of his nose that I’m tempted to touch. It’s not big, but I like the imperfection. He’s real. Everything about him, he owns without apology.

  Peeking open his eyes like the sun’s too bright, he catches me staring. It’s not the sun shining inside his eyes. Moonbeams flicker like fire. Before he says anything, he strokes his hand down my hair and caresses my cheek. “Hey there.”