by Nadia Aidan
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Total-e-bound
www.total-e-bound.com
Copyright ©2008 by Nadia Aidan
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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CONTENTS
ON A DARE
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
About the Author
Total-E-Bound Publishing
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A Total-E-Bound Publication
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www.total-e-bound.com
On a Dare
ISBN # 978-1-906811-28-0
©Copyright Nadia Aidan 2008
Cover Art by April Martinez ©Copyright October 2008
Edited by Christine Riley
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author's imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2008 by Total-E-Bound Publishing 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.
Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.
ON A DARE
Nadia Aidan
[Back to Table of Contents]
Dedication
To my mother
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Lexus Sedan: Toyota
Today's Black Woman: Today's Black Woman, Inc.
Nike: Nike, Inc.
NBA: NBA Properties, Inc.
BBC G.T.X: Big Bear Choppers
Durango: Dodge
Let's Ride by Montell Jordan and Master P.: Def Jam/Def Soul
My Body by LSG: Levert Sweat-Gill
BMW: Bayerische Motoren Werke
BMW 3 Series: Bayerische Motoren Werke
Belk's : Belk Stores Services, Inc.
Mercedes: DAIMLER AG CORPORATION
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter One
"If you want to really drive him crazy, purr softly into his ear as you gently rake your nails across his chest.” Dylan Jacobs arched a single brow, his expression incredulous. “You can't really believe this junk?"
His best friend and roommate, Selena ‘Lena’ Coleman, plucked the magazine from his hands, her brown eyes flashing with annoyance. “How many times have I told you about reading my mail?” She flipped the magazine around and jabbed her finger at the cover. “You see this title? It says Today's Black Woman. Last time I checked you weren't a black woman of today."
He folded his arms across his chest and snorted. “No, but if all the black women of today take that ridiculous advice there are going to be a whole lot of angry men in bed. That crap would only work if you were a tiger who likes to be mauled by your woman."
She shot him an irritated look and hopped off her breakfast stool to empty her coffee mug in the sink.
While her back was still turned, he reached across the counter and grabbed the magazine again. He flipped back to the page he'd been reading. Twenty Never Before Seen Moves That Will Have Him Begging For More. He bowed his lips into a frown.
"Begging for more. More like begging for a doctor,” he muttered as he zeroed in on another tip.
"Slip your tongue inside his ear and then blow softly. The tingling sensation will leave him breathless.” His eyes shot to her face which was now scrunched up in annoyance. “Lena, that's just ridiculous. You're blowing in his wet ear. How is that a turn on? Seriously, where do they get this? Certainly not from any man I know."
He stretched his arm high above his head to hold the magazine out of reach when she lunged for it. At six foot five, Lena's five foot three frame was no match for him, not even with the shiny black pump stiletto heels she had on.
Her dark chocolate brown eyes pleaded with him. “Dylan, give me back the magazine."
He smiled down into her pretty heart shaped face that now glowed with exasperation. Her smooth cinnamon complexion appeared flushed in the early morning light and he could see tiny splotches of red darkening her cheeks.
When she realised he wasn't about to return her magazine anytime soon, she released a long sigh, folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the breakfast bar. “You know what? Now that I think about it, I really don't believe those suggestions are as ridiculous as you're making them out to be. That column is written for black women and black men. There are obviously cultural differences which is why you don't think these tips can work—"
He couldn't even wait for her to finish before he burst out laughing. What she was suggesting was ridiculous. She pressed her lips into a tight line and he laughed even harder, but when she shot him a chilly glare he covered his mouth with his fist until his chuckling slowly died.
"Like I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me. The target audience may be different from your experiences."
He snorted rudely. “Black, white, Asian—men are all the same.” He gestured toward the page he'd been reading. “You try this crap on any man and I can tell you he won't be begging for more. He'll be begging for mercy."
"So, you're going to tell me that no woman has ever done any of those things on you?"
He quickly skimmed the four pages of the article, before returning his gaze to her face.
"Nope."
"Ah ha,” she smiled triumphantly. “You proved my point. You're not the target audience."
He lifted his lips into a cocky grin and shoved the magazine at her. “Okay, if that's true then read through it and tell me if you've done any of these moves."
She snatched it from his hand and lifted her eyebrows, her eyes full of challenge. He covered his mouth with his hand and coughed loudly in an effort to hide his smug grin when a dark scowl crossed her face.
She flipped the pages back and forth, frantically searching for at least one thing that she'd done in order to prove him wrong. A full minute passed and she was still skimming.
"You're Today's Black Woman. Come on. You haven't done at least one of those moves. Where you been, Lena?” His eyes twinkled with mocking laughter.
She rolled her eyes at him. “It says never before seen moves—"
"Oh come on. You know no man in his right mind would enjoy any of that stuff, which is why you haven't done any of these so called tricks. I bet your girlfriends haven't either."
She pursed her lips into a frown, folded her arms and propped her hip against the counter.
> "No, I'll admit it. I haven't done any of them, but who's to say they aren't worth trying.” She shrugged. “They're a little risqué, but not unusual. I bet some of them would even be fun."
He stilled at the challenge in her eyes. He'd seen that look many times before. They'd been best friends since their freshman year at the University of Florida. That look had gotten him into more trouble than he wanted to remember.
He shook his head. “Oh, no you don't—"
"What?” She asked and her brown eyes grew wide with a deceptively innocent look. “You've never had any of these moves done on you, so you don't even know if you would like them. And I've never done them either, so I don't know if they work.” She quirked her lips into a wicked grin and rubbed her hands together like she was making a wish. “I feel a wager coming on."
He hung his head as a groan escaped his lips. That had always been their line when they were about to make a stupid bet that would land them in huge amounts of trouble. “Lena, we're too old for this."
"Oh no you don't.” She wagged her finger in front of his face. “You started this. So now let's make a bet."
How had a round of good natured teasing ended up turning into another one of their infamous bets? He knew he was going to regret this.
He folded his arms across his chest. “What do you have in mind?"
Lena curled her lips into a Cheshire grin.
"I believe these tips you call ridiculous actually work, so I want us both to try them—all of them. I say we have two weeks to complete them and whoever finishes first wins."
Dylan stiffened. “What?"
"Whoever finishes first wins,” she repeated. Dylan scowled. It wasn't like he couldn't hear her. He'd heard her just fine. He just couldn't believe what she'd said. This wasn't the first time they'd made a ridiculous bet involving sex, but it had been many years since their last escapade. Long before they'd both been married and divorced. They were too old to be acting like college co-eds again.
"Don't you think we are too old to be doing this?"
Lena's eyes flashed with indignation. “Maybe you're old, but I'm not. We are both newly divorced i.e. newly single. I don't know about you, but I am ready to have some fun."
He didn't miss the slight catch of her voice when she said the word ‘divorced'. They'd both had a rough year, with the failure of their marriages coming just months apart. She was right. They could use a good dose of fun.
"Alright. I'm in, but if we're going to do this, we're going to do it right."
A spark of mischief lit up her face. From the look in her eyes one would think she'd won a small victory.
"Okay. I'm listening."
He felt his own devilish nature rising. This could be fun after all.
"All right. So I like the idea of the bet but I just don't see how it could work. If we pick up some stranger to have a fling with for the next two weeks, then how do we really judge each other? I could say it didn't work and you could say it did. It's just too subjective."
She pulled her lips into a frown. “I see your point, but there's just no practical way around it—” She abruptly stopped in mid-sentence, her mouth falling open as if a light bulb had just gone off in her head. Her expression was wary when she finally spoke again. “I was wrong. There are two ways around that, but you're not going to like either one of them."
"I'm listening.” He hedged when she didn't continue.
She waved a dismissive hand in front of her face, and stared at some imaginary spot behind his head, refusing to meet his gaze. “You know what? Forget it. You were right. It was a stupid idea anyway."
He stepped in front of her to block her path as she tried to exit the kitchen. “I never said it was stupid. Just tell me."
She nibbled on her full bottom lip, while her gaze darted about the room.
They had done a lot of insane things and made a lot of insane bets so it couldn't be that crazy, could it?
"Come on, just tell me. It can't be that bad."
Her eyes snapped to his face, but she still wore a hesitant expression.
"You wanted to have fun Lena, but I can understand if you want to back out.” He stifled the grin that threatened to spread across his face when she narrowed her eyes to tiny slits. That had always been their problem—they could never back down from a challenge.
She arched a single eyebrow and tilted her lips into a tiny smile that said she knew something that he didn't.
"Okay, wise guy, let's see how daring you really are. Now, this is the real bet. You agree to the deal before I give you our other two options. If you still want to go through with it then fine, but if you back out then I automatically win."
He frowned down at her. “That's not fair. I should win something if I go through with it."
She tipped her head to the side as if she were calculating some extensive mathematic problem. As soon as she got her answer she focused on him. “All right. If you back out then I automatically win, but if you go through with it then you get an extra two days to complete the assignment."
He frowned harder. “You know that's still doesn't make it a fair bet. She shrugged her shoulders, her expression saying that she was at a loss then. He scratched his head as he considered how to even out the odds. He snapped his fingers in triumph when he came up with the perfect solution. “I got it. This is how it's going to work. You have secret conditions, so if I go through with the bet then it's only fair that I get secret terms. That means I get to reveal what is I want if I win at the end of the two weeks, but you will still have to tell me yours up front."
She shrugged. “All right, that sounds fair. I can do that."
She wore a smug grin of satisfaction and he knew she thought she'd already won. But she was wrong. No matter what she said next he wasn't backing out.
"Okay, so now that that's settled, what are our options?"
Her eyes flashed with amusement and she smirked at him.
"In order for this assignment not to be subjective, there are only two ways to handle this—"
She paused for dramatic effect and he gritted his teeth to keep from snapping at her to hurry up already.
She pinned him with an intense stare and he held his breath as he waited for her to speak. When she finally did he felt as if the ground had fallen out beneath him.
"To make this as objective as possible we can either sleep with the same person, or we can skip the middle man and just sleep with each other."
She blinked her eyes at him, stunned. “What!"
"I said since neither one of us is bisexual then I'll take option number two,” he repeated and stepped around her to dump his empty glass in the sink. She spun around to stare at his broad back that filled out his grey suit to the inch.
"Are you serious?” He couldn't possibly be serious. She was the wild one, the daredevil. He sometimes went along with her crazy antics, but most times he was the voice of reason. She'd been sure he would back out.
"Dead serious,” he glanced absently at his watch as if he hadn't agreed to be her lover for the next two weeks.
She chuckled nervously. “Dylan, seriously. It was just a joke. You really don't have to go through with this."
His eyes snapped to her face as a lazy smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “Too late. We already made the bet.” He grabbed his briefcase from the kitchen counter. “I have to work late tonight, but tomorrow is Saturday. The assignment begins tomorrow morning, and I expect to hear your terms by then.” He crossed the room in four easy strides to open the door. She thought he would just breeze right through, but instead he turned around to meet her still shell shocked gaze. “Oh and don't forget to bring the magazine, tiger.” He flashed her a wicked grin and then he did breeze out the door, with the soft click of the lock signalling he was in fact gone for the day.
She slumped down on her bar stool and fanned her face. What the hell had she just done?
She'd known Dylan for close to fifteen years and she'd never known him to be outrag
eous. He was reliable and steady. The sensible one. While she was wild and a little out of control he was the one that reined her in. Even from day one, when she'd been all over the place, he'd still been calm and composed.
Like the superwoman she pretended to be, as a freshman moving into the dorms she'd been dragging more than her sturdy, but compact frame could handle up the three flights of stairs. Unable to hold everything, her cumbersome laundry hamper had broken free of her grasp and tumbled right into Dylan nearly knocking him over. She'd glanced down at him expecting to see a furious look on his face, but instead he'd smiled at her and joked that he'd never known a hamper could be a dangerous weapon and helped her carry the rest of her things to her room. They'd been friends ever since. And with the exception of two kisses—one, the drunken night of Dylan's twenty-first birthday and the other on her wedding night when she'd discovered her husband was a lying, cheating snake after the wedding—they'd never been intimate in any other way. Yes, they both enjoyed flirting with each other, but it was harmless. Nothing to take serious. But if Dylan could be believed, tomorrow all of that was going to change.
She shoved a hand through her loose curls. “What the hell is he up to?” She muttered softly. If he was trying to prove the point that he didn't back down, he didn't have to go to such lengths. They'd both just escaped two nightmares called their marriages. And while she wasn't Dr. Phil, she was pretty certain that jumping into bed with your long time best friend was not the best way to deal with one's post traumatic stress.
Lena blew out a deep breath and swung her gaze toward the clock on the microwave. Shit. She was going to be late to work if she didn't hurry. She grabbed her suit jacket off the back of her chair, and her briefcase.
As soon as she settled inside her Lexus Sedan and buckled up, she was already feeling much better. Dylan was the reasonable one of the two of them. Surely, he was just joking. He probably just wanted to stir her up and let her stew for the rest of the day. When they got home he would surely laugh it off as nothing more than a silly prank. She relaxed in her seat at the thought. That's exactly what Dylan would do. She was sure of it.
