Dare To Win (Sex, Sin and Secrets Book 1)

by Williamson, R. G

  “You felt it too? There’s no hope for me is there?” I sigh a bit despondently. “I wonder when Mr Dare and I will next cross paths and what stain on society he’ll be trying to get off then. I think I should swat up on him, you can help,” I tell her, grinning, “as it wouldn’t hurt to be better prepared for next time. As, oh God, I’m sure that’s going to be sooner rather than later.

  “You know I can’t believe how he had those magistrates wrapped around his little finger with his pie in the sky speech. Any person with any brain could see what an over the top sob story it all was. I honestly think I could have powered a factory furnace with the amount I was fuming as he went on and on about Grandma. Those magistrates were so caught up with it all, it was ridiculous.” I stop and take a deep breath because I am winding myself up again. “But no, as it stands he got off scot free, which to all intents and purposes has the same effect as being innocent and that’s all thanks to Mr Dare…”

  Tara laughs, interrupting me as we get in my car, “Come on Sherlock, settle down, let’s go and see what we can uncover.”

  Looking in the rear-view mirror I swing my head to one side and I give myself the once over. I’d die if I suddenly spotted breakfast hanging out my teeth or my lipstick smeared, or my eye make-up all congregated where it shouldn’t. I check out my French fishtail braid is still intact and looking good. This is my favourite hairstyle for work. It’s a classy and trendy style but sometimes a pain to keep in place.

  I laugh, hamming it up and wink at Tara, “Your turn,” I grin.

  “No need. You’d soon tell me if I looked crap,” she playfully jokes. “So Kari, I’m guessing I look as fresh as ever.” She then does that stupid teenage pose with her chin sitting on the side of her index finger with her thumb framing the side of her cheek and does a stupid cheesy grin. Tara has short dark brown hair and you’ll usually find her wearing big black non-prescription glasses as she is now. Tara feels they give her an intellectual look and show she should be taken seriously, which at present is not working at all. Her hazel eyes sparkle as she holds her grin.

  “Yeah and posing like that will get you into all the clubs and pubs won’t it. Oh my God, act your age woman, you’re making me feel old!”

  “Well you are old,” she points out. “You’re about to hit a decade with a number three heralding the start of it. You’ll be a twenty nine year old has-been descending into the pits of being a middle aged, thirty year old wrinkly and boyfriend-less to boot.”

  “Ouch!” I mock gasp, banging my head in between my hands positioned at ten to and ten past on the steering wheel. “Hit me where it hurts why don’t you. And lady, I am not touching the wrinkly comment. Crikey you’re on a roll and it’s not even lunch time. And anyway you’ve got more wrinkles than me and you’re five years younger!”

  All I get in response is a snigger followed by a pffft.

  So I add in defence, “You do also realise that thirty is not middle aged.” I must be out of sorts today because for crying out loud I’m defending my impending age change and really it’s not as if I can even stop it!

  “Well from where I’m sitting on the age chart, you’re the equivalent of a dinosaur. So I was being kind saying middle aged.” Tara sticks her tongue out and starts laughing her head off.

  “You are so funny,” I quip sarcastically. “You wait, payback is a bitch and I’ll find it especially sweet when you have a hard time kissing goodbye to your twenties. Karma, my friend, just remember Karma.” My eyes blaze into her as I think of all the crap I could possibly throw her way on her thirtieth.

  I turn the ignition, put the car into gear and we head back to the office and all the while Tara chuckles away. I’m really not impressed.

  I need to find a long term boyfriend. All this talk of my impending day of doom, aka my birthday, has me thinking I’m at the age where I want to settle down, is that so bad? I often imagine going home to my waiting man, especially if he can cook that would be a major bonus. All I can picture now is my man, naked, wearing only an apron, cooking for us. Some dream eh? Being a solicitor I have to pull some late nighters and takeaway gets boring week in week out. Would my future, perfect, boyfriend have run me a bath too? Of course I would like to think he most definitely would have.

  My womanly need to nest and settle down is, really and truly, scarily kicking in, maybe in hindsight I am having a hard time with my body clock about to hit a new decade. Shit, I definitely won’t be telling Tara that little nugget of information, she’d have a field day.

  Sigh, all I need to do is find a man who wants to settle down, how hard can that be?

  I then wonder if Mr Dare could that man. Though to be honest he doesn’t really strike me as the settling down type. I had looked quickly and I hadn’t spotted a wedding band on his finger. I glance over at Tara. “So, if we don’t find any skeletons in Mr Dare’s closet, I’m thinking I’m going to take a giant leap and ask him out on a date, because honestly he can’t be that sure of himself and rude all the time, can he? I figure it might be worth finding out if he is nicer and less cocky outside of the work setting.”

  “All systems go eh. Be prepared for a late night then, let’s get this done and help get you laid.”

  “I didn’t say laid Tara, I said date. Big difference.”

  She replied, “I bet he doesn’t think date, I bet he thinks SCORED!”

  “Har, har, har. Well we will find out one way or the other soon enough, won’t we.”

  When I think about it, I’m more than astounded that I would want to take this further. He’s not my usual type at all and I mean not in a million years at all. He was just so arrogant and egotistical. He rubbed his victory in my face all cocky and self-assured and any other person doing that, I would have wiped the floor with them. So why didn’t I with him? Oh yeah, I think it’s safe to say it was the knickers-melting, charm he seems to exude.

  And he may have melted mine right off already.

  Damn.

  FOUR

  Pub Indecency!

  Opening the door of the Dog and Duck, my eyes adjust quickly to the low lighting and I do a quick scan of the faces in the pub. The landlord hasn't bothered to replace the broken lights after the last mass brawl, preferring to keep it dim in here so you don't notice what a shithole it really is. It’s a good turnout for a Monday night and I nod to a few locals as I walk towards the bar. There, taking up his usual residence at the back of the bar, is George. He has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. He is the ultimate fat bastard yet that doesn’t seem to stop him getting some good-looking birds flock round him at times. It certainly isn’t for the size of his wallet or his generosity in shouting a round, he is the original moths in wallet kind of guy. At six feet seven inches tall, he even makes me look small. He’s a man mountain but once you get to know him, he’s the genuine gentle giant.

  “Connor! Dude! Drinks on you,” he laughs as he stretches out his fist for a bump.

  “Some things never change eh George,” I deadpan as I reciprocate the lad greeting. Honestly how old are we yet we still fist bump when we meet up. I look across to the barman and he knows instantly to set us up with a couple of JD’s, mine being a double.

  “You want me to be your wingman Con?”

  I look at him as if he is on some alternative universe as I have never needed anyone to help me get laid. Although to be honest, tonight is going to be a bit of a challenge. Not a challenge for me to pull anyone, that’s the easy bit, but a challenge for my dick to actually get hard enough to fuck any of the munters in the place. This must be the pub where the facially challenged come to get some attention because there seriously isn’t one bird in here that is actually remotely attractive. I don’t even know why we drink in here, the floor is sticky, and the girls? Well they are even stickier.

  I sigh and sink my drink and automatically signal for another. I’m not in the mood to charm anyone in here. My mind is still thinking about the girl who cle
aned my office. Ridiculous because I don’t even know her name and I’d not exactly spoken to her. Every encounter we’d had involved her blushing bright red and me stuttering like an idiot. She must think I’m some kind of incoherent twat. I mean take this morning for instance. Who in their right mind actually says I don’t know when asked if they want a coffee! Why did she have me so tongue-tied? I am Connor Dare, Master of the chat up line, Master of woman, Master of witty banter. Yet this girl had me acting like I was fifteen years old. I wonder if she is as affected by me as I am with her?

  And then there was Miss West. Despite her being annoyed with the verdict and her face stuck in a stony glare, she was quite exquisite. For some reason I don’t just want to fuck her and move on, I’m intrigued by her and I surprisingly want to get to know her.

  I’d be more than happy to have either woman bouncing up and down on my cock, their tits slapping me in the face as I fucked them until they couldn’t breathe.

  I was just about to ask George if we would be moving onto a classier joint but I notice that he has his tongue firmly sunk into one of his groupies and his hand wedged down the back of her mini skirt. I guess that’s his shag for tonight sorted. No doubt he has a wallet full of condoms, he has always been more careful than I am. I just don’t give a shit and I really don’t know why. As soon as alcohol floods my system, all common sense leaves me.

  Finishing my drink, I start to get up to leave when a hand grabs onto my shirt.

  “Leaving so soon, just as the party was getting started,” said a rather ropey looking bird who had obviously never heard you either go legs or cleavage but not both.

  “Not really my kind of party to be honest,” I reply, trying to keep the boredom out of my voice.

  “Maybe you’d like a different kind of party?” she asks while twiddling a piece of hair around her finger. I wonder if she seriously expects me to go back to hers or if she has something more local in mind, like the Ladies toilet.

  Ah fuck it, I’ll play along, it has been five days since my visit with the nurses so I’m game, “What do you have in mind?”

  She laughs, hooks a finger in one of my belt loops, turns and starts leading me towards the toilets. Oh classy but what the fuck, I am actually feeling too lazy to complain. I follow her into the Ladies and I lean back on the sink and she’s on her knees in an instant, about to make her acquaintance with my dick. I hate to think what she might be kneeling in. I shut my eyes and try and pretend that my cleaning lady or the enigmatic Miss West is on her knees and it does the job because I feel myself getting hard. I unzip my jeans and give her the nod to get on with it.

  “My name’s Debbie,” says the eager beaver, in between licking my bell end and bollocks. She’s started talking and I really don’t care what she’s going on about.

  “Hey Debbie,” I know what I’m about to say will make me sound like a complete tosser but I don’t care what the likes of Debbie think about me. “Your tongue should be concentrating on my cock not on forming words, shut up and just suck.” I can’t help stifle a small chuckle as the words tumble out my mouth but the truth is, there’s nothing this girl could possibly say to enhance this moment and the fact she has a voice like nails scraping down a blackboard, I really don’t want to have my ears assaulted any more than is absolutely necessary.

  Debbie starts sucking my cock like it is the elixir of life. But she just isn’t doing it properly. I hate the kind of blow job where they think it’s cute to do all the pissing about on the end. You want to give a decent blow job then get all eight inches of me inside your mouth. I grab the back of Debbie’s head and shove my cock in until I feel the back of her throat. I watch as she gags as I fuck her mouth hard. If she voms on me I won’t be happy. I can feel her nails scratch the back of my thighs as she clings on as I thrust into her harder and harder. I feel a bit of a cunt as I can see her eyes do that watery thing so I think I better give her some words of encouragement as I continue my cock assault on her mouth.

  “Oh God Debbie, you take me like a pro.” Yeah ok my pep talks aren’t the best! I carry on fucking her face. Probably only five minutes have passed since entering the toilets and I’m about to shoot my cum down her throat. I let go of her head and she pulls her mouth off my cock quickly and gasps in a big breath as I spurt my load all over her face.

  Zipping myself back into my trousers I look down to see Debbie trying to regain her composure and say something to me as my cum slides down her cheeks. I put my finger to my lips, “Shhhh, no need to thank me,” and I leave the ladies room. Yes I’m a cunt.

  I go back to the bar to see if George is still there or if he has ended up down an alleyway with his bird. Surprisingly he is still there and either he knocked the girl back or he’s a quick fucker, literally.

  “Where’s your date gone George?” I look at him and just start laughing my head off. I know I’m a fine one to talk after what I’ve just done but the girl who was crawling all over him twenty minutes ago was slightly worse than the one I’d just face-fucked.

  “I need to let you into a little secret Connor,” said George looking more serious than normal, “I don’t fuck in pubs anymore. I have found a place to go where the woman are stunners and I mean one look and your knob is gonna think it’s in heaven. Seriously mate, this place is a man’s dream. In fact it’s better than a dream because this place is real.”

  I look at him and wonder how many drinks he’s had because he’s talking like a crazy man. I may as well humour him, “So where’s this place then George?”

  “Ah well if I told you I’d have to kill you!” and he just pisses himself laughing. Oh yes George the comedian. I knew he was full of shit as soon as he opened his mouth. The thing I’ve learned about George over the years, there’s an easy way to tell when he’s talking bollocks, his lips move.

  “I’m going home mate,” I tell him. “You want to share a taxi or you hanging round here for a bit?”

  “Aww don’t go home yet, the night’s still young Con.”

  “Yeah it might be early but I’m really not in the mood for a mad one tonight, but call me over the weekend and we can go out for a proper session then,” I say as I make my way over to the door.

  “Laters dude!” he shouts just as I’m leaving. And yes I shout it back and then bollock myself for acting like a teenager.

  As I’m sitting in the back of the taxi on my way home, I can’t help but wonder if George was full of shit about this so called paradise of willing fuckable decent women.

  ***

  I open the front door, kick off my shoes, trip over my sports bag and wander into the front room. Grabbing the remote, I point it at the TV while collapsing onto the sofa. There’s never much on TV at this time of night. Too late for the tame stuff and too early for the good stuff. I get up and pour myself a drink and walk through into the bedroom. I strip off and get in the shower. I look down and chuckle because I can see red lipstick marks right at the base of my cock. That’s quite a feat for a girl to manage to get my whole cock in her mouth. No wonder the poor bitch was gagging.

  As I’m washing, my mind starts to wander back to court and more specifically, back to Miss West. Wow she was something to see. She had some class stood in that courtroom. The only time she really seemed rattled was when I started my spiel about how my client was a good boy really and helped his Grandmother by walking her little dog because she wasn’t able to go out much these days. How he did her shopping and was such a doting Grandson… and the magistrates lapped it up. It actually works every time. These magistrates are all fossils themselves and they like to think their Grandchild would be as attentive as the one stood in front of them.

  I’ve just realised I’m actually stroking my cock while thinking about Miss West. I’m gripping my shaft tight as I think of her laid out on my bed screaming out my name as I slide my cock into her wet pussy. I can picture her face flushing with the redness of arousal as I tease her nipples with my tongue. I wonder if she
has any piercings or secret tattoos? I would love to explore her body, inch by fucking inch. She’s a woman who would appreciate an orgasm and deserve one from me. My hand is running up and down my shaft quicker as I imagine her making red lipstick rings around my cock. I can feel my balls tighten and my cock starts to throb harder. Sweat is pouring down my face, as I grunt out my release and cum spurts all over the shower door.

  Jesus fucking Christ I have to somehow make this dream a reality and I don’t think she’s going to be all over me like a rash without me putting in the groundwork first and laying a good foundation. In other words, I’m going to have to work hard to woo this one.

  FIVE

  A New Friend

  I woke up this morning feeling great. I got to my office by seven o’clock and have already managed to get on top of a huge load of paperwork. I’m feeling very smug right now. I hear a tap at my door. “Come in,” I say with my authoritative voice. The door opens and my cleaner pops her head in.

  “Hey Mr Dare, sorry to bother you but I think I might have left my bag in here while I was cleaning. Can I come in and have a look for it?” She sounds so timid and I wonder if that’s because she’s generally shy or whether she finds me intimidating.

  “Yes come on in ermm…” I look up from my desk towards her, I still don’t know her name.

  “Millie, my name is Millie,” she smiles shyly, barely keeping eye contact.

  “Millie,” I repeat. “Don’t mind me, feel free to have a look around for it. I was just going to get myself a coffee, do you want one?” I don’t know why but I feel I want to put her at ease. Jesus fucking Christ I don’t know why I offered coffee though, because I’m still no nearer to mastering that damn coffee machine. That fucking machine sits in the staff kitchen taunting me every time I go near it. I think once or twice the compulsion to kick it out the room and buy a kettle has been high on my list of things to do to it. I can honestly say it’s on borrowed time sitting there smugly and completely unfucking usable by me. I just don’t get why it has to be so damn complicated to operate. I do have a coffee machine at home and I can work it and make you any kind of coffee you want, as long as it’s black.