The Dare

by Lauren Landish

  Elle steps into the body scan machine and follows the directions of the TSA agent. Well, almost. He tells her to lift her hands over her head, but she places them behind her head, elbows wide, almost as if she’s preparing to get frisked. I wonder if she’s ever been stopped by the police and what crazy story she might have about it. After the machine beeps, she steps through, and I do the same, though I place my arms correctly the first time, experienced at the both the US and UK airport procedures.

  “Ma’am, is this your bag?”

  Elle turns to the agent and nods, her eyes a mix of nerves and confusion.

  “I’ll need to check the contents. Something flagged on x-ray. This way, please.” Elle shoves her feet into her trainers, not bothering to tie them, and steps to the side. The agent has her bag hoisted onto a table, and the few people around are looking over curiously.

  The agent unzips Elle’s suitcase, lifting the perfectly organized clothing and looking through it. Seems Elle was right about Tiffany. Toward the bottom of the bag, she pulls something out. Even from here, I can see the smile threatening the professional blank look on the agent’s face.

  “Ma’am? Is this yours?”

  “Oh. My. God.” Elle virtually screams it, and more eyes turn her way, where the agent is holding up a hot pink vibrator with a bunny-ear clit stimulator that’s wobbling back and forth. “She did not put that in my suitcase. No, no, no.”

  Elle’s shaking her head like she can make the scene go away. And barring that, she looks as if she’s wishing she could melt into the floor and disappear.

  There are snickers of laughter, and I see a couple of teenagers in line pull out their phones, aiming them at Elle. I try to go over to her, but the agent closest to me shakes his head and holds up a staying hand.

  “She? Are you saying you didn’t pack your bag yourself? Do you have any reason to believe there could be any contraband inside?”

  Elle growls. “Can you put that thing away? My best friend packed my bag because she’s better at it than I am. I guess she thought I’d need a little stress relief. Right now, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at that thing again and not see it waving around in your hand in the middle of the airport.” Elle’s hands are waving around much more than the agent’s but she’s made her point. Though it’s with a beet-red face. “Confiscate it if you need to. Just let me get the hell outta here so I can go die of embarrassment alone. Please.”

  The agent seems wholly unperturbed by the whole thing, as if this is just a normal Monday morning for her. Hell, maybe it is.

  “No need for that, ma’am. Just have to remove the batteries for flight. I’d recommend that you pack them securely in your purse instead of in the device.”

  “Device? Oh, God.” Elle’s sweating with mortification, and people mostly look to be feeling bad for her at this point. The agent lays the vibrator back on top of the still perfectly situated clothes and hands Elle the batteries.

  She rezips and taps the suitcase as she hands it to Elle. “If it helps, that’s not even the first one today, and not even in the top one hundred of size. No need to have shame in your game. Though I once pulled out a double-ended dildo the size of my arm.” The agent holds up her arm, showing Elle, and everyone who’s eavesdropping—which is everyone—just how big the dildo was. A pained shudder goes through all of us. “Have a great trip.”

  Elle rolls her suitcase over to me and holds her palm up right in front of my face. “Do. Not. Say. A. Word.” I smirk, fighting the laughter down. “It’s five o’clock somewhere, right? After that, I need a drink.” And with that decree, she stomps off, shoes still untied and face still a bit pink.

  So fuckin’ cute, she is. And naughty.

  It’s barely ten in the morning, but if she’s drinking, I’m drinking. I grab us two scotch on the rocks as she collapses onto a leather barstool. When I return, she’s got her phone pressed to her ear.

  All hints of embarrassment are gone, replaced by fiery fury. “Yes, I am. I’m already at the airport.”

  She’s quiet, listening intently with a straight back. She might as well be mid-meeting at the office for all the ‘yes sir’ she’s giving off. When I set the tumbler down, she mouths ‘thank you’ as she picks it up and then swallows the whole thing in one go. Impressive. And worrisome.

  “Yes, Dad. We did talk about this. And you acted like your word was law and ignored me when I disagreed. You’ll be working in Tennessee. I’ll be working in London. I’ll see you back home next week when the proposals are done.”

  Her lips press together and her eyes cut to me. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that he’s saying something about me. I sip at my scotch slowly, watching Elle intently and admittedly trying to hear what Daniel’s saying.

  “I don’t think so. You don’t need that, Dad. It’s . . .” She pauses as if she’s searching for a word but then sags. “Inappropriate.”

  Interesting. Dangerous.

  I wonder where Daniel’s keen mind has taken their conversation and can barely wait for her to hang up so that I can ask. As he takes his conversational turn, Elle nibbles at her lip, a habit I haven’t seen her do much. At least not with this type of nervous energy.

  Much like Daniel’s, my mind is churning. My proposal, his proposal, Elle, London, and though I hate to admit it, a significant portion of my brain is busy replaying how good Elle felt in my arms last night.

  “I’ll talk to you later, Dad. We’re boarding the plane.” I raise a brow at her lie, and she shrugs at me like ‘what else can I do?’

  “Yeah, I love you too.”

  And with that, she hangs up. Her sigh is heavy and breathy, her head thrown back as she prays for patience to keep from killing a man. I feel damn lucky that she’s not currently contemplating my murder.

  When her head returns to its normal position, she narrows her eyes. “Guess you want to pump me for information too?”

  So that’s Daniel's game. I’m not surprised. It was my first thought, after all. That Elle was a spy, and then that he would use her access to sabotage my proposal. But I can see the toll it’s taking on her, the fray around the edges as she dances between her father and me, gripping at her own integrity with scrabbling hands and morals. That she is fighting us both speaks to the woman Daniel raised, the good person Elle is.

  And I make a decision. One I pray I don’t come to regret.

  I don’t ask about Daniel. Not about the phone call, not about his questions, and not even about his proposal.

  “Actually, I do have a question.”

  Her eyes look tired, resigned, as if she already knows exactly what to expect from me. “Do you want to grab a bite before we leave? And some snacks from one of the shops here? It’ll be better than anything on the plane.”

  “What?” she asks, confused.

  “Food. What do you want?” I say, my mouth tilted up in an encouraging smile. I look around us. “At least we’re not stuck with breakfast only, unless you want breakfast? That’s fine too. I’ve developed an affinity for breakfast tacos, actually. Did you know they’re delicious cold, straight out of the refrigerator in the middle of the night?”

  “What are you talking about?” she repeats. “Don’t you want to know what my dad was asking me? And cold tacos are disgusting.”

  “Nope,” I say, sounding utterly American. I’ll have to remember to demonstrate that word for Lizzie for a laugh. “I heard you loud and clear, and I happen to agree. He’s working on his proposal. We’re working on mine. May the best man win. I happen to think that’ll be me, both because I’m me” —I run my hand down my chest— “and because I believe my proposal is better for Fox. Truly.”

  She blinks. “Cocky bastard.”

  “Thank you.” I choose to take it as a compliment. “So, breakfast tacos or are you feeling a burger mood? I’m going to suggest we skip the sushi. Something about airport sushi sounds like a bad idea before getting locked onto a speeding bullet of an airplane with a tiny wa
shroom.”

  “Was that a poop joke? The upright Brit makes a crass poop joke? Will wonders never cease?” Elle laughs, and I feel like a fucking champion for taking away the reservations lurking in her eyes.

  We wander up and down the terminal in search of sustenance, but sadly, there are no tacos to be found.

  “I dare you . . .” Elle says suddenly, stopping my search. She’s smiling big, as if she likes the idea she just came up with. I can’t wait. “Follow my lead.”

  I don’t have a chance to ask a single question before she gasps dramatically and says too loudly, “We’re gonna miss it! Come on!”

  And then she takes off running down the concourse, zigging and zagging around passengers, her suitcase remarkably rolling smoothly behind her. I have no idea what she’s doing, but I’m a man who can follow orders when need be, so I follow her lead and run after her.

  “Pardon me . . . excuse me . . . pardon . . .” I say to the people we’re running around as I try to catch up with Elle.

  People are looking at us, some jumping out of the way, and someone yells out, “You can make it.” The support for this weird and unknown destination is sweet and unexpected.

  Elle runs up to an empty desk, nearly body slamming into it as her feet stop but the rest of her doesn’t. “No! We missed it!” She’s crying to the ceiling, hands spread wide in theatrical agony as if the flight we missed—er . . . didn’t miss—is a devastating blow.

  Arriving two steps behind her, I gather her in my arms, running my palm along her hair. “It’s okay, love. We’ll get the next one. I’ll get you there, I promise.”

  Still, I have no idea what’s going on, but the dramatics and pretend play are wildly fun. This feels different from the other dares we’ve done, more playful and public. Like the other dares have had some ulterior motive—getting to know each other while having fun being the primary. This is us against everyone else, and even if it’s not real, there’s something here that is.

  “I believe you, honey. Well, if we’re stuck here, at least feed me tacos and tell me I’m pretty.”

  She says it like a telly show I saw once where a character said to ‘slap her ass and call her Sally’. I didn’t understand that at all as a boy, maybe even less now, but Elle I understand just fine.

  “Come on, pretty girl. Let’s get you fed.”

  She laughs, and I can already see more ideas blossoming. She’s using them as a distraction from her father. I know that as sure as I know that we’re not going to find tacos before our flight leaves. But I’ll keep searching for whatever food she wants, and she’ll keep searching for a way to rebel against her dad. For now, it’s working.

  Chapter 20

  Colton

  The flight is surprisingly empty. I mean, there are people scattered here and there, but the business class section at the front has only us and two other people, a man in a suit who’s already steadfastly focused on his laptop and an older woman who’s already snoring. The flight attendant hasn’t even done her pre-flight safety speech yet.

  I sit next to Elle, enjoying her excitement as she looks out the window. She watches the ground crew bustling around and then watches the ground disappear far below us as we find our cruising altitude high in the sky.

  Her blonde ponytail whips back and forth as she tells me to look out the window. When she looks out again, I don’t do as she asked. The better view is right next to me.

  Elle looks beautiful. Stunning, really, even dressed for travel in fashionable trainers, leggings that make her ass look positively grabbable, and a soft top that hugs her curves and drapes tantalizingly over her breasts. It’s perfectly proper, but that doesn’t stop my mind from wanting to spread the V-neck wide and lift her tits out to feast upon.

  I can’t help myself. I take her hand, interlocking our fingers. I can feel the softness of her thigh against the back of my hand, begging me to move higher . . . higher.

  The flight attendant stops beside us, offering drinks. Elle starts to say something, but I interrupt her. “Nothing for now, thank you.”

  The flight attendant’s perfectly sculpted brows don’t even move. I’m sure she’s seen way worse than a slightly rude and pretentious flyer. Elle, on the other hand, looks ready to slice and dice me when the cart continues on its way.

  “Excuse you. I wanted a water bottle. I have a per diem and I intend to use every last penny of it, Mr. Wolfe.”

  “There’s a one-liter bottle in your bag. I bought it at the airport shop for you, remember? And besides, I have something else in mind now that we’re alone for a while.”

  “Alone?” she scoffs, looking around. “We’re on an airplane with tons of other people.”

  I don’t turn around but estimate anyway. “There are two others in business class with us, and maybe sixty others in coach. Poor sods, their knees are going to be pained after this long of a flight.”

  Elle fakes a British accent, making fun of me. “Poor, unfortunate souls. They should’ve splurged and gotten the comfy seats like I did.” She places a hand to her chest and slathers the entire thing in ‘entitled brat’ tones. “You sound like a bougie ass.” Back to her own sass for that dig.

  Frowning, I explain. “That’s not what I meant at all. I meant that there are fewer witnesses, and now the flight attendant will be at the back of the plane for a bit.”

  There’s that light in her eyes. “Witnesses? For what?”

  I lean in close, getting intimately in her space, even though no one will overhear me. “Have you ever heard of the mile-high club?”

  Her eyes widen, knowing exactly where I’m going with this. “Yes, and I won’t be joining today. Our first time will not be at thirty-seven thousand feet or whatever the captain said.”

  I can taste the victory already, though. “First time? So you’ve already thought about it? Thought about a second and third time too, haven’t you?” Her smirk is answer enough, so I press on.

  “And now, you’re thinking that doing something a little crazy, a bit unexpected might be just right for our first time. It does seem rather suited for us, don’t you think? Your sneaking into the lavatory but leaving it unlocked, the race of your pulse as I come in and lock the door behind me. Our eyes locked in the mirror as I spread your shirt wide and pull your luscious tits out, fondling them in the mirror while you watch. You’d feel my cock against your ass and reach back to cup me, driving me wild. I’d push your trousers and knickers down . . . are you wearing panties today, Elle?”

  It’s a test to see how hooked she is. When she silently nods, her breath hitched, I know this is happening. But the lead up is so delicious that I continue our verbal foreplay. I let go of her hand, flipping mine so that my palm rests high on her thigh, almost to the crease where it joins her body.

  “You’d spread these lovely legs for me, letting me test your wetness. You’d be soaked for me, so hungry and ready for my cock.” My pinkie finger glances over the seam of her leggings, and I groan deeply at the heat I can feel there. Elle matches my groan.

  “You’d have to be so quiet, not making a sound as I play with your clit and slip my fingers inside you, stretching you to take me. But it’d be so hard to hold those cries of pleasure back as I made you come all over my hand. Then I’d press my cock against you, letting you coat me in your cream before I fill you up. Right there, pressed against the vanity, your eyes and mouth open wide in pleasure as I fuck you for the first time at thirty-seven thousand feet until we both come.”

  She shudders against my hand, where I’m openly cupping her now. “And then we’ll return to our seats, smelling like sex, with no one the wiser.”

  Her eyes are clouded with lust and need, and I consider just rubbing her off right here. That’s another fantasy altogether, making her come in public, even though there’s no one around. But I want inside her too badly.

  I know that she’s using me and the dares to rebel against her father, to feel free and alive. In a way, I’m using her as a distraction fro
m the hell that we’ll face when we get off this plane, the one I haven’t told her about yet. But even in the face of those pressures, the truth is . . . I just want her. Not because of her dad or the proposals, not because my family is awful and I’m nervous about subjecting Elle to their particular brand of manipulation.

  But because she’s amazing and lovely and makes me feel alive.

  So I do it. The one thing I know will push her over the edge of sanity and reason. Because I’m already there, in this world of her creation where rules don’t apply, consequences don’t happen, and we can be free.

  “I dare you . . . go to the lavatory and wait for me, Elle.”

  Her head lolls back and she rolls it to look at me. “I kinda hate you right now.” Her body says she’s lying.

  I kiss her hard, pushing my tongue into her mouth, and she meets me stroke for stroke with her own. Her hips lift against my hand too. Fucking hell, maybe I will just get her off here, swallowing any sounds she makes, because she’s primed on the edge.

  She pushes against my chest, and I break the kiss with a growl. “Excuse me, sir. Be right back.” She works her way out of her seat, shoving her ass in front of my face.

  Holy shit, I can smell her arousal and my mouth salivates to taste her. My cock tells my mouth to wait its fucking turn because the only thing getting a taste of her right now is hard as a fucking rock between my legs.

  She doesn’t look back as she walks the few steps up the aisle to the lavatory. I consider for a split second that she might be leaving me high and dry, going in there to get herself off, but I don’t hear the tell-tale click of the lock and my cock surges in my trousers.

  I force myself to count to thirty and then adjust myself before getting up to follow. Walking is painful, but I manage without limping or coming in my pants like a teenager.