* * *
“HOW OLD IS YOUR SISTER, Sutton? Seven?” I ask as I stand in front of her full-length mirror, trying to stretch the material of the tattered, patchwork dress that fits more like a miniskirt past my ass cheeks. If I had known I’d end up in a dress the size of a Band-Aid, I would’ve worn underwear today. When I tug it down, it shows more boob. When I pull it up, it shows more butt. See my conundrum?
“She’s nine,” she says with a straight face.
“Are you kidding me?” I whip around. “Why would you think that I could fit into a nine-year-old’s clothes?” When she told me that I could wear her sister’s costume, I didn’t think she was talking about a child.
“Well, I was right.” She laughs with a shrug. “Besides, it’s sexier this way.”
“And colder,” I point out.
“Throw these on. Problem solved.”
She balls something up and flings it toward me. I catch it with one hand, letting it unravel. It’s a pair of fishnets.
“Oh, cool, these holey tights will really do the trick. I won’t be cold at all now,” I deadpan.
“They’ll help more than you think.” Sutton laughs, running her hands down the sequins of her black iridescent dress. It fits like a corset around the waist and flares out to look like a mermaid tail at the bottom. She looks gorgeous with her dark hair and sultry makeup with rhinestones and shiny scales somehow pasted to her cheeks and forehead.
“Why do you get to be all sexy Gothic mermaid and I’m stuck in an actual children’s costume?”
“Because I love Halloween and I planned this shit for months. Now shut up and finish your stitches,” she says, gesturing to my half-finished rag doll makeup. “You’re hot.”
If there’s one girly thing about me, it’s my ability to do makeup like a pro. I spent a lot of my teen years practicing. More makeup meant more attention, and attention meant more tips. Then later, Eric liked to parade me around in front of his rich friends and colleagues, and of course, I had to look the part. Having an affair was one thing. Having an affair with a hood rat from Oakland? Unacceptable.
I put the finishing touches on the stitches next to the corners of my lips, my forehead, and on my neck before painting my lips in a red lip stain. I complete the look with heavy mascara and a smoky eye, giving myself an appraising look in the mirror. Not bad. I look intentionally sexy, like a slutty nurse or cop costume—though, I’m not sure that’s necessarily a good thing.
“What did you end up doing after I left Briar’s thing the other night?” I ask, suddenly remembering. When Sutton asked me to hang out, the last person I expected to see was Dare. This small town really lives up to the stereotype.
“I ended up passing out on her couch.” She shrugs.
“Well, that’s anticlimactic,” I tease.
“Sorry I don’t have more excited news. If you looked up my dress right now, I’m pretty sure you’d find cobwebs.”
We both laugh, and Sutton grabs her small, black clutch.
“Do you have a jacket I could borrow?” I only have my pullover hoodie and wearing that defeats the purpose of dressing up.
“Nope. You’re not covering all that up,” Sutton says, wiggling a finger up and down in front of my chest. “Plus, you’ll be warm. We’ll be inside.”
“Fine,” I grumble, then snatch my hoodie off her bedpost and tuck it under my arm, just in case. Being comfortable trumps looking good any day.
“If you put that on, I will burn it,” Sutton singsongs as we make our way outside.
Tonight should be interesting.
When we pull up to the bar, the entire parking lot is packed, and when we walk through the doors, I don’t even recognize the place. The outside was completely dark, no lights or Open sign. Even the tattoo shop next door had its windows shuttered in black. But inside, everything is bathed in a purple glow from black lights. Some song I don’t recognize blares from the speakers that I didn’t even know this place had.
“I thought this was a work party?” I yell over the music.
“It is!” Sutton yells back, bringing her mouth closer to my ear. “It’s everyone from here, Bad Intentions, some people from the casino, and the coffee shop. It’s sort of like a party crawl, except we can’t use the casino for obvious reasons, and the coffee shop is pretty small, so they all pretty much bounce between next door and here!”
I nod, letting her know I heard her. It’s one of the biggest party days of the year, so of course they wouldn’t shut down the casino for Halloween.
“Let’s get a drink!” Sutton grabs my hand, pulling me toward the bar. She’s right. I don’t need my hoodie. All these bodies have made the place almost uncomfortably warm.
Jake greets us with a flick of his chin as he’s filling up a glass with draft beer, and then he does a double take when he realizes it’s me. He looks me up and down before shaking it away. Sutton notices it, too, because she bumps her hip with mine, and I roll my eyes.
“What can I get you, ladies?”
“I’ll just have a Bud Light draft,” I shout.
“She means a lemon drop! Four of them! Plus, a Jack and Coke.”
“No.” I laugh. “Just beer.”
“Fine, but you’re taking shots with me, too.”
Jake’s eyes dart between the two of us, waiting for us to come to an agreement. I give him a shrug, and then a second later, he’s sliding a glass of beer and a Jack and Coke across the bar top before turning to make Sutton’s lemon drops.
“I don’t do shots.” Not anymore. I could drink every person in this place under the table without batting an eye when it comes to beer, but liquor is another story.
“They’re good,” she promises. “They have a freaking sugar rim! Not exactly hardcore.”
Fuck it. I haven’t let my guard down in a long time. I haven’t had any fun for even longer. I tip back the shot, the saccharine sweet liquid barely having a chance to hit my tongue before it coats my throat and warms my belly. I pluck another shot glass out of Sutton’s hands and take that one, too.
“These things are dangerous! They taste like candy.”
Sutton squeals and takes the two that are left and then leads me through sweaty, carefree bodies to the dance floor. “Monsters” by Matchbook Romance starts to play—I know because one of the few times I could actually afford to buy Jess a birthday present, I got him Guitar Hero, and this particular song was our favorite to play. We start to dance, but I need to ditch my sweatshirt, so I hold up a finger, letting her know I’ll be right back. I spot an empty table and shove my way through the crowd to toss it on the back of a chair. Right when I reach the edge of the crowd, I try to take another step, but my shoelace is trapped under someone’s foot, and I pitch forward. My arms reflexively shoot out to break my fall. I squeeze my eyes shut and brace for impact. But it doesn’t come. Some unlucky bastard breaks my fall, and just when I think I’m going to take us both down, two strong palms steady me by my shoulders.
I puff a strand of hair out of my face and look up at the victim of my clumsiness. He’s tall with dark hair, a black tux, and his face painted in skull makeup. He’s creepy hot, which is coincidentally my favorite kind of hot. And then he lifts a brow, as if waiting for me to remove my hands from the silky lapels that sit on his hard chest and…I know those eyes.
“Sorry,” I say quickly and pull my hands back like his suit is on fire. The last thing Dare needs is another girl quite literally falling all over him. I bend over, swiping my hoodie off the sticky floor, and I’m about to walk away, when some girl moves in front of me, blocking my escape.
“Oh my God, Jack and Sally! That is the cutest couples’ costume I’ve ever seen! You guys have to enter the costume contest. You’ll totally win.”
She’s wearing a bunny costume, which is fitting seeing as how she’s talking a mile a minute like the goddamn Energizer Bunny.
“Oh, I’m not—” I start.
“Yeah, no, we’re not—” Dare says at the same
time.
“Can I get a picture of you guys?” Energizer Bunny asks, cutting us off. I look to Dare, unsure of how to react. I don’t even know her, but if she’s here, she has to work at one of the participating businesses, so I assume Dare does. He responds by throwing an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close into his side. My insides flip at his nearness, and his scent, a mix of pine trees, wood, and something else I can’t put my finger on, makes it hard to not melt further into him.
I stand, body tense, not wanting him to see how he’s affecting me, and he slides his hand down to my hip. He grips it tight, too tight, but it’s not painful. He pulls me in even closer, dipping his head down to mine, and then his mouth is at my ear, his breath on my neck.
“Relax. I don’t bite. Unless you ask me to.” His thumb rubs my hip through the thin material of my dress, and my breath catches, my mouth popping open slightly. I turn my head toward his, but he faces forward, a devious smirk plastered to his face. And then a flash blinds me.
“One more!” E.B. yells over her lens. I expected her to pull out her phone to snap a quick photo, but clearly, I’m mistaken. A guy I didn’t notice before stands off behind her to her left, out of costume, toting what I’m assuming is her equipment bag, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here. She must be an event photographer or something.
“Smile, Logan,” Dare says with another squeeze to my side. I do, giving the biggest, cheesiest one I can muster.
Another flash.
E.B. looks at the display on the camera, seemingly pleased with the shots as she nods to herself, and then she’s off, her assistant following dutifully behind her.
But Dare’s hand is still on my hip, and his eyes are burning into mine. I break away from his hold, making my way back to Sutton, forcing myself not to look back.
Sutton and I dance for a few songs before two guys in Mario and Luigi costumes join us. Mario is hot; Luigi is…well, not. But Sutton is into it, so I’m fine being the wing woman. I see nothing wrong with dancing with them…that is, until Luigi gets handsy. The first time he curves his hand around my hip, I brush it away and look over my shoulder to give him a warning glare. But when I feel his erection press against my ass, I’m out.
Before I can swing around to punch this guy, Dare shows up, arms crossed, looking pissed. And for some reason, that turns me on. A lot.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he says, eyes narrowed, and it takes me a minute to realize his intentions, my eyes widening with understanding.
Luigi backs up, hands held high in surrender. “Sorry, man. Didn’t know.”
“Keep your fucking hands to yourself,” Dare warns, before turning to me. “Come with me.” He holds out his hand and I take it, before he leads me toward the door. I look back for Sutton—who is currently still grinding on Mario—knowing I shouldn’t just disappear. But, I’m powerless to this feeling, and I want to see where it leads.
So, I follow.
I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. But from the moment I saw her dancing to “Monsters,” I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She didn’t dance for anyone else, didn’t care or even notice who was watching. Then, I saw that asshole touching her, and I could see that she wasn’t into it, even from where I stood.
I have no business touching Logan, let alone dragging her off to my shop. But here I am, pushing open the door and leading her to the drawing room in the back of the shop. There are a few people hanging out, playing pool in the main waiting room, but most people are over at the bar.
Logan’s eyes are wide as she takes in her surroundings. She’s never been back here before. The place is deceptively big. When you first walk in, all you see are the front desk, a small sitting area, and some of our shop’s merch. You’d never know all this was back here. We have a piercing booth, which is really more of a room, and four stations in the main room. Then, there’s the big waiting room, a sitting area with a fireplace, a bar, a pool table, vending machines, the works. Plus, another room for even more stations if we had them, a bathroom, and a soundproof drawing room. Which is where I’m taking Logan.
“What are we doing?” she asks, pressing her back flat against the closed door.
“I don’t fucking know,” I say honestly, walking to the other side of the room before I rest my palms on my desk behind me, putting some much-needed distance between us. I’m the one who brought her here. Seeing her in that dress, feeling that soft body against mine…temporary insanity. That’s what it was. Except, I still want to pin her to the wall.
“We could play a game?” she suggests innocently, then her teeth dig into her bottom lip, thighs squeeze together. She’s…turned on.
“What do you have in mind?” My hands clench the edge of the desk, keeping me anchored to my spot.
“Truth or Dare, of course,” she says mischievously.
“Real original,” I taunt. “I choose Truth.”
“Hmm,” she says thoughtfully, her fingertip pressed against her red lips. “What’s your real name?”
The question throws me. No one ever asks that. I’ve always been Dare, and no one’s ever questioned it. I haven’t been called my given name in years. I decide to tell her, if only to hear what it would sound like from her lips.
“Stefan.” It’s been so long since I’ve said that name out loud.
Logan’s head cocks to the side, as if I’ve surprised her. “Really? I would have guessed Darren or Derek or something.”
“My last name is Adair. Being the scrawny kid in foster care with a name like Stefan? Not exactly intimidating. But Dare was. One of the other kids started it and it stuck.” I shrug. I’ve been Dare longer than I was ever Stefan, but somehow, it still feels like mine. Like most people would feel about their childhood bedroom or their old favorite song.
“Okay, Stefan,” she says, emphasizing my name, and fuck if I don’t like the way it sounds. She saunters over to me, not stopping until she stands between my spread legs. She brings her mouth close to my ear, her dark hair swinging forward and brushing my lips. “I choose Dare,” she whispers, her lips touching the shell of my ear. I feel my dick swell in my suit pants, but I don’t move my hands from my desk.
“I dare you to let me kiss you.” My voice comes out huskier than intended.
Logan swallows hard, and my eyes follow the movement in her throat. “A kiss? That’s it?” she says, challenging, but I see the nerves she’s trying to hide and the pulse fluttering in her neck.
My hands are on her in an instant, roughly turning her so we switch places, her ass on the desk, and me in between her thighs. I fist her hair at the base of her head and tug back, just a little…testing, hinting at how I want it. She closes her eyes, letting a little moan slip free. I ghost my lips along her neck, and she waits, eyes still closed, for me to make my way to her mouth.
Instead, I run my free hand from her knee up to her thigh, slowly, to gauge her reaction. When she opens for me, ever so slightly, my dick jumps. She wants this. I drag my teeth along the tendon in her neck as my hand moves closer to the heat between her legs, my fingers digging into the holes of her fishnets, clawing through to her flesh on my way up. When I touch her pussy over her tights, she shifts toward my hand.
With that one, little move, all bets are off. I drop to my knees in front of her, roughly grabbing her thighs as I place my face between them. Logan gasps, but doesn’t object as my tongue darts out to lick her through her holey tights. Her palms are flat against the desk, her head thrown back as I flatten my tongue and give another long lick.
Logan grabs the back of my head, pulling me into her, then I plant her other foot on the desk, opening her wide for me. She starts reaching for the band of her tights, lifting her ass, struggling to get them off, so instead, I hook my fingers through the holes and rip. Logan sucks in a breath, her wet, pink pussy on display for me. I bite the fleshy inside of her thigh hard enough to leave a mark. She flinches, but then she lets out a low moan, tossing her head back, rocking her hips toward
my face. Oh fuck yeah. Something about Logan brings out my baser instincts. She makes me want to tear her apart, to bite and bruise. To let her do the same to me, to claw her fingers down my back and fuck me up. Because I’d never mar her permanently, but I’d gladly bear her scars.
I sink my teeth into her one more time before burying my face between her legs. Her feet slip off the edge of the desk and she crosses them behind my head. I smooth my hands up the outsides of her thighs to her lower back, bunching her dress as I go. I suck her clit into my mouth, causing her to rub herself against my face. There aren’t any inhibitions or shyness in her movements. Just two people making each other feel good. When her legs start to shake, she stops me, pulling at my face until I stand. Her hands shoot out to the fly of my pants, quickly unclasping and unzipping, and then her hand pushes down into my boxer briefs, wrapping around my cock. I groan, my eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck.”
Logan grips me so right, so tight. She strokes me a couple of times before placing me at the wet place between her legs. When my cock meets her slick flesh, our eyes meet, maybe for the first time during this entire encounter. Me, silently asking if this is okay. Her, silently nodding her consent. Logan rubs her thumb across my lips and chin, wiping her wetness away, before she brings it to her mouth, seductively sucking it off.
Fuck, this girl.
I bring my hands to her waist, digging my fingers into the soft flesh. I start to push inside of her, but then there’s banging at the door.
“What the fuck!” I yell over my shoulder, still positioned right at her entrance. Just barely inside. Not enough. Not even fucking close.
“There’s a kid at the bar about to get jumped! Says he’s Logan’s brother,” Cam shouts from the other side of the door.
“Jess?” Logan shrieks, dropping her legs, effectively breaking contact. She shoves me out of the way and hops down, running for the door. She blows past Cam and his perpetually amused expression, tugging her dress back down, not giving him a second look.
Bad Intentions (Bad Love) Page 6
