Page 8 of Double Dare

Releasing my lip from my teeth’s hold, I open my mouth slightly. He doesn’t even give me a moment before he shoves his fingers inside, prying it open wider, until they hit the back of my throat. I gag and try to pull away, but his other hand moves up, clutching the back of my head. He holds me in place, finally moving his fingers away only enough to rub them over my tongue, and I fight the urge to bite down. Saltiness bursts over my taste buds along with a faint hint of hand soap.

When he finally removes them completely, I gather all the spit in my mouth, along with the little bit of his cum from his fingers, and spit it on his shoes.

I’m expecting him to hit me—hell, even shoot me—but instead, he smiles. “Didn’t your parents teach you it’s never nice to spit out the food someone is giving you?”

My face scrunches, and the courage I thought had evaporated slams back into me. “Fuck you. I don’t care who you are or what you do. I’m nobody’s doormat. And classifying your cum as food is disgusting.”

He raises a brow and grips the back of my head tighter. Lowering his nose to mine, he inhales deeply before speaking. “Oh, Danica. You have no idea how difficult you just made this for yourself.” Roughly, he lets go and pushes me away. “And if you continue, I promise I will make my cum the only thing you eat. Now, lose the attitude and come on.”

I shake my head. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Inheritance or not, I refuse to put up with this shit.

“But you are,” he replies casually.

Seeing how easy it is for him to change his mood so quickly fucking scares me. I shouldn’t have agreed to the stupid dare. I shouldn’t have let him fuck me. And since I wasn’t thinking then, I’m putting my foot down now.

“You have five seconds to get over here, walk out like the happiest bitch alive to be on my arm, or I’ll have your sweet brother’s head in your lap by morning.”

My heart stops. Completely flatlines. And I do the one thing I’ve always done—I protect him and clean up the mess. I’m not sure what the mess is exactly, but Dario is clearly up to his eyeballs in shit with Adrian, and I intend to find out why.

He may think me making him leave town was just a way to get him out of the picture or whatever, but it wasn’t. I genuinely cared about him and wanted the best. That doesn’t change now even though he’s the reason I’m even in this situation.

Willing my feet to move, I pad across the balcony and position myself next to Adrian without a single word. When he offers me his elbow, I take it, and I do exactly what he said.

Walk out like I’m the happiest bitch alive.

CHAPTER FIVE

DANICA

It’s almost as if my body switched to autopilot the moment I exited the balcony. The noise, people’s faces, more cops—it all just passed in a blur. Maybe it’s for the best, because I think if I was conscious in any capacity, I would have lost it.

First, this was stupid.

Then, it was exciting.

Now, it’s just downright terrifying.

Of course, I knew the type of man Adrian was—or at least I had an idea. He’s like Port Howe’s very own fairy tale. Almost too crazy to be real. Parents murmur the stories of his antics to their kids to steer them away from his path. Only the stupid or brave get involved with him, and at this very moment, I’m not sure which category I fall under.

Probably stupid because who would fuck a total savage within minutes of knowing him all because of a dare? Me apparently.

As the all-black SUV I was shoved in slows to a stop, I finally put my focus on reality and leave my thoughts behind. Adrian secures the button on his blazer, then glances at me, almost like a silent warning not to move, before exiting the vehicle. As he rounds the front of the metal prison I’m locked in, I look out my window.

I study the front of the mansion. Wide, marble steps start from where we’re parked and travel upward until they stop at the landing by the front door. It seems like such a dramatic entrance until I remember the man who owns it.

The entire outside is a crisp white with green ivy snaking up every corner peak. Opposite of the mansion’s face, broad iron posts with sharp, pointy tops edge the property line with a guard shack at the beginning of the drive—or end depending on where you stand. The yard is bare—no statues, no topiary—but the grass is a lavish green and manicured perfectly.

I’m not done admiring the outside when my door is yanked open, and Adrian pulls me out of the SUV. “Let’s go.”

As we start up the steps, I notice two men trailing behind us. They’re bald and stocky, wearing clear earpieces. They remind me of the men you see on TV surrounding the president and speaking into their sleeves. Hell, maybe Adrian is their president. He clearly likes to be in control and dictate what others do.

He pushes open the door and ushers us inside, placing his hand on the small of my back. I want to be disgusted, but my body betrays me, sending a pulse to my core the moment I remember how he made me feel. Warmth floods my cheeks, and goose bumps pepper my skin.

Adrian takes notice as we pass the foyer littered with gold accents and start up the stairs. “What’s got you blushing, love?”

His voice is back to the deep, gravelly tone he used before, and it makes me hate myself even more. “Not you,” I hiss, taking the next few steps two at a time so his hold on me falls.

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