Double Dare (7 page)

Stones pinged off the underside of Quinn's car as she drove down the never-ending driveway to Logan's farm. Her heart pounded with nervousness, but her nipples pebbled in anticipation of what—or who—was waiting for her at the end of the lane.

She had come straight from work, and it was close to six o'clock, but the sun still burned high in the early-summer sky.

When she came around the last bend in the lane, the reflection of sunlight off the multitude of windows on the sprawling log-cabin ranch made her suck in a breath. The house was gorgeous. Like the two men who lived in it.

Quinn parked her Infiniti next to a large black SUV, wondering what the vanity plate of BB 17 meant. She didn't see Logan's truck anywhere. She was surprised, if not a bit bothered. They had wanted her here for dinner.

Maybe she'd end up on the table. Again. Served up for dinner.

She got out of the car, and when she reached into the backseat of her sedan for her bag, something nudged her in the rear. She spun around to face a large German shepherd. The shepherd wagged his tail and
woofed
at her in what she assumed—and hoped—was a playful manner.

“Magnum, leave her alone. Hold on, Quinn. Let me get that for you.”

Ty jogged down the steps of the deck and over to the car. He pulled her bag from her fingers. He had on a snug Boston Bulldogs T-shirt over long, gray, silky shorts that hung down past his knees, along with a pair of startlingly red Nikes. His red and black Bulldogs ball cap sat backward on his smooth head. Quinn's gaze was drawn back to the skin above his sneakers. He had a barbed-wire tattoo wrapped around his right ankle. His skin was so dark, it was extremely hard to see.

The dog, Magnum, nudged her hand with his wet nose.

“He wants attention.”

Don't we all? she thought, rubbing the dog's large, blocky head.

Ty tilted his head toward the house. “C'mon, let's go inside. Dinner's ready.”

Quinn followed him in, watching his muscular ass moving beneath the silky fabric of his shorts as he climbed the steps.

Inside, he dropped her bag in the living room and escorted her into the kitchen.

She came up short when she saw only two place settings on the table she was very intimate with.

“I don't understand.”

Ty kept moving toward the stove. As he stirred something in a large pan, he said, “Logan thought we needed to spend some time alone together, to get to know each other better.”

“But I don't know him really either.”

Ty gave her a smile over his shoulder. “You will.”

She hoped so. Okay, so she knew ahead of time she'd have to go with the flow. She was a guest here. If they wanted her to have an intimate dinner with Ty, then she would. And anyway, whatever he was cooking smelled delicious.

“We eat healthy around here. I hope you don't mind a chicken stir-fry.”

“No. Sounds good.” Quinn slipped into a chair, the same one from last Sunday. “It's refreshing to see guys eating well without a woman forcing—” Quinn bit off the rest of her foot-in-mouth comment. She gave Ty a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”

“No, you're right. I guess being a former athlete influenced my eating habits. I made Logan change his ways. He was a beer, pizza, and chips type of guy before we met.”

“You'd never know it by his body,” Quinn said, feeling the heat crawling up her neck.

Ty slid a plate of stir-fry in front of her, then placed another plate across from her and settled into a chair. He plucked his cap from his head and threw it on an empty seat.

He ran a hand over his smooth scalp and chuckled. “He works hard.”

“I'm sure. So you were an athlete? What kind?” She placed a forkful of veggies into her mouth and was pleasantly surprised how good it was.

Ty placed both hands over his heart and made a wounded sound. “Oh, that hurts.”

“What?”

“You really don't know?”

Quinn chewed thoughtfully but shook her head. She had no idea. Why would he think she would?

“I was a wide receiver for the Boston Bulldogs.”

She looked at him blankly.

Ty spread his arms wide, ignoring his cooling food. “The Boston Bulldogs? You know, the NFL team? In Boston? In the NFC division?”

Quinn was starting to get the feeling she was missing something, that she should know who he was. But she didn't. She didn't know squat about football. She'd never even watched a Super Bowl.

“So you were an important member of the team?”

“Shit, yeah. I was the wide receiver. That's important. I'd tell you my stats, but I don't think you'd—”

“Get it,” she finished for him. “Maybe you could teach me about football?”

“Sure, I'd like that.” He reached across the table to capture one of her hands. “But there are other things I'd rather teach you first.”

Quinn studied the sharp contrast in color between the two of them. She looked pale next to his rich, dark pigment. She had never been with a black man before; she had never really given it much thought.

It wasn't just the difference in color, though; it was the size of his hand. His was twice as big as hers. Big hands that had carried a football. His nails were neatly trimmed, and when she turned his hand over, his palm and the pads of his fingers were a light pink. Quinn ran a finger over the creases in his palm. He made a fist, capturing her finger for a moment before pulling away.

His voice was husky when he said, “Let's finish eating…”

Quickly
was unspoken between them.

Quinn tried to get her mind off what was to come. “Why did you stop playing football?”

“Injury. I didn't want to be benched for the rest of my career.” And he left it at that.

Ty cleaned his plate and then waited patiently while she ate about two-thirds of her meal. She finally had to shove the plate away. She was full.

“Excellent,” she told him while he cleared the table. She followed his movements with her eyes as he carried dishes over to the sink.

He had to have the most luscious ass she'd ever seen. Even in his shorts, she could tell it was full and muscular and round. Very round. She had a sudden urge to touch it.

Should she dare? Her fingers curled into her palms.
Good
girls like her just didn't grab a stranger's ass. Well, not quite a stranger, but close enough.

But hell, she was here to push her boundaries. Wasn't that what she was supposed to be doing? It would do her no good to hold back.

Pushing her chair back, she rose and came up behind him. His back was to her as he rinsed the dishes in the sink. She stepped into him, pushing her chest into his back and sliding her hands over his rump. She squeezed slowly, testing the firmness of his flesh, kneading the muscles flexing beneath her fingers.

A dish clattered. Ty braced his arms on each side of the sink and dropped his head forward as Quinn smoothed the silky fabric of his shorts over his ass. His cheeks were solid and impossibly firm, making Quinn want to sink her teeth into them.

“How?” She didn't even realize the question had escaped her until he answered, his voice a bit thicker.

“A lot of squats, weights, and sprints.”

She slipped her hands into the waistband of his shorts and skimmed her fingers along his hips, over the curve of his buttocks. There was nothing between him and the shorts; just skin and heat. She shifted closer and wrapped her arms around his waist, placing her cheek against his broad back, feeling her way around to his front.

There. There it was. It was hard to miss. Literally. His cock was caught crookedly in his shorts, and she moved it to what she thought would be a more-comfortable position. She stroked along its hard length, amazed how large he really was. Just as she had feared. She had heard jokes, of course, about black men being hung. But in Ty's case it was true. Her hand seemed miniature in comparison.

She wanted to lick him. Taste him. Suck him. See if his skin was as sweet, as decadent, as it looked.

When she murmured what she wanted, he peeled her arms from around him and shook his head. “Not here. Come with me.”

Those last three words held so much meaning. She had no doubt she would be coming with Ty. Both into the room and in more-wicked ways.

He took her hand and led her into the living room. He dropped to his knees on the plush throw rug in front of the impressively large stone fireplace; all it lacked was a roaring fire—too hot for the season. He tugged her down beside him, and they knelt facing each other. He pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it away. Quinn's breathing became uneven when he reached for her.

“Am I your first black man?”

“Yes.”

He ensnared her cotton top in his fist and yanked it over her head, tossing it in the same direction of his own.

“Are you frightened?”

“Yes.”

She had on the black lacy bra she had picked up at the lingerie shop earlier in the day. She reached behind her to unsnap it, but his hands were there, brushing hers to the side. He skillfully unclipped the little eye hooks.

Her breasts, now free, peaked to hard points. Ty leaned in, but he didn't touch them. Instead he gave her a kiss that sent electric heat scorching through her body.

“Because I'm black?”

A shiver of arousal moved through her. “No. Because you're too big.”

He laughed against her mouth before his lips captured hers. His teeth tugged on her lower lip, and his tongue explored her mouth. Quinn clung to him harder, her nipples pressed to the smooth expanse of his chest. She brushed the hard tips against his skin, relishing the fact that with each touch, her pussy throbbed harder.

She planted her hand on his chest and pushed him until he was flat on his back. He stretched out, still in his shorts, which tented over his erection. Quinn pushed one sandal and then the other off her feet with her toes, before—still on her knees—she shimmied out of her capris and threw them onto the nearby couch. She moved to straddle Ty's hips and sat lightly on his thighs. His arms were folded underneath his head. He had been watching her strip but hadn't moved a muscle. And speaking of muscles, Quinn couldn't help but notice the muscling throughout his upper body. He was like a piece of art, a sculpture, all hard curves and angles. Rich color, dark shadows.

He was hairless. Not a hair on his head, on his chest, even his underarms. His skin was sleek and looked quite edible. Besides the barbed-wire tattoo on his ankle, his right bicep had a white tiger that was exactly like Logan's.

He had thick black flames tattooed up the sides of his rib cage. She couldn't see where they started, somewhere beyond the waistband of his shorts. But they ran all the way up his sides and stopped just below his pectoral muscles. His pecs were firm and built, his nipples small and dark, almost black.

Quinn planted her hands on his abs and leaned forward, taking one of those hard nipples into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around it, flicked it once, twice. Ty's eyelids lowered, and he shifted his hips up against her, the heat of his meaty thighs burning her slick pussy.

She worked her lips along his ribs, pausing to lick around his navel before coming to a halt at his shorts. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband and tugged them down until his cock sprung free. She rose enough to push his shorts down to his ankles, and he kicked them off. Now he was completely naked. A dark stud against a light plush rug.

He was magnificent. In all ways. And tempting. She had the urge to touch him more intimately. And she wasn't going to fight it. Not this time.

She settled between his thighs and cupped his balls, squeezing them gently, stroking the almost black, wrinkled skin. She encircled the base of his cock with her fingers and stroked her tongue up the back side of his shaft. His cock twitched against her mouth. She looked quickly up at his face. He was watching her but hadn't moved his arms from behind his head. A slight flare of his nostrils and a tightening of his jaw were enough encouragement.

Quinn drew her mouth over the mushroom top of his cock, tasting his salty precum. She licked the head clean, dipping her tongue slightly into the slit at the end. With one hand cupping his balls and the other squeezing the root, she sank his cock as deep as she could into her mouth. She licked and stroked and sucked hard against the steely silk of his skin. Her lips nibbled along his length for a moment before taking him deep between her lips again.