The Dare (Losers, #0.5)

by Harley Laroux

I glanced up, and Manson smirked down. “You look a lot better on your knees, Jess,” he said softly, soft enough that I don’t think anyone else could have heard him over the music. “Enjoying your revenge?” I hissed. He laughed, shaking his head. “It’s just a dare, Jess. It’s a game."

He drank. He drank the damn cup rather than give my thong back, and my mouth dropped open.

“Go crawl and get my beer, Jessica – before I put you up against the wall and spank that cute little ass of yours until you figure out how to behave.”

Traitorous pussy couldn’t give me a break, could she?

“Oh, Jess. Poor little angel. I’ve made a sinner out of you. Enjoying your punishment so much it’s making you wet. So cute.”

“You deserve to have your clit aching all night. You deserve to have duct tape slapped over it so you can’t touch while I crush your pretty little pussy under my boot.”

As I repositioned, I realized that he was going to see me, all of me. Naked and spread, dripping for him. Dripping because of his filthy words and sadistic game.

After all the shit I’d given Manson, after all the nasty things I’d said behind his back, said to his face - I was completely melting in his hands.

“I like it a lot better now,” he said, as my legs shook. “Your cunt is cuter when your ass is red; funny how that works.”

Vincent, with his long brown hair loose and wild around his face. Jason with those bright blue eyes and even-brighter buzzed blue hair. And Lucas – Lucas who never smiled, who looked like he’d eat you alive, who’s tiny stick-and-poke happy face tattoo could still be seen faintly through the paint under his right eye.

The boys I’d taunted were men now, muscular and tatted up with bitterness hanging heavily on their shoulders. The amused disdain in their eyes made it clear that they hadn’t forgotten what a bitch I’d been to them.

"You little brat," his teeth clipped together, bared for the briefest moment so I could see those sharp fangs. "I told you I wanted to see you suffer. I wanted to see you squirm. You don't get to take that pleasure away from me."

“God, it’s so pathetic how needy you are." His voice wasn’t cruel, it wasn’t taunting. He said it like it was simply a fact, and I whimpered my agreement around the thong. “Running away to the bathroom to touch yourself, such a naughty girl. Been a while since you got off, hm?"

“Do you want to leave?” Manson whispered tenderly in my ear. “Or do you want to face your fear and be a good girl for me?”

"You're so fucking evil, Manson,” I said softly. Then, softer still, “I like that."

“What did we used to tell you, Jess? You fuck with one of us, you fuck with all of us.” Manson’s voice rumbled eagerly from behind me, deepening with excitement, “And if you want to fuck one of us, you fuck all of us.”

“I love how excited you look,” he mused. “Your eyes light up. Your whole body is shaking. I can hear the way your breath is shuddering.” He chuckled. “That’s what I like to see.”

"Aww, is that not enough for the little angel? Need a bit more? Need something to fill you up? You really seemed to like my fingers inside you."

"Even squirting for me? What a good girl. Fuck, that’s beautiful."

He spanked me again, bringing a growl out of me, and he laughed, "Such a vicious angel."

"That's right, angel. No getting away. You're going to come and you're going to scream as you do."

How could a man be so carefully cruel, and so brutally gentle? "Then we can do it again?" "Absolutely."