Page 51 of The Bully's Dare

“Well,” Donovan’s voice filters through. “That’s my cue.”

He stands, grabs his clothes, and tosses his shirt back on. But then Jason surprises us both. He grabs Donovan’s wrist before he can leave, holding him in place, and says, “Or you can stay.”

Donovan glances over at me, his dark eyes inquisitive.

I agree with, “Stay. Please?”

Donovan worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “Alright,” he finally says and then sits back down. His pants are still lumped in a pile in his hands and he puts them aside on the table.

Jason nods to where Donovan is sitting. “Why don’t you go lay down beside him?”

I do. I stretch out on my back on the cushioned bench, my head on Donovan’s thigh. He draws his fingers through my hair instinctively and I reach for his arm. I pull his hand in close and kiss that leather bracelet he always wears, then I kiss his palm. His eyes meet mine and they’re full of affection.

Jason stands over me. He sheds his clothes. I can see the excitement in his electric blues, the hunger. It makes my blood hot. “Have you done this before?” he asks.

“What,” I reply, “Have I been torn up by two dudes at once?”

I’m nervous as hell and my sense of humor is dark and strange.

“I mean…are you a virgin?”

“Uh…yeah. Is that okay?”

“If it’s good by you, it’s good by me.”

“Hey.” Donovan gets my attention now. He cups my face, tilts my chin look at him. He’s always had the most intense, striking dark eyes, and now I find myself swallowed up in them. Tenderly, his thumb strokes my cheek. “If you want this to stop,” he says—and he’s using his best friend voice now, “at any point. Just say the word. Okay?”

I nod. “I know.” I reach out and cup the back of his neck, petting his hair—I adore this man. And I know it’s weird—I know this is insane and not at all how I pictured it would go—but I’m suddenly so grateful to have my best friend here for my first time. He’ll protect me. No matter what. I feel utterly safe and warm with him here.

Jason climbs on top of me and—God. His body is beautiful. The light from the lantern casts a sheen of gold over his taut muscles.

I touch his jaw and draw him in, kissing him deeply. I’ve decided I love the way Jason kisses me. There’s nothing uncertain about it—he swoops his tongue in my mouth, tasting me deeply, boldly. He devours me completely and I succumb to him.

When Jason enters me, there’s a pinch, and I whimper. I must shed a tear or two because Donovan strokes my cheek, runs his fingers through my hair, and asks me if I’m okay.

“I’m okay,” I’m murmur, “keep going. Please.”

Jason is gentle, slow, deliberate. The burst of pain fizzles into something bearable, and then something enjoyable, and then something so goddamn good I have to bite my bottom lip to keep myself from screaming.

Jason is the ocean. He rolls over me in waves, swooping, crashing.

Donovan is the moon. He pulls me, guides me, orbits me.

The three of us together are lips and tongues and squeezed fingers and heat. The air is dense with the smell of old wood—like the bottom of a cork in a wine bottle—and the musk of our own sweat and arousal.

Jason’s lips tickle my throat as he moves over me. He tells me that I’m beautiful. He tells me that I’m so fucking beautiful. I feel a heat rise through me, making me blush. My throat gets tight and I feel my toes curl.

On instinct, I reach out and find Donovan’s hand.

23

Donovan

I take Kenzi’s hand in mine. Her fingers curl and tighten.

“Donovan!” She moans.

And it shouldn’t get to me, but—

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