Dare (The Dare Trilogy)

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The Dare Trilogy, Part I
Sara Frost


© Sara Frost, 2013


All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of events to real life, or of characters to actual persons, is purely coincidental.


To Mark—thank you for everything, especially for all your patience and love.


Part I: London

Chapter One


Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Part II: Paris

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Part III: Berlin

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Part IV: Prague

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Part I: London


Chapter One


“I bet I can make you have an orgasm without even touching you.”

Dianne frowned at the guy sitting next to her. She’d clocked him when she had taken a seat with Janey
—it was hard not to, with his firm jaw, dark mop of hair and piercing blue eyes, as well as a body that looked like it had seen plenty of time in the gym or perhaps on a building site, his arms and what she could see of his chest covered with tattoos. She couldn’t deny either that her eyes might have dipped down below his waist, one eyebrow rising in appreciation of the fact that he was clearly no eunuch. He’d watched her as well as she sat down, no doubt admiring more than her own tat on her arm: it happened. Dianne knew the effect she had on men.

He also had a pleasant voice
—a deep Scottish burr, not too rough but rough enough. That didn’t stop him being a jerk, though.

That had been part of what she’d been talking about with Janey as they listened to the rock music in the club, NightWorld, waiting for the band both of them had been dying for ages to see to come on stage.

“We’ve got to sit through some dumb ass support band, first,” Dianne had said, at which the blue-eyed stranger next to her had glanced her way before turning back to talk to his three friends.

“I can’t wait for Optima to come on,” Janey had burbled enthusiastically. “How long have we been waiting to see them?”

“It feels like all my life,” Dianne had sighed.

“And Darius, the lead singer
—isn’t he just to die for?”

“I don’t know about die,” Dianne scoffed. “But, yeah, he’s hot. I think the lead guitarist’s hotter though.”

“Don’t play it cool with me! If Darius Optimus came up now and asked you to fuck him, you’d jump into his arms before he’d even finished speaking.”

“Well, duh!” Dianne lifted a hand to her head and twizzled it around to signify her friend was loco. “Of course I would, but that’d just be to get, you know, the experience. One of the best singers around asks you for a date -”

“I didn’t say a date, I said a fuck.”

“- asks you for a date and you say no? That’s stupid. Believe it or not, though, Janey Rogers, some of us are here to actually listen to the music. And anyway, I stand by what I said: I think the guitarist’s hotter.”

“That’s just because you want to be him. You want to be on stage next to Darius, shredding guitar next to him like you were jacking off your massive cock.”

“Oh yeah, baby!” Dianne replied, pulling a fake orgasmic face as she played air guitar in her seat phallically. As she did so, her arm bumped the blue-eyed guy behind her and she gave him a dismissive apology, turning back immediately to face the stage with a wistful stare. “When it comes down to it, you’re right, though. I’d do anything to be on that stage.”

“And afterwards, with Darius or the guitarist—what’s his name again?”

“You call yourself an Optima fan and you don’t know the name of the best guitarist around at the moment: Johnny Korpus, you idiot.”

“How the hell am I supposed to remember those stupid names? I love the music but, don’t you find them just a little bit... pretentious?”

“I thought you were a fan! I tell you, Johnny’s a master, way up there with Page or White. Hell, he’s in with the classics
—you know, Ry Cooder or Stevie Ray Vaughan. In my opinion, there’s no one who cuts it the way he does.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” It was blue-eyes behind her, leaning across slightly. “He’s good, I’ll give you that, but I think there’s better.”

“Yeah, thanks for that!” All the stranger’s good looks had immediately diminished in Dianne’s eyes with his obvious lack of judgement and she turned back to Janey, ignoring him once more. “Now,
the one I’d like to fuck—and maybe get him to show me some of his moves, too.”

“I thought you were concentrating on your singing now.”

Dianne shrugged. “Sure, but I mean you wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to learn at the hands of a master.”

Janey giggled. “That’s not all you’d learn.”

This caused Dianne to sigh. “Yeah, well, maybe. The problem with guys is that they tend to be either wimps or jerks.”

“Don’t give me that! You just haven’t found the right one yet.”

“Well, all the one’s I’ve found have fallen into those two camps. The wimps are too shy to do it right, and the jerks think only about themselves.” Dianne leaned onto her hand glumly, staring at the empty stage. “Christ! I can’t even remember the last time I had a decent orgasm—one that I didn’t give myself.”

Janey laughed at this and Dianne felt a motion behind her. Blue eyes was staring at her, a slight smile on his handsome lips. Those eyes of his were something else, she had to admit, but his gaze this close made her feel uncomfortable.

“What do you want?” she snapped defensively.

“I wouldn’t mind giving you an orgasm.” His smile widened.

“Yeah, well, get to the back of the line,” she sneered. “I’ll give you ten out of ten for nerve, but two out of ten for originality and one out of ten for class. No, make that zero.”

This made the stranger smirk. “I bet I can make you have an orgasm without even touching you.”

Yep, thought Dianne to herself. Definitely a jerk. “If you think I’m going to fuck you in front of all these people so they can get a cheap thrill and you can crow about your conquests, you’ve got another think coming, mister.”

“Who said anything about fucking you? And I thought I was the one with no class. I just reckon I know what you need.”

“And what’s that?”

“Excitement. And respect.”

“Respect!” Dianne scoffed at this. “I’m guessing you’re the kind of guy who think that all the girls just lose their senses and fall at your feet. That tells me you don’t care much for their self-respect.”

Blue-eyes turned his gaze away from her and towards the stage. “Well, if you’re chicken...”

“Who said anything about being chicken?” Dianne was angry now.

The stranger wasn’t looking at her now, his eyes still intent on the stage. “Maybe that’s why you can’t get a gig, because you’re not willing to take enough risks.”

Janey was silent and when she glanced at her friend Dianne saw immediately that someone on the seat was willing to take all kinds of risks with this good-looking guy. For some reason, this riled Dianne even more.

“I’m willing to take plenty of risks. I just don’t think that a one-night stand fucking a stranger is anything worth writing home about.”

“Like I said,” now he turned his eyes back on her and Dianne drew in her breath slightly: even in the dim light of NightWorld those orbs were clear and glittering. “Who mentioned anything about fucking? I just proposed a bet that I could make you have an orgasm without touching you. Go on, let me try—I dare you.”

That did it. “Okay, mister high and mighty,” Dianne said, leaning back in her seat and folding her arms across her substantial chest as a barrier. “Go on and try

She glared at him sceptically but, for a few moments, he made no move, said nothing and did nothing other than look directly into her eyes. She curled her lip in a sneer, but the intensity of his gaze unnerved her slightly.

Finally, he moved closer and she drew away from him, putting her hands down on the seat as though to push herself up. Janey was giggling like an idiot now, and the look on her face made Dianne even angrier: she was pretty sure that had this handsome, blue-eyed, dark-haired, muscle-bound jerk asked Janey to bend over the seat and let him fuck her from behind, she would have complied without a moment’s hesitation.

The stranger raised his hands, letting them hover a few inches before her. “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You said no touching,” Dianne snapped. For some reason her breathing was coming more quickly than she’d expected.

“I’m not going to touch.” His head moved closer to the side of hers now. “I just don’t think you’ll want everyone to hear what I’m going to say,” he said quietly.

“And what’s that?” Dianne sneered. For some reason, however, her indignation wasn’t quite as great as she had expected. She glanced sideways and saw that the stranger’s three friends had pulled away slightly, laughing among themselves. That raised her defences again: if this loser stud thought he could impress his friends so easily, he was about to learn the hard way.

“I was going to start by telling you what other guys see when they see you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Sure. They see great tits and a great ass, no doubt about that so we might as well get it out of the way. They see a petite, dark-haired, beautiful girl dressed up in black jeans that hug skinny legs and a sweet backside to die for, as well as that cleavage you like showing off. They’ll see red lips and dark eyes, and they’ll want to fuck you more than anyone else they’ve seen before.”

“Tell me something new.” Dianne turned her head slightly. The stranger appeared to have moved slightly closer and she could no longer see his eyes so clearly, the lids covering them slightly as he looked downwards at her neck. “And I thought this routine was meant to turn me on.”

“Oh no,” the stranger said, that Scottish accent of his crisp and clear despite the quietness of his voice and the background music. “I told you what other guys see. I didn’t tell you what I see.”

“So,” Dianne in what she hoped was a sarcastic-enough tone. “Tell me what you see. Impress me.”

“I see a stunning woman, and everything about her says you can look but you can’t touch. She’s an ice queen, this one, she’s a mistress, but she can’t let go.”

“Oh, let me guess.” Dianne faltered slightly as she said this. “You’re going to be the one who tames me.”

“You don’t need taming.” His own voice was quieter now and she had to strain slightly to hear it, unconsciously leaning into him. His hair almost brushed her as she did so, and she could smell the subtlest aroma of cologne. For some reason, her eyes became fixed on the one broad shoulder that extended closest to her, the curve of muscle along his back, his brawny, tattooed arm just visible beneath the edge of his shirt.

“You don’t need taming,” he repeated. “You need to let that wildness free. You need to be up there, on stage, blazing in front of the entire crowd, having them look up at you in adoration and see the real you, the wild you.”

Despite herself, Dianne caught her breath at this, an old and familiar fantasy kicking in
—her above a crowd, arms stretched wide, gazing down on them all in triumph. Her stomach churned at the thought excitedly.

“The man who recognises that, he’s not going to tame you
—he’s going to set you free.” The stranger tilted his head slightly, whispering almost directly into her ear, and she could feel the heat of his cheek against her neck. She arched it slightly, her eyes flickering across to Janey who was staring at her in plain jealousy.

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