Chapter 3

I Dare You

Lauren Emily
9 mins read
Published over 1 year ago

Part ONE

Part Three: Ring My Bell

Jules doesn’t hesitate. The second she sees Jack’s text, she hits Call. 

“‘Surprise yourself’? Are you effing kidding me?” she croaks.

Jack chuckles, all raggedy and sleep-warm. “Good morning to you too.” Jules looks down and sure enough, her nipples are joining in on the good mornings. Dammit, you sexy bartender.

“Sorry,” Jules whispers. She’s alone in the apartment, as Evie spent the night at Liam’s. Maybe they broke his couch for a change. “Even my inside voice is loud.”

“It’s okay, I have another ear.” She hears a rustle on his end – is he turning away from his girlfriend?


“Am I, uh, interrupting anything?” Jules asks. As much as she loves this dare game, Jules isn’t crazy about the idea of deceiving another woman. Girlfriend must know Jack comes in contact with a lot of women. But texting sexy dares? Does that cross a line? 


 “Yeah so, speaking of surprises . . .” Jack clears his throat. “There is no girlfriend.”

What? Jules’ guilt dissipates and is immediately replaced by raging horniness. 

“I can explain,” Jack says, words tumbling over one another. “Well, maybe I can’t. I’m sorry, it was a shitty thing for me to lie about. It’s just my go-to response when I’m having a busy night and I don’t feel like hooking up . . .”

“I’m not hookup-able, huh? Good morning to me!” Jules blurts out before she has a chance to censor herself. God, she really needs some coffee.

“Ugh, sorry.” Jack pauses so long, Jules wonders if he’s hung up. “By the time it came out of my mouth I realized what I’d said, and we’d already decided on the dare thing and there was never a good time to tell you the truth.” Another heavy silence. “And now I’ve made things even more awkward, huh?”

“A bit,” Jules replies. Is he attracted to her, or isn’t he? And why the hell does she care?

Because Ian and Sexy Cheese Guy were fun, but it’s Jack you can’t get out of your head.

“Stop by the bar tonight?” Jack asks, a welcome interruption to her uncomfortable revelation. “I’ll buy you a drink, and you can tell me how it’s going so far. If you want to, that is. And I totally, totally get it if you want to block me forever.” He clearly wants to make this right.

Jules can’t lie to herself: the fact that Jack tells the girlfriend-lie to women he’s not interested in – which apparently includes her – isn’t the best start to her morning.

But she really likes this game. Even if Jack’s just a pal, there’s no way she would have had those two unforgettable sexual adventures without his saucy texts. Since that first night in the bar, she’s been strutting through life on a natural high, memorizing dialogue with newfound energy and developing a taste for good cheese.

And this latest dare surprise yourself? She’s intrigued by the possibilities. No guidelines, no nothing. A little scary, but maybe even more exciting. 

“What the hell,” she says. “You’re on. And I like vodka.”

“Watermelon. She can hear him grin on the other end. I never forget a lady’s favorite drink. See you tonight.”

Jules tosses her phone aside. Almost absentmindedly, her fingers travel down the smooth plane of her stomach to her clit, which is already stiff thanks to Jack’s salted caramel voice and all it promises. She pictures those intense eyes, that beautiful dark hair and –

Mmmmm. Jules sighs, stroking herself for real now, getting into a slow and steady rhythm as her other hand plays with her nipples. The sun is just beginning to peek through the clouds and a warm breeze blows in through her open window. As she touches her recently-waxed pussy, Jack’s voice still ringing in her ear, Jules starts moving her hips.

Oh. She slides a finger, then two, in and out, so wet and tight. She kicks off her pajama shorts and with both hands, Jules goes deeper, in and out, flicking her clit, faster and faster and ohgodI'malmostthere . . .

Her phone rings.


Still wet, and now paranoid – no one ever calls me, what if someone died? – Jules picks up. “What’s wrong?” she barks.

“Oh, I forgot about your phone thing!” Evie says. “I’m so sorry, everything’s fine! I should have texted.”

Yes, because then I could have come. But Evie’s harder on herself than anyone so Jules lets it go. “No worries, doll. What’s up?”

“I need a favor,” Evie says, breathless. “I just got a call from AT&T and they’re sending someone over to look at our Internet, and I was planning on coming home from Liam’s, but then someone at the chocolate shop got food poisoning and I have to take his shift, and you’re not working today, right?”

Jules mentally cancels her plans to walk to Starbucks and beat the lunch rush. Surprising herself will have to wait, but now she can binge on Netflix in bed again. “Yes, I can wait for them to show up, if they show up, which they didn’t last time.”

“I know, and I got very politely mad at them about it. Okay thank you so much, I can’t have my phone at the register, I gave them your number, gottagoloveyoubye!” As soon as Evie hangs up, Jules’ phone rings again. 

“Seriously?” Jules mutters. As soon as she says hello, a gravelly voice says, “Hi, it’s Adam from AT&T.” Wow, that was fast. “I’m parking across the street right now and I’ll be at your door soon.” Click.

Jules glances out her window, looking for a grizzled old dude with a potbelly, the sole type of repairman she and Evie have dealt with since moving in last year. 


Jules drinks in the vision – for there is no other word to describe the Adonis exiting, as if in slow motion, the truck clearly marked AT&T. The neon-orange vest somehow complements his lightly tanned skin perfectly. He’s wearing a shirt of course, but clearly, Adam moonlights as a romance novel cover model, the kind where you only see the guy’s flawlessly sculpted torso. Not that the neck-up view is bad either – that dirty blond hair looks perfect for mussing and she can see his chiseled cheekbones from across the street. 

Surprise yourself, Jack’s voice whispers in her ear.

She has to work fast.

Luckily Jules had showered off the restaurant-smell after work late last night, and even shaved her legs for the first time in a week, “borrowing” Evie’s expensive shower gel. A quick sniff of her sheets reveals that they, too, pass muster. Running into the living room, she lights a vanilla-scented candle from Walgreens, before she looks down and catches a glimpse of her ratty pj shorts and Tough Mudder T-shirt from two exes ago.

She has a sudden flash of inspiration – god, he’s probably thisclose to ringing her bell with his strong, capable finger – and hightails it back to her bedroom to dig deep in her dresser drawer. Yahtzee: a cute, tight camisole and booty shorts set, stretchy cotton with just a hint of lace, in a perfect blue-green that makes her eyes pop, purchased for a weekend away with another ex that never took place. Ripping off the tags as carefully as she can with trembling hands, Jules shimmies into her sweet yet slutty finery, rubbing peach lotion on her legs and making a mad dash for the bathroom.

The buzzer sounds just as she’s spitting out her toothpaste. 

Here we go.

“That should do it,” Adam says fifteen minutes later, turning back to face Jules. Thanks to his handiwork, the router is now lit up green instead of the color she and Evie had christened “No Internet Crimson”. 

Adam is just as silver-screen Zac Efron dreamy up close. His ass, clad in well-worn denim, is nothing short of otherworldly. His shoulders are big and square, his muscles round and solid, his eyes a lovely brown and his left hand ringless.

If only he’d shown any interest in Jules.

She’s tried everything — tossing her messy red hair, leading him to the electrical cabinet outside to give him an optimal view of her yoga-toned butt, even bending over to watch him so he could catch a glimpse of her small but still impressive cleavage. No dice. Either he doesn’t like women, or he’s really, really into fixing Internet problems. Or she smells. She takes a quick sniff of her armpit, just as he turns around. Of course.

Like that stupid book says, he’s just not that into her. Which of course is his right, but a little attention would have been nice.

Jules removes her nose from the vicinity of her underarms. “Sorry, what?”

His dark eyes focus on her intensely and Jules’ knees weaken. “I said,” Adam repeats, “want to try out your Internet?”

Jules shrugs. “Sure.” She could just bring her laptop into the living room where they’re standing. But it’s clear nothing’s going to happen and she knows her dildo’s tucked safely away. 

Adam follows Jules to her bedroom but stays in the doorway, as she perches on her unmade bed and grabs her laptop from the windowsill. 

“Success!” she crows when the home screen pops up. “Now I don’t have to go to Starbucks when I need a Netflix fix. A Net-fix.” She laughs.

Serious Adam cracks his first smile since he stepped into her apartment. And what a smile it is: a slow burn, growing over his whole face. He doesn’t have the actorly confidence of Ian or the loudmouthed passion of Sexy Cheese Guy, but there’s a quiet magnetism about him. She can picture him listening to poetry audiobooks while lifting weights. 

She really wants to know how he fucks. The size of his cock, how it would feel inside her mouth, her pussy. What he sounds like when he comes.

Maybe it’s worth another try?

Setting aside her laptop, Jules leans back on her hands, not-so-subtly looking him up and down. “Hey, Adam?” She grins playfully, crossing one leg over the other. “You can come a little closer.”

Shyly, he steps into her bedroom, his work boots echoing on the wood floor. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jules says softly, playing the temptress for all it’s worth. Rising from the bed, she crosses the room, every nerve on fire. She’s close enough to detect the dark, woodsy scent coming off of him, watches his eyes move over every inch of her body. Once they’re face to face, Jules leans against him, brushing her hard nipples against his chest and touches her mouth to his.

The kiss quickly deepens, soft but urgent. His hands tentatively slide down her back until they cup her ass, gently squeezing as she moans her encouragement into his mouth. They break apart.

“You’re so hot,” he says. “I was trying not to stare at you the whole time… I’m a professional, and a gentleman.” His perfect face adorably flushes.

“I appreciate both,” she says, beginning to grind against his erect cock. “And now,” she breathes, touching her lips to his, “I’m going to reward you.”

He’s a sensuous kisser, moving his mouth and tongue against hers gently, but with a clear purpose, big strong hands exploring all of her. “Hold still,” Jules says, stepping back from his embrace. Slowly, deliberately, she lifts her camisole over her head. Turning around, she bends over and removes her panties. He groans out loud and the sound makes her even wetter.

Adam takes her in his arms, biting her bare shoulder as Jules coos with contentment, wondering why she’s spent so much time with the wrong guys when all along she could have been fucking the right ones.

Unbuckling his tool belt, she gently sets it on the floor and kneels before him. She eases down his jeans – he’s gone commando! – to find the nicest surprise: the prettiest cock she’s ever seen. “Jesus,” she sighs, before licking his long, thick shaft, then sucking lightly on the head. 

“Fuck,” Adam whispers, and Jules takes her cue, going deep and taking him all in her mouth and hands. Cupping his balls, she gets her fill, feeling him lightly tug her hair as he begins to thrust. She knows she can make him come like this, but Jules wants to fuck him so badly, his orgasm will have to wait.

She stands up, peeling off his T-shirt to reveal perfect pecs and, yes, that is a six-pack. Trying not to squeal, she instead purrs, “take off the rest like a good boy,” and stretches out on the bed, enjoying the sight of this hot repairman falling all over himself as he struggles out of his pants, boots and socks in his rush to join her on the bed. Just to tease him, Jules begins stroking her clit again, feeling how wet she already is. “Oh fuck me,” Adam says, putting a temporary halt to his disrobing to watch her. “You trying to make me come?”

“Maybe,” she says. “Condoms are in the drawer behind you.”

Even watching him roll it on is sexy. Once he’s suited up, Adam stretches out on the bed next to her and Jules takes in the sight for just a moment, burning the memory in her mind, before she can’t take it anymore. Running her tongue lightly over his earlobe, Jules whispers, “I’m going to ride you.” He manages a “yeah” before she straddles him, ready to claim her prize.

“Oh yes,” Jules breathes, sinking onto that picture-perfect cock, letting it fill her inch by glorious inch.

Adam laughs. “I've never had sex with a client before.”

Jules giggles, and he begins to move her hips up and down. She braces her hands on his chest, riding him good and slow at first, then harder, faster. “Oh god,” she moans. Then Adam lets go with one hand to thumb her clit and that’s all she needs, nipples aching and body loose, to go straight over the edge. 

“Fuck!” Jules squeals as Adam slaps the side of her ass with his other hand, a wicked smile on his handsome face. “Again!” she commands, greedy for all of him, and he does, pumping deep inside her. She feels the exquisite torture of building pressure as she hears the smack of his hand, sees his muscles contract, thoughts of Jack and Ian and Sexy Cheese Guy and now shy and sweet Adam run through her head, mixed with the scent of their sex and as she climaxes, long and loud, Jules is fully attuned to her power, and the satisfaction of surprises.

Part FOUR: Swing Me Around

Lauren Emily lives (and loves) in Chicago, and is the author of the novel SATELLITE. Check her out at

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