Free Truth or Dare (His Wicked Games #2) by Ember Casey Page B

he turned away than Calder
grabs my hand and yanks me down beside him—or, more accurately, on
top of him. I squirm as he wraps his arms around me, holding me
hostage.
    “ That was an interesting welcome,” he
murmurs against my hair. “First you forget about our date—”
    “I didn’t forget ,” I insist. “I just
got caught up in—”
    “And then you hide me from your father like
we’re in high school or something.” His arms tighten around my
waist. “Are you embarrassed by me?”
    “No! Of course not! I just haven’t told Dad
about you yet. He’s not—I mean, I don’t think he hates you
or anything, but he…” I try to wriggle out of his grasp, but
instead he flips me over so that I’m beneath him. His face looms
over mine, but I don’t get a chance to read his expression before
he dips his head and nuzzles my neck.
    “You mean he won’t exactly be happy to know
you’re dating the guy who almost brought this place down around
your ears,” he murmurs before attacking my throat with his
mouth.
    I nod, too distracted by the thing he’s doing
with his tongue to answer immediately. When I agreed to let Calder
pick me up at work, I’d planned to meet him outside.
    “Plus,” I manage after a minute, “he’s going
to wonder how it came about, and I never exactly told him the truth
about that weekend.” Ah, yes—those three days I spent trapped in
the Cunningham mansion playing cat-and-mouse with Calder, letting
him tease me and taunt me and give me the most intense sex I’ve
ever had in my life. Even now I shiver at the memory.
    But it’s not exactly something you tell your
dad. Especially when the sex god in question is the person
responsible for the near-ruin of his nonprofit arts center. And
that’s exactly what makes our current position on the floor of my
office especially compromising.
    But Calder has noticed my body’s reaction,
and he’s not about to let this opportunity slip out of his
fingers.
    “What, you don’t want your father to know
what dirty, dirty things you’ve done?” he whispers against my
throat. He grabs my skirt and begins tugging the fabric up toward
my hips.
    “Calder!” I rasp, batting at his hands. “Not
here.”
    He ignores me. His fingers slide up the backs
of my bare thighs, moving to the lacy edge of my panties.
    “Calder…” This time it doesn’t sound like
much of a warning. God, when did I lose complete control over my
body?
    His hand slips beneath the thin fabric of my
underwear and skims across my bare ass. I writhe against him, but
my attempts to get away only backfire, judging by the bulge I feel
in his pants. He starts to pull my panties down my legs. If I don’t
do anything quickly, he’s going to have me right here on the floor
of my office.
    Not that my body seems to mind the idea. I’m
trembling, aching for that touch I’ve missed these past weeks. When
he slips his fingers between my legs, I just about lose it.
    “What about dinner?” I ask him
frantically.
    “Screw dinner.”
    “I still have to change.”
    “Go naked.”
    “If you think I’m going to have sex with you
while my dad’s in the next room…”
    “That just makes it more… stimulating ,
doesn’t it?” His finger brushes against my clit, and I suck in a
breath.
    Part of me wants to just give in, to
surrender myself to the pent up sexual energy that’s consumed me
since the last time we saw each other. But fortunately, the
rational part of my mind hasn’t completely jumped ship just
yet.
    “Martin’s expecting us,” I remind him.
    At the mention of his family’s former chef,
Calder sighs. His explorations of my body cease, and his grip
loosens on my waist.
    “Martin was always quite the cockblock,” he
growls. But he moves his fingers across my sensitive nub a final
time, and amusement flashes in his eyes when I let out a soft
whimper.
    “Tonight,” he promises, “you’ll be begging me
for it. And I’m going to fuck you until you can’t even