If You Dare: An Erotic Sequel

Control

Raucous laughter interrupted the stillness of your apartment upon bursting through the front door, Dominic in tow. He watched from the sidelines, a shy grin teasing his mouth, as you flopped onto your black leather couch, the hem of your red dress hiking up to reveal your smooth thighs.

"I had no idea you could be so funny!" you exclaimed on a breathless laugh, wiping tears from your mascaraed eyes.

He stood with his hands clasped before him. "I know what you mean. I don't exactly look like the funny type."

You stared at him, perplexed.

"Your biting sarcasm, your dark humor," you ticked off on one hand. "I would call you a hidden gem. I am so glad I accepted your invitation to our first date."

He ducked his head and smiled bashfully, unable to believe his luck. "Me too."

He had shared your evening commute from work for months. After that day he had helped you with your belongings, you had acted as though he didn't exist. But Dominic was a persistent fellow who demanded to be recognized. The desperation to connect with you had gnawed at him, until he had relented and followed you to what he now understood as your favorite coffee shop. As you sat at a table with your paperback book in hand, a flower basket hanging from the window above, he watched and planned his next move. For weeks, he had followed you, until... well, until he plucked up enough courage to approach you, the same book you were reading tucked under his arm. Your voice snapped him back to the present.

"What are you doing all the way over there?" you crooned. "Come sit next to me." You patted the empty space beside you on the couch as you slipped out of your black pumps. You coaxing smile drew him like a moth to a flame. "I won't bite... that is, unless you want me to."

He shivered at the mere suggestion. Your dark red lips dropped the word 'want' like something sinful, forbidden, and tantalizing. Dominic himself felt like Tantalus from the Greek myth, the delicious fruit retracting beyond his reach each time he extended his hand, endlessly tormenting him with its ripeness and lush color. You unpinned your hair and allowed your thick tresses to cascade around your shoulders, your skin-tight dress hugging every supple curve, the sweetheart neckline doing very little to hide your cleavage. You were more than Dominic could handle, but he was more than willing to take on the challenge, even with his shyness, timidity, and inexperience.

Mechanically, he moved to sit beside you, careful to maintain a safe distance. He flashed you a nervous, lopsided smile, every muscle in his body quaking. He clamped a hand over one knee to still its restless bouncing, inwardly cringing as nervous laughter threatened to bubble up from his core.

"I have to admit," he glanced down at his long, spidery fingers, "I never thought you would agree to a date, especially with someone like me." He dared vocalize his vulnerability, though he refused to meet your eyes. "I don't understand what a woman like you could see in me. I wouldn't be offended if you admitted this was a pity date."

You leaned forward, exposing more of your lovely, creamy breasts. Dominic's cock twitched in interest, though he maintained control, as he did with everything in his life. He spared your face the briefest of glances. You brow knit together in a deep frown, your mouth pressed in a grim line of disapproval.

"Why would you think I wouldn't be interested in you?" you challenged.

Dominic shrugged noncommittally, already regretting broaching the subject.

"I-I take care of my father," he confessed. "I don't have a glamorous job." I can't afford to take care of you, he silently added with a wince. He gestured to your apartment, to the black leather furniture, metallic curtains, and splashes of red décor. "I'm so far behind in life, while you are so accomplished and sophisticated. I'm... I'm..."