Dare

"Emily, truth or dare?"

Her name snapped her out of the low thrum in her body. The fire crackled in front of her, shadows dancing over the circle of flushed faces and bare skin. She looked up from her cup, then slowly around the ring of warm, waiting eyes.

“Dare,” she said, her voice low and steady.

There was a beat of quiet.

Then Marcus leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Flash us.”

A few whistles, a mock gasp from Olivia. “Marcus, you dog.”

Emily blinked. Her heart gave a single hard thump. She could feel the rush of blood in her face, then in her chest. Her breasts rose with each breath, straining further against the already-too-small cups. The fire crackled again, licking orange along the hem of her thighs.

“You don’t have to,” Cara murmured beside her, though she was smiling already.

Emily looked down at herself. Her skin glowed in the firelight, dusted in salt and freckled pink from sun exposure. The fabric of her top was taut, holding but barely. A thread near the bottom seam had started to strain.

She felt drunk. Emboldened. Alive.

So she reached behind her neck with both hands and untied the halter.

The top dropped into her lap.

A collective inhale swept the circle.

Emily’s breasts bounced free, full and heavy, the firelight catching the faint stretchmarks that lined the outer curve of each one. Her nipples were dark and stiff, puckered against the night air, the cool breeze drawing them tighter still.

“Holy fuck,” someone muttered.

One girl clapped, whistling. “Goddamn, you’re gorgeous.”

Another breathless voice: “Those are real?”

Emily didn’t try to cover herself. She sat with her back straight, chin up, eyes half-lidded, letting the heat of the moment soak into her skin. She felt the fire, the drink, the attention—all of it wrapping around her like something electric.

Then hands slid around her from behind.

Cara.

“Couldn’t help myself,” Cara whispered, kneeling close behind her. She cupped Emily’s breasts with both hands, lifting their weight with surprising tenderness. Her thumbs brushed slowly over each nipple.

Emily gasped—sharp, high—and her head tilted back slightly.

Then it happened.

A droplet of milk welled at her left nipple.

Cara froze.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. “You’re still…”

She didn’t sound disturbed. She sounded intrigued.

Emily looked down, mortified for only a second.

Then Nate was there.

He leaned in without hesitation, eyes locked on hers, and brought his tongue to her breast.

He licked the droplet away.

The heat of it—the contact—made her gasp again, softer this time, her thighs squeezing together.

For a moment, everything was silent.

Then the group erupted.

“Oh my god!”

“No fucking way!”

Jamie fell sideways laughing, practically ****. Marcus clapped both hands over his mouth in mock horror. Olivia shouted, “Bro, what the fuck!” and then laughed so hard she doubled over.

Nate just grinned, licking his bottom lip. “Delicious,” he said.

Emily laughed too—helpless, flushed, wild.

Her breasts were still bare. Her nipples were wet. And nobody was looking away.