#chapter Twenty-Six
I haven’t worn this dress before, and the fabric clings to my body in a way I find a little distracting. The wind licks at the hem of it, the fluttery, gauzy fabric tickling my knees and my thighs when it floats a little too high for propriety. My legs are bare beneath it. So’s my pussy. I can’t recall a time when I went without panties, but today when I pulled this dress from the closet, the sheer fabric meant even my sheerest silk and lace left their lines and ruined the look. No bra, either. My nipples are diamond hard. My clit a tight knot.
I’m looking for Ian.
He’s here, somewhere in the crowd. I know he is. The bass beat of dance music throbs between my legs, vibrates my chest. My heart is already skipping beats as I scan the throng for the sight of his face. Overhead, the night sky winks at me, bright with stars. The dance club is miles away from the sea but has a floor made of sand, and I’m glad I’m wearing a simple pair of sandals instead of the stilettos so many of the other women have. I’d take my shoes off altogether and walk with bare toes on the cool and gritty sand, but this isn’t the ocean and the sand itself is surely filthy. So instead, I imagine the rush and press of the ocean and look for my Ian.
“Buy you a drink?” The man in front of me is handsome enough. His smile tempts mine, but I shake my head. “C’mon. One drink.”
“I’m waiting for someone.”
The man looks around. “Any man who’d keep you waiting is a bedamned fool.”
Something seems off in his tone. His choice of words. Frowning, I watch him back away from me and wonder if he’s right, if I shouldn’t wait any longer. I’ve lost track of the time, and though I squint hard at my watch, the numbers are too small. The hands too fine. I can’t tell the hour, how long I’ve been here. I have no idea how long I’ll have to wait.
And then, there he is. There’s nothing so silly as a shining ray of light or a chorus of angels, but the crowd does seem to part around him. Maybe it’s just that in a sea of faces, Ian’s will always stand out to me.
We dance.
Ian turns me so my back aligns with his front, my ass snugged up against his crotch. His hands on my hips. I turn my face to feel his breath on my cheek, and one arm goes behind his head so I can feel his hair with my fingers. We move with the music and the crowd, like we’ve all become some wild, writhing thing. I don’t care about the song, the crowd, the heat rising so my skin begins to sheen with sweat. All that matters is Ian’s hands on me, and he turns me to face him.
His kiss, oh, God. Ian’s mouth. I fucking love his mouth so much I think I might be unable to bear it. He tastes of salt and beer and his own flavor; I would know the taste of him anywhere. His cock is hard on my belly as the people around us push in closer. My arms go over his shoulders. This close, his face is a bit of a blur, but I don’t need to see his every feature with clarity to know the sight of him.
His tongue strokes mine as his hand slips between us. His knuckles press my clit through the filmy hem of my dress. He doesn’t have to move his hand because the crowd moves me against him.
Ian kisses me. Over and over, the slide of his tongue on mine, the nibble of his lips. The press of him against me. I pull him closer, closer, breathing him in. Tasting him. There are people behind me, all around me, but everything is Ian. The entire writhing, grinding crowd is Ian touching me.
“Maura, Maura, what am I gonna do with you,” Ian says in my ear in a voice so low I shouldn’t be able to hear it over the music, but there’s magic in his tone. It vibrates deep within me, subsonic. Strums me internally, resonating on some frequency reserved for him alone.
“Anything you want. Everything you want.” My breath is rough in my throat, the flavor of him thick on my tongue.
I want him the way you want to breathe when you’ve been underwater for too long. The way you crave the kiss of winter after an inferno of a summer. I want Ian without hesitation, reservation, accusation, condemnation. I want him with everything I am and have ever been. Everything I will ever be.
His knuckles rub and rub until I shake with the pleasure of it. I want him inside me, but there’s no way for that happen here, in the middle of a crowd. My body strains, yearning toward that release. There’s no stopping it. I can’t hold it back, until at last the pleasure breaks me.
I’m looking in his eyes when I come.
“Ian,” I manage to say as the crowd fades and leaves us alone, and in front of me, Ian begins to vanish too. “Ian, please don’t leave me.”