As soon as my thoughts turn to him naked, Ian can tell and he never passes up an opportunity to call me on it. "Let me guess, you are thinking about me in a swimsuit?" he asks and I stare at him in horror. "Please tell me that I'm not wearing a Speedo," he says with a laugh.
Since I'm busted, I might as well just go with it, right? "Oh, no, we're skinny dipping in my head, thank you very much."
He laughs, shaking his head, and says, "Hmmmm, not a bad mental image after all." Giving me a wink and grabbing my hand, he leads me toward the shore, "Wanna get your feet wet?"
"Definitely!"
We approach the surf line and sit down to take off our shoes and socks. Rolling up our jeans to our knees, we grab our beers and head for the water.
"Holy crap, that's cold!" I exclaim when the arctic water hits my feet. I turn and run back up the beach.
"Wimp!" Ian yells, shaking his head disappointedly at me. Just then another wave comes in, submerging him up to his calves and his entire body goes stiff.
I laugh, intent on mocking him, but he turns and starts rushing towards me. I'm not entirely sure what his intention is, but I'm pretty sure I won't like it, so I scream and turn tail and run. Of course he's faster than I am, and he catches me in about ten strides. He grabs me roughly about the waist, forcing both of us to drop our beers in the process, and spins me around so I'm facing him. He lifts me up, throwing me on his shoulder and begins marching me back toward the surf.
"Oh, no, no you don't!" I yell as I struggle. I know I can't get free, he's too strong for that, but I can manage to wriggle around a bit. I decide my best bet is to make sure that if I go in, he goes in too, and count on his desire to spend the evening dry to save me. I push back on his shoulder under my belly and I wrap my legs around his chest and slide down to his waist. I tightly grip with my inner thighs and wrap my arms around his neck, forcing my torso into his.
Once in position our eyes meet and all laughter leaves us. He stops walking abruptly and we stare at each other. His hands are around my lower back and he slowly moves them down until they are cupping my ass. My hips give an involuntary thrust against his abdomen and my nipples harden, pressing into his chest. His breath catches on an open mouth inhalation and his eyes drop down to my lips. That's all the invitation I need.
Pushing my hands up into his hair, I drop my mouth onto his in a hard kiss. Instantly the heat between us explodes. There is no finesse, no seduction. Hunger rules this kiss and our bodies yield to the intensity. I keep my left hand in his hair but move my right arm over the back of his shoulders so I can get some leverage. I begin rubbing against his washboard abs and he lets out a low groan as he pulls me tighter against him, his hands still on my ass. Our tongues plunge deeply, colliding and pushing and creating friction and tension when they meet. Without exception, it is the hottest kiss of my entire life.
I'm not sure how long it lasted, but finally a need to breathe forces us apart. We are both panting and feeling a little off kilter. Ian takes a few steps up onto dry sand and sinks to his knees. We disentangle, ending up sitting side by side, hips and shoulders pressed together, and looking at the sunset.
It is a weird moment. I want to smile at him, snuggle into his arms, and enjoy the beauty of the beach and the setting sun. Yet I can tell he has already pulled away and that this would be unwelcomed. We sit in silence, and I wonder what is going on in his head. When I can stand it no longer, I finally speak.
"You aren't interested in dating, are you?"
He looks at me with that same haunted sadness I've seen too many times now. "No," he says.
"Wow, that stings," I say with a curt nod, turning my eyes back to the sunset. I know I shouldn't take it personally, I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to date anyone - he certainly has never shown any interest in a woman in the month I've known him. But it still hurts.
"Why?" I ask.
He shakes his head but doesn't answer. He trains his gaze on the horizon.
I stare out at the ocean and contemplate my options. I have very strong feelings for this man; they go deeper than lust. I don't think I can call them love yet, but he's strong and smart and noble and I'm drawn to him in a way I've never been before. I can try and fight for him, but that's not something I'm particularly practiced at. I'm horribly insecure, and whether that stems from daddy abandonment issues or being overweight, it really doesn't matter. I find it odd when anyone chooses to love me, so fighting to "win" his affection seems like an impossible task. Yet letting go, just giving up, doesn't really seem like a good option either. I care too deeply to simply walk away, and I don't think I'm deluding myself when I think he cares about me too. He has feelings for me, but he doesn't want to act upon them. Why? Ugh, he is so fucking frustrating.
We sit in silence until suddenly a guitar chord rips through the air and drums take up a steady beat.
"The show's starting," Ian says, popping up and offering down his hand.
I don't take it and instead get up of my own volition, wiping the sand off my ass and the back of my legs, rolling my jeans back down and putting my shoes on. He does the same. I don't look at him as we walk to the stage area. We stop a few feet away from the crowd, out of the circle of light cast by the bonfires.
"I'll go get us a couple more beers," Ian says. "You'll be okay here?"
I give him a quick look and nod. I'm not trying to be pestilential, I just have nothing to say to him at the moment.
He takes off just as Bernie hits the stage.
"Whaaaaat's up, mother fuckers?" he yells and the crowd goes wild, shouting and jumping and transforming into a unified, pulsing mass. The band launches into a raucous song filled with fast metal guitar licks and screeching vocals. What distinguishes this from other metal bands I've heard before is the fiddle. Through it all, the fiddle is dueling with the guitar for dominance. It is an odd sound, and suddenly I'm reminded of the day I walked in on Ian dancing in the kitchen. He must have been listening to the Fighting Irish.
Before the first song is over Ian has returned with more beer and I pound mine. I hate beer, I hate the tension between us, so what the hell, I'm going to get drunk.
A couple songs, and another beer, later, the world has turned into a hazy, glowing place. Ian and I have backed farther away from the crowd who began moshing on the second song. He's standing behind me and while we aren't touching, I can feel his heat. It got chilly when the sun went down and I'm a little cold. My nipples are hard yet again, and for once it isn't because of Ian. Or, well, not only because of Ian.
A small shudder shakes my shoulders and he steps up behind me. "Cold?" he asks, putting his arms around my waist and pulling me into his chest. I stiffen and have no idea how to react. My mind tells me to say, Fuck you, and push away from him while my body is content to feel his heat seeping into my back and have his big broad chest to rest my head upon. The feel of him behind me is too delicious to resist, so I pull a page from his playbook and say nothing.
The music level drops suddenly and Bernie's voice carries out across the group in a clear, sweet, note. The instrumentals come back in softly, delicately. It seems the Fighting Irish have a ballad, who would have thought it?
Behind me Ian begins to sway. This is so fucked up! An hour ago he wanted nothing to do with me, now he's holding me and swaying to a shockingly sweet love song sung by a giant leprechaun. I'm angry and confused. But even more than that, I'm horny and drunk. I want Ian so badly that I'll take whatever he wants to give me tonight. I want his arms around me, I want to dance with him to this song. I want him.
Feeling my body relax against his, Ian grows a little bolder. Taking a hand from my hip, he brushes the hair from the side of my neck and replaces it with his lips. I take a quick breath and sensation intensifies between my thighs. Lightly, gently, he nibbles my neck, taking a small bite, pulling the skin up and then releasing it and covering it quickly with little licks and soft presses of his lips. He starts right under my jaw line and by the time he reaches my shoulder, I'm groaning and pushing my hips back into his rock hard erection, in time with the pulsing in my core.
He growls, a sound which causes a Pavlovian response in me, and I can feel a release of moisture in my thong. He moves his hands from my hips and sends one up to clutch my breast and the other to rub my crotch outside of my jeans. I know we are in public, but I am so beyond caring. Plus, we are cloaked in darkness; it is a moonless night and the light from the bonfires doesn't touch us.