Ian smiles at this and goes to pass behind me, placing his hands on my hips and brushing his package across my ass. I draw in a breath and freeze. It is the first physical contact he's initiated in months and I try to hold on to the moment as long as I can.
"Well, come sit on my lap and maybe I'll be able to overlook your shit choice of drink," Bernie says.
I laugh and make my way out from the bar. I put an arm around Bernie's neck and scooch my way onto his lap. Ian is looking at me with his mouth open and I smile and nestle a little closer to Bernie. Maybe a spot of jealousy will do him good.
"Hmmm, that's a mighty fine ass you got there," Bernie says appreciatively.
"Wait until you get a load of the girls," I say putting my glass on the bar and removing my sweater. Underneath I have a tight black tank top that reveals a fair amount of cleavage.
"Right you are! They are definitely something to behold," Bernie says smiling down at my chest.
I look over at Ian and he is glaring at the back of Bernie's head. I feel a tinge of guilt, but since I know nothing will happen with Bernie, I quickly squelch it. Ian flirts with women at the bar all the time, let's see how he likes it.
Bernie has continued to stare at my chest and I begin to feel the evidence of his appreciation of the view. His Guinness in one hand, the other around my hips holding me in place, he moves the hair away from my ear with his nose and whispers, "After the show, how about you take me home and I get a peek at what's under that tank top?" He punctuates the question with a nip on my neck.
The sound of glass shattering surprises all of us, drawing our focus to the bar. Ian stands right behind us, looking ready to jump the bar and murder Bernie.
"What's up, man?" Bernie asks overly innocently. I look at him then and wonder if he's trying out get a rise out of Ian. But why? Does he enjoy pissing Ian off? That seems like a stupid past time to me.
I decide my little attempt at making Ian jealous isn't going particularly well, so I hop off Bernie's lap and head behind the bar on the pretext of cleaning up the glass.
"I've got it, boss," I say, grabbing the hand broom and dustpan and crouching down at Ian's feet to clean the mess.
"No, stop," Ian says, joining me under the bar. "I'll do that." He grabs the broom and pan away from me. He won't look at me, but I stay there a moment and place a hand on his cheek.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, and place a quick peck on his cheek before standing.
"That man is the clumsiest bartender I've ever seen. It's a wonder he makes a profit with all the glasses he breaks." My quip is greeted with laughter from the crew. They know how many glasses he broke during my absence.
"Beautiful! Get your ass back over here and finish what you started," Bernie says with a wink.
"Sorry my oversized Leprechaun, I'm gonna check and see if Tracey needs any help in the kitchen." I blow him a kiss as I disappear through the door.
I spend the next forty minutes in the kitchen with Tracey. With the holiday coming, we aren't doing much in the way of batching the stew and it's quiet. Tracey tells me about working on a film with Sandra Bullock and I'm enjoying experiencing the trials and tribulations of an aspiring actress second hand through her stories. It's fun living in L.A. and hearing about encounters with movie stars. I have yet to see anyone famous, but I'm holding out hope.
Bernie shouting from the other room lets us know the show has started and Tracey and I head out front to watch. I blitzed the hell out of the concert on social media and it looks like we've pulled in around 50 people. Not great, but not terrible either.
Ever the showman, Bernie is pumping up the crowd. I quickly become mesmerized by his top hat. Even through all his rapid, banging movements, it doesn't fall off and I wonder if it is pinned to his head in some way. Or maybe glued?
All thoughts of Bernie leave my mind as Ian steps up behind me. He places his hands on my hips and gently pulls me back against him. This is the same position we were in on the beach and my body is immediately aflame with desire. My breathing becomes rapid and my core throbs painfully. I press my ass against him and can feel his arousal, causing another round of contractions between my legs. He pulls back a moment, using one hand to shift himself in his jeans, and then pulls my hips back even harder, grinding into me with firm pressure.
A little gasp escapes me and I quickly look around to see if anyone is watching us. No one is; the crowd is entranced by Bernie and the Fighting Irish. Confident we aren't being watched, I lean my head back against his chest and put my hands over his, gyrating my hips in a slow steady circle. The movement provides gentle stimulation between my thighs, and affords his erection a nice steady push.
Ian lowers his head and groans into my neck, biting my shoulder then kissing his way up my neck. I'm panting now, my desire intense. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to regain control over myself, but it's no use. Already, I'm too far gone. I need his hands on my bare flesh so badly - all ego has left me and I turn in his arms and look up into his eyes. "Ian, please."
He waits only one beat before grabbing my hand and leading me into the kitchen. He quickly puts me up on the table and steps in between my legs. He kisses me then, hard and deep. I grasp his hair with both hands and wrap my legs around his waist, rolling my hips into him in unsteady, frantic thrusts. I break the kiss in order to breathe and throw my head back as he lowers his mouth to my breast, biting my nipple through the fabric of my shirt and bra.
"No," I pant, pushing him back. He looks dazed and confused and freezes in place, unsure of what I'm objecting to.
"No clothes, no clothes," I chant as I begin to wrestle my way out of my tank top. I want to feel him on my flesh; fuck this fully clothed shit.
"Wait," he rasps out as he picks me up, still wrapped around his waist, and brings me into the office. He sets me down on the couch and disentangles himself long enough to lock the door and pull off his shirt.
It's now my turn to freeze. Finally, finally, I get my first view of Ian partially naked. He lives up to every fantasy I've had. His broad shoulders and chiseled torso boast impressive definition, each muscle hard and distinct. He has no tattoos other than the one on his arm, and his tan makes me think he must run with his shirt off. I drop my eyes from his perfectly formed pecs to his abs and do a quick count. Yep, as I imagined, he has an eight pack, punctuated on each side by his Adonis Belt.
A small cry escapes my lips as a strong pulse of desire promulgates through my body and causes my inner muscles to clench. I rid myself of my tank top and reach around to undo my bra. Ian is before me again, this time on his knees in between my thighs. My breasts, finally free of the bra, feel the cool air for only a moment before Ian's mouth clasps around one nipple. I moan loudly, and push my hips up into his waist. My hands go to the back of his head, forcing him tighter to my chest. He reaches up his right hand and begins to twirl my left nipple in between his fingertips, causing jolt after jolt racing from my nipple to my core.
He quickly switches sides and I begin to whimper. I need to come so badly, I feel as though I might explode at any moment. Sensing my urgency, Ian pulls back and quickly unbuttons and unzips my jeans. Using his forearms to lift under my hips, he yanks down my jeans and panties, tugging until they are at my knees. He pulls my hips forward then, causing only my shoulders and head to remain supported on the couch. He quickly ducks under my leg and puts his face between my thighs, my ass lifted in the air, a thigh on each shoulder and my calves dangling down his back.
He wraps his arms around the outside of my legs and reaches his hands in to pull apart my folds, revealing me to his gaze. He mutters a soft, "Fuck me," before diving in. He is brazen in his enthusiasm to consume me. He uses the flat of his tongue to push against my entrance before spearing his tongue into me with quick, hard thrusts. I cry out and try to move my hips to his rhythm but I don't have much traction to control my movements.
One swipe of his tongue across my clit and I know I'll come. He seems to sense this too and he avoids it at all costs, driving me insane. He sucks and licks, drawing my flesh into his mouth with strong pulls before releasing and moving to the other side. He moves further down, to the sensitive skin behind my opening, probing it with firm pushes of his tongue.