3. Ivy
three
Ivy
Later that Evening
“ Slante !”
A group of older men slam their pints of Guinness to toast the end of a workweek. They aren’t the only ones. Kell’s Irish Pub is packed with people of all ages and ethnicities on Friday evening. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in my entire sheltered life.
Thrilling .
It’s been an epic day filled with indulgence. The best I’ve had in such a long time.
I’d forgotten what it’s like to be, well, happy.
Three hours of dance class was an emotional, cathartic release. It felt like layers of my structured life were shed away forever, allowing my mind to heal a bit. Making me feel open to possibilities.
No, making me eager to pursue them. I’m brave. Confident. Comfortable in my own skin.
After class, I enjoyed a leisurely dinner at Matt’s in the Market, sitting at the big picture window overlooking the fish mongers. A beautiful girl with an incredible voice was busking. The halibut melted in my mouth. I was so content, I nearly didn’t follow through using my new fake ID.
Then I thought, why play it safe? A night out is my way of throwing caution to the wind. Today’s a milestone birthday and I deserve to have one drink to celebrate, even if it’s technically illegal.
The music is lively. The atmosphere is fun. It’s perfect here.
Tonight, my new identity, brave Ivy Davies, is going to dance with a cute guy, maybe two. Boring, scared Ivy Bright, heiress to Bright Shipping and Daddy’s puppet belongs in my mausoleum of a home. The tragic girl whose brother died on her birthday can stay there, as far as I’m concerned.
I make my way to the bar with a nervous flutter in my stomach. I already know what I want—an Espresso Martini. I hope the bartender doesn’t look too closely at my ID. Then again, why would he? The doorman scrutinized it and let me in without a second glance. Pushing my way through the crowd, I feel another jolt of independence.
It’s addictive.
Rounding the corner, I zero in on the most handsome guy I’ve ever seen. He’s tall, roguish and radiates a powerful magnetism. Everything about him captivates me and I find myself heading toward him.
The pull is primal.
Undeniable .
As inevitable as the tide is drawn to the moon.
He wears worn jeans and a black, fitted T-shirt emblazoned with a construction company’s logo. Every muscle in his body is chiseled to perfection. A dark, unruly mop of hair nearly touches his shoulders and the stubble shadowing his square jaw gives him a wild, almost untamed look. He carries the confidence of someone who’s used to getting what he wants. Power radiates through every pore of his body.
His eyes, though. They’re kind and complicated. When they lock on mine, I’m enthralled by swirls of rich, earthy browns meshing with vibrant greens like a fairytale forest promising both danger and sanctuary.
The entire room fades away because our connection is instantaneous .
A jolt of electricity races through my body, rooting me in place a few inches in front of him. He takes me in with a slow, appreciative scan as though I’ve finally arrived. By the time his eyes return to mine, his lips curl into a naughty smirk and he nods. Like I passed his inspection. Immediately, my nipples harden into points and my pussy throbs with a need I’ve never known.
For a fleeting second, I forget why I’m here and who I’m supposed to be. And then, my entire world shifts on its axis forever. “ Mo shíorghrá , I’ve been waiting for you.“ His deep slightly slurred voice has a faint hint of Irish lilt.
I’m momentarily taken aback because I don’t know what muh HEER-grawh means, but decide to play along. “Here I am.” I hardly recognize my breathy, flirtatious voice. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
His raucous laugh fills the space between us. He leans in and his hand brushes against my arm, sending a surge of warmth through me. I’m acutely aware of every detail of this man —the breadth of his shoulders, the firmness of his arms, the dimple on his chin. He smells wonderful, like a hike through the woods on a clear day. “I’m Cillian. Are you ready to dance with me?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” I playfully push his arm.
Cillian intercepts my hand and leads me to the middle of the dance floor, where he pulls me against his granite chest and spans my waist with a firm, possessive grip. We begin to move in perfect sync to the rhythm of a slow, haunting melody. His breath is warm against my ear. “You’re absolutely captivating. Are you gonna tell me your name?”
I can’t help but stifle a giggle. It’s absurd to be intoxicated by an older guy who I’ve just met, but there’s no denying my attraction to him. I’m not usually a believer in woo-woo stuff, but meeting him weirdly feels like my destiny. Like I manifested this shit.
“Ivy Davies.” I run my fingers along the strong lines of his back, feeling his muscles flex with each pass.
“Eye-veeee.” He draws my name out. “Darlin’, you move incredibly well.”
His lips trail down to the sensitive skin below my earlobe, sending shivers down my spine straight to my core. His hand rests against the small of my back and he urges me against him as we sway. Oh God, is that the hard bulge his cock? It’s nestled between my legs like it belongs there.
He wants me.
I want him too. I’m literally soaked with arousal.
“I could say the same about you.” Looking into his hazel eyes, which twinkle with mischief, I roll my hips against his. “It’s almost like you know what I want before I do.”
I don’t even recognize myself. I’m operating on pure, carnal instinct. Judging by his surprised—yet amused—expression, my deliberate gesture is charged with an unspoken promise.
Groaning, Cillian cradles the back of my knee and lifts my leg to rest against his hip, aligning our bodies as we swirl into a graceful, flowing dip. “Maybe I do.” His other hand grabs my ass and squeezes with a thrilling boldness. “Or maybe we’re exceptionally in tune with each other.”
The next song is a vibrant, traditional jig. Something in the music calls to me and I get lost, throwing my arms above my head and swaying my hips. Dancing over to Cillian, without breaking eye contact, I drag my fingers across his shoulders. He captures my hand and twirls me into his side and guides my arms around his neck.
“Jay-sus, you’re a very sexy girl.” Cillian’s hands span my hips and he wedges his leg between mine, holding me there.
Once again, our movements are fluid, like it’s natural for our bodies to align like this. Ignoring the tempo of the song, we rock slowly in perfect harmony. He takes my hands in his and draws them over my head. Our eyes bore into each other’s as he runs his hands from my wrists to my shoulders and fists my hair.
Angling my face beneath his, Cillian hovers his lips against my neck, causing my breath to catch. The backs of his fingers trail back down my ribs and he clutches my hips and lowers his cheek to mine. Shamelessly, I grind my aching pussy against his thigh as we sway sensually.
I lose track of how many songs we dance to or at what point the crowd begins to thin, but for the next couple hours, our movements merge into one fluid motion and we’re in our own world, vibing to our own rhythm. Teasing. Flirting. Touching.
I’m only vaguely aware of the band packing up because we’re so lost in each other. I don’t care if we’re surrounded by dozens of people, he captures my mouth and spirals of ecstasy pirouette throughout my body.
Cillian’s intense, decisive gaze locks on to mine. “From the moment you walked in here tonight, there’s been no one else but you.”
My heart races at his admission because I feel the same way. The air between us crackles with anticipation. His strong, gentle hand cradles my cheek. His ever-present erection throbs between us.
Not once tonight has he tried to hide what I’ve done to him, and I know what I want.
Him .
Impulsively, I close the distance between us and brush my lips against his. Cillian’s guttural moan sends a shiver through my soul, igniting a profound yearning. His lips part slightly to invite me into the warmth of his mouth, allowing our tongues to slide in a slow, sweet exploration.
Our kisses intensify. Grow more urgent. Cillian’s hand moves from my cheek to the back of my neck. His fingers lace their way through my hair, anchoring me to him as he devours me. My breath is quick and ragged and I press against him, not wanting a millimeter of space between us.
With a swift, assured motion, he lifts me off the ground. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his waist and sling my arms over his neck. He supports me effortlessly with a firm grip on my ass, rocking me against his hard cock as our frenzied lips and tongues continue to explore.
“Do you want to get out of here?” he eventually murmurs against my lips, his voice low and husky.
There’s no reason to play coy. I nod. “More than anything.”
I wanted a summer fling. Why wait another minute? With only eight weeks of freedom, I’m diving headfirst into whatever experience he’s offering. This guy is sex personified, the perfect person to show me the ropes. Maybe, even literally.
Tonight, the shadows of my past and the weight of my future can wait.
I want this . I want him .
As we leave the pub, hand in hand, I know I’m making the right decision. With every fiber of my being.
Something tells me, he’s my destiny.