Epilogue
Election Night
Iris
“I heard you’re the mermaid to talk to about the best book club around,” someone said behind Iris as she grabbed a flute of champagne off the platter of a passing server.
Turning, Iris saw a tall, lithe woman with long sable hair and two small horns poking out of her forehead. Clearly some kind of shifter, though Iris had yet to figure out an appropriate way to ask someone that particular question.
“I’m Fawn. You knocked me over at yoga once.”
“Oh, oops. Yeah, I’m still getting used to walking on two legs. Doing yoga on them was probably a bad idea. I hope I didn’t do any damage.”
“Wasn’t the first time I took a tumble in class. And won’t be the last. At least I could blame you for that one. So, this book club. I heard Montague does readings at them …”
Oh, Monty.
He would be insufferably delighted to know how many rooms his name was spoken in these days.
“He does. He does voices and everything.”
“Do you have room for one more?”
They were going to have to move the book club from Selene’s store to an event venue if too many more readers got wind.
But Iris was happy to extend her circle.
Her gaze scanned the room, smiling when she saw Caprica Coraline talking to Willow near the buffet table.
Monty was fashionably late, as always. I can’t show up on time, like some common pigeon.
Both Arden and Selene were suspiciously absent. And Iris secretly hoped they were off making out behind a floral arrangement or something.
“Of course we do. We’re reading that new vampire thriller that just shot up the charts.”
“I’m so excited. I can bring a cheese board.”
“Excuse me,” Finn said, moving in at their sides. “Mind if I steal my wife away for a dance?”
“Of course!” Fawn said, beaming at Finn. “I just know you’re going to win tonight,” she said.
“Either way, we will have a great party,” Finn, ever the diplomat, said. “Have a great time.”
With that, Iris was swept into his arms and out onto the dance floor.
“I have to give it to Arden,” Iris said, glancing around the room, “he can really pull together any kind of party, can’t he? It’s beautiful.”
Not as beautiful as their wedding, all beachy and surrounded by their loved ones, but, again, she was a little partial to that event.
“Haven’t been able to look at anything but you. Did you paint this dress on?” His hand ran down her exposed back that, she’d insisted to Arden, would be too risqué for an election night watch party. But with the wonder in Finn’s eyes, she knew it had been the right choice.
It was a floor-length silk gown the color of sea foam that hugged every curve of her body.
It was worth it. Even if she had to wear those blasted boob stickers again to pull it off.
“You like it?”
“It’s been … problematic,” Finn admitted.
He pulled her in close, his face pressed to the side of hers.
“I’ve been trying to listen to the speeches from the donors and heads of the various organizations, and all I’ve been able to think about is how with one swipe of my fingers, that dress would be a pool on the floor. ”
“You were out of bed so early this morning. I wanted to … give you a little good luck on such an important day.”
“Oh, really?” he asked, his voice getting thick.
“Mmhmm. Wait, what are you doing?” she gasped as Finn spun her, their bodies moving across the dance floor toward the side of the room.
“Well, the numbers are rolling in,” he said, taking her hand and quickly pulling her down a narrow hallway. “I could use a little luck.”
The polls had finally closed.
Votes were being counted.
Henry was popping antacids and looking a little gray.
But Iris wasn’t worried.
And Finn no longer based all his happiness on the results of the election.
He yanked open a door, pulling Iris into the darkened storage closet.
Finn reached up, pulling the string, the harsh yellow light buzzing above them, illuminating the room full of cleaning supplies.
He moved closer to her, intent burning in his eyes.
When his hands lifted, he made good on the fantasy he’d mentioned, brushing the barely there straps off Iris’s shoulders until the material of her dress spilled from her body.
Cool air kissed her flushed skin.
She was left in nothing but her heels and panties, and Finn’s appreciative rumble had her need building quickly, overtaking her so entirely that she didn’t even think of objecting.
The party was in full swing.
There was music thumping loud enough to vibrate up through the floor. Conversation and laughter strained to be heard over that.
No one could hear.
So she didn’t even try to soften her moan when Finn grabbed her and pulled her back to his front so his hands could drift up her stomach to cup her breasts.
Her head fell back, and Finn’s lips pressed to her neck, making a shiver course through her.
His hands were as greedy as her desire, squeezing, his fingers circling, rolling, twisting.
Her soft whimpers deepened to throaty moans as one of Finn’s hands slid down her stomach to slip between her thighs, stroking, circling, teasing her desire from a flicker to a flame.
Her hips rocked as Finn’s fingers slipped inside her.
“So wet for me already.” Finn’s voice grazed down her spine.
“Finn, please.”
“Love the sound of you begging.”
His fingers turned, stroking across her top wall, driving her closer and closer to the edge.
Impatient, Iris reached back, tracing the rigid line of him through his pants until he was rocking into her touch, until his breathing went as ragged as her own.
Then his fingers were slipping out, and he was pressing her forward until her forearms were pressed against the wall, her ass arched out toward him.
His hand traced down her spine, teased across her hips, over her butt, then dragged her panties down.
She heard the slide of his zipper, then felt the press of his hard length against her.
Iris wiggled back against it, shameless with her need.
A low chuckle moved through Finn as he teased himself against her. A pressure. A press. A pause.
Iris pushed backward, gasping as he started to fill her.
Her gasp turned into a moan as he sank deeper, slow and steady. He gripped her hips, steadying her, anchoring himself.
Iris’s arms pushed harder against the cool wall, her breath catching with every inch. The stretch, the heat, the dizzying closeness. She felt split open and stitched back together at once.
Finn rocked into her, his rhythm building gradually, deliberately. But unhurried. Like he was trying to memorize every sound she made, every shiver that moved through her.
Iris tried to bite back the sounds climbing in her throat but Finn’s hand grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her back against his chest, his lips in her ear. “Don’t hold back. I want to hear you.”
A breathy cry slipped from her lips, and he groaned in response, sinking in deeper.
She could feel it in the way his fingers flexed on her hips, in the tension coiled tight in his body, how close he was to losing control.
She felt the same urgency building inside her.
But Finn kept the same agonizing pace, each slow thrust sending sparks ricocheting through her.
Finn’s teeth nipped her earlobe. “Tell me what you need.”
“You,” she whimpered. “All of you. Don’t stop.”
His curse was a reverent thing, nearly a prayer. And then he gave in.
His stroke deepened, his grip tightened as he moved harder, faster, chasing the edge for them both.
His free hand slid down her body, pressing between her thighs, teasing her closer and closer.
Iris turned her face into his neck, overwhelmed by sensation.
Close.
She was so close.
His hips rocked.
His finger circled.
She tensed, shuddered, spiraled.
“Iris,” he gasped, voice breaking as she shattered around him, breathless and undone, finding his bliss with her.
Their breaths tangled, their bodies spent afterward, just leaning into each other, enjoying the tingling aftermath.
She felt boneless, floating, tethered only by the strength of his arms around her as their plans for the future tumbled from between their lips.
A house by the beach. Monthly trips out on a boat and to visit her family.
A saltwater hot tub for the apartment so Iris didn’t always have to go down to the pool if she wanted to connect with her roots.
A guest room for her sisters, mother, or Monty.
Vacations to explore all the beautiful oceans of the world together.
He promised her hot pretzels.
He promised her separation between politics and personal life.
He promised her his truth, his heart, his future.
They were still lost in those soft, floating sensations when there was a sudden silence, then an eruption of cheers and applause from the party.
The results, it seemed, were in.
“Congratulations,” Iris said, smile soft, “Mr. Mayor.”
His arm slid around her belly, pulling her closer still.
“You got what you wanted.”
“I did,” he murmured, kissing her throat, then her jaw, the curve of her cheek. “And I’m never letting go of her.”