by Jen Trinh
“I’m not wearing a bra, either,” I whispered, slipping my fingers into his hair. “Doesn’t mean anything. You’re still not getting laid tonight.” Although the way things were going, I wasn’t so sure.
He smiled against my ear, then slid his hands lower to rest on top of my ass, fingers lightly pressing. I reveled in the sensation, both wanting to slap his hands away and willing him to go lower.
Before he could respond, the song switched over to an upbeat dance track, and couples time was over. We slowly broke apart, the distance tempering the heat between us ever so slightly. I quietly thanked the DJ for doing something helpful for once that evening.
“Do you want to grab a drink?” he asked, offering me his arm. After a moment’s hesitation, I took it, curling my hand once more around his hard bicep as we walked off the dance floor.
“My face is probably red and puffy, so you know I’ve already had enough.” His face, I noticed, was still as tan and attractive as ever. The wine goggles were working a bit too effectively.
“I guess you look a bit flushed, but it’s cute,” he said. Liar. No one looked good with Asian glow.
“What I really want is to get out of these heels.” My feet had gone from fine to tormented over the course of our dancing, but at least the pain helped distract me from the lust.
He craned his head and glanced around, then said, “There’s a terrace out there with some grass. Might be nice to walk on.”
Oooh. Cool grass on bare feet sounded lovely, and some fresh air might help put out the raging California wildfire between us. “Yes, please.”
He opened the door and led me out onto the terrace, where we were greeted by the steady chirping of crickets and a huge, low full moon. It was somewhat windy and chilly, though, which may have explained why no one else was around.
Without my asking, Ian took off his suit jacket and placed it around my shoulders. I gratefully pulled his jacket closed around me and sat down on a wooden bench. He sat down beside me, his legs straddling the bench to face me, when he suddenly reached down to pick up my left foot.
“What are you doing?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.
His eyes met mine, and my heart pounded at the answer that I saw there. With nimble fingers, he undid the clasp on my shoe, tracing my ankle with the rough pad of his thumb as he gently lifted the shoe from my foot. Awareness zipped like lightning down the rest of my leg, and I longed for his fingers to wander higher.
Then he put my shoe behind him on the bench and began massaging my foot.
He rubbed his thumb up and down along my arch. I clenched, each stroke of his thumb seemingly mirrored deeper within. I nearly moaned at the sensation, but instead, I shifted my weight so that I was leaning backwards on my hands, making it easier for me to watch him work.
He gently rolled my ankle, then briefly massaged my lower calf, followed by the ridge above my heel.
With each warm caress, each stroke of his hands...my defenses eroded.
So what if he wasn’t my type? We could have a little fling, right? It didn’t have to be a long-term romance. We were at a wedding, a temporary gathering, so I’d probably never see him again after this. And it’d been way too long since I’d last had sex. I just wanted to have fun tonight.
Ian looked like he’d be a lot of fun.
Besides, I didn’t want to let these stirrings for him turn into feelings. I wanted to own my lust for what it was, and nothing more.
There was no point in denying what was happening between us.
So I took charge. “Clearly, you think you can just foot rub your way into my panties.”
He gave me a flirtatious smile, still slowly massaging me with his strong hands. “So it’s working?”
I smiled coyly at him. “No.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Guess I’ll have to try harder.” He kneaded the ball of my foot between his two thumbs and I nearly arched my back in pleasure.
After a few more seconds, he lowered my foot down to the grass and picked up my right foot, then repeated the series of motions. Mmm.
I’d never had my feet used in foreplay before. Maybe I had a foot fetish that I didn’t know about.
Or maybe it was just Ian.
“Is that all you’ve got?” I asked when he placed my foot back down. My feet felt much better, but now other parts of me were aching to be touched.
In answer, he lifted my legs onto his lap and slid down the bench towards me, eyes intent on my face, lips slightly parted. And before I could land another teasing barb, he’d slipped his fingers into my hair, leaned in close, and kissed me.
My body tensed instinctively, but as he kissed me softly and sweetly, his breath warm with whiskey and autumn spices, I parted my lips and allowed his tongue to brush against mine…tentatively at first, then questing slightly deeper, teasing and taunting, continuing our playful banter from before without words.
But when he slipped his arms around me and pulled me further onto his lap, our kisses grew bolder, hotter…from playful to desperate.
My whole body lit up with desire.
My hands greedily grasped his tie and held onto him, unrelenting, demanding more. The satin dress was torture against my bare skin, sliding up and down as I wriggled against him, seeking more friction, more contact, more him. And while Ian had talked a big game about seducing me earlier, after a few moments, it was clear that he was content to just make out on the bench. He was playing the long game, then, the aggravating man.
I wasn’t. I didn’t want a slow tide of affection to build, or for him to chip away at my defenses—I wanted him to just fuck me and move on.
I took his hand from my hip and brought it to my breast. He followed my lead and gently fondled me, then caressed my nipple through the thin material. I gasped softly into his neck and raked my fingers through his hair.
I was very, embarrassingly wet. I hoped that it wouldn’t seep through my dress.
His own arousal was hard and insistent against my thigh. I lowered my hand and pressed my fingers against his considerable length until he pulled away from me, panting. “Did you want to go somewhere more private?” he rasped.
“Yes,” I said breathlessly. Though I was still reeling from his kisses, and though I’d wanted him to go further, I made a mental note that he had asked me for permission to go somewhere more private. Point for Ian.
He grabbed my shoes and unceremoniously scooped me up. I laughed, exhilarated. Instead of going inside like I thought he was going to, he stepped out over the terrace railing and down to the gravel below. It was only a one foot drop, but I gasped in surprise anyway. He carried me around the side of the building and back to the front entrance, where he took a right at the entryway and then turned into the gender neutral bathroom. He set me down on the counter, then turned around and locked the door.
The bathroom was clean and spacious, with beautiful dark wooden paneling on the walls and a gray ceramic floor. The counter that he’d set me on was slightly damp, and I was sitting between a pile of napkins and a giant bouquet of pale pink and lavender blooms that lightly perfumed the air.
As far as places to have sex went, this wasn’t half bad.
Behind me was a large mirror with two warm yellow lamps on either side. In the dark, illuminated only by the moon, our coupling hadn’t seemed so real…but in the soft golden glow of the bathroom light, I could see Ian’s face in full, and it reminded me of what I had vowed to myself years ago. I hesitated.
Ian seemed to sense my hesitation, and he took his time in picking up where we’d left off. He tentatively reached out with his fingertips and traced my lower lip, swollen and sensitive from his kisses, then leaned in slowly, giving me time to push him away if I wanted to. I didn’t. Our lips met, and his tongue gently caressed mine, leisurely stoking up the flame and rebuilding the fire.
His considerate gestures only further affirmed my decision to let him seduce me. He was a good guy, caring and kind, not the douchey tech bro that I had ori
ginally assumed him to be. He deserved a night of fun, too. Nothing more.
His fingers traced their way down my arms as he slipped his jacket off from around my shoulders. I melted into him and opened my legs to let him stand closer, pulling him to me with his tie once more. He lay me back against the mirror, still thoroughly ravishing my mouth with his, and his hands sought my breasts, teasing my nipples until they were tight and chafing against the satin. I mewled needily, rubbing myself against his erection until he broke our kiss and lowered his lips to my heated neck, trailing kisses down to my collarbone. Fuck, it felt so good.
He lowered his head further and sucked my nipple through the satin dress, leaving behind an obscene wet spot. I arched my back in ecstasy and sighed with pleasure as he switched to the other.
My dress was going to be a sordid mess by the end of the night. I giggled at the thought.
His eyes met mine as he slowly pulled away and lowered his head. He traced his hand up my thigh, then pushed the satin aside and lifted my knees, pulling my legs apart to expose my glistening wet pussy.
Fuck. Was he about to do what my ex had refused to do? And the guy before him?
He got down on one knee and planted a sweet, tantalizing kiss, right where it was wettest. I moaned so loudly that people could surely hear it over the music.
Now I was truly glad that I’d decided to let Ian have his way with me.
He dipped his tongue into me and I arched my back again, craving more contact. He kept his eyes on my face the whole time, watching my every expression as he swirled his tongue inside me, round and round. I fucking loved it, and I cried his name to let him know. Then he pulled my clit into his mouth and sucked, his facial hair grinding against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. I slipped my fingers into his hair and held on for dear life. Oh my god.
I’d only ever had one guy go down on me before, and he’d clearly had no idea what he was doing. And he’d certainly had no facial hair.
Ian had a fucking PhD in this. It was. So. Fucking. Good.
But I was well-past ready for him. And Ian, aggravating man that he was, continued at his leisurely pace, slowly exploring me instead of breaking and entering like I needed him to.
I didn’t want his slow worship. That led to feelings, and feelings were useless to me.
I needed him to just fuck me and get out of my life. If I could just scratch that itch, just break that seal between us, I was sure it would go away.
Instead, even as he seduced me, he tried to win me over. How annoying.
“Ian,” I moaned. “Please. Fuck me.”
He lazily ran his tongue up and down my wet folds, as if he had all the time in the world. I slipped my fingers deeper into his hair, grinding myself against his mouth, closing my eyes and reveling in the sensation. Then I pushed his head away.
“Hurry up,” I begged.
Instead of immediately getting up and sticking it into me, he met my eyes again, casually licked two fingers and slipped them into my...two-finger pocket. I gasped at the sensation, the emptiness inside me only partially relieved. His fingers were so deliciously rough, the friction softened and perfected by the intense moisture that my body was producing. He crooked his fingers inside of me and stroked me closer to oblivion. His tongue went back to circling my clit, and the combination was almost too much. If he kept going, I knew I’d come completely undone.
But only one thing could truly break the spell between us.
“Ian, fuck, I want you inside of me!” My voice was so annoying and whiny, but I couldn’t take it anymore.
With one last flick of his tongue, he withdrew his fingers and stood up, then pulled his wallet out, from which he produced a condom packet. I eyed the very visible bulge in his pants, straining against the perfect cut of his pants.
Finally!
His phone rang. I tensed.
Our eyes met, and I frowned. Don’t you dare. He reached into his pocket and must’ve silenced it because the ringing soon stopped. I slowly relaxed again and watched him put the condom packet on the counter, then unbuckle his belt. He unbuttoned his pants—
The phone rang again. We both froze.
“Sorry. I should check who it is.” He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the phone. When he saw who it was, he sighed. “Hold that thought.”
I scowled, frustrated. Who could be calling on a Saturday night worth interrupting this?
He lewdly licked his fingers clean and winked at me, then answered the phone in Chinese. “Wei? Ma?” He unlocked the door and stepped outside, closing the door behind him.
What. The. Fuck. It was his mom? He was going to ruin his chances with me to talk to his mom?
The lustful fog lifted, swept away by cold, hard reality, and I hurried to obliterate any evidence of that night’s terrible mistake.
Chapter 6
-Ian-
I probably shouldn’t have picked up the phone. I knew that I could call my mom back later, and that there might not be a later with Anna. She was so close, literally begging for me to finish her off. My mom couldn’t have picked a worse time to call.
But my mother had severe anxiety, though she’d never admit that anxiety was a real illness and would rather suffer than go to a psychiatrist or take medicine for it. And lately, it’d been worse, much worse. She had trouble sleeping, partly because of the anxiety, partly because of the chemo and the steroids that were part of her breast cancer treatment. I’d told her that she could call me whenever, wherever, but even then, she usually didn’t call me unless it was particularly bad.
So I picked up the call.
“Wei? Ma?” As I closed the bathroom door behind me, I caught a glimpse of Anna’s incredulous face. Uh oh.
“Sorry to call you so late, Ian,” my mom said in Mandarin. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“It’s okay, Ma. You can call me anytime. How was your day? Did you have chemo today?” I decided to talk to my mom for just a couple of minutes. I didn’t want to rush her or make her feel like she couldn’t call me, but I knew that Anna wouldn’t wait forever.
“Yes. I felt so nauseous. I couldn’t eat at all today. Your Ba tried to make braised pork for me but he burned it again, which only made me more nauseous.”
I chuckled. I definitely hadn’t gotten my cooking skills from my dad. “That’s Ba for you. But you have to try to eat, Ma. If you can’t sleep, maybe you should eat something now?” Guilt and hope warred in my chest at the prospect of ending the call so quickly.
“I will, I will. But I haven’t heard from you in a few days. Where are you?”
“Ma, I’m at my friend Cassie’s wedding, remember? I told you about it last week.” At the reminder of how my mom’s memory had become increasingly spotty, hope glimmered and died, leaving only guilt. My mom deserved better.
She grunted. “How’s the wedding?”
I stared at the bathroom door, willing it to stay closed. Just a couple more minutes. “It’s been fun. The food was pretty good. They had a buffet line with steak and halibut. The venue is a gorgeous barn. And I’ve met some...interesting people.”
“Any pretty girls?” my mom teased. She desperately wanted grandchildren, and after her cancer diagnosis, she reminded me of that fact quite frequently. As her only child, I had the dubious privilege of fulfilling (or crushing) her hopes and dreams.
“Ah, yes. Lots,” I said, though I’d really only noticed one.
I turned around when I heard the bathroom door open behind me. Anna wore her shoes and my jacket and had cleaned herself up as well as she could. Her hair was a bit lopsided and there were wet marks on her dress—possibly from the counter, possibly from one of us. But she was stiff as a statue, no longer a playful sex kitten. She stonily shook her head at me and made to slip away back into the party.
“Ma? Sorry, I have to go, I’ll call you tomorrow, I promise. Wan an.” Goodnight. I hung up and hurried after her, buckling my belt as I went.
“Hey, hold up, can we talk?” I aske
d.
She stopped and looked at me, her face grim. “That was a mistake.” She tried to turn away, but I grabbed her arm.
“Anna, wait, I—”
She jerked her arm out of mine and walked away. I didn’t follow, just stared after her. From the hard look in her eyes and the set of her jaw, I doubted that she would stop and listen to me, no matter what I did.
A moment later, Cassie and her maid of honor (Jessa?) exited the reception area. “Ian!” Cassie walked up and sloppily threw her arms around me. She was clearly drunk, but still blissful and glowing as only a new bride could be. “Was Anna out here with you?” She gave me a sly look and punched my arm. “She looked kinda…” she leaned in and whispered loudly, “sexed up.” Cassie winked at me and Jessa cracked up like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.
I shrugged. A gentleman never kissed and told.
Cassie put her arm around my shoulders and slurred, “You know, she could use a guy like you. She’s always going after wild good-for-nothings. You should totally go after her.”
I sighed. “I don’t think she’d like that.” A thought occurred to me, and I turned to look drunk Cassie in the eye. Surely her filters were long gone by now. “By the way, why doesn’t she date Asian guys?”
Cassie disappointed me and shook her head. “Why don’t you ask her?” She pulled me and Jessa with her towards the bathroom.
I gently tried to extract my arm from Cassie’s grasp, but she was a climber too, and her grip strength was formidable. “I tried, but she wouldn’t tell me.”
Cassie stopped, then let go of my arm and very solemnly put her hands on my shoulders. “D-daddy issues.” She hiccuped.
Ah, Cassie. So reliable. Jessa, who was slightly less drunk, must have realized that that was probably too much information. She squinted at me and said, “You’ve got a little…something.” She gestured at her own chin while pulling Cassie upright and leading her the rest of the way to the bathroom. I wiped my chin off with my palm and turned to walk back to the reception area.
A moment later, Cassie exclaimed, “There’s a condom in here!”