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And he obliged.
“I do want it,” she affirmed.
He rested his weight on her, nodding to her in a way that brushed his lips over hers.
Then he kissed her, hard, sending her body into a state of suspension she wanted to purchase, so she could say she owned this place and would never have to leave.
Reading her pleasure, his hands began to climb her bare legs.
And then she knew; it wouldn’t be long until she had him.
Had him deep inside her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Dublin 2016
Fionn
Lips pressed to seal his desires fiercely onto her, Fionn leaned into the reception desk, Áine’s bare legs either side of him—locked. She had him.
The physical pleasure of this knowledge thrummed through his entire body. It made him want to remove all his clothes with fervid intent to bathe in the temporary ownership.
It was then, when catching her eye, did an unexpected word flow through Fionn’s mind; fixation. A term that comes from the German wordFixierungand led to him thinking of Sigmund-bloody-Freud for the third time this night, his distaste for whom stemmed not just from his viewpoint of Irish people. It was instinct that told him most of what he needed to know about Freud; that he wasn’t out to help anyone but his own ego. An ironic choice of word to finish on, by Fionn’s account. Fionn was also sure if a more educated person debated him on the subject, they would leave with the conclusion he was theologically inept. Perhaps Fionn might be inclined to agree. Might even be the one to pre-emptively point it out.
Still, what he knew of fixation was it was often expressed for doings considered habitually negative; used to describe an actsought to be resolved, one that could ruin a life, and hadn’t it technically ruined Fionn’s.
Yet, by following his much-improved, positive outlook on life in the months gone, he decided this word was deserving of balance as much as he was. So, he chose to look at fixation for all the good aspects it could entail. Ultimately, only two things came to mind:
The obsessive creation of a vaccine by virtue of questionable morality. And in the more crucial circumstance, the unwavering feeling he had for Áine Meaher.
That maybe he’d always been fixated on her. That his rejection of her and his rejection of allowing himself to think about her was just to cordon off the inevitable fixation he feared incurring, like the luxury of having her company was a fine he’d never be able to pay off. But now, as she dipped from him to touch her lips reddened by his stubble, he was positive he’d take the insolvency with a smile on his face just to bask in her presence that little bit longer.
He swallowed, enjoying the sight of it on her; reddened, pulsing lips. This was no doubt another appeal founded on the primal effort to ‘leave a mark’.
To preserve himself in the moment, he brushed over them with his thumb, which she offered to kiss and take just the tip of. She looked up at him as she did it too, her lazing eyes half hidden by lashes.
It was her who had left the unseen mark. Her who was in control. He liked that. Nearly salivated for it. Wouldn’t want it any other way until she asked otherwise. Becauseifshe asked him to, he’d dominate her gladly.
Likely sensing his drift in attention, Áine clenched her legs tighter on his waist.
“It was you?” he said all heaped and with his hand dropping from her mouth.
“What was me?”
“It was you I was thinking of just there. I know I drift off, but I was drifting off to thoughts of you.”
Áine’s hand hinged tight on the strings of his hoodie again. “And was I dressed or undressed in those thoughts?” She asked, locking him so hard between her thighs he chose to hold their thick exterior in a way that paved a gap between her bottom and the wood of the desk. Specks of the chandelier’s glisten rained down on her skin, a trail leading him to the sight of her dark underwear.
A closed-eyed sigh overcame him as he relished her intended exposure. Unlike the night at the riverbank when he made a point to look away, this time he fed on her beckon, her teasing invitation to draw his eyes south.
“Iombhá,” he whisperedas Gaeilgewithout caution.
“You really do continue to surprise me tonight.” She spoke with an indication the word wasn’t translating in her mind despite her fluency. It was the way her face burrowed instead of brightened, like back in school in the rare case it took her longer than ten seconds to figure something out.
“It’s a place where there is danger from drowning,” he said quite fondly and with teeth gnawing on her neck.
“And do you welcome it?” she whispered.
