No one dares touch Bel or Isla, the sinister energy of the giant mountain man hovering around them keeping strangers at bay. Fritz takes turns spinning the girls in circles, ever the entertainer. The times Bel graces me with her attention, she graces me withall of it. Her touches are anything but innocent, and if it weren’t for our current company, I’d have dragged her into a supply closet and made her squeal already.
But she said not while Isla visits, and I’ll respect it.
Bel’s grinding herself against me now, and every motion nearly pulls me to my knees.I’ll fucking beg for her pussy if she keeps this up any longer.
“It’s almost the countdown!” she tells me excitedly. “Who are you gonna kiss?”
What?
My perplexion must show on my face as she giggles and fills me in on my missing education. “Once the countdown reaches zero, signifying the new year, you have to kiss somebody.”
“Why?” I laugh out.
She spins and shrugs with a giggle of her own, “Dunno. It’s just tradition. So who’s it gonna be? Me or Fritz?”
The man in question wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her close, “Can’t it be both?”
Bel gasps, “That’s agreatidea! But what about Isla? Who is she gonna kiss?”
Fritz laughs, “I think any man in a thirty foot radius would happily take that honor, she’ll be just fine.”
A voice in the back of my head tells me there are really only two options, and neither is going to end well. One, Isla kisses a stranger and subsequently gets them bled dry by the beast of a man watching her… Or two, which would be infinitely worse.
As I hear the chanting around me, I see the disaster unfold but am helpless to stop it.
5
Eamon smirks, eyes locked on his prey.
4
Isla closes her eyes, no intention of letting anyone close enough to kiss her.
3
Eamon stalks.
2
Isla is completely unaware, dancing and shouting the countdown.
1
Eamon grips Isla around the back of her neck with one large hand, landing a fierce kiss on her lips. It’s the last thing I see before Bel and Fritz pull me into a sordid, sloppy threeway collision of tongues and teeth.
When we separate, my head spinning from the kiss, Eamon still holds Isla against him. While she’ll undoubtedly deny it later, she’s pulling him equally fervently, hands gripped in his shirt while he plunders her mouth with his tongue.
Seconds later, she shoves with all her might, and I see the impact coming before it lands. She slaps Eamon across the face so hard the sharp sound brings all eyes to them. But she doesn’t walk away, doesn’t let go of his shirt. And he doesn’t back down; he only peers down with a grin that’s daring her to do it again.
“Holy shit,” Fritz laughs. “He’s fucking crazy.”
Bel leans against him, “Well yeah, but she’s definitely into it, right? Or am I seeing things?”
“Fuck yeah, she is.”
Staring contest finally finished, Isla storms our way, cheeks bright red and lips swollen, “We’re fucking leaving.”
The ride home is painfully silent, as is the walk up to our home and the rest of the evening. I know Isla is infuriated and has every right to be. What Eamon did crossed a line. I want to apologize, make it better somehow. But what can I say? Nothing I say or do will take back the kiss he stole.
