As he hung, up I turned to the bartender and said, "Two love shots, please."
The bartender barked in laughter. "Love shots! You mean marriage?"
"Yes," Michael said without missing a beat.
The bartender glanced over his shoulder. "Yup, it's about that time in the night when a few get drunk enough for a handfasting ceremony. You want to marry this man, little lady?"
As I turned to Michael he dropped dramatically to one knee, taking my hands in his.
"Abbi," he said, his voice passionate and sincere, "I don't know your last name, but I know your eyes are the death of me and I know you can drink a whole hell of a lot of Poitín and I know you're a wildfire and I know I love you." Michael squeezed my hand. "Will you marry me?"
I laughed and nodded. "Yes."
Michael swept me into his arms and spun me round as the bartender cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted, "Folks, we're having ourselves a wedding!"
Maybe I was happy because none of it was real.
Or maybe I was happy because with Michael's arms around me holding me tight beneath the stars, I could almost, for just a moment, believe it was.
Michael
Her nails were clawing at my back, her teeth were nipping at my bottom lip, and her hips were rolling urgently against my throbbing erection and I hadn’t even opened the cabin door. I pressed her roughly against the faded green paint in the glow of the moonlight off the lake as my fingers fumbled with the key. Her mouth found a pulsing vein along my neck and I groaned, my eyes closing as she traced it with the wet heat of her tongue. It was a stroke of pure luck that the key slipped into the lock, and when I pulled down the door handle, I nearly toppled over her as she fell backwards.
I caught her in my arms and we stumbled into the narrow hallway, arms swinging wildly for the light as neither of us wanted to pull our attention away from the other. I wasn't sure who found the switch for an old floral lampshade, because at that moment Abbi shoved me back against the brocade wallpaper and fell against me.
Her lips again found mine as her hard nipples, straining against the thin, gauzy material of white low-cut blouse, brushed against my chest, eliciting a needy whimper that made my dick twitch.
After the handfasting ceremony the priest/bartender had joked to the roaring laughter of the audience, “All that's left now is to consummate the marriage!” Abbi and I had glanced at each other for the briefest moment, had each reached instinctively for one last shot of Poitín, and had, at the exact same instant, said, “Where is the nearest hotel?” We'd barely been able to hold ourselves back long enough to pay for the room.
I dropped the keys, not caring where they fell, and wrapped a hand around each of Abbi's thighs, fingers digging into her warm, tanned flesh and hoisting her quickly into my arms. Her shoulders collided with the opposite wall as I tried to find the bed, blinded by the heat of her kiss, her fingers at the nape of my neck, her ankles locked at the base of my back, her panties beneath her skirt against my groin.
We bounced like horny-as-fuck pinballs down the hall till I eyed the bed past her wind-tangled, sun-kissed blonde locks. I grinned wickedly as I sucked at her exposed collarbone and then threw her down onto the bed, the rickety old springs protesting.
Driven by an unstoppable need, we each stripped in an almost panicked rush, as if this thing between us was the flicker of a firefly and dawn was fast approaching. I tugged my shirt over my head as I watched Abbi wiggle her hips out of her skirt. She then fumbled hastily with the ties of her blouse as I undid my kilt, letting it fall to the floor as I groaned at the release of my rock-hard cock.
I was going to fuck her, fuck her hard and fast and rough. I was going to pin her delicate wrists, so much like the hollow bones of a bird's wing, above her head and plough into her till I came. I was going to dominate her, have my way with her, show her my power over her.
I was about to fall upon her like a falcon diving from dizzying heights onto an unsuspecting rabbit when I caught sight of her on the bed. Her delicate, thin blouse with its lace-up front was undone, lying open on each side of her but still hanging loosely on her narrow shoulders. The full, seductive swell of her breasts was tanned just like every other inch of her, and I imagined her lying naked beneath some sun, somewhere, just as she was now, lying naked beneath me.
Her peaked nipples yearned upward like sunflowers toward even the faintest of dying gold rays. As her chest heaved with nervous, erratic breaths, goose bumps rose along her long, slender legs. Abbi's long hair was carded around her face, and each wavy strand seemed to me to be a river that flashed and dazzled magically in the sun.
And her eyes.
They were like wildflowers in the cracks of some old sidewalk you pass by day after day unnoticed till one moment the sun catches the tiny little petals just right and you find your feet slowing, your busy, important thoughts disappearing, and your eyes captivated by a beauty you hadn't realised had been there the whole time, just waiting. They were like that: a tender, sweet, wild loveliness.
Abbi's lips, stained red by wine, were slightly parted as her breath shuddered. She was looking up
