Emilie tasted like gloss and steel, which was rather fitting if Ciaran had thought about it. Not that he was thinking about much at the moment though.

Pressing up against her, he snaked his hand around Emilie's thigh, pulling it up to his hip. He slid his fingers beneath the skirt of her dress, pawing the girl's flesh eagerly as his hand climbed higher.

Ciaran slid the edge of his tongue into Emilie's mouth, the metal bar brushing her bottom lip.

And to think those idiots inside were waiting until midnight...