The Writer's Assistant (ManxMan)

Chapter 28: Watashi wa numero dos

"That's incredible," Oliver murmured, resting his chin on my shoulder as he nodded at Tina's gestures. His hot breath fanned my skin, sending goosebumps down my spine. He was so close to me, I could smell and feel him. My ears grew hot and a tingling sensation filled my limbs.

I felt like a trophy sitting on Oliver's thigh. People glanced at us every now and then, but eventually they became too drunk to care.

"Want a drink?" Tina suggested, already finishing her fifth martini and seconds from ordering her sixth.

"I'll have a shot of tequila," Oliver said.

"And I'll have–"

"Water," Oliver replied. I shot him a look.

"I can drink," I argued.

"Not from what I can remember."

My lips thinned. "That was one time."

"You're a lightweight, babe."

My spine straightened and my eyes darted to Tina, but she was too busy leaning over the counter to holler our orders.

"Am not," I hissed, earning a low chuckle from Oliver.

"Hmmm." I loved how deep and rugged his voice was. His him sounded like a melody.

"You shouldn't hold me so close," I whispered, my hand on his to remove it. But I didn't peel his hand away and let mine rest on his. "People are going to get suspicious."

"They think I'm into a transgender person. We're fine." He leaned closer to my ear and whispered, "Miss White."

I snapped him a glare, flushing hot.

"That's Mister," I corrected, and he shrugged.

"Both are fine for me."

He positioned me closer between his thighs and I bit my lower lip when I felt him against him. I can't believe was doing this in public, in front of so many people, but something about it was turning me on. I was feeling tipsy and decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. I pressed myself against him, grinding against that area, and heard a muffled wince from behind. I cast him a smirk.

Two can play this game.

I felt him grow harder against me. His arm was still around me and it tightened, earning a silent gasp.

I still couldn't believe that he had seen me naked but not vice versa. I'd seen glimpses of his body but not his body as a whole. I gulped, curious and horny.

"Here are the drinks!" Tina exclaimed. "We all have shots!"

When she spun toward us, I quickly shifted to Oliver's right leg while still remaining close enough to his thigh to hide his boner for him. I cast him a smug look and he patted my head as if it was his way of praising me. His large hands felt heavenly.

"No spilling," Tina said, unaware of what was happening. She handed us the shots. "If anyone spills, the other has to lick it off their skin."

Why did that sound like something people did in college? But celebrity parties were always just as bad. People were horny and gossip stirred.

The three if tilted our heads back and finished the shots. I caught a trickle of alcohol trickle down Oliver's chin and down his throat and disappearing into the fabric of his collar. Tina and I both shared a look but before either of us could decide, a random standbyer who must have heard the rules of the game grabbed Oliver by the shirt. She stuck out her tongue to lick his neck, but I quickly slapped my hand against it. But I slapped it so hard that Oliver spat his drink, spraying my shirt in alcohol and saliva. Meanwhile, the girl ended up licking my hand from the back of my wrist to the knuckles. I felt the warm, slimy texture glide up and made a face.

So much happened at once. The girl jerked her head back, realising she had licked me, while Oliver was still coughing. Tina burst into laughter, slapping the counter while trying not to fall off her stool.

"Shit," Oliver said, wiping his lips with a smile. "You're covered in me."

I was soaking wet. In alcohol.

"Bathroom?" I suggested, and his smile widened only faintly, his eyes glistening with something dark and lustful.

"Bathroom," he agreed.

Before the ladies could say anything, Oliver grabbed my hand and pulled me through the crowd. There were so many people that I was afraid I'd lose him, but Oliver was tall and strong enough for people to move aside. If I were the one leading, we wouldn't have gotten past the first line. He held onto my hand, and we miraculously made it into the bathroom.

He pushed me into one of the stalls and locked the door behind him, his lips smashing against mine. He tasted bitter and sweet, and I opened my mouth to accept him.

"You're wet," he said. I was pretty sure he was talking about my shirt, but I was also wet elsewhere.

"Mhm," was the only reply I could manage. He kissed me furiously, his tongue exploring my mouth.

I used to hate the thought of making out in public bathrooms. It had to be the dirtiest most insanitary places to take off your clothes. But there was also something strangely kinky about making out in public space.

Someone knocked on the door, but Oliver was already undoing my buttons.

"Occupied!" He replied, lowering my shirt down my shoulders. His lips hitched when my bare torso was in tight, his eyes burning with something hungry. "Fucking occupied."

His lips found mine, one hand cupped around my jaw while the other pressed against my back. I threw my arms around his neck and his back pressed against the door while the front of me pressed against the hard of him.

He kissed my cheek and down my neck, stopping at my collarbone. My stomach fluttered and my pulse raised, my hands tightening around his hair when he sucked my skin.

"Oliver," I almost moaned when his fingers brushed over my nipple. "Oliver."

"I'm here," he whispered against me. "I'm right here."

His hand went to his belt and the sound of it coming undone made my stomach tighten with excitement, but before he could remove it, the person outside knocked harder.

"Is someone inside?" He demanded. "Look, I really need to take a shit."

Oliver stared at me and my hand flew to my mouth, trying to hold back my laughter.

"Number two. I have to take a number two. Do you speak English?" The man desperately banged the door. "Numero dos! I must take a shiet."

I hope he realised that just because he used an accent it didn't mean he was automatically speaking another language. Oliver's face fell to his hips.

"Darn it, I'm getting soft."

Unable to hold myself, I threw my head back and a stream of laughter filled the air. Oliver looked surprised at first, but his grimace softened to a smile, clearly pleased that he made me laugh.

"Should we go?" He whispered.

"I must shietso!" He knocked harder. "Ogenki desu kaaaa? Watashi wa–"

"We get it!" Oliver shouted, running a hand through his messy hair. His hair that I messed up. His forehead pressed against mine in despair.

"We should go before he starts introducing himself in Japanese," he grumbled to me, but I was smiling so widely, my cheeks hurt.

He unlocked the door and we left the bathroom, but not before I caught Oliver giving the man the death glare. I smiled to myself. That was the it; the protective glare he had whenever he was with me.