CHAPTER 5 #4
Between bites of delicious food and drinks, we swap backstories… or, at least, the heavily redacted versions of our lives we are allowed to share with Silvio’s hidden bugs recording everything we say.
Oliver tells me about going off to boarding school in Switzerland when he was fourteen. I can’t imagine choosing to be separated from my family at that age, but he fought tooth and nail to be sent away.
And I tell him about my time racing horses when I was a teen.
“More champagne?” Oliver asks, resting his chin on his hand. His eyes are relaxed, his usual scowl entirely gone by now.
I slide my glass closer, and he fills it halfway. As he pours, I casually sweep my eyes around the room, checking my options without moving my head too much.
How about on the left?
No. Damn it…
I thought a VIP room would give us enough privacy to pass Logan’s list, but these damn walls are made of rice paper.
After arriving and seeing the other VIP rooms from the outside, I realize that while they might not be able to see us, they can clearly see our shadows.
There is no way I can pass him the list of shell companies and names, without the guards outside seeing it through the screen like some sort of shadow puppet show.
Carajo. I should’ve just handed him the damn list in the car.
“Is there something wrong?” Oliver whispers, his brow furrowing as he notices me glaring at the paper walls.
“I need to pass you something.”
“Don’t,” he whispers instantly, catching on. “They’ll see.”
“I know. I was planning to give it to you once I drove you back home, but…” I shake my champagne glass.
“Ha! Yeah, that plan is dead.”
I stare at the table and think of all my options.
How the hell do I pass him a piece of paper? Folded into a napkin? Kicked under the table?
Slip it into his coat pocket while hugging him goodbye?
Damn it… If only I could touch him…
Bingo!
I look up, smiling, because I know exactly how to make this happen.
And even better… I know I’m going to like it.
“Straddle me,” I say.
Oliver’s eyes grow wide. “What?!”
“If you straddle me, I can put the list in your back pocket, and all they’ll see is me groping you.”
“Groping me?” He coughs on his champagne.
“Oliver, straddle me,” I say, but he hesitates and is visibly panicking.
Mmmm…. Maybe he’s too drunk and thinks I won’t be able to pass the list without them seeing it, but I can.
“Ollie, I can do this without them noticing it… Do you trust me?” I ask, and he immediately nods.
I reach across the table, grip him firmly by the waist, and haul him straight out of his pillow seat and onto my lap. Oliver gasps, his hands flying to my shoulders for balance as his legs swing over my thighs, perfectly straddling me.
I pull him down, and his body heat seeps through my jeans instantly.
“This list of names,” I whisper, my lips brushing his jaw, and he shivers again. “I need you to check them and let us know which ones you personally know are in your father’s business.”
I slide my hands down his sides, settling my palms on his hips. Then, I pull him down into a kiss. The kiss is supposed to be for the audience outside… but the second my mouth touches his, any thought that is not this man vanishes out of existence.
Oliver gasps into my mouth, his fingers digging frantically into my shoulders.
Ah, it feels so good when he does that.
I part his lips with my tongue, tasting the sweet, dark plum sauce from dinner and the champagne we just had.
He feels incredible.
He’s stiff at first, but as I trace his tongue with mine, he melts, collapsing against my chest with a soft, needy whimper that nearly makes me lose my damn mind.
I slide one hand down his spine, palming the folded list of names. I trail my hand lower, letting my fingers brush the curve of his butt, earning another sharp gasp from him, before I swiftly slip the paper into his back pocket.
To make absolutely sure no one would ever think I was just slipping a note, I open both of my palms and grope him so hard his body lifts from my lap.
“Ah… Damián…” he moans.
And I don’t know if it’s for show or for real, but the noise lights me on fire.
I pull him closer, and I kiss him.
Really, really kiss him.
I angle my head, deepening it, biting gently at his lower lip. I lick, bite, suck, and taste all I can reach of him.
My cock at this point is harder than it has ever been, and it’s begging me to pull the tablecloth off, shove the dishes away, and bury myself in Oliver right here, right now. I’m losing myself in his taste, his sounds, and the desperate way he clings to me.
The sound of the paper screen sliding should’ve warned me to stop, but by now, I really don’t care who sees us.
The waitress lets out a loud gasp. “O-Oh! Apologies, sirs! The dessert!”
Oliver jerks back, his face flushed crimson, trying to scramble off my lap, but my arm is locked around his waist.
I pull him back down against me.
“Just leave it on the table, thank you,” I say to the waitress, not taking my eyes off Oliver.
She sets the plates down and slides the door shut as fast as humanly possible. Oliver is breathing hard against my chest, his gaze completely locked onto mine. His pupils are blown wide, his plump lips slick and swollen from my mouth.
He looks so good… and a strange feeling fills my chest as I realize I made him look that way.
“Silvio was watching,” I whisper, my thumb stroking his flushed cheek. “Just hold it for a few more seconds.”
Oliver nods slowly, and then does something unexpectedly perfect… he leans forward, resting his forehead against mine, and then presses a soft kiss to my lips.
My heart tightens, and I feel strange.
I want to run away, just as much as I want to stay.
So without anything else to do, I wrap both arms around him, burying my face in his neck, and we stay like that until the shadows outside the door finally drift away.