Back from holiday! Loved the reviews you left me – they spurred me on to do another chapter. I should be revising...but whatever. The updates will be slightly slower, though, as I am already woefully behind. Almost every other chapter seems to have a sex scene so I will dull down the sex from now on but I had set this one up already. Shorter than normal since I need to push forward – they have been engaged for only a couple of days so far and this was meant to span at least a number of months.
Tony let out a deep chuckle and focused his eyes on this enticingly skimpy piece of fabric. He beckoned the bartender and, leaning over Ziva's shoulder, ordered a large bottle of whisky.
His cheek was pressed against hers and he could feel the thin layer of sweat on her skin. He turned his head and ran his tongue up her cheek, his hand tilting her head.
A bottle of whisky was placed on the bar and he grasped it in his hand, gently pushing Ziva off his lap with the other. She giggled and had to steady herself on him to stop her falling over.
He took her hand and pulled her behind him, leading her through the mob of people, heading straight for the bathroom door. After hesitating outside the two doors, he chose the women's bathroom and pushed it open with his shoulder, both his hands being occupied.
He squinted, the bright light harsh compared to the pulsating strobes in the club. A gaggle of blonde women stood leaning against the sinks, discussing the choice of men. They didn't seem too surprised by the appearance of a man in their domain so Tony went past them and into the end cubicle, tugging Ziva in behind him.
Ziva reached behind her and pulled the door closed, locking them in together. Her hand was pressed against Tony's chest and she pushed him lightly backwards, making him thump down on the toilet seat. She slid back onto his lap and pulled the hem of her dress up over her hips, revealing the long extent of her caramel legs.
His fingers slipped under the thin strip of fabric masquerading as acceptable underwear and pinched the soft flesh. She moaned quietly and leant into him, her breasts pushed up against his chest.
She could feel his heart beating through her dress and she smiled, the repetitive pound reminding her that this was not a dream. She had been fantasising about sex with her partner for years, but now they could do it in person and in reality. She snorted mirthlessly, realising that she had her oppressive father to thank for the sex she enjoyed so much.
Tony's husky voice brought her back to the present. 'Ziva,' he whispered, his lips tickling her earlobe.
His hands tried to clutch the hem of her dress to pull it over her head, but the large bottle of whisky got in the way, colliding unceremoniously with her thigh. She gasped at the cold glass hitting her warm skin and her chest rose as she inhaled, her erect nipples showing clearly through the dark green dress.
He raised the bottle and chuckled drily, unscrewing the lid and throwing over the top of the cubicle door. It hit the ground with a chink. Tony blinked, returning Ziva's steady gaze, and brought the bottle to his lips, groaning as the warm liquid swilled around his mouth before slipping easily down his throat.
'It would just get in the way,' he explained between gulps. Ziva didn't reply; her focus was directed towards the growing erection pushing through Tony's trousers into Ziva's leg. Tony downed the last of the alcohol and shook his head violently, warding off the dizziness that clouded his mind momentarily.
Setting the bottle on the bathroom floor, his attention returned to Ziva. Her fingers had unzipped his fly and unbuttoned his boxers, freeing his erection. Her own thong was halfway down her calves and her dress was lying at his feet. She was ready and waiting impatiently for Tony to satisfy her drunken desires.
He stood up, holding Ziva steady in his arms, and pressed her up against the door of the cubicle. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, her tongue pushing through Tony's lips. The whisky was clear on his breath and she could taste it on his tongue. She didn't complain, though, for she guessed that her own mouth tasted much the same. They were both drunk, she knew that, and neither of them was used to seeing their partner out of control. It might not actually be a strip club but, for the future spouses, it had turned into one.
I'm sorry; it's shorter than my usual chapters, but schoolwork calls so I have to stop. There was no actual sex but you know how that goes in this story so I'll let you imagine it yourself.