God. I should’ve had wine instead of coffee.

Dominick’s strong hand runs up my thigh, hiking my skirt up as he goes. The table sort-of-kind-of covers things, and the lights are dimmed, but anyone and her mother could see what he’s doing. And he doesn’t give a rat’s ass if anyone sees. Meanwhile, I’m a ball of anxiety waiting for the pointing and screaming.

The vibration within me intensifies again, causing me to squirm in my seat. I gasp when the device presses more firmly against my clit.

“Ahh…” My voice cuts off just like the damn barista trying to hit the high notes. I look around anxiously, worried someone heard me, but a lot of people have just started talking more loudly to each other to compensate for the music. Those who aren’t loudly talking are mostly focused on the barista and his guitar. No one is paying me any notice. Except Dominick.

The vibrations get stronger as the song reaches its high point, and I instinctively clutch Dominick’s forearm, digging my fingers into him. Squeezing his arm gives me a focal point, something to channel the sexual energy into as it continuously intensifies.

I feel so wet between my legs that I’m sure my panties are soaked through. Dominick’s hand has wandered so high up my leg he might be able to feel just how wet he’s making me.

I try to focus on the song for a moment to stem my rising feelings.

Wet lips in the desert tell the sweetest tales,

Keep ‘em closed for now though, cause this is between you and me and this here bed;

I came here to find God but I found you instead...Oh, Is-ra-el…

Yeah, Israel! Came here to find God but I found you here instead!

Tell me you love me right here in Tel-A-viv!

Ugh, this song is awful. “Wet lips,” “Keep ‘em closed.” I swear he’s singing to me for a moment. I clench my knees together, but Dominick pulls at my thigh and my legs spread again. The vibrator pressing into my clit.

I start to feel serious pressure building up, and I muster all my energy to stifle a whine. My nails are digging so deep into Dominick’s arm that I’m worried I’ll draw blood, and just as I start to buck my hips against the chair, the vibrations die down just as fast as the music.

The barista clears his throat. “I wrote that song while I was on birthright. In Israel. Tel’Aviv, to be specific. Birthright is a great opportunity for anyone of Jewish descent to discover our promised land. And hey, you might just find something other than God along the way... like love... but that’s okay, because God wants us to be happy…”

“You turned it off,” I hiss to Dominick.

“You were about to cum between songs,” he says.

“Wasn’t that the goal?” I snap back.

“You sound annoyed, Madrigal,” he says, “Are you telling me that you wanted to cum? Here in front of all these people? With no music to cover your moans?”

I realize my nails are still digging into his forearm. Anger flashes through me, but I force myself to control my breathing. “Look,” I say. “I said I’d obey. Now let me obey.”

Dominick looks around the room, then points around at everyone with his finger. “Keep ‘em closed for now, cause this is between you and me—”

“Shut up,” I hiss, slamming my leg into his.

“I give the orders,” he says, and he cranks the vibration up to what feels like the maximum setting as the barista begins to strum and sing.

Jesus. I gasp from the intensity of it, and Dominick’s strong hand on my thigh begins to feel like everything. I want him to touch me more than that. I want to feel all of his skin against all of mine, and—

My entire body shudders in waves. My pussy starts to feel hot as it gets wetter and wetter. I feel an urge to press the damn vibrator against myself, but I’d have to reach up under my skirt just to do it. Dominick’s hand is closer... he could—

God. What am I thinking? We’re in public. I usually don’t even like having sex with the lights on.

I slide my hand up and squeeze Dominick’s bicep. Wow, he’s strong. I didn’t think his bicep would be this big. I find myself leaning my head onto his shoulder, mostly so that I can use his body to hide my involuntary movements.

“Good,” he whispers. “Now you’re being a good girl, Madrigal. Very obedient.”

“I don’t have much of—” I start to say, but a moan slips out. “—a choice!”

“Let it wash over you,” he says. “If you fight it, it won’t come, and you’ll just keep getting more and more worked up.”

He leans in, swipes the stray hairs from my face, and kisses me right on the forehead, as if we had been dating each other for months and months.

Somehow the idea of this dominant asshole showing that kind of tenderness does something to me. I inhale a breath, but it’s not enough. I keep sucking in more and more air as my pussy lights my blood on fire. I clench my ass cheeks and gasp more and more, and finally everything comes to a head.

I exhale, but it’s not just a letting out of air, my voice goes with it. I hear myself screaming.

My body jerks as the horribly embarrassing sound flows out of me, and I press my face into Dominick’s strong shoulder, stifling the sound into his big muscles.

The orgasm explodes within me and shoots out to the tips of my fingers and toes. My toes twitch, and I feel myself biting down onto Dominick’s shirt. When I finally dare to look up again, there are tears in my eyes, but they don’t blind me to the fact that a number of people are looking at me with raised eyebrows

Dominick’s hand is running back and forth from my knee, up to just high enough that it’s barely acceptable in public. Each nerve his skin touches feels like it’s singing, and I wish to God he’d touch me more. Touch me everywhere.

Another squeal comes out of me, and Dominick whispers hot into my ear. “Start clapping, you’re drawing some real attention. Pretend you like the shitty music.”

I start clapping, which makes me feel even dumber. Who could actually be into this song? I see a few people shake their heads and roll their eyes, but it works, and they stop looking at me. They are probably suffering second-hand embarrassed at the idea of me being into this guy’s music.

I feel something start to drip down the inside of my thigh as my orgasm finally begins to die down, and just as everyone has finally looked away, Dominick’s hand slides all the way up my thigh, and in one quick movement he runs his fingers along my panties. I feel his fingers slide through the wet area on my thigh, and then they press the vibrator against my clit, and it rocks me again from deep inside. I just bury my head into his shoulder again and squeal into his flannel shirt. I dig my fingers into his torso, again surprised at just how muscular his entire damn body is.

When I finally look up again, I can tell the song is ending.

Dominick lifts his hands up as if he’s waiting to applaud, but then he makes eye contact with me and slides his fingers into his mouth, sucking my juices right off his fingers. He pops them back out and starts to applaud.

“Hey,” the barista says. “That song was about why I decided to become vegan. Shout-outs to the woman in the white blouse for getting so into the song. It looks like I really touched you.”

The barista tips his head toward me and grins, and Dominick wraps his arm around me and smiles toward the barista.