Page 72 of Stepping Up to the Plate

“If someone throws something at you, I’ll break their hand,” I state more seriously than she realizes. “You got this, baby. Pretend we’re in my truck and you’re singing to me. It’s the perfect time to knock it off your list. Your friends are here. The place isn’t that crowded. And I’ll get you plenty of liquid courage.”

“Fine,” she huffs.

“Good girl,” I say, placing a vodka soda and a shot of coconut rum in front of her. “Drink up, because you’re fifth on the list.”

“What?!” she squeaks.

“I may have signed you up already to ensure you couldn’t back out.”

“I don’t even know what song you chose,” she complains.

“You’re singing the one that inspired your tattoo,” I reply, running my fingers against her ribs. I smile against her hair when she shivers in response to my touch. “You go up there and do a good job and I’ll help you mark one final thing off your list tonight.”

“What’s that?” she questions, eyeing me with apprehension.

Making a locking motion with my lips, I slide the drinks closer to her. She rolls her eyes before throwing back the shot and chasing it with her drink.

Thirty minutes and another shot and cocktail later, Lola is bounding down from the stage with pride and relief pouring off her. She killed it. She sang that song as if it was written for her. She high-fives the crowd on her way to the corner our group is holed up in. The girls hug her before getting ready to go up for their turn. I have no idea what they’re singing but they seem excited.

Lola stands between my legs and I guide her face to mine with my hand on her chin. “Great job, sweet girl. How did it feel?”

“Exhilarating! I never thought I could do that but I did.”

“You did,” I repeat. “We gonna make this a regular thing?”

“Oh God no,” she replies. “I marked it off the list. I’m satisfied.”

I nod and turn her around to face the stage and the current act. Tiffany and Carina are walking towards it as they’re on deck while Robby and Kent move to the front row to heckle them. We’re left to guard the table.

With her back against my chest, I slide my hands down her arms until I reach her thighs. I rub small circles there as I kiss right below her ear and whisper, “I can think of another way to leave you satisfied.”

“What do you mean?” She gasps, the sound vibrating against my lips as they trail her throat.

“I recall on the non-PG version of the list there is an entry titled ‘public play.’ I think this fits the bill, don’t you?” I ask, moving one hand up under her dress, skating it along the edge of her panties.

“We can’t do that here,” she challenges.

“I beg to differ. We’re back here all alone. The band will muffle any sounds you make, and the table is blocking most of our bodies from view. No one can tell that my fingers are inches away from your dripping pussy. It is dripping for me isn’t it, baby?”

She lets out a whimper when my fingers drag against her clit over her thong and down towards her entrance. Slipping one finger underneath the lacy fabric I groan when my suspicions are confirmed.

“Fuck, you’re soaked for me. You want this, don’t you? Want me to play with your weeping cunt in this room full of people? Get you off without any of them being the wiser? I feel you getting wetter. I know you want it. Use your words. Tell me.”

“Yes,” she whimpers.

“Yes, what?”

“Play with me. Please, Brady.”

Music to my fucking ears. I push her panties to the side and slide my fingertips up to her clit and circle it, teasing what’s to come. As the current act ends, I slow my efforts much to her chagrin.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll give you what you need. We just gotta wait for the need to come back on to drown you out.”

As our friends take the stage, the band cranks up again, and I thrust a finger inside her. Surprised, she grabs the table for stability as her knees buckle. I slide in another finger as I kiss her neck and shoulders, sucking on the sensitive spot where they meet. I push my body further into hers, wedging her between me and the table.

“You’ve got four minutes until this song ends. You’re going to come on my fingers before it’s over otherwise you’ll have to wait until we get home. Can you do that for me?”

“Brady,” she whines.

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