I shifted. Pressed my thighs together. Hard. The friction hit my c**t just right and I bit my lip to kill the whimper. Planned to forcefully f**k him on the ride home? Yeah. That plan was dead. Mom was sitting shotgun like a goddamn guard dog.
In the rearview mirror, his eyes flicked up. Caught mine for half a second. Sunglasses off now. Dark. Intense. No words. Just that look—like he knew every filthy thing running through my head. Like he could smell how soaked I was from here.
Mom kept talking. Didn’t notice.
I leaned forward just enough that my t**s brushed the back of her seat. Whispered so only he could hear, voice low and sweet:
“Daddy… traffic’s bad. Mind if I stretch my legs?”
His knuckles whitened on the wheel.
Mom laughed. “Oh, baby, we’re almost there. Patience.”
Patienc
