She fingered me in the backseat while her boyfriend drove us home

"You enjoy this, don't you?" she'd breathed, her voice low enough that it was little more than a growl. I'd swallowed hard, my mouth dry, but I couldn't manage to speak. I'd nodded, instead, ever so slightly, and she'd laughed—a light, airy sound that made shivers run down my spine.

“Good,” she’d murmured, her hand sliding higher, her fingers grazing the inseam of my jeans. I’d gasped, but she’d quickly covered my mouth with her other hand, her eyes darting to the front seat where Mark sat, still oblivious. “Shh,” she’d whispered, her lips curling into a wicked smile. “We have to be quiet, remember?”

I’d nodded again, my heart pounding in my chest, and she’d slowly removed her hand from my mouth, her fingers trailing down my neck before returning to my thigh. She’d pushed the jacket I’d draped over my lap aside slightly, her hand slipping under the fabric, her fingers finding the edge of my panties. I’d bitten down on my lip, my body trembling as she teased me, her touch light and maddening.

“So wet already,” she’d murmured, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. Her fingers had pressed harder, sliding under the fabric of my panties, and I’d gasped, my thighs clenching around her hand. She’d chuckled softly, her breath warm against my ear, and I’d closed my eyes, trying to focus on anything but the heat building between my legs.

But I couldn't do it. She was impossible. Her fingers worked with a cocky confidence that left me winded, her touch hard and unyielding as she danced around me, wringing from me every scrap of pleasure that she could find. I dug my lip hard into my jaw, my fingers curling in the seat like claws as I struggled to keep quiet, but it was such a struggle—such a bloody struggle—when every touch of her fingers gave me waves that crashed through my body like molten heat.

"You're doing so good," she breathed, her voice a gentle purr in my ear. Her fingers dragged out, tantalizing me with light, feather-like caresses that made me whine. "But I think you can be quieter, can't you?"

I nodded, my breath coming in rapid, shallow gasps as her hand moved once more, this time gliding lower, tracing the tender skin between my legs. God, she was going to kill me. My body shuddered, thighs clenching around her hand as she teased me on and on, her touch agonizingly slow.

"Mark," she said, her voice light and innocent, "how much longer until we arrive?"

"Not long," he answered, his voice absent-minded as he turned the wheel, the car tilting ever so slightly to the motion. "Perhaps twenty minutes?" "Why?"

"Just curious," she answered, her voice light, but her fingers tightening against me, her touch more demanding. I clamped my teeth over my lip, my body rigid as she teased, her fingers drawing slow, slow circles that had me shaking.

"You're so close, aren't you?" she breathed, her voice almost lost in the rumble of the engine. Her fingers flew faster, her touch growing more insistent as she urged me toward the edge. I nodded, my breath catching as I struggled to remain silent, but it was so difficult—so fucking difficult—when each stroke of her fingers sent waves of heat crashing through me.

"Come on," she whispered, her lips against my ear. "You can do it." Her fingers flew faster, her touch more demanding, and I clamped down on my lip even harder, struggling to bite back the moan that tried to push its way out. My body tightened, my thighs gripping her hand as she pushed me to the brink and then—

"Nearly there," Mark shouted, his voice cutting through the fog of enjoyment that had enveloped me. I went rigid, my body shaking as she eased her hand out of mine, her fingers tracing out from beneath my panties and onto my thigh. She smiled, sweet and innocent, as though nothing had occurred, and reclined back in the seat, her hand on my leg gently resting.