With about a hundred miles left to cover, she hitched up her skirt to around her waist and sunk a hand between her legs. I focussed on the road, aware only peripherally of the steady movement of her wrist, the slight writhe of her body as she wriggled back in her seat.
“Does this count as entertaining me while I drive?” I said lightly.
Her voice was breathy, tight. “I’m getting myself warmed up for you. I want to really want it when we get home. Be really wet.”