Deft fingers on creamy, bare skin. He tickles, firm, but soft. Ghosting, they glide up slowly, methodically, under the ruffled fabric of her skirt.
She shifts her hips, opening up to him.
He slowly pushes higher, until he reaches what he seeks.
Humming, she looks ahead to the other cars passing by. They have no idea that the man sitting next to her has his fingers buried inside.
Bella licks her lips, and looks at the striking man sitting beside her. This is too good to be real. Excitement bubbles in her chest as he presses and circles, drawing out her pleasure for his own gain.
He smirks as he whizzes by another car. The top is down and although they cannot see, he knows what he's doing is wrong, yet feels so right.
Wetness seeps from her core, her panties pushed to the side, also drenched. His fingers are relentless against her flesh as she presses her clenched fist against her parted lips to stifle her screams as she comes undone.
Long, wet fingers leave a trail on her thigh then get pushed between her lips as she sucks them dry. Tangy sweetness on her tongue, she closes her eyes and crosses her legs, pulling her skirt back in place.
His eyes haven't left the highway. He hasn't even spoken one word to her. Not since he picked her up and promised his ex-wife he'd bring her home.
"This is my house, Mister Cullen. Same time next week?" she asks, before getting out of the car.
He nods in confirmation. "Have a good night, Isabella." And watches as the eighteen year old babysitter skips to the front door to her house.
He knows what he did was wrong, but he can't help himself.
Next week couldn't come soon enough.