The second bump threw me forward.
Knox’s hands slammed to my waist and dragged me back onto him before I could hit the seat in front. The dress was already at my hips. My bare, dripping cunt slapped down on the hard ridge in his jeans and stayed there, smearing him.
Dad cursed at the road.
“Sorry, baby,” he told Mom. “These back roads are trash.”
Mom didn’t turn around. She was scrolling pictures of the lake house, talking about which bedroom we were taking, whether the water was on. Forty minutes had already turned into an hour. The GPS still said a long way.
Knox leaned in. His mouth almost touched my ear. His hands did not stay at my waist. They slid down, slow, over the outside of my thighs, then in, under the bunched black dress, over skin I had not covered on purpose.
“The f**k
