She stopped counting the minutes after forty-five.
Her legs had gone numb from trying to stay still. Her jaw hurt from clenching it. Her skin was too hot, too tight. Every bump in the road made her stomach flip and her breath catch.
She told herself not to think.
Don't think about the way his hand still rested on her hip, fingers curled lightly into the fabric of her skirt. Don't think about how her panties were damp, sticking to her. Don't think about the memory of his arms around her in bed just nights ago.
Don't think.
But she was slipping. Bit by bit. Every mile.
The lull of the engine. The soft conversation dying. One by one, the others fell asleep—heads on shoulders, soft snores, breathing slowed.
Even Nicky.
His chest rose and fell evenly behind her.
Still.
Warm.
And then—
She felt it.
Hard.
Pressing up against her again. Not accidental. Not shifting.
Solid.
Right beneath her.
Her entire body tensed.
No way.
No way.
"You good there El?" Valeria asked looking at her by the mirror.
"Yeah." Her voice squeezed.
She swallowed, heart pounding in her throat. Carefully—terrified—she shifted the tiniest bit, enough to feel the pressure more clearly.
It was there.
Thick.
Firm.
Hot.
Right under the curve of her ass. Her heartbeat echoing in her ear, her face burning and her legs is starting to shake due to exhaustion.
She turned her head slightly, barely daring to look over her shoulder.
His face was relaxed. Eyelids fluttering in sleep. Lips slightly parted.
Sleeping.
He was sleeping.
And hard.
The heat in her face spread fast—neck, chest, stomach, between her legs. Her thighs clenched involuntarily.
Oh God.
Oh God.
What was she supposed to do? She's tired she needs to put her weight on his leg but....
She couldn't sit on it.
She couldn't crush it.
So—like an idiot, like an absolute dumb bitch—she adjusted.
Just enough to shift her weight.
And in doing so…
She seated it right between her thighs.
Right up against her panties.
And it was so much worse.
So much bigger. She almost moaned at his sheer size.
"You can sleep darling, I'll manage." Valeria said.
"Okay." She said with a tight smile. Acting normal. "I'll try to sleep then."
The head of it nestled just at the edge of her folds. The thickness of it pressed up against her clit, soft but staggering. Her skirt barely covered anything now, bunched at her hips. Every vibration of the van rippled through the seat, through him, and into her.
Her mouth fell open.
She didn't breathe.
Couldn't.
Her hips twitched forward before she could stop them.
Instant pleasure.
Unwanted pleasure.
The low rumble of the road translated through the seat, through his body, into hers. Every bump. Every shift. Every subtle roll of the van made her rock just slightly against him.
Her panties were soaked.
She was shaking.
Her hands gripped the edge of the seat.
She didn't mean to move again.
But she did.
A tiny rock.
Forward.
Back.
Her thighs trembled.
She felt the full length of him—through her, beneath her, pulsing faintly.
She was panting now.
Soft.
Silent.
Desperate.
The kind of heat that lived in shame. The kind that throbbed between her legs with no mercy.
He didn't stir.
Didn't move.
Just slept.
Hard.
Unaware.
And she—helpless, ruined, soaked through her panties—couldn't stop shaking.
She couldn't finish.
She wouldn't let herself.
But it was too late.
The damage was done.