Diana didn't stop. For the rest of the long, winding drive up into the hills, she kept her head nestled possessively in my lap like she owned every inch of me.
The teasing grew slower, crueler, and more deliberate with every passing mile. Her fingers traced the thick, straining outline of my cock through the damp fabric of my pants, pressing just hard enough to make my hips twitch involuntarily.
She'd circle the swollen head with the pad of her thumb, then drag her nails lightly down the entire length until I was biting back a groan that threatened to fill the silent car.
Every few minutes, she'd lean in and let another warm, glistening strand of saliva drip from her parted lips onto the front of my pants.
The wet spot grew larger, the fabric clinging obscenely to my throbbing erection, turning the material almost transparent where it stretched over me. She watched my reaction with hooded, amused eyes, that sly, predatory smile never leaving her face.
