The supermarket parking lot buzzed with routine: shopping carts clattering, engines humming, people drifting by with no clue what was happening in the little hatchback near the back row.
My hands gripped the steering wheel, thumbnail tracing over chipped pink polish. Sunlight flashed across the dashboard, and in the rearview mirror, I caught my reflection, lip gloss slightly smudged, pupils wide, a sudden bloom of colour across my cheeks. A slow fire built along my spine, its heat settling lower, becoming an insistent ache I struggled not to show.
Beside me, Shelby sprawled in the passenger seat, legs parted just enough to slip her hand beneath the curve of her waistband, the faintest murmur of wetness barely audible in the quiet car.
She wasn’t shy. The slick, urgent rhythm of her touch filled the stretch of air between us, filthy and intoxicating. Shelby dragged the fabric down, baring more, putting on a show.
“Like what you see, Chloe?” she asked, breath hitching, a smirk ghosting her lips. Shelby smirked. “You're quiet when you're staring like that.”
I swallowed, my throat gone dry. “Yeah,” I breathed, my voice cracking slightly. My legs braced tight, dampness growing beneath denim, as if I could press desire into submission.
Shelby let her fingers dip again, circling, stroking. The tension tightening her features was impossible to look away from. A sharp inhale caught between her teeth, but a broken moan escaped anyway, winding low in my belly like smoke.
Someone passed behind us, a fleeting shadow slicing across the glass. The soft, slick sound of Shelby’s fingers sliding wetly inside her leggings punctuated the otherwise quiet air, a whispered squelch that blended with her ragged breaths. The sudden blast of a car horn shattered the haze, jarring as a siren. For a taut heartbeat, the world teetered on the edge of intrusion, then Shelby arched her hips, chasing pleasure, hand moving faster, breaths battering the window.
I shifted, jaw tight, a pulse quickening in places I didn’t want to name. Rough denim scraped sensitive skin, and suddenly her closeness was torture, never enough.
“Fuck, I’m close,” Shelby gasped, her fingers working furiously, forearm trembling with need, music to the storm pounding under my ribs.
She came with a quiet cry muffled against her arm, her body shuddering under each fierce wave. I stared, motionless, as the tight ache inside me turned molten.
Shelby slumped back, breathless, turning her head to grin at me through the aftershocks. Her voice was low, teasing. “I bet you’re as worked up as I am, just watching me, aren’t you?” Daring me to admit it.
I let a crooked smile spread across my lips. “Yeah,” I breathed, still feeling the tremble in my own body. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You have no idea.”
A slow quiet settled between us, filled only by the soft hiss of the cooling engine and footsteps fading into the distance. Shelby glanced my way, eyes heavy-lidded but still shimmering with aftershocks, a fragile vulnerability flickering behind her daring grin. I caught that gaze, our breaths syncing in the cramped space, and for a heartbeat, nothing else existed outside this stolen bubble. Then, a faint rustle brushed the window, a distant presence close enough for the world to remind us it still turned. We exchanged a shaky laugh, shaky because the spell of risk and pleasure hadn’t yet left our skin. I reached over, fingers brushing her thigh.
Shelby's grin tilted even wider. “Onwards to the groceries; try not to cause a scene in aisle five, or the cashier might know our secret.”
We both burst out laughing, the sound bright, irreverent, before finally straightening up to face the ordinary world once more, our secret lingering between us all the way to the checkout.
