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7: Clement.

During the drive to school, I want her to get some food in her stomach, so I focus on the road, content to watch her fiddle with the stereo controls. I’m in a good mood because I won the pants battle and she’s got leggings clinging to her incredible legs now. Legs I want to pry apart, so I can sink into the tight hole in between. But I do my damnedest to ignore the erection pressed to the steering wheel and get her to campus. I park in the lot, turn off the ignition and cross to the passenger side, giving her a pleased grunt when she waits, letting me open the door for her.

“Such a gentleman,” she whispers, climbing out. “Are you going to walk me to class next?”

Again, her father’s words invade my thoughts. Not an accident. “Damn right, sweetheart.” I take the book bag from her hand and toss it over my shoulder. “And then I’m going to wait outside.”

Am I imagining the relief that dances across her features? “Well, if you’re going to be around anyway…” She floats backwards toward the t
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