"I... I don't know! Just adjusting!" I stammered, frantically yanking the hem of my skirt down on the right side to cover my thigh.

But on the left side—the side shielded from her view by the towering pile of boxes—my stepdad didn’t stop. His hand was still there, his fingers working their magic against my clit.

"Are you sure?" Mom asked, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, scanning me.

"Positive," I breathed.

She watched me for another second, making sure I wasn't hurt, before turning her eyes back to the road. She couldn't see the left side. She had no idea my panties were shoved aside or that her husband’s...