He does

You sigh as you feel his hand inching up your thighs, agonizingly slow. Slowly getting higher each time he sucks on your nipple. You scream in your head for him to finally touch you, feel you, take you, but his hand keeps his snail's pace, going up and down your thighs, closer and closer to your damp panties.

You're so wet that you almost expect to feel your juices run down your thighs but if he notices, he doesn't say anything.

When you thought he would never reach your panties, you feel his finger running along your slit over your panties. The fabric, damp from your arousal, sticks to your lips, leaving the outline of your lower lips clearly visible. You let go of his head to bring your hand to your mouth, barely muffling your moans.

His off-hand lets go of your breast and start its journey south, tracing the lines of your body on its way down, goosebumps appearing on your skin after his finger trailed over the area. During this, he never stopped rubbing your panties and inner thighs, the tissue so drenched with your juices that it almost feels like his fingers touch your skin directly.

At long last, his off-hand reached the base of your back and starts to play with the hem of your panties. His mouth finally disconnects from your nipple, glistening from his saliva in the light coming from in-between the blinds of the carriage, and asks you a simple question in a soft voice.