Page 55 of Hauling Ashe

Now, I can take that two ways. I’m not doing it for her, and she needs something playing out in her mind, or she’s used to having sex that way, where she needs to pretend. Where she needs to visualize something else, hear something else, sense something other than what she’s actually doing.

“Fuck that,” I mutter. “Play out the fantasy on me.”

Mae falters a bit, but I clap my hands onto her hips and rock her back and forth. In and out I slide, holding myself at bay until she gets what she wants from me.

“What do you need Mae? Keep your eyes open and tell me.”

Her eyes widen and she continues to ride me. She shifts so her clit hits my pubic bone. Her pace hastens.

“Need dirty words, sweetheart?” I question. “Want me to tell you how much my cock loves your pussy?”

“Jesus,” she mutters, and I’ve hit one target.

“That’s it, sunshine. Fuck me hard.” As she moves faster, I’m gritting my teeth. I need to come. She has no idea what she’s doing to me, rocking my world as she is. She reaches for my hand and draws it between us. I know what she wants next, and my thumb finds that nub, driving her harder to the finish.

“Mae. I gotta come. I wanna come so deep inside you, but I want another one of those pretty orgasms. One where you drip all over me.” Make me yours, Mae.

She asked about making a mark on the world, and I mentioned some damn song. But her—this—she’s leaving a mark on me, and it’s going to rest there indefinitely.

“Tucker,” she whines, calling me by my formal name and riding out the syllables. Her eyes shift in color from sunshine blue to passionate indigo. Her sweet mouth hangs open as she mutters ohmygod and so good on repeat. Her breath hitches and then she’s shattering. With her pussy closing around me, clenching, clutching, she pulls from me the release I’ve held back as long as I can. I jet inside her while she’s squeezing me, and I swear it’s only prolonging the pleasure. I’m never going to be the same after this woman, this road trip, and a fucking car named Louie.

Eventually, Mae collapses over me, and my arms fall to my sides. My heart races and my chest heaves. I just need a moment as silver dots speckle before my eyes.

Mae shifts but I catch her, lifting the heavy weight of my arms and wrapping them around her back to keep her in place over me. I just want to hold her as I told her last night. I just want to hold on a little bit longer to whatever it is this woman is doing to me.

25

ARIZONA – Still Day 5

Playlist: “Under New Mexico Skies” – Syd Masters

[Mae]

“If we bypass Los Lunas, it gives us an additional forty minutes,” I suggest once we’ve grabbed a quick breakfast. We’ve been looking at the digital map. Tucker’s getting anxious. He was supposed to meet his daughter by noon tomorrow but that’s out. We have too much distance to travel.

“I told Julia I’d keep her posted on my travels, but she should go ahead without me.”

He’s driving once again, and I crane my neck so I can look at him. “What are you thinking?”

He scoffs. “I’m thinking anytime tomorrow isn’t possible. We can’t make it that fast and still see the sights.”

I feel bad about yesterday and the lost time with the flat tire. While it wasn’t my fault, we were hours off-course due to the tire change. I’ve already given up the original path through New Mexico, and figure one more small concession won’t matter. New Mexico is a bust. We’ll stick to I-40 most of the way until Arizona. I’ll just have to return some day, and I say as much to Tucker.

“I’ll make it up to you. We’ll come back.” I don’t believe his promise to bring me to Santa Fe sometime in the future, but the thought is still sweet to hear. There isn’t a future for us. We are only the here and now, and last night is already history—not one I’ll soon forget, though. My clit still pulses, and I’m wet again. It’s going to be a long uncomfortable day because I want him so much.

He’s like spicy food you crave but shouldn’t eat. You want the dish regardless and devour it anyway.

Keeping to the interstate highway, we’re bypassing the sights, which is just what the modern expressway did, and pinches of guilt sprinkle over me. I’m cheating my trip. Tucker told me how great Albuquerque is as a city and suggested we should explore it a bit, but this trip isn’t about major locations. The forgotten small towns are my passion. Their livelihood and their mystique are the spots I want to visit even if they’ve been stripped of their magic. Once I reached the Southwest, I wanted to explore the natural wonders in this portion of the United States, but I’m only speeding by the beauty outside my window as we rush through the desert landscape.

I’ve hinted at seeing the Grand Canyon with no response from Tucker. The national treasure isn’t located on Route 66, but it’s so close, I don’t want to miss it. I could suggest we don’t need to stop, but I’ve been enjoying us doing everything together and the last thing I want to do is cut this trip in half or circle back without him. I don’t want to reverse and fill in the holes by myself which is a million miles from how I felt when we started out four days ago. I’ve enjoyed sharing every experience with Tucker and the thought of a U-turn without him is depressing.

In addition, I argue with myself that I’m not doing what I’ve always done. I’m not letting something else, or in this case, someone else, dictate my schedule and sabotage my plan. This is my trip, but I’ve made a secondary pledge to Tucker to deliver him to his daughter. With all he’s revealed to me, getting him to Julia feels like a new priority. While our timing is now off, I still intend to keep my side of the bargain, especially knowing why he doesn’t fly.

Before leaving New Mexico, we pause in Gallup. I get another look at a Muffler Man, this one called the Cowboy Muffler Man, complete with cowboy hat and a gun. I mention to Tucker how I’d wanted to take a picnic on this trip. Classic, cold fried chicken was the perfect meal, and I should have stopped to pick some up at the various recommended restaurants back in the Midwest. We’re too early for lunch when I mention this, so a break at Red Rock Park is out. Tucker suggests we stop somewhere in Arizona and have an authentic southwest dish instead. Again, I acquiesce.

We make another pitstop at a Native American shop, filled with knick-knacks and jewelry and I break down to buy my first souvenir—a silver cuff bracelet with turquoise stones. While not a traditional souvenir, I don’t want the typical. I want something that will conjure a memory, a moment, and I assign the bracelet to last night and this morning. While New Mexico isn’t getting a fair shake from me, this beautiful state gave me quite the generous memory. Glancing at the bracelet will always remind me of the past twelve hours.

I pass on a matching pair of earrings, which dangle like teardrops. They’re pretty but I don’t know when or where I’d wear them. My line of work doesn’t call for fancy attire and I don’t date, so there’s that. Tucker offered to buy me the set, but I refused. Something like a bracelet and pair of earrings feels like a gift, and I don’t feel right accepting the gesture.