Page 64 of Hauling Ashe

“Even though you’re doing this to yourself, you like teasing me, don’t you? But you’re letting me have this one like all the others. Like when my mouth is on you, or when my dick is inside you.”

“Tucker,” she cries out as her head tips forward. She comes undone in the passenger seat.

With my attention forward, I reach for her, dipping my fingers between her legs and touching that ripe wetness. Pulling my fingers free, I slip them in my mouth, sucking at her essence. Mae opens her eyes and I sense her watching me. She quickly unbuckles, kneels on the passenger seat, and then reaches for my zipper.

“Mae, whatcha doing?” I struggle to keep my foot steady on the accelerator and I’m grateful not another car is near us, but we still don’t need to veer off into the desert landscape or stop beside the road.

Within seconds, Mae has freed my cock from my shorts and boxer briefs, curling her fingers around the hard shaft and tugging at the stiff length.

“Fuck that feels good.”

Mae swipes her hair over one shoulder and lowers her head, her tongue coming forward to lap at my tip, seeping with need for her.

“Mae. Fuck. Mae.” I can’t form a sentence as her mouth opens and she tries to take me deep, despite my shorts in the way and the steering wheel beside her head.

And then, I see it. A police car up ahead.

“Sunshine,” I warn, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Mae stop! There’s a cop.”

She releases me. Her head popping up just as we pass him. I’d checked my speed, but I had no idea how fast I was going or if I was staying in the lines as I approached him. Sure enough, he pulls out behind me. After a quick glance in the rearview mirror, I then shift my gaze to Mae.

“Where did that come from?” I anxiously chuckle, trying to catch Mae’s eyes but she faces forward.

“Welcome to California, Mr. Ashford. Our estimated time of arrival at your destination is five hours.”

“Mae,” I chide. I reach for her, cupping the back of her neck as I did last night in this same position, only Mae tugs back and I don’t like it. She’s retreating from me before we even reach the end of the road.

Then it hits me. I need to be somewhere, but Mae doesn’t. She could drop me off in Pasadena as she suggested and carry on in her travels. Only, I’ve already told Julia I won’t arrive today, and she should leave without me. My daughter has a gaggle of women looking out for her, supporting her, and they can get her to the resort by this evening.

I just need to be there in time to walk my daughter down the aisle.

Which isn’t exactly true, but I’m struggling with Mae pulling away from me.

“Don’t do this.” My eyes shift right, catching her settling her clothing and then tucking her hair up into a messy bun.

“Do what?” Mae questions, still fixing her hair.

“Say goodbye before it’s time.”

Mae rolls her lips and nods slowly, keeping her gaze trained on the windshield. A siren fires up behind us and we both look toward the back window. Within minutes we’re lying about Mae dropping her phone and my swerving as she searched for it.

And the farce feels too real, like she hadn’t done what she just did, and I feel Mae slip away from me a little more.

30

Playlist: “California Dreaming” – The Mamas & the Papas

[Mae]

We travel through the Mojave Desert. Louie is not meant for off roading, so we admire the landscape as we pass rich, sandy soil and a variety of cacti. As much as I hate to admit it, I can’t take the dry heat, so a side trip to explore is skipped. We should have stopped for lunch near Ludlow, but I’m not hungry and we stick to snacks, prolonging our drive until Barstow. The sky overhead is vast and a solid bright blue, and another moment of feeling small and irrelevant overwhelms me. The world is so much bigger than me.

We’ve passed a few more ghost towns, and while I nostalgically marveled at them in the beginning of our trip, the depression of these ruined towns and forgotten byways is hitting me.

Don’t say goodbye yet.

Will Tucker forget me? Will this trip be another memory he wants to disappear? He dismisses his band life like it happened a million years ago. He acts like he’s forgotten how to play an instrument, which clearly isn’t the case. He doesn’t want to talk about Rochelle, or their life together, and it’s one more omission from his past.

Will he erase me next?