Page 80 of Hauling Ashe

“So, I brought back your phone,” I state a little too loudly, as I step back from him, and awkwardly search through my cross-body bag which also bears the burden of our collision. Wine seeps into it. I pull forward the device and Tucker chuckles before wrapping his arm around me and tugging me into him again.

With his chin on my head, he says to his daughter, “This is Mae. She’s more than my driver.”

“We noticed,” a rough voice says at the beautiful redhead’s side, and I instantly see the resemblance to Tucker.

Despite what I know of Jude’s parentage, I imagine he’s exactly as Tucker looked at twenty-seven. Even down to the edge on his face, reminding me of when I first met Tucker and he was a tight cannon on the verge of exploding.

“Jude,” Tucker sharply addresses his son. “This is Mae Fox. She’s my—” He pauses unable to explain who I am to him, and I should pull out of his arms again. Instead, I reach a hand toward Tucker’s son.

“She’s happy to meet you,” I mock. Jude stares at me before accepting my handshake.

Tucker releases his strong hold, and he glances at me. “We’re a mess.” He chuckles and I laugh as well. We certainly are, in more ways than just wine on our clothes and the tear stains around my puffy eyes.

“This is Mati, by the way.” I wave at where she stands beside me. Her husband stands at her side. Tucker glances between them. “Remember I told you Mati is married to Dolores’s brother. Dolores is Denton’s sister. They all live in the same small town together.”

Tucker laughs harder. “I can’t keep up.” He shakes his head.

“Why don’t you two go clean up and meet us back here in a little bit?” A man with a smooth, rich Southern drawl states. “We’ll be waiting on our girls to get back from the spa.”

“Oh my gosh, that’s where I should be,” Julia says, glancing up at a nice-looking, younger man with tattoos covering his arms. She tips up on her toes to kiss him quick and eases away, but he catches her by the elbow and pulls her back to him. He gives her another kiss, a little longer, a little deeper, before releasing her and she giggles. Then she turns and walks in the opposite direction of our audience.

“If you’d all get out of the way, we can clean this up.” A hard masculine voice comes from behind me, and I turn to find another man with heavy tattoos and thick arms crossed over his chest, arching a teasing brow at our collection of people. I’d forgotten about the broken glass, and I lower to pick up the pieces.

“I’m sorry about this.”

“Mae,” Tucker groans at the same time the tattoo man crouches and catches my wrist.

“I got it, beautiful. Go take care of yourself and him.” He nods in the direction of Tucker, and I stand again, noticing the deep stain of wine on Tucker’s T-shirt. Mati had poured me the glass from a sampling bottle on the front counter. The gift welcomes people as they check in. I hadn’t taken a sip before colliding with Tucker.

“I don’t have a room,” I state, and Tucker groans my name.

“Where are your bags, sunshine?” he asks.

“In Louie.”

Tucker laughs again, light-hearted but too high for him, and tucks me back under his arm. “Be back in a bit,” he says over his shoulder as he leads me to the parking lot for my things.

+ + +

Once we enter Tucker’s room, we’ve hardly settled our bags when he’s on me. Fingers in my hair. Tongue in my mouth.

“We should talk,” I mutter against his lips.

“Talk with me inside you.”

Okay then. My shirt is peeled off and his comes next. Then Tucker lowers his mouth to my neck, licking at the sticky wine mess on my skin.

“I could pour an entire bottle on you and drink you up,” he says into the crook of my neck and shoulder.

“Please don’t.” I laugh at the thought and then a small thrill runs up my center, imagining him trailing wine down my body and chasing the spill to lap at each drop.

I’m in the headspace now and I make quick work of his shorts, where the waistband is soaked with wine as well. Off go our shorts and underwear before I’m falling back to the bed, Tucker coming down with me. He wastes no time touching me, dragging the head of his cock through folds already seeping for him. When he slips inside me, we both groan in relief at the connection, and he pauses when he’s buried deep.

“Are you sore from last night?” We’d made love three times, desperate to hold onto every last minute. The only thing aching on me is my heart but for now it races. I shake my head.

“You feel good,” I whisper.

“You make me better.” The statement doesn’t exactly match what I’ve said but I don’t question him when he begins to move and our hips dance in a pattern I’ve learned with this man. With a hand at my hip and his other behind my neck, we’re quick to roll with one another until he’s begging me to get there, and my fingers find my clit. I crash over him, crying out his name, until he stills and pours into me. He collapses over me, wrapping his arms around my back and rolling to his side but keeping us connected.