Page 60 of Hauling Ashe

Slowly, his mouth crooks. The corner lifting only slightly. Thank you, he mouths to me or at least that’s what I think he says.

I grin again and turn back to the view. As best I can, I try to take pictures one-handed. We’ve already established I’m not great at selfies, but it hasn’t mattered. Even if I had both hands, phone cameras could never do justice to what’s before us.

Eventually, I drag Tucker’s hand to my lap and squeeze. “Keep it right here,” I say to him, trying to slip my hand free for a steadier hold of my phone. Tucker nods but his eyes show panic and I wait for him to make the decision to release me. Cautiously, his fingers come free and quickly slip to my thigh, clutching my muscle there instead. I snap as many pictures as I can before we move forward, and I take Tucker’s hand again.

The entire flight lasts forty-five minutes and we land effortlessly, like buttering a biscuit. Troy takes a picture of Tucker and me outside the helicopter and we thank him for the ride.

“So, what did you think?” I ask Tucker, who has been suspiciously quiet. I don’t want to push but it’s almost like I feel his thoughts rotating like the propeller of the copter. He’s spinning in circles inside his head, and I’m worried the flight was too much.

“I think we need to check into a hotel.”

Not the answer I was expecting, I watch him as we cross the parking lot for Louie. Tucker hands me the keys and I silently take them. He tells me the name of a place where he booked us a room for the night, and I remember passing the hotel on our way here.

He remains so quiet, I’m freaking out by the time we reach the lodge and check in. He’s resorted to one-word answers with the clerk at the desk and I silently follow Tucker to the room. If he’s having a panic attack, he isn’t letting on. Maybe he’s having a delayed reaction to the experience. He definitely held it together in the air. No sickness. No perspiration. No breathing issues. I really expected all those things from him, but he didn’t react other than squeezing the blood flow out of my hand.

He opens the door to our room and allows me to enter first. I’ve hardly set Gemma down on the desk when the door slams shut, and I hear his suitcase drop behind me. I turn to face him, but I’m stopped by his hands at my hips and his mouth on my neck. We’re both sweaty from an earlier hike at the Petrified Forest and the intensity of the helicopter ride, but Tucker does not seem to care. He’s sucking at my skin and shoving my T-shirt upward.

“That was incredible,” he mutters into my neck.

Holy shit! My entire body relaxes after that comment. My shoulders lower, releasing tension I didn’t realize was pressing on me. Off comes my shirt, and next pops my bra. Allowing it to slip forward, Tucker’s hands cup both breasts, massaging and squeezing. Pressing them together and pinching the already taut nipples, his mouth moves along my shoulder and back to the side of my neck. He’s devouring me and my skin ripples with goosebumps.

“Tucker.” I lightly laugh his name as his eagerness turns to urgency.

“I need you, Mae.” One hand lowers to my shorts and releases the button. Hastily pushing the material over my hips, he forces me out of them. I reach for the dresser to steady myself as I kick off my shoes and step out of my shorts. Tucker tugs off his T-shirt and spins me to face the dresser. Our eyes meet in the mirror. He lowers his gaze and reaches for my underwear, pushing it down my legs until the material drops to the floor. The distinct unzipping of his shorts fills the room, and he barely has his shorts and briefs to his hips before he’s bending me forward and rubbing his hard length between my thighs.

“You’re so ready for me, sunshine, and I need to be inside you. I need to feel you surrounding me.”

I’m not certain where this sudden rush is coming from but I’m thinking it’s the adrenaline surge from his flight experience. Instead of being in shock, he wants sex. He needs to feel this connection with me and I’m willing to give it to him. Shock will come next, along with a crash, but for now, his release is my goal.

“Take me,” I demand, and he slams into me. He’s long, and the sudden rush forces me forward, hips hitting the edge of the dresser as he fills me.

“Mae,” he strains, jackhammering into me. There’s nothing slow or gentle about the rapid rhythm he sets. The dresser bangs against the wall and I hold on as he surges into me on repeat from behind. Risking a glance toward the mirror, I see my breasts jiggle uncontrollably. My hands struggle for something to hold onto on the smooth surface. Tucker’s eyes are lowered to watch himself enter me. Sensing my eyes on him, he looks up. His expression is intense.

“You fit me, Mae. How is it that this happened?” His question is full of disbelief. He almost sounds angry as his hips thrust and the gentle slap of us coming together echoes after his words.

I don’t answer him. He’s not looking for an answer. He’s chasing something and I’m offering myself as an escape. When his fingers come forward to stroke over my clit, I’m not certain I can reach where he wants me to go as fast as he’s moving.

“Just you,” I mutter to him, attempting to brush his fingers away from me.

“No,” he commands, pulling out and turning me to face the bed. He guides me forward until I have nowhere to go but bending toward the mattress. He guides both my knees to the edge of the bed and with my ass in the air, he slams into me again. I cry out as he holds my hips, tugging them toward him while he fills me to the hilt. There’s something about this position that opens me more to him. I feel exposed and wild in equal parts and when his fingers dip back to that sensitive nub, I give in to the growing flutters in my belly.

“I will not go without you.”

There’s so much intensity in his statement. So many ways I could read into his words. For now, I only feel him and the command of his body to bring mine to the same place as his. We’re heading for a cliff, cresting the edge, and with a final flick of my clit, he sends me tumbling over with a long, lone groan. He pulls out of me, laying his sticky length against my rear cheeks and jets off on my lower back. His fingers still work me, and I continue to cry out as the release pours from me. I’m dripping with desire and unable to stop myself. I’ve never experienced anything like this, and it’s embarrassing while thrilling.

While still breathing heavily, I mutter a curse and press back as if I want to leave the bed. Tucker holds me in place. “You’re okay,” he says as if he’s read my thoughts.

I almost can’t think it. Did I just wet myself?

Tucker answers me before I ask. “You squirted.”

“I what?” I shakily scoff, collapsing to the bed on my stomach.

“The intensity. It caused your body to react. It happens.” Why don’t I know anything about this sensation and why did that feel so incredible?

“Stay here,” Tucker says to me. I can’t move anyway. I’m certain my legs won’t carry me. Tucker stumbles behind me and I assume he’s heading for the bathroom. Then, it hits me he wasn’t wearing a condom.

When he returns to the room, he mentions the same thing. “I pulled out.”