Chapter 12 One Last Hurrah in the U-Haul #2
Watching the look in those eyes change—first pain, then curiosity, then satiation—as she gives my throat a squeeze has my heart palpitating. Strands of her hair hang in her face, catching the light so they turn to copper. They move as she breathes, as she sinks lower, lower.
Lower.
“Blue.” It’s the only word I can choke out when she’s all the way down, and I’m so deep inside her I can’t breathe.
She’s shaking. She removes her hand from my throat and puts it on the window. The other is on my shoulder, her nails biting my skin through my shirt.
“It’s too much.” I gently kiss her lips. “You’re too sore, sweetheart.”
“Shh.”
“I don’t wanna hurt you—”
“But you’re not.” Her eyes search mine. “You’re not the one who’s hurting me.”
My blood goes still inside my skin. Who is the one, then? Where can I find him? What did he do to you?
Before I can so much as utter a syllable, though, Wheeler is rocking her hips. Little circles that become gradually bigger and bigger until she’s enthusiastically riding my dick. Her tits bounce. Her hair is everywhere.
She’s shouting my name, throwing back her head like we’re not in a U-Haul on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, Colorado. Even the truck rocks in time to her movements.
I just hold on for dear life and roll my thumb over her clit. Her pussy clamps down on me, and a full-body shiver moves through Wheeler as she collapses against me with a sob.
“Oh, Duke. Oh my God. Oh my God. Duke. Duke. Duke.”
She chants my name like she’s trying not to forget it while she comes.
You ain’t forgetting me anytime soon, sweetheart.
I take over. I hug her to me as I piston my hips upward. It doesn’t take long for my own orgasm to crash through me. I spill inside her, trying not to shout. I know she doesn’t like loud noises. I’ll be damned if I scare her the way her dad did.
I hold her for a long time after that. Long enough that my heart rate has evened out somewhat.
Now would be a good time to ask her if she’d like to sleep at my place tonight. Or do I lead with a date? I don’t want her to think I’m just using her for sex.
I kiss the top of her head. “Blue?”
“Yeah?”
“You all right?”
She lifts her head, turns it, then scoffs when she sees how we’ve literally fogged up the windows.
“Ha.” She smiles. “We pulled a Jack and Rose.”
“A what?”
“You know.” She turns back to look at me. In the sun, the brown in her eyes turns translucent, warm like whiskey. “That scene in Titanic, when Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet steam up the windows in that car?”
I laugh. “I’m ashamed to admit I’ve never seen that movie.”
She stares at me. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.” My heart pounds. Do it. Just ask her. “Would you be interested in coming over to my place tonight to, well, come, and then we could watch it?”
She blinks. My pulse stumbles.
“I totally get it if that’s not your, uh, vibe,” I continue.
“I just really—what I’m trying to—it’s not just sex I want.
I need you to know that. I’d like to—yeah, maybe date you or…
take you out on a date. Many dates. And have sex too, of course.
But only if you want to! No pressure. I just…
” Spearing a hand through my hair, I let out a pained chuckle.
“I like you, Wheeler, and I’d like it if the thing we had happening this weekend kept… well, happening.”
Wheeler blinks again. She as shocked as I am by my babbling? I’d like to think I’m a relatively confident guy, but all of a sudden, I’m flustered as fuck.
I’m nervous.
Doesn’t help matters when the expression in her eyes morphs into something like pain.
Like disappointment.
She looks away, and my heart falls.
Everything in me falls, gathering together in a terrible, weighted certainty in my gut.
She’s not coming home with me tonight. Or any night.
My disappointment must show on my face, because when Wheeler turns back to look at me, her expression contracts.
“Look, Duke. This weekend has been a ton of fun. I mean that. And I like you. I really, really do—”
“But you can’t date me.” I search her eyes. “Or you won’t. Why? This is good, Wheeler. I think we could be good together.”
Her brows curve upward, her eyes filling. “I admire your optimism. But this weekend…it can’t happen again. I’m so busy with work—”
“I love your work. I support it, wholeheartedly.” I rock my hips, a reminder that I’m still inside her. “It quite literally turns me on.”
“Jesus, Duke, you’re not making this easy.” She puts a hand on my chest.
I brush the hair out of her face. “Just give me a chance. That’s all I ask.”
She looks away again. Looks down. I see her eyelashes flutter in an attempt to blink back tears.
Really, why is she doing this? Why make things difficult when they could be easy? I know she’s feeling me, same as I’m feeling her.
“I have some napkins in my bag.” Her voice is thin as she pushes onto her knees, pulling up her pants before falling into the passenger seat. “Here, I’ll clean us up.”
My cum is everywhere. It smells like sex in the cab. I feel sticky and cold despite the heat pumping through the vents.
“Did I do something to turn you off or…”
Wheeler shakes her head. “You did everything right.”
Then why are you turning me down, sweetheart?
I get my answer when we’re back on the highway. We’re in east Colorado now, the soaring majesty of the mountains giving way to an endless stretch of high plains.
“Like I told you, my parents are splitting up,” Wheeler says. She’s holding a can of sparkling water in her hand that we picked up at a gas station after we hooked up. The can’s gotta be mostly empty by now.
I adjust my hand on the wheel. “That really sucks.”
“I mean, my mom divorcing my dad has been a long time coming.” She stares out the windshield.
“Part of me is relieved they’re finally going through with it.
When I was little, I remember them being happy enough.
But as I got older, they started to fight more.
A lot more. By the time I was in high school, it was obvious they were miserable together, and their relationship has only deteriorated since then.
So I’m happy they’re, you know, trying to find happiness again. ”
A beat of silence. I don’t know what to say. She doesn’t seem to want comfort, at least not that I can tell. Maybe she just needs a sympathetic ear.
“Seems like a step in the right direction,” I say carefully. “Can I ask what happened?”
Wheeler nods, dropping the empty can into her cupholder.
“I think they ultimately didn’t work because they got married for the wrong reasons.
They had a shotgun wedding situation, although everyone pretended like it wasn’t because my dad comes from money, and they were able to throw this big, ridiculous wedding to cover it up.
Long story short, Mom got pregnant with my older brother, so my dad married her.
I think they both wanted kids, so it made sense at the time. ”
“Right. Guess there are worse reasons to get married.”
“But there are definitely better ones. They weren’t always miserable together, but I’m not sure they were ever super happy either.”
I nod. “I absolutely agree. I don’t think the point of marriage—or life, really—is to have kids.”
“Yeah?” She finally looks at me. “What do you think the point is, then? I’m genuinely curious, because I’m trying to find that out myself.”
Lifting a shoulder, I put on my blinker. “Experiencing the world. Traveling. Figuring out who you are. Lending a helping hand when you can.”
“I like those ideas. A lot.” She looks down at her lap. “Anyway, the divorce was a bomb I was expecting—”
“But it’s still a bomb.”
“Exactly. I can function okay. Like, work is the thing that’s keeping me sane right now. But I’m, like, actually not okay?” Her voice gets high, and I know she’s about to cry. “It’s hard watching the life you’ve known explode around you.”
How do I know you so well after a single weekend?
How’d we go from fucking in the front seat to talking about serious shit?
There’s a vulnerability to Wheeler, a willingness to be real, that has me spinning out. It’s so rare to be able to talk about real shit with someone this way. Makes me feel alive.
It’s devastating to think this might be the last real conversation I have with this girl.
“I think it’d be weird if you were okay.” I change lanes, then turn my head to look at Wheeler. “Wish you’d said something, Blue. We can’t be there for you if you’re not telling us what’s going on.”
“We?”
“Me. My brothers. Everyone you live and work with on the ranch.”
Her face crumples, and so does my heart.
“You’re sweet.” She wipes away her tears with the flat of her hand. “But we’re not that close—”
“Blue, I just spent the weekend inside you. We’re close, whether you like it or not.”
That makes her laugh. “People aren’t like that where I’m from. Don’t get me wrong, I have friends back home, but they…yeah, don’t care the way y’all do.”
“So let us take care of you. Let me take care of you.”
She shakes her head, holding her hand to her face. “I need to focus on…other things right now. I’m a mess, Duke. You don’t want to deal with this bullshit.”
“But I do.” I swallow, hard, my chest tight. “You gotta let me decide what I’m up for, yeah?”
But she’s still shaking her head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t accept that.”
“You have to, Duke.” Her eyes are on me again. “Trust me when I say you want no part of this mess.”
My heart screams with the desire to keep pushing her. There’s plenty of holes in her argument. I see what she’s doing—the way she’s pushing me away before I can push her away.
Wonder why she automatically assumes that’s what will happen?
But it’s obvious Wheeler is in a bad place. I have to respect what she wants, even though I think it’s a fucking tragedy to give up on the chemistry we share.
Who knows? Maybe she just needs some time to heal. Maybe she’ll eventually come around to the idea of being with me. I’ll just keep in touch with her in the meantime—a text here or there, a call just to catch up.
Or maybe I’m being a huge fucking idiot, and I need to take her refusal seriously. I believe her when she says she’s beat up over her parents’ divorce. Could be that she’s not telling me something else, though. She could have her sights set on another guy.
Christ, do I hate the idea of her holding a torch for some finance bro dickhead in Dallas.
I don’t realize I’m holding the wheel in a death grip until my fingers start to throb.
“Got it.” I try to keep my voice even. Calm. “I’m sorry you’re going through all that, and I’m sorry you don’t feel the way I do. But I understand.”
She sniffles. “Thank you. I’m sorry too, Duke.”