The Mother Road

by Meghan Quinn

  Oh, shit.

  No one comes over to pat me on the back to see if I’m okay, they just stare at me waiting for answers.

  “Uh, what?” I ask, not really sure what else to say.

  “Don’t play dumb with us. It’s obvious you two were together during the trip. I saw you holding her hand while you walked to the playground our last night on the road.”

  Well…crap.

  I can either deny and deflect, which will probably not work with Paul and Bernie, or I can own up to it and let them know the truth…that nothing will come of it.

  Shifting in place, I wipe my hands on my jeans and get comfortable. “I guess something happened between us; it was long overdue if I were to be truthful, but during the last couple of days, I think we both came to the conclusion that it was just a little fling.”

  “Are you saying my daughter is a fling?” Bernie roars, eyebrows pulling out knives to stab me.

  Scrambling, I answer, “Not at all, sir. She’s anything but a fling to me, but we are from two different worlds. She’s going places; she doesn’t plan on coming back here. It wasn’t meant to be.” I pause for a second and then say, “I’m just going to throw this out there, that talking to her brother and dad about this is really uncomfortable. I thought we were going to have some drinks and talk about the wedding.”

  The last thing I want to do right now is recount the entire trip and what Marley and I did. Probably wouldn’t be very appropriate with her brother and dad.

  “Fair enough,” Bernie says, shocking the hell out of me. “This night is about Paul. We should focus on that.”

  “What?” Paul says. “Come on, I want to grill the guy. See what his intentions are.”

  “There are no intentions,” I state. “I think, to her, it was a fling.”

  “What about to you?”

  I shrug. “Doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. We’re friends and I don’t want to mess that up.” Changing the subject, I ask, “So, Paul, are you nervous about the wedding night?”

  Paul scoffs. “We’ve porked before, Porter.”

  With a large sweep of his arm, Bernie smacks Paul in the back of the head. “Show some respect to the woman you will be marrying. Savannah doesn’t pork.”

  “God, Dad!” Paul complains, gripping his head. “I was only kidding, a little guy talk, you know?”

  “Guy talk doesn’t mean you have to be disrespectful to women,” Bernie states. “It will do you both some good to remember that. Women weren’t put on this earth to please us nor serve us. Women were formed to be companions, partners in crime, and compasses to guide us through right and wrong. They are here to be our rock, our best friend, and the one person we turn to in good times and bad.” Bernie clasps my shoulder and squeezes it as he talks to Paul. “This next step in your life might be scary, having someone to take care of and honor, but it’s worth the journey, so don’t mess it up. You hear me?” Bernie squeezes my shoulder hard, letting me know he’s also talking to me.

  Too bad for Bernie, there is no chance of anything happening with his daughter. That will be something he will have to live with.

  “Wow, Dad, that was…poetic.” Paul wipes his eyes as I roll mine. I really want to nut check him.

  “Pull it together, dude. Seriously, what are you going to be like tomorrow? Am I going to have to get you an embroidered handkerchief?”

  “You didn’t?” He looks distressed, like he’s about to lose it.

  Not wanting Paul to have another mini-stroke, I grab a napkin and a pen from my table. I write his initials in the corner and hand it to him. “Here you go, bud. It’s double ply, should hold in all those girly tears for you tomorrow morning.”

  Paul’s lip quivers as he hops out of his chair and throws his body into mine. We tumble to the ground with Paul’s arms wrapped around me as I try to get up.

  “I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you will be standing by my side tomorrow. I couldn’t have asked for a better best friend.”

  Knowing Paul needs the moment, I pat him on the back. “Same here, buddy.”

  I look over at Bernie, who is shaking his head and drinking his root beer.

  For the next hour, we reminisce about our childhood, the trouble we got in, and how we drove both Bernie and Mama McMann crazy with our pranks. Occasionally, I would catch Bernie glancing over at me, wonderment in his face, but I ignore it and push them out of my little shack before they can start talking about Marley and me again, because honestly, the conversation would be hopeless. She loves her life, why try to change it?

  ****

  Sleeps eludes me. Paul wanted to share my bed for the night, but I cut the male bonding off there. I told him I would make sure to wake him up in the morning to get him ready for his wedding, but there was no way he would be sharing my bed.

  Nausea consumes me as I think about the impending departure of Marley. I question whether I should talk to her or not, whether I should confess to her what I’m feeling, but I know it would do no good. The reason I left on prom night was so I didn’t hold her back. With this new opportunity for her, I don’t want to do the same thing. It would make no sense to talk to her, so instead, I lie on my bed, restless and sick to my stomach.

  The wind outside is louder than usual, shaking the bones of my little hideaway. I turn to my side and look at my phone. Two in the morning and still wide awake. Throwing the covers off, I walk to the kitchen, my feet cold on the ground, and open the fridge just as my front door slams open.

  Startled, I look up to see Marley wearing a pair of pink shorts and a tank top. Her eyes look a little crazy and her stance means war.

  “I’m mad at you.” She pushes my door so it closes with one swing and charges toward me, her bare feet padding across the hard wood floor. With her little finger, she pokes my naked chest. “What is your problem?”

  Not sure where she’s going with this conversation, I ask, “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re just going to act like you don’t know me?”

  “Umm…I know you.”

  Listen, I know it’s a bad response, but I’m not good at this shit.

  A frustrated moan comes out of her mouth while she starts to pace my living room. “You act like you care about me, Porter, then you ignore me all day as if I don’t exist? What’s with that? Just because we’re back in Jamestown that means you don’t want to talk to me anymore? Do you have a girlfriend you have to tend to or something? Was I your little side dish on the trip?”

  “What?” I ask, a little astonished. “Do you really think that low of me?”

  “Well…defend yourself. Is she in that room right now?” Marley points to my bedroom.

  “You’re fucking insane.” I throw my hands up in the air, frustrated with her accusations.

  “Oh, am I? Well then I guess you wouldn’t mind if I went back there.”

  Sweeping my arms toward the room, I say, “By all means, check it out.”

  Her feet stomp against the ground as she storms in my bedroom. She flings the door open and yells, “Aha!” at the top of her lungs, apparently trying to catch someone. She’s going to be sorely disappointed when she sees an ill-kept bedroom, sheets rumpled only from my tossing and turning.

  Standing at the doorway, Marley crosses her arms over her chest. “She must have slipped out the window when she heard me.”

  She needs to be proven wrong. I walk past her, grabbing her arm in the process, and I take her to the one and only window in my room. I point at it and say, “Open it.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Grabbing the bottom of the sill, she tries to open it, but fails miserably.

  “Hard to open a window when it’s locked.” I flip the lock and her pushing instantly flings the window open. “So, tell me, Marley, how could someone lock the window from the outside?”

  She bites her bottom lip as she looks at the window. “Jedi force?”

  Don’t laugh at how cute she is. Do not fucking laugh, not even a smile.<
br />
  “Nice try. Mind telling me what you’re doing here and why you’re accusing me of things I would never do?”

  She sits on my bed in defeat. “I don’t know, maybe because your mind games are driving me crazy. Why haven’t you talked to me since we got back?”

  Once again, I’m at a crossroads. I could tell her the truth, or I can put my feelings aside and let her go. Her eyes sparkling up at me have my heart bursting, breaking it in half as pain ricochets through my body.

  I can’t fucking tell her.

  So I lie.

  “I’ve been working on some things for Paul. You know how he gets. Everything has to be perfect.”

  Skeptically, she eyes me. “I don’t believe you.”

  I just shrug my shoulders, not able to speak past the lump in my throat.

  She stands and closes the space between us. Her hands slowly run up my chest, and just when I think she’s going to lean in to kiss me, she pushes me down on the bed.

  “You’re such an ass, Porter.”

  “If I’m an ass, then why are you here?” I can’t help but ask her.

  She stares at me and answers honestly, “Because I want to be.”

  Because my heart is so heavy, I try to keep things light. “Then let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on.”

  Like an animal, she straddles my waist, not giving me a chance to make a move myself. She pushes her hair to the side and lifts her top off, exposing her beautiful breasts to me. Instantly, I go hard. Leaning down, her nipples dance against my bare chest, while her hands travel up my neck to my face, where she grips my cheeks and brings her mouth down to mine.

  In all honesty, I want to stop her; I want to tell her this can’t happen, but my heart at this moment controls my brain and stops me from being rational. Just one more time, I tell myself. I just want to be with her one more time before I have to say goodbye.

  I give in.

  I grab her waist and pin her to the bed, now hovering over her. Her hair fans out against my white sheets and her eyes sparkle up at me. I run my hand over my beard, taking in her beauty, wondering how the hell I will ever be able to get this image out of my head.

  Needing to see her completely naked, I step off the bed and grab the waist of her shorts so I can pull them off. She accommodates my demand and lifts her butt off the mattress so I can slide them off easily. Nervously, her hand goes to her hair, where she slowly twirls a strand, waiting for my next move.

  Since I’m only wearing a pair of boxer briefs, I slide them off and toe them to the side, exposing myself to her. Her eyes wander down my chest and then to my painfully hard erection. I grab my cock and start stroking myself in front of her. I watch in fascination as her eyes widen and her legs slightly part, welcoming me. Leaning forward, I straddle her head with my hands and lower my head just close enough that I can nip at her lips. She squirms beneath me, grabs my head, and tries to lower me further, but I don’t allow her; instead, I slide my lips down her neck to her breasts. With both hands, I squeeze them together and massage them while I suck her right nipple into my mouth. I nibble on the small peg, loving the way she moves under me. I bite a little harder, causing her mouth to open wide in pleasure and her legs to fall completely open. My erection dances with her entrance, my balls tighten from the feel of her under me, and goosebumps caress my skin in bliss.

  Moving to the other nipple, I nibble across her boob until I suck it completely in and bite down with my front teeth. An even stronger reaction erupts from her mouth, moaning with need. As I pay great attention to her breasts, I can see sweat start to develop along her skin as her body writhes under mine, her hands not quite sure what to do.

  Taking her pleasure further, I keep my hands on her breasts, but move my kisses down to her pubic bone, where I tease her relentlessly, kissing and pricking her skin with the sharpness of my teeth.

  Her legs are completely spread and I take advantage of it as I lower my head and run my tongue up and down her wet slit. Like a piece of metal to a magnet, her hands fly to my head, where her fingers run through my hair.

  I pinch her nipples, hard, and watch as the upper half of her body arches off the bed. Just as she moves, I apply pressure to her clit with my tongue, giving her short, fast, hard strokes, never letting up, not even to catch my breath or swallow. Her body contorts, her eyes close shut, and her legs straighten out as a feral cry escapes her, my name rolling off her lips, her orgasm falling on my tongue.

  While she’s catching her breath, I slip a condom over my strained cock and play with her entrance, which is ready for me.

  “Marley, look at me.” My voice is husky, demanding, causing her eyes to open and glue them to mine.

  Her sweetheart lips are swollen from my kisses and her skin is burned from my beard; I’ve claimed her in almost every way possible. My cock buried deep inside of her will be the final plunge.

  “Do you want me?” I ask her. Wanting to just hear it once, knowing it won’t be a statement that lasts a lifetime.

  She nods her head in confirmation.

  “No, I want to hear it from those beautiful lips of yours. Tell me you want me, Marley.”

  She sits up, wraps her hand around my neck and presses our foreheads together. In a sultry voice, she says, “I want you, Porter.”

  My mouth crashes down on hers, our bodies colliding below, and my hands catching our fall to the bed. We get lost in each other as we lightly roll across the bed, mouths mingling, tongues teasing, fingers testing.

  To my surprise, she rolls on top of me and straddles my waist, her ass playing dangerously close to my erection. With one of her hands pressed against my chest, she lifts up and guides me inside of her. Her warm sheath blankets me and I’m instantly lost in the tightness of her body.

  Once I’m fully inside, we both sigh and then smile at each other. Her hips start to rock against mine and I’m mesmerized by the melodic rhythm of our hips working together, of our intimate connection.

  I sit up and drag my hands against the smooth skin of her back until they tangle in her hair. With force, I bring her head to mine and possess her mouth while her hips continue to rock up and down on mine. She’s slow and deliberate with her movements, driving me insane by never picking up the pace like I need her to.

  Instead of waiting out her rhythm, I flip her again so her back is pressed against the mattress, and I move in and out of her, setting my own pace. I grip her breasts and fondle her hard pink nipples, enjoying the way they feel against my rough farm-worn fingers. With a pinch, she’s calling my name out and her pussy clenches around me while her head flies back and her mouth springs open.

  “Yes, harder. Please Porter, I need more.”

  Not wanting to let this moment end, but knowing I’m about to climax, I give her what she wants. I drive into her with such brutal force that I get lost in the movements, not realizing the noises we are making in the small shack.

  She constricts around me and calls my name out, the sound like heaven to my ears. My balls tighten, my vision goes blurry, and all I can focus on is the pleasure ripping through me, making my entire body go numb in ecstasy.

  I pump into her until there is no more orgasm left in my body, and I collapse on top of her. Her hands immediately go to my back and her fingers make small, circular motions, comforting me. I bury my head in her neck and smell her brilliant strawberry scent, probably for the last time.

  “I’m still mad at you,” she whispers, clearly spent from our love making.

  Did you catch that? I said love making not fucked, sexed or…porked. To me, that was love making because I couldn’t imagine feeling this all-consuming euphoria with someone if I wasn’t in love.

  I love Marley, always have, always fucking will.

  Do you know what the most devastating thing is about being in love? You would do pretty much anything for that person, even if it meant setting them free so they can grow and be the person they’re meant to be.

  My love for Marley is strong enough for me to
let her go; too bad my heart is still battered and bruised from the first time I said goodbye.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  **MARLEY**

  I’m literally on my last nerve.

  Annoyed, frustrated, irritated, angry…all feelings coursing through my body right now. Why, you ask? Because my brother has turned into one of those glittered out, over-baked bridezillas who is never happy until the wedding is actually over.

  I started my day at the ripe hour of five in the morning. Thanks to my late night sex-capades, I didn’t get back to my room until almost four, which gave me an hour of sleep. Paul came charging into my room, dancing around in a robe, and stating to the world that he was getting married to the most beautiful woman he’s ever met.

  I give the guy credit for being romantic and excited about his own wedding, but when a girl is nursing a rocked out vagina and trying to catch a little shut eye, the last thing she wants is her brother prancing around like a deer who got high on a mixture of drugs, serenading the world about his impending nuptials – kind of like he’s Julie Andrews, on top of a Swiss mountain singing about the hills being alive with the sound of music.

  What I really wanted to do was stay the night at Porter’s and wake up to his arms wrapped around me and his beard rubbing against my bare shoulder. But that didn’t happen. Nope, I was told to go back to my room. Want to talk about feeling like a used, wet blanket? Have the guy you’re in love with tell you to leave his bed before you can even talk to him about your “situation.”

  That’s what I’m calling it, because what else can you call it? A relationship? No, we border the line of fuck buddies more than a relationship. Then we have Paul and my dad to worry about.

  Christ, Paul would probably scream like a hyena getting his balls twisted off if he ever found out about what Porter and I have been doing behind his back. That’s not something I want to witness, at least if nothing ever happens with Porter.

  After Paul woke me up in a My Fair Lady kind of way, I proceeded to make everyone in the house breakfast, which included Porter. When he came into the kitchen, his eyes blazed when he saw me, but then turned neutral when he saw Paul gabbing away at the counter, chin in hands, and kicking his feet in excitement.