The Mother Road (27 page)

“Speaking of good rest, I was thinking about sleeping out under the stars tonight. Would that be okay?” I ask, hoping to spend one night not on the bitch bed and instead next to Porter.

“You’re just going to sleep out in the open?”

“No, I mean, if Porter will let me, I would like to sleep in his tent. It’s plenty big enough for two people and the top unzips so you can see through the mesh to look up at the stars. I think it would be fun to do out here, before we hit the big city lights.”

“I don’t like the idea of you sleeping in a tent by yourself,” Dad responds. “Plus, I doubt Porter would want to sleep on the bitch bed again.”

“I don’t mind,” Porter says sweetly.

“Still, that doesn’t mean I want you sleeping out in the open by yourself. Even though we are on one of the nicest KOAs in the country, that doesn’t mean there aren’t murderers, psychopaths, and freaks out there waiting to cut your tent open and take advantage of you.”

I try not to let my frustration get the best of me. “Well, maybe someone can sleep out there with me.”

Paul shakes his head immediately. “No way, I’ve spent my fair share of nights on the ground. I’m sticking with my mattress.”

“Buttons, I would, but you know my back isn’t very good.”

“Ugh,” I fake and then turn to Porter. “Would you mind sleeping out there with me?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want you drooling near me.”

“She is a drooler. You should see her pillow in the morning. You would think she pissed all over it.”

Grinding my teeth together, I say, “Thanks, Paul.”

“Anytime, sis. Porter, do you really want to play babysitter tonight?”

Babysitter? This is a warning to anyone who is paying attention, if Paul uses that term one more time for me and Porter, I will shove my foot so far up his ass, his tonsils will learn to tie my shoe.

“Eh, I don’t mind playing babysitter.”

My mouth drops, my rage starts to boil, and my hands start to clench at my sides, ready to plow my fist through Porter’s face. He did not just say he didn’t mind playing babysitter. Better term would have been something like: I like hanging out with Marley, I don’t mind sharing a tent with her. He will pay for that comment.

“Then that’s settled. Marley make sure you have enough blankets to keep you warm.”

“I will,” I tell my dad as I blow past the men and go into Tacy to grab my bed items. I know Porter was just playing it cool with Paul and my dad, but still, I don’t need him treating me like I’m his little sister, or a nuisance he has to deal with. I’ve put up with that attitude from him ever since I can remember.

While the boys finish up getting ready for bed and take care of the camp fire, I settle myself in the tent. There is no mattress, but that’s okay; I lay down a thick blanket for a little cushion and then set up my blankets and pillows. I unzip the top of the tent so the stars are shining through, and I get under my covers.

From the side, I can hear Paul and my dad settle into Tacy and talk about how they don’t have to keep the windows open, since I won’t be in there, which is just…lovely. Tomorrow morning in the RV is going to be extremely pleasant, driving across Illinois with Paul’s oozed-out night time smell. I’m gagging just thinking about it.

The tent rustles from the outside and the front unzips. Porter ducks into the tent, wearing another pair of sweat pants and a black Henley shirt, well, I think it’s black at least. I can’t tell under the moonlit sky.

“Warm?” he asks, nodding at the pile of blankets I’m under.

“Don’t want to chance it.”

“Alright.”

He gets into his sleeping bag and looks up at the sky. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him stretch his arms out and place them under his head so he’s propped up a little. I know if he wasn’t in his sleeping bag, I would see his stomach and that mouthwatering V of his.

We lay there in silence, looking up at the stars, the occasional shooting star crossing the sky. Initially, my plan was to get some more alone time with Porter, but after his little comment, I’m not about to throw myself at him. I just don’t know why he’s not trying to suffocate me with his lips right now. Shouldn’t he want to? Am I not tempting anymore?

Yes, I’m being a total girl right now, but you know what? I don’t care, because guess what? If you looked down my pants and up my shirt, you would find a vagina and a pair of boobs, making me very much a girl, and because I have to deal with my uterus committing suicide every month, I should be able to have girly moments. And I’m having one right now.

“Are you not interested in me anymore?” Don’t worry, I know it sounds desperate and annoying, but I know what I’m doing. At least I like to think I do.

Porter is silent for a second before he starts chuckling.

Chuckling!

Note to all men out there, if you’re listening, do not chuckle when a girl is trying to talk to you about something serious. Want to see a red dot special in person, go ahead, chuckle when your girl is trying to have a serious conversation. See what happens.

“I was just waiting for you to stop being pissed at me.”

Surfing through the blankets I’m drowning in, I finally sit up and stare at Porter. “You know I’m pissed and you’re not doing anything about it?”

He turns on his side and rests his head on his hand. If he was trying to look like a calendar model in some sexy camping photo shoot, can I just say…nailing it! Bastard!

“It’s more fun this way.”

“More fun for whom? I don’t find this fun at all.”

“Really? Because, the way I see it, you’re pissed and rightfully so. But let’s be honest, the fury that simmers inside that cute little head of yours will soon turn into something so much better. To help ease your mind, I will say some sweet and caring things that will make you all googly eyed over me again, which then in return will lead us to making up. And that’s when it gets good, because making up will consist of my tongue down your throat and my hand down your pants.”

A part of me wants to storm out of the tent, back kicking a few rocks into his face as if I was a dog trying to bury its own crap, but the other half of me wants to kiss away that adorable grin he has on his face. If it was light out, I know I would be able to see his dimple.

Ugh, rocks to the face or kissing party? What a hard decision.

“Come on, you know I was just going along with what Paul said.” Porter grabs my hand and starts his sweet talking. “Are you really going to be mad over that little thing when we finally have the night together, undisturbed? You know I’ve been waiting for this opportunity, you being here is making my fucking road trip.”

Don’t fall for it; don’t give in too quickly.

His thumb strokes the back of my hand, and would you believe that’s all it takes? Well, it does. Don’t judge, he has a really nice thumb stroke.

“I’m still mad at you,” I say, while allowing him to pull me on top of him. He rolls to his back and cups my face.

“No, you’re not. You can’t stay mad at me.”

I pull away and give him a “get real” look. “Uh, do you want to talk about the last four years?”

“Valid point,” he chuckles. “Let’s not talk about that.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“How to get you out of your clothes and into my sleeping bag.”

“That’s a little forward, don’t you think?” I ask, my body already starting to warm from the thought of being completely naked with Porter.

“No, I actually don’t.” His smile stretches across his face as his hands run under my shirt. His eyebrow raises when he realizes I’m not wearing a bra. “You trying to kill me, Marley?”

“Why would I do that? You would be no good to me dead. I’m not into Necrophilia.”

Porter laughs, “Fucking Paul and his arousal fixations. That was a really fun conversation.”

“Hey, I’m forced to be around him since he’s my brother, but you have a choice. You stick around.”

Porter rubs my back gently with his hands, which are almost as long as my back is wide. The man has some incredibly sexy hands, did I not mention that yet? Well, he does.

“We bonded over dorky things when we were younger; you can’t change that kind of connection over the years. Bad hair and splotchy mustaches, that’s where we really hit our stride in our relationship.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me of the mustaches; I think that was the first time when I didn’t utterly crush over you.”

Lifting a rakish eyebrow, Porter says, “Crush over me? When did this crush start? I thought it was your senior year that I was able to gain your attention.”

I put my hands over my face as I realize I just opened a can of used condoms, aka, can of worms…I wanted to get a little creative, but see that’s irrelevant now.

I’m mortified. Telling your lifelong crush that in fact, you’ve liked him from the first day you met him is never easy, especially when he looks like an even more beautiful version of Henry Cavill, if that’s even possible.

“Why are you hiding that beautiful face of yours?” Porter grabs my hands and forces me to look at him. “When did you crush on me?”

I blow out a long breath and squeeze my eyes shut as I answer him, “The moment I first met you. I thought you were the most handsome boy I’d ever seen.”

“The first day?” Porter asks in shock. “But I was so gangly and dirty.”

A very un-lady like snort pops out of my mouth. I cover my nose quickly, but it’s too late, I’ve covered Porter’s face with snot.

Have you ever watched someone spit a food chunk at you by accident in slow motion? You’re talking, having a good time, and all of a sudden, they get a little too animated and you watch that half chewed up piece of roast beef fly out of their mouth and slowly—oh so freaking slowly—land on your cheek. You act like you don’t feel it as they continue to talk to you, not realizing they just dressed you with lunch meat. You demand for your hands to stay still while you count to twenty before you casually reach up to your face and wipe away the beef carcass just lounging on your cheek bone.

Why do I bring this up? Because, as I snorted, in slow motion, I watched my nose shower Porter’s face, drop by drop with snot. He closed his eyes briefly, as mucus rained down upon him.

“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry.”

Not minding my feelings, Porter takes his sleeve and wipes his face. When it’s clean, he rolls me over and pins my hands above my head with my body under his, which is still in the sleeping bag.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“You snot on me, thought I would return the favor.” He lowers his head and starts sniffing.

“No!” I practically scream, hoping I didn’t just wake up Paul and my dad.

“Shhhh,” he laughs. “You can’t go screaming like that. Now you have two options, you can either let me snot on you, or you can take your clothes off and let me do whatever I want to you.”

“Whatever you want?”

“Within reason,” he smiles. “Major things we can have a discussion about first.”

“Hmm…snot or getting felt up by you. I think I will take snot.”

“Very funny,” he says, right before his lips find my neck. His body wiggles on top of mine, freeing him of the sleeping bag, while his mouth works wonders across my skin.

“You taste so fucking good, baby.”

My nipples instantly go hard from his compliment. It doesn’t take much with him.

“You smell really good,” I compliment. “It’s not your cologne that I thought I loved so much, it’s your soap.”

His lips pause for a second before he continues to kiss my jaw, not answering me back. Instead, he releases my hands that were once pinned above me to lift my shirt up and over my head, exposing me to the cool night air filtering in through the top of the tent.

With one glance, his eyes turn sinister the minute he takes my breasts in. His hands roam up my body to my breasts, where he cups them and runs his thumbs over my nipples, his lips continuing to make an imprint on my neck.

If I wasn’t still traveling with my dad and brother and I was back home in Los Angeles, I would beg Porter to give me a hickey. Don’t judge; it was something I always fantasized about.

Needing more, I grab his shirt and pull it over his head. My hands wander over his well-defined, farm boy chest, through the light sprinkling of hair I know he must trim to the right length to turn a girl on. His sweats ride low on him, and I realize he’s not wearing his boxer briefs. Because of the lack of barrier, I lower my hands and dip his pants down so his ass is bare.

His hips grind into mine, showing off his impressive erection. Every other time we’ve gotten intimate, we’ve taken things a little slow, but I can feel the urgency in his touch, in the way he practically sucks on my face.

“I want more, Porter.”

His lips pull away from me and his lust-filled eyes stare down at me. He’s lost in desire, you can tell by the loopy look on his face.

“Want more in what way?”

This is always awkward for me to say, but I say it anyway, “Do you have a condom?”

His breathing becomes heavier, his grip on my left breast grows tighter, and he runs his erection against my leg once again.

“What if I did? Would you be mad?”

“Depends, when did you get it?”

“At the gas station this morning.”

I laugh at the cringe on his face. “Feeling a little lucky this morning?”

“More like wishing on the grace of Paul’s fat toe that we would have a chance to be alone.”

“You really know how to sweet talk a girl.”

“Tell me yes.” I know the hope and yearning in his eyes matches mine as I nod my head. And that’s it, our conversation is over.

Our mouths collide and our hands explore each other’s bodies. He slowly inches my pants down while I do the same until we are both naked, pressing our bodies against each other.

His erection is stiff against my leg, his body tight from what’s to come, and the pounding of his heart is tuned to mine. Sweat breaks out across our skin, which is quickly chilled by the air breezing into the tent.

Our tongues tangle together in an erotic dance, our hands fumble around, trying to feel as much of each other as possible. While I lightly drag my nails across his skin, his lips leave mine and travel down my body to my breasts, where he quickly sucks in a nipple. My body arches off the ground at his touch, pressing my boob further into his mouth. He licks the nub, sucks on it, and nibbles until I’m writhing underneath him, unable to take any more.