by JA Huss
“You have one minute to find a book and then I’m pulling over and finding one myself.”
“Hold your horses, I’m looking… oh, what? You like Odd Thomas? I love him.”
“Good, read one of those.”
“No, I’ve read them all. You like them because he’s weird, right? You can relate to his oddballness? I mean, his name is Odd, that’s strange right off the bat. And then the whole I see dead Elvis thing? Yeah. Ford and Odd are like blood brothers.”
“You know why I really like him?”
She lets out a long breath and looks over at me, serious now. “Why?”
“Because I lost a girl a few years ago when I started reading this series. I always thought they sounded stupid, sorta supernatural, and sappy. But Odd Thomas had that girl, what was her name?”
“Stormy.”
“Yeah, great name. Stormy. Odd had Stormy and the ending on that first book had a twist that made me—well, feel bad for him, frankly. It was a new thing for me. I’ve never really identified with a character before. I read them for the plot. I like thrillers because they hide secrets and you have to figure them out along the way. But I never saw that ending coming in the first Odd book.”
“What was her name?”
I know who Ash is talking about even though it’s a vague question. “Mardee. Ronin stole her from me. She got involved in drugs, overdosed in his family’s studio building. In fact, it was the anniversary of her death last month. Four years.”
Ash is silent and I wonder what she makes of this.
“I didn’t love her. I know that now. I mean, I might’ve thought I loved her back then. I wanted her. Ronin used her. He liked her well enough for business deals, and they even did some modeling contracts together. But he wasn’t into her. I miss her, I liked her, I spent a lot of time with her. But she was never going to be with a guy like me.”
“What’s that mean? What kind of guy are you?”
“The kind who likes to call the shots.” I grin over at her. “Now pick a book and enough stalling.”
Ash looks back down at the reader. “It’s all boring. I mean what is this? The Count of Monte Cristo? Seriously?”
“I love that book. It’s about delayed gratification. Something I wholeheartedly believe in.”
She snorts and pushes the tabs on the front of the reader, scrolling for books. “You proved my point. Delayed gratification. You just want me to suffer, constantly wanting your hot body but only ever offering me a small sample of it.”
I shake my head. Fucking Ashleigh.
She falls silent as she searches for a book, then huffs out a sigh. “I’m never gonna find—whoa, whoa, whoa! What is this little gem? Spelunk Me? You have Spelunk Me on your eReader? Bahahahaha. Oh my God, I might die, that’s how funny this is.”
“I’ve never heard of that book, perhaps it’s a promotional freebie?” I bought that book for Rook, back when she was modeling nude for Spencer’s body art painting and needed a distraction. But I’m not about to admit that to Ashleigh. If she’s not allowed to talk about Tony then it’s only fair I leave Rook behind as well.
“Ashley—the little tart has my name! Which, by the way, is spelled wrong. Ashley, the only virgin in her freshman dorm, is desperate to be deflowered by long-time crush Eaton Fuller. But that’s before hot and dangerous Rowdy Breaker saves her from a spelunking adventure gone wrong. Oh, my fucking God—”
“I’m gonna spank you for that.”
“What? What’d I do?”
She’s got the most bewildered innocent look on her face and it takes a monumental effort on my part not to give in and laugh. “Unladylike behavior?” I say seriously.
“When?”
“Ashleigh.”
She smirks at me. “Fine, I’ll take it because this is too fucking funny and we are totally reading this book right the fuck now.”
“That’s three new ones.”
“OK, hold on. Just let me be unladylike for one moment, can I?”
I squint at her. “Ten seconds.”
“I’d like to request a fun spanking and I promise to follow all your other orders especially when it comes to pleasing you in ways I’ve only dreamed of .” She smiles. “Deal?”
“No deal. I get that no matter what.”
“Yeah, because I agreed. But I’ll do more than agree. I’ll be”—she stops to lick her lips and I almost swerve off the road—“enthusiastic.” And then she waggles her eyebrows at me.
I could love this girl.
I could love her and look forward to all her silly antics every single day. I just need to be strong and tell her no. But I’m competing with her ex right now. So I do the unthinkable. I give in. “Maybe I’ll give you one fun spanking for every two meaningful ones. How’s that?”
“Mmmmmm.” She hums as her eyes go to half-mast like she’s picturing it in her head. I almost want to pull the Bronco over and fuck her on the side of the road. “I totally agree, Ford. I’m all yours if you do the fun ones.”
“Read.”
“The freshman dorm was nothing like I imagined. It was hot, and not because of the heat, even though it was August. It was hot because it was co-ed and the boy across from me was standing in his room, with the door open, wearing nothing but a smile.
“I smiled back.
“And that was when I knew. Rowdy Breaker was dangerous.
“Just then a girl’s face peeked out from behind the door. She stepped out in full view, wearing nothing but a scowl, and slammed it closed.
“So much for a free peep show. But I had that boy’s body burned into my brain and I would use that image to satisfy myself later. She is a tart.”
“Hold the commentary, it ruins the mood.”
Ash busts out a laugh. “The mood?”
“Yes, and when you speak in Rowdy’s voice, make it deeper, you know, like the professional narrators they have doing the audiobooks.”
“Ford?” she says in an overly sweet voice.
“Yes, Ashleigh?” I look over at her with a dimpled grin.
“I’m gonna get you back for all this control, you do realize that, right?”
I reach over and grab her thigh. She jumps a little and lets out a gasp. “I never lose, Ash. Never. So if you think you can get me back by playing nasty with me tonight, then by all means, show me what a loser I am.” And then I slip my hand down her thigh and pinch her skin until she yelps. Before her hand can even move to swat mine off, I’m caressing her pussy through her jeans. “Do not come or I will tease you and withhold orgasms later.”
She holds her breath and nods.
I let up on the pressure. “Unbutton and unzip your pants.”
She breathes. But she obeys. She pops the button and the zipper makes a soft ripping sound.
“Stick your hand inside your panties.”
She doesn’t even hesitate and this makes me so fucking hard. I can feel her fingers through her jeans. “I can feel everything you do, Ashleigh. I’ll let you come right now, but you have to do all the work. Are you ready?”
“I’m ready,” she whispers. When I look over at her she’s looking right back at me. Her stare never wavers.
I look back to the road. This highway is deserted. No one is traveling I-70 west with us. There are cars every now and then going east, but very few.
“Begin,” I command.
She shudders before she even starts and I almost die thinking she already came. But it was just an excited shudder, not an orgasm. She begins in slow circles over her clit. I press down a little and her breathing becomes heavier. She continues this a few more times but then she scoots her butt down more towards the edge of the seat and slips in farther. I can feel the back of her hand on my palm through the thick fabric, and then it dips. “Tell me what you just did, Ash.”
“Put my fingers inside me,” she says in a low, breathy voice.
“Does it feel good?”
“Not as good as yours would. But I’ll make do.”
/> I say nothing to her joking, just cup her hand with mine and increase her movements. Her other hand hovers over mine. “Can I touch you, Ford?”
“Yes,” I say, because I want her. I want her more than I don’t want to be touched. Her hand rests on top of mine. It’s very small, and I chance a look over to compare sizes. “Keep on task.”
She pumps into herself and then she takes my hand and places it over her belly, where the opening in her jeans is. “I want you to touch my skin.”
“You’ll get your wish,” I tell her with my eyes still on the road. “But for now—” I withdraw my hand and put it back on the steering wheel. “For now, you will pleasure yourself to satisfy me.”
“I’m going to imagine you doing it, then.”
“That’s against the rules, you should be thinking only of how much you will please me by following my instructions.”
“I don’t care, it’s my mind and I’ll picture you fingering me if I want.” And then she opens her eyes all the way and stares at me. I look away and concentrate on the road. “And you will never know, Ford. Because you’re not a mind-reader.”
I want to thump my head against the steering wheel repeatedly, that’s how crazy she’s driving me with this rebellion. That’s how bad she’s being. If she was one of my pets I’d have her strapped face first to a wall, gagged and blindfolded right now—she’d be getting the spanking of her life. And I wouldn’t feel bad about it at all. I’d enjoy it.
But she’s not a pet. She’s Ashleigh. And she’s a little more like Rook than I previously thought. She wants to be loved, not punished, commanded, or manipulated. Just loved.
Maybe that’s why Rook rejected me? Ronin just loves her, no questions asked. He just accepts her. Lets her make mistakes, always careful to watch and make sure she doesn’t get hurt. Protecting her from a distance if necessary. Close by, but unseen at times. That’s what Rook was trying to tell me back in the stadium that day when she was describing how different we were. How we treat her differently. If she stayed with me, I’d make her do things she’d rather not, just because she’s been trained to please. Just because I can.
I’d ruin her drive to be herself.
I don’t want to ruin Rook. And I don’t want to ruin Ashleigh, either. I like her the way she is, I want her to be herself. Small and vulnerable, yet brave and willing. Caring and honest, yet suspicious and hopeless. I’ve laughed more times with Ashleigh than I have in years. I like that she can do this, that being herself is so damn desirable to me.
But I want to be myself, as well. I want her to find me desirable the way I am.
The moaning interrupts my internal thoughts and then Ash buckles her back against the seat and releases a long breath. “I can’t wait to get to Vegas,” she says as she rests against the headrest, her eyes closed. “I hope I can satisfy you, Ford. I really do want to please you but I have this recessive wild side that I can’t control. It just pops into existence every now and then.”
“Ashleigh.” I wait for her to open her eyes and look over at me. “You’re perfect. I like the way you are. Don’t change for me.”
She puts the seat back and curls herself up in a little ball facing me. Like she’s a little cat getting ready to nap. “But what about the spankings?”
“I’m still going to spank you, koneko.”
She blushes and lowers her eyes.
“You can’t get out of that.”
“That’s cute. Kitten. It’s one of those erotic pet names, right?”
“I don’t care for pet names, but the way you curl up in the seat—you’re tiny, Ashleigh. So small.”
“Mmmmm. Yeah, I’ve always been the little one. I’m nothing like anyone else in my family at all. My mom was very tall, so’s my dad actually. He’s half German, so he’s bulky for an Asian-looking man. And my mom had blonde hair and blue eyes. My sister takes after her. Everyone in Asia loved my mom and sister because of how pretty they were, how they both had perfect Chinese accents. But me, I was the little quiet one who sat in the corner and drew. The one who refused to talk to the important people who would come to our house for business parties. They tried to make me speak Chinese and I just didn’t want to.”
I’m captivated by her story. I want to hear so much more so I stay quiet and let her think.
“My dad might not look Chinese—he’s very tall for one. And his eyes are this weird green color. But he’s very serious about the culture. And I was always a little bit wild when it came to discipline. When we moved back to America I found so many ways to rebel. It was too easy. So when I moved to Japan I kinda liked the fact that I had to rein it in a little. Not too much, but just a little. It was good for me to give in to a new culture and think about things differently. Give the old me a rest and try something new. I’ve always felt a little out of place, ya know?” She looks over at me and I nod, because yes. Yes, I do know. I’ve always felt a little out of place as well. “Have you ever heard the story of The Boy Who Drew Cats, Ford? It’s a Japanese folk tale.”
“No, but I’d like to hear it. Tell it.”
She takes a deep breath, like she’s preparing for something. Building up her courage. I’m not sure why a folk tale would require courage, but she must need it for something. So I turn-on the mind-reading skills and pay attention.
“This story is about a boy who refuses to do anything but draw cats. His family is patient, but they insist he try to be productive, so they send him out to learn trades. But the poor boy has an obsession. He only wants to draw cats. So one night, after drawing a massive cat on a long room-sized rice paper screen, he falls asleep in a cozy closet and hears a monster come in the night. There’s a battle outside his door, but he’s too afraid to go out and look. So he waits until morning and finds a giant dead rat and the cat he drew on the rice paper screen is facing the wrong direction. He puts all the clues together and decides that his huge cat drawing came to life and killed the giant rat that’s been terrorizing the village. From that day on, all the villagers celebrated his cat-drawing skills.”
She stops to giggle. “It’s absurd, but that’s Japanese tales for you. I like them though, and this one especially. Japan always felt like home to me, from the moment I stepped off the plane it was home. And this story speaks to me. It says, Be yourself, Ashleigh. You can be appreciated for who you are, even if your only talent is a little bit strange and seems to have no value. Because everyone is valuable. That’s what the moral is. So maybe I am a koneko and I’m part of this story in a way. I’m on a quest to try and be my true self but I have no idea who I am, Ford. My identity has been taken away. Maybe a kitten is my true self? Maybe I am something small and delicate that needs to be taken care of. Not something strong and determined that finds a way to appreciate her own strange place in the world.”
“Maybe you’re both. Maybe you can be independent and delicate at the same time?”
“Single mothers don’t have the luxury of being delicate. Single mothers have to do everything alone. So even if I wanted to be a kitten, I’m not allowed.”
That’s it. I need this girl. She’s so lost. She’s looking for someone to help her and I’d like to be that person. She’s got a hold of my heart and I can’t let her go back to Tony. She’s practically begging someone to take care of her and that fuck left her. “When did you live in Japan, Ashleigh?”
She turns away and looks out the window, still curled up in the seat. “Kate and I just got back, actually. Christmas Eve.” She looks over at me. “I’ve been in Japan since I was eighteen. I ran away and I had no intention of returning to the US ever again.”
“Why did you come back? Because of Tony?” She nods but I can feel her sadness like it’s a thick fog. This conversation is reminding her of him even as I sit here falling in love. “How old are you now?”
“Twenty-three.”
“You look very young.”
“I know,” she tells the window instead of me. “Because I’m small. But I feel so old. Like li
fe has passed me over. He said we’d grow old together but then he left me. And I feel like in the time since then, I got old without him. I feel like my life is over.”
There’s a pull-out up ahead on the side of the road. A spot for travelers to stop and take in the view. It’s an odd view, that’s for sure. Most of Utah is odd with the strange rock formations and the colors. But I’m not stopping for the view, so I just pull the fuck over.
“What’re we doing?” she asks, sitting up and flipping her seat back into its normal upright position.
I put the truck in neutral and pull the e-brake. “Ashleigh—” And suddenly I can’t say it. I want to. I want to tell her so many things. How I feel about her. How much I like Kate. How she makes me laugh. How desperate I am to stop her falling into a sad depression. Because I see it coming. If she’s not clinically depressed right now, she’s on the verge. She’s teetering on the edge.
I want to say so many things, but her word-slap in Wal-Mart comes back to me. She sees me as a distraction until she gets to LA to talk to her ex. To possibly beg him to reconsider and take her back. And I can’t take another slap like that. So I protect these new feelings and hide them away. I pull up the I’m in charge routine instead. “Ashleigh, I’m making a rule. You agreed to do what I asked—for one day. You agreed to this. So my rule is, no more talking about Tony.”
Her eyes squint down into slits immediately, but she holds her tongue.
“I don’t care if it makes you angry, I’ve heard enough. I won’t put up with it. You’re mine today. I won you. And I say fuck Tony. OK? My rules. No more Tony.”
She stares at me, her face hardened.
“Agreed?”
“Agreed,” she replies. But she turns her back to me and stares out at the window.
She stays silent for the entire two-hour ride to Richfield.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
We hit up another diner because it’s not even nine AM yet, so that’s pretty much all that’s open. Ashleigh is feeding Kate in the backseat before we head in. “So what should we do in Vegas tonight? You like to gamble?”
