Page 63 of To Go
“I’ve missed you too, sunshine. I’ve missed how tight you squeeze around me,” I roll my hips hard, leaving her gasping. “I’ve missed those unbelievable sounds that you make. Fuck, just the memory of the mess I made of your cunt has me coming every goddamn night.” I increase my pace, earning myself a long, slow whine. I slap my palm over her mouth, remembering that the cameras have mics, and she grips my hand, her other arm clinging to my shoulders, dragging me in closer.
I thank my lucky fucking stars that the closest camera would only have caught me going into the closet with her, but I can’t risk them hearing her noises. Those are only for me. It takes only a few thrusts before she shatters around me, writhing over my length and dragging me with her.
Our orgasms leave us both panting, twisted up in each other. I don’t let her go right away, needing to prolong the moment. One that I am going to ensure happens again.
And again and again.
“Come back to my place with me,” I murmur to her.
“And have Maria catch us? Not a chance,” she says, sliding down the wall and wiggling awkwardly back into her jeans, mess and all, before giving me a sly look.
“Then let me drive you home.” Her brows draw together, contemplating. “Please.” I know she’s too sweet to say no to manners, and if I have to exploit that, then so be it.
“Okay, stud.” She smiles, whipping through the last of her tasks before slipping her hand in mine and leading me to my car.
Stella chats my ear off the whole drive. She never seems to mind that I don’t respond a lot. She lets me get away with one-word answers and grunts, which I appreciate. I get so lost in what she’s saying to me, it startles me to realize we’ve reached her apartment.
Walking into her place again is a trip. The last time I was here, I was so single-minded that I didn’t pay a lick of attention to my surroundings. Now that I’m not as focused, I take my time looking around. It’s a small studio with her kitchen right by the front door and her bed pressed up against the far window. I can see a door off to the right that must be the bathroom, but that’s pretty much it.
She’s done her best with the space, decorating and adding shelving. It still reads as a temporary space. A gap-filler.
“Wow, that is a LOT of postcards,” I comment, gesturing to the walls covered in pictures of faraway places. How did I not notice this last time?
You were face-deep in her pussy.
Right.
“No, it’s not! It’s a perfectly normal amount,” she protests while filling up two glasses from the sink.
“Okay, why do you have a perfectly normal amount of postcards covering your walls?” I take a seat on her bed. It’s maybe a little presumptuous, but there’s next to nowhere to sit here and I’m worried her loveseat will break if I plunk down there.
“Smartass,” she says, rolling her eyes. “They’re places I want to travel to.” She brushes her fingertips across the one closest to her lovingly.
“Shit, that’s a lot.” I can count at least thirty-two on the wall in front of me alone. “How’d you get all of these?” Some look vintage, slightly discoloured and worn, some creases marring them here and there.
“They were my mom’s,” she says matter-of-factly.
“To inspire you to travel to the places she went?”
“And the places she didn’t get to go.” She smiles weakly. My heart breaks for her.
“I’m sorry, sunshine. When did she pass?” I ask carefully, not wanting to dredge up too many painful memories after last night.
“I’m fine. She died when I was eleven.” Only eight years ago. “Her friends and family used to send her postcards when they travelled, so when she went to a new place, she would buy one as a souvenir.”
“And you want to follow in her steps?”
“I want to feel closer to her. I never got enough time.”
“That’s why you work so hard, huh?” That’s… incredibly determined.
“My mom taught me I was in control of my fate. She had a saying she used whenever I would complain about a situation. ‘What you’re not changing, you’re choosing.’”
That hits me in the gut.
I stand up and walk to her, wrapping my arms around her. She tucks herself under my chin and hums contentedly. I will never get tired of holding my big-hearted girl. I slide my hands under her shirt and press a gentle kiss to her mouth. She sighs dreamily.
“You’re stronger than I would have ever guessed, sunshine,” I say, stroking her spine. She looks up at me with an arched brow.“It’s true. You like making things better for people.” She burrows her face into my chest.
