It makes my pussy clench around him again and he cries out. “Fuck!” His hips slam into me one, two, three more times before he stills. I keep my legs wrapped around him, not wanting to let him go. But he makes no move to.
No, not at all. Instead, when the waves of his orgasm finally subside, cock emptied inside of me, he looks down.The blue of his eyes looks almost black but shine with such tenderness as he braces his weight on one arm to cup my face with his free hand. He doesn’t speak, and neither do I.
I’m not even sure what I’d say right now. And the silence is comfortable, calming, like the soft roll of the waves against the shore.
“That was…” He trails off, thumb brushing my cheek. He does that for a few moments, before he rolls us over to our sides, keeping himself firmly inside of me. He pulls me closer, like he wants to keep us fused forever.
“Yeah,” I say dreamily. My eyes grow heavy even though I need to get up and go to the bathroom. Just a few more moments in this bliss. “That was everything.”
That was like coming home.
29
Aspen
After spending a couple of days rotting in bed, contemplating my next move, and spiraling about my mother contacting me, I finally kicked myself in the ass. Work doesn’t stop because of it. The world doesn’t stop spinning because mine felt like it momentarily halted.
So I went back to On Tap, pasted on a smile until it became genuine, and spent time with Reid. We’ve been back and forth staying at each other’s places for the last week. Today, he let me borrow his car so I could run some errands since it’s my day off. He offered to come with, but I saw the notebook he quickly tucked away when I opened the door to his office.
Those were most definitely lyrics I saw sprawled across the page. And there was a spark of light in his eyes as he tossed me his keys.
Better to leave him be, and I wanted to do this on my own. Last night when I got home from work, I did someresearch on animal shelters around the city. I picked out a few to go to today to see if any were hiring. Not many of their websites had any employment information, only volunteer sign ups. While I would love to do so, if I ever want to quit On Tap, I’m going to need to find a paid position.
The first one I pull up to is closed, which seems odd for the middle of the afternoon. The next one I make my way to is completely overrun by a school bus full of children volunteering for the day. As soon as I walk inside, the staff all have strained faces and shoulders up their ears.
Probably not the best time to bother them.
I climb back in the car and head to the next one on my list. It’s one of a few storefronts in a long building with an awning covered in pawprints over the door.
A petite woman with short, spiky hair and full sleeves of tattoos smiles at me when I open the door. “Good afternoon.” She has a slight accent that I can’t place.
“Hi,” I say. The keychain on my bag rattles as I walk in. It’s barely heard over the faint sounds of barking. “How’re you doing?”
“I’m well, thank you. What can I help you with?”
I stop short of the counter and fiddle with the strap of my bag. “I was wondering if there are any openings here on your team. I love animals and uh—”Confidence. Reid’s words ring in my head.Have confidence and don’t falter.“I’m trying to switch up my career path, and I love animals, so I figured a shelter may be a good place to start.” My cheeks heat as I wipe my palms on the sides of my jeans. That could’ve sounded better.
The woman nods encouragingly. “What was your name?”
“Aspen.” I extend my hand to hers. The many rings on her fingers are cool against my heated skin.
“Celia. Nice to meet you. We don’t currently have any open positions, but we’re always looking for volunteers.”
I try to school my features to not let my immediate disappointment show. “Um, yeah. Sure, any information you have on that would be great. I’d love to.” Maybe for now, it’s at least a step in the right direction.
“We also partner with a few foster programs in the area.” She slides a booklet across the counter. “If you’re interested in becoming a foster for?—”
“Oh my gosh, this is the foster program I adopted my cat through!” The name recognition hits me the moment I see the packet. “I was a foster fail.” I laugh.
Celia smiles warmly. “I myself have been a foster fail.” She flips a picture frame around. The photo is three dogs, all different breeds, piled onto a small couch together. “My three fails.”
I show her my phone lockscreen. Macaroni’s big orange belly fills the screen. “Mine too.”
She gasps and pulls the phone closer. “He’s so handsome.”
“He knows it, too. I’d love to have more one day, but I’m in an apartment and it’s just not big enough for more cats.” I would love to try fostering again, but I know myself. I’ll probably end up keeping any future ones too.
And at that point, a two bedroom apartment with two roommates and one cat already isn’t enough.
