And she gives everything to me. Every moan. Every whimper. Every tremble of her body. Every shake of the bookshelf because she’s gripping it too hard. Every fucking thing. And I take it all happily.
“Evan, I don’t think I can…'” she cries as I push in and out of her mercifully, her body arching forward. She’s not being vocal, which is good, but she keeps shaking the shelves which is just as bad, if not, worse.
“You can, baby. Just relax,” I whisper into her flesh, the sound vibrating against her. As the words leave my mouth, I hear her slap her hand across her mouth, her other hand gripping onto my hair as she climaxes with a groan into her hand.
Her body shakes as she comes down from the high and I gingerly pull my fingers out of her as she moans softly. Jesus, she’s a masterpiece. She slowly lowers her leg from my shoulder, and I help her slip her panties back on as I stand to my feet.
She avoids eye contact with me as she straightens out her blouse as if I didn’t just wreck her and give her the best orgasm of her life. Her face is sweaty, hairs sticking to her forehead and her cheeks are the reddest I’ve ever seen. I can’t help myself, so I stroke her cheek, her face resting in my hand. She melts into it for a second, her chest still heaving as she lets me hold her.
“That was just…” She sighs, her eyes closing slightly. She doesn’t need to finish her sentence because I know exactly what she means.
“Yeah. It was,” I reply. She tilts her head out of my hands, and I smooth her sweaty hair out of her face. “I knew you’d be a good girl for me.”
She rolls her eyes, but I catch the satisfied smile on her face. She swats my hand from her face, turning away from me. “Let’s just pick out a book and get out of here.”
33
Scarlett
I’ve not been to many funerals in my life.
As a kid I went to my mom’s parents' joint funeral, but I don’t remember it. I remember the bleak colours and the crying, but that’s about it. I remember that I had to stay by my family the whole day and there was a party after.
I went to two in the same week for Lucas and Sara, even though there were no bodies to be buried. I felt like I dissociated throughout most of the service anyway. It’s not that I didn’t care, but more that it was hard to feel. With my grandparents, I felt something so painful for them and I remember crying because everybody else was. But for Lucas and Sara, mostly because they were extended family, I didn’t feel much. Or anything, really.
I either feel things at full volume or I feel nothing at all. For Gio, I’m in the middle of those two extremities. He meant so much to me, but hearing the way everybody is talking about him like he tried to murder my dad, it’s hard not to feel a bit of anger towards him. All I can think is that he manipulated me into believing he is in danger, but he really was behind it the whole time. It explains his sketchy behaviour at the restaurant and at his house.
The service was nice, though. Quiet. Even though we held the service in LA because of the company and where other family members were buried, tons of people showed up. So much so that there were people standing outside the church waiting until we went to the cemetery. Both girls came with me for support and Evan did too, sitting with his dad in one of the far corners of the church.
It’s good he didn’t sit anywhere near me because of what happened in the library. I don’t think I’m ready to look at him without my thoughts turning filthy and now is really, not the time. I still have no fucking clue how he managed to make me feel so good. Everything he did was so overwhelming, and it felt so... right. Which is fuckingterrifying.
Evan and his dad are both wearing blacked out shades. His dad, Sam, is the exact double of Evan. I don’t know what his mom looks like, but I doubt he has any of her features because of how alike he and his dad look. They’ve both got that sly smirk, blonde hair, sharp jaws, and a glare to kill. Sam’s a handsome man and he doesn’t look all that old. He could even pass for Evan’s brother. I let myself wonder if Evan will look that good when he’s older.
As we gathered around the burial spot in the cemetery amongst other Voss family members, Wren, and Kennedy by my side, each of them linked their arms in mine, I knew something was wrong before it happened.
The pastor was still reading his ‘There is a time for everything’ bible verse, Gio was already lowered in the ground, but not covered, when I locked my eyes with him. I saw the realisation that he’d been caught dawn on him the exact same time I put the pieces together.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” I told the girls.
“Okay, we’ll be by the car when you’re ready,” Kennedy said, squeezing my hand before I slipped away from her.
So that’s how I ended up following a guy who looked suspiciously familiar in the middle of my uncle's burial.
The second I laid eyes on him; he dropped his gaze to the ground and bolted. If he is who I think he is, why is running from me? I mean, people don’t usually come back from the dead, but if it’s not him then he doesn’t need to be running.
It rained yesterday so my heels are getting stuck in the mud as I try to keep up with him. There are not many places to hide in a cemetery when the graves aren’t big enough to hide a six-four man in a black hoodie and jeans.
“Listen,” I shout. I’m only a few paces behind him now, far away from the burial. “Can you stop running? I can only go so far in heels.”
Obviously, that doesn’t stop him. Why would it? He’s only come back from the dead. I try to keep up with him again, but he’s picked up the pace, now darting along the path. Only it’s cobblestones and my shoe keep getting stuck in the stone.
“Shit,” I groan when I trip over, falling to my knees. The stones hit my knees and my hands graze the concrete, stinging both my knees and palms. As I go to stand, brushing off my skirt, he’s turned back around now, standing right in front of me. He looks exactly the same; a full head of hair, messy and untamed beard, looking the same as the picture they used at his funeral service.
“Lucas?”
I knew saying his name out loud would make this all so real. For a second, I thought maybe I was going crazy. That I had made it all up in my head. I didn’t expect the sick feeling I have in my stomach as he looked at me. He reaches out, to steady me maybe, but I take a step back.
“Did anyone follow you out here?” he asks. I look back and we’re a good five minute walk away from the burial. I turn back to him, swallowing as I shake my head.
