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Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.”
My voice cracked on the last sentence, and I coughed, trying to clear the lump in my throat and keep my composure. Graham mouthed a thank you to me, his eyes rimmed with red, and I nodded at him, unable to speak. Stumbling back to the pew, I collapsed next to Olivia and she leaned into me, rubbing my arm and whispering in my ear.
“You did well. I’m proud of you, and I know Martha’s looking down on you right now, smiling.” She kissed my cheek, her lips soft.
“Thank you,” I croaked in a whisper.
Taking my hand, she laced our fingers together, her presence a source of comfort and support.
The rest of the funeral passed in a blur.
Olivia drove us the short distance to the cemetery in my car, following a respectful distance behind the hearse carrying Martha’s coffin. The rain had stopped, but the weather remained grey and miserable, fitting the mournful tone. As our small group gathered around the damp, freshly dug earth of Martha’s burial plot, my eyes filled with tears at the finality of it all. I bit my lip, hard, as the coffin was lowered into the ground. Olivia moved closer, hugging me tightly, her hands sliding inside my suit jacket and around to my back, instinctively knowing exactly what I needed.
This woman was a rock, an anchor in the storm.
I cradled her in my arms, kissing the top of her head as I breathed in and out.
Closing my front door behind us, Olivia turned to me.
“Do you—”
I cut her off by wrapping my hand around the back of her neck and placing my lips over hers. She immediately responded, opening her mouth to mine and pressing against me, going up on her toes and winding her arms around my neck. I brought my other arm around her, holding her in place. I set the pace, slow and languid, caressing her hair, her back, needing this. This closeness. The funeral had been so fucking hard for me. I needed to feel something real.
“I need you. Come to bed with me.” I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against hers.
“Yes.” One word, softly spoken. No hesitation.
I led her to the bedroom, then stopped, turning her around and unzipping her dress. It slipped from her shoulders and pooled around her feet. Kissing across her neck and shoulders, I spun her back around. Our eyes met, her pupils huge, dilated with lust.
“Baby.” I groaned. “I need to feel you.”
She responded by sliding my suit jacket off my shoulders, pressing her body against me. “Clothes off,” she commanded, and I obeyed. She peeled her underwear away from her body, and I drank her in, staring at her lush tits, my dick reacting instantly.
“Luke.” Her voice was thick, full of desire. “Let me take care of you first.”
“How?”
She didn’t answer but tugged me towards my bed and pushed me down onto my front, her touch gentle. Climbing onto the mattress, she straddled me, placing her hands on my shoulders.
“You’re so tense,” she whispered, her hands working at the knots in my muscles, relieving the stiffness.
“That feels so good.” My voice came out hoarse, unsteady.
Leaning down, she wriggled against me, raining kisses over my shoulders. I felt her bare breasts brush against my back, and I couldn’t wait any longer.
“I’m turning over now.”
I lay on my back, staring up at her sitting on top of me. My cock ached to be inside her, but I held off. She looked so fucking beautiful, her lips curved into a sultry smile, her curvy body begging to be touched.
“I want you.” She raised herself up onto her knees, then lowered herself onto my dick, tortuously slowly. We both groaned as she slid all the way down. Buried in her warm heat, the feel of her wrapped around my cock was unbelievably intense. She began to roll her hips, slowly, sexily, never taking her eyes from mine.
“Olivia.” I ran my hands over her lush curves, feeling her nipples pebble under my fingers, moving my hands lower, her smooth skin like silk against my palms. Gripping her hips, I moved us into a deeper rhythm, her moans spurring me on.
