Page 25 of Grave Obsession

Yes, I would.

What are you up to, little siren?

Are you ignoring me, baby?

Just remember, good girls get to cum and

bad girls get punished.

I’ll be seeing you later, little siren.

Well, that played out exactly how I wanted it to. Slickness gathers between my legs at the thought of him ravaging me later, feral and unrestrained. I trust him, he won’t force me into anything unless I want him to, and I do. Whatever he wants, I’ll do it with a smile on my face.

Mallory:

Looking forward to it.

Also, I’m just in town, be home later.

I wait…but there’s no reply. Such a jerk, trying to give me a taste of my own medicine. That’s fine, I know I’ll be seeing him later. I lock the car and head towards the store.

A sudden feeling of unease swamps me, goosebumps spread across my skin and the hair on the back of my neck stands up. I’m being watched, I don’t know how I know it, I just do. Which is odd since I’ve been stalked for months now and never felt this sense of danger awareness before. It must be Ghost watching me from somewhere.

I shrug it off and realize I’m not living in a haze of dissociation and depression today. I’m much more aware of my surroundings and my body is becoming attuned to it as well as my brain. Still, I slow my steps and scan the area. Nothing is out of place or alarming. There isn’t a person sitting in their vehicle creepily leering after me. No one hiding in the cart corral peering at me from a gap in the siding. There’s nothing. No one in the parking lot at all. I shouldn’t be surprised the small town is lifeless on a dark and stormy day. Everyone is taking shelter indoors, hiding from the effects of mother nature. I make my way across the parking lot a little quicker than before, just in case. Puddles splash beneath my feet, splattering muddy water up the bottom of my pants. I don’t know what has come alive in my brain but I don’t like it, I don’t want to be scared. Ghost doesn’t scare me. Just as I approach the door, I hear footsteps pounding up behind me on the wet pavement. A gloved hand reaches out from behind me and grabs the door handle.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Graves

Fuck, her fear is a delicious aphrodisiac I want to drown myself in. Her pupils are blown wide, there's adrenaline coursing through her veins, and her breaths are coming in quick little pants. It’s so fucking hot, the effect I have on her body. I bet if I touched her pussy right now, it would be wet, all for me. Always for me. Only me.

She gazes up at me and what looks like relief smooths over her features. “After you, ma’am,” I say, opening the door for her.

“Shit, Nox, you about gave me a heart attack running up behind me like that,” she laughs, entering the store. The sound of my name, not Ghost's, coming from her is already injecting life into my dick. I want to hear it falling from her lips in breathy little gasps as I thrust into her.

“Sorry, I just wanted to be a gentleman. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Well I did, but she doesn’t need to know that. We move together into the store so as to not block the entrance way.

A blush flushes her cheeks, “Thank you, for opening the door. I wish I could stay and chat but I’m trying to be quick. We’ll catch up soon, yeah?” her voice is light, melodic and inquisitive. I wish she would stay. Actually, I wish I could go with her. Would it be weird to follow her? Probably. I stay rooted to my spot and nod. She gives a little wave and then takes off towards the furniture section.

Lucky for me I was already in town when she texted me back. It wasn’t hard to find her little black car, angle parked on the road just outside the department store. I do wonder why she’s here, but I will just wait her out and see for myself.

Walking the food aisles, I’m picking out non perishables so nothing will spoil in my truck when I’m wrapped up in her embrace later. Bread, pasta, soup, canned goods, crackers, and chips. Just a bunch of bullshit that won’t be money down the drain no matter how long it sits in my vehicle.

I’m so bored, standing here reading cereal boxes while I watch the check out area. Growing more and more impatient as I wait for my woman to finally finish up her shopping.

Looking across the store, I know I shouldn’t move to the kitchen appliances section, it’s parallel to the furniture section, but I do. I also know that I shouldn’t be watching her from behind the display of coffee makers, but I am. She’s struggling with getting a bookshelf into her cart. Do I go offer my assistance? It’s what your friendly neighbourhood police officer would do, so that’s what I’ll do.

Sidling up beside her, I apparently scare her for the second time today because she jumps when I ask, “Do you need some help?”

She looks up at me from beneath her lashes, back bent, comically trying to support the weight of the box. She has three books in her cart, is that where she’s been all this time? In the book aisle? I should have known.

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been struggling with this box forever!” she breathes out, exasperated. I know she’s been trying to get a good grip on the box for a few minutes.

I was watching, admiring her tenacity, studying her problem solving skills.

“I know, I was watching,” I smirk. Her eyes shoot to mine and her body stills. Oh no, back pedal, Graves. She can’t connect me to Ghost this soon. “I didn’t know whether to come offer help or not. I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

“Well, thank you for waiting until all the feminism bled from my body and I realized I needed a big strong man to help me,” she snips with a smile pulling at her lips.

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