Chapter 15

Hannah's POV

Closure. That was what I came here for. Sun hit the edge of a steel tombstone and glared at my eyes, almost blinding me. Just a month ago, Lance was living, walking among us. But now, he laid here with nothing but his head. I searched my mind, looking for the good, the happy and the beautiful. But all my head could come up with was that stupid BDSM shit I saw in his house. It made it difficult to forgive him. 

Wind rolled dried leaves along the ground and there was a crunch, a reminder that Vincent was behind me. I looked over my shoulders, my heart pulsing. He was dressed in an all black attire—black shirt, trouser and Chesterfield coat. A subtle smile of encouragement stretched on his face. 

He had been supportive ever since Lance's death. I could talk to him about my consistent anger that plagued me about his death and he always reminded me that I was normal to feel that way. He was my brief comfort for the past few weeks. But I was scared. I didn't want this to go any further than it already was. Besides, we hadn't have any sort of sex or kiss since the death. I appreciated that as well. I needed the time to think and process the fucked up situation.

"Hey Lance," I said, crossing my arms and rubbing my elbows. "I know you're probably going to be mad that I didn't attend your funeral."

Knowing him, he probably wouldn't even give a shit. The piece of shit wasted my life. In my country, ladies were always advised to date to marry. If our mothers were to ever find out we didn't wish to marry the man we were dating, they would throw a fit. I was already twenty-seven years old. Three more years and those toxic alpha male podcasts would start calling me 'expired goods'. They would say shit like she hit her wall or she's gonna die alone with her cats and knitwear. Well they were all going to die with receding hairlines and fucked up erections.

It wasn't like getting married was the only thing I sought after. But it felt nice knowing there would be someone who would want to be with you for better and for worse. In this fucked up world, someone offering forever was like they were offering you an irreplaceable jewel. I thought I was that irreplaceable jewel to Lance. Apparently, he preferred rim jobs and ass spanks. 

"Five years, Lance. Five years down the drain and you didn't have to pay for your atrocities. You sure know how to avoid consequences. The signs were always there." I clenched my jaw. "The lying about the girls you were fucking, the late night practices even though it was off season, the constant anonymous pant deliveries in the mail. Fuck, I was so blind. All because I thought you had loved me the way I loved you. Well, shit. I'm only here to pay my respects because unlike you, I still have a heart."

I tossed the flower, the petals making a soft rustle as they hit the tombstone. Lance Junior (1990 to 2024.) Beloved son and brother. I clenched my jaw. Beloved? There was nothing beloved about him. My fists balled and a soft touch grazed my fingers. Electricity coursed through my body and I stilled, his dark gaze cutting through my mind and pacifying me for the duration of his stare. 

"You did good, Hannah," he said, palming my cheek. I snuggled in his hold, closing my eyes. Something about him screamed danger but he always managed to make me feel safe. In his chaos, I found serenity. "Lance is gone and you have been strong all this while. So strong in ways I could never have fathomed."

"It's all because of you."

"I'm only glad I could be of help." He leaned his face closer and I gulped. His plump lips were so full of blood and all parts of me craved to feel them. But it was wrong. Lance laid probably six feet below us.

Perhaps reading my thoughts, he smiled and kissed me. Oh Lord, he kissed me and I marvelled at his touch, my body pushing to his, roping my arms around his neck and standing at the ball of my feet. 

I tossed my head back, letting him ravish me with kisses. Kisses so hot they burned like the devil lit them himself. Maybe he did because I had my own devil. He was here, burning me with his fiery touch, lighting me in ways I never knew possible. His kisses today were tender, soft, like he was trying to make a declaration but pulling himself back.

In an instant, the man from the rainy night returned. He shoved me to the floor, his eyes alight with true unbridled desire. His stance over me was domineering, weakening my knees and resolve. I stared beyond him. Far ahead was a short fence that joined overlooking the road. People walked by and cars occasionally zoomed past the graveyard. Anyone passing should be able to see us. However, a tree that should probably be five centuries old shielded us, its massive umbrella of leaves casting a large shadow over the grave.

I locked my legs , rubbing them together in a helpless attempt to stop the throbbing between them. It was useless. Everything about Vincent turned me on. His all black attire, the way his Chesterfield coat hugged his body, his sharp breathing as he watched me—it was everything. 

"Vincent, we shouldn't." I gulped. "What are you doing?"

"Showing your dead ex how you deserve to be treated." He took three menacing steps forward. "Legs open, now."

Obeying, little droplets of my arousal ran down my inner thighs, reaching my ass and licking the grass. I bit my lips enjoying the way he stared between my legs. He dropped to his knees, taking off his Chesterfield coat.

"You can't take off your clothes. What if they see us?"

He wet his lower lip and smirked. "When I dine, I prefer comfort."

Lord have mercy. He leaned forward, my lower stomach shielding the lower half of his face. He looked up at me and those dark weapons fired shots of pleasure across my skin. Heat flared throughout my body, ready for his torment.

"God, you're beautiful," he muttered, grabbing a handful of my stomach. "Every inch," he kissed my thigh, his mouth leaving naughty wet trails on my skin, "is heavenly. Like God made you for me."

My body trembled as he shifted my panties to a side. Someone could just come around the tree and see us. But the thought of that hardened my nipples, the internal threads of the cotton shirt I wore clinging to it. 

He inhaled deeply. "Sweet heavens, just like I imagined. Pure bliss."

He lowered his head, letting the pad of his thumb raise my slick hood so I was purely exposed to him. His tongue lapped on my swollen clit, licking languidly, his eyes maintaining dangerous contact with mine. Heat brimmed in my cheeks and I bit my lips, combing my hand through his hair and guiding him.

I writhed above him as he rested my thighs on his powerful shoulders, tormenting me with his blissful licks, each motion setting my skin on fire. My other free hand grabbed the tombstone above me. He was eating me out like Lance never did. For some reason, I was glad we were doing this, so the bastard could see what he could never do. 

My toes curled and using my calves, I moved Vincent closer, his breath fanning over my pulsing pussy. He raised his head, his nose glistening with my juices. A smug smirk was on his face and the absence of his touch was pissing me off.

"Someone is getting greedy," he slapped my pussy. "Doesn't it make you question yourself?" Slap! "Dripping over the grave of your ex." Slap! "Tell me, Hannah?" Slap! "What do you really want?"

Tears pooled at the corner of my eyes as I watched his hardness bulging against his pants. That must've hurt. My gaze lingered down there and the smile on his face meant that he got the hint.

"Say it," he commanded. "What do you want?"

"I want you to fuck me."

"Over what?"

"Over the grave of my ex."

His belt was off in a second and in one drop of his hip, he took my breath away and entered my aching heat. "Good girl."

Holding the tombstone over my head for support, I moved my hips, clenching around him. He dropped in me , my ass pressing the sticky grass my juices had flooded. A grunt escaped his lips as he captured my mouth in a kiss. Hot, searing and passionate was his touch as I fell into his control, letting him ease in and out of me with the power of a man so ensnared by lust.

His jaw clenched and he cupped my ass cheeks, squeezing and dipping lower. The squelching of my juices grew louder as he increased his pace. Pleasure rippled through me and I didn't mind that my elbows were sore from holding the tombstone for too long.

"Fuck, look at you, defiling the grave of your ex like a good slut. My slut," he muttered. "Your juices looks so beautiful over his damnation."

"Oh fuck."

My pussy wrapped around him perfectly as he throbbed in me, growing larger and larger with each pulse. I raised my legs higher, watching the sky. Birds soared above and time seemed to slow them down, my eyes blurring with tears. My sanity, it was dripping away from me. With each slam of his hip, he increased the crack in my mind, letting more of my logical reasoning stream away.

A thrill of pleasure ran to every part of my body, ringing warnings bells. Alerting me of the ruination of what I would have once called common sense. I was being fucked over the grave of my ex. It shouldn't feel good, but it did. 

"Open up, Love."

I did as asked and his shadow casted over me before he buried himself in my mouth. My insides were flushed with his release, the salty taste attacking my taste buds. He groaned and I finger fucked myself faster, enjoying how he trembled above me as I sucked every last drop.

"Jesus," he cried out, letting out a little whimper, "Oh God. Oh my," tremble, "God!"

I exploded and closed my eyes, my body floating for a second and dropping in another.  His stickiness ran over my teeth with his exit. I smiled, watching him breath so heavily. Something about making him weak pacified me with bliss that felt so eternal. 

You had an orgasm over the grave of your ex.

Shit, I needed to get a therapist. 

***

Resting my back at the foot of my bed, I typed into my laptop, looking for the nearest therapist in my area. The chirping of birds roamed the air and I looked over my shoulders, watching the sun set. A warm orange coated the sky and below were streaks of dying purple. The earth was at peace, but I wasn't. I needed to find a therapist so I could know if something was genuinely wrong with me.

I typed into the laptop and started scrolling. My fingers paused at an image of a dark haired woman with monolid eyes and a wide smile. Dr Ava Lin. She looked nice. I travelled further into her page. It said she had ten years.of experience. Hopefully that would be enough for my insanity.

Anxiety rippled through my stomach. This was the first time I was seeing a therapist. What if she went home to tell her friends? No, she couldn't. For someone working for ten years, she most likely would be professional. Navigating the arrow, I hit the "book" button. It said here that her price was five hundred dollars per hour. With my salary, I could afford that. It wasn't like I would be spending more than hour with her. I wasn't that fucked up.

You would be surprised.

Resting my fingers on the bridge of my nose, I hissed. This was definitely normal. People did weird things and they grew out of it.

People definitely don't fuck over the grave of their ex.

Ah, shit. It almost felt like I was living in a dark romance novel because tell me why it had to be me of all people who was experiencing this. My life before was basic. Eat, watch movies, sleep, repeat. Now, it was so out of touch that nothing felt like a routine. Almost like I was living at the edge of my seat. Crazy as it sounded, I kinda liked it.

The door swept wide and I quickly closed my tab. I wouldn't want Ashley asking questions. Despite hating Lance, she would be disappointed in me if she knew what happened on his grave. I wasn't one to hide things from her. But with the way things were going in my life, I needed to keep her as far away as possible from it. 

She pursed her lips and joined me on the ground, resting her head on my shoulder. "How did it go?"

"Good."

Very good.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better."

Like I'm on top of the world.

"Hannah," she massaged my forearm, "I wanna ask you something. And baby, you've gotta promise to tell me the truth."

Oh shit. 

"Are you and your boss an item? I mean he came over the other day and took you book shopping. And now he's escorting you to see Lance's grave."

"It's complicated."

"How?"

Where would I start? Firstly we signed a contract with some of the most downright-insane sexual activities. Secondly, I was beginning to crave some emotional attachment but couldn't because of that stupid contract clause. Thirdly, out of respect for myself, I decided to not ask for more than I was given. Oh the list was endless.

"Let's just say, we're figuring things out."

"Okay," she looked up at me from my shoulder, "but I saw what Lance did to you. I wouldn't want you to be making the same mistake again."

"I know and I'm truly grateful for your concern."

"And if you ever need a date, let me know. I can hook you up with the most eligible bachelor's in New fort."

Well she could. Her parents were the most renowned doctors in the city and owned a massive pharmacy company and also a hospital. So she got to interact with a lot of wealthy ass men who were looking to settle down. Besides, the contract didn't state I couldn't date anyone, even though Vincent didn't approve of it. 

"Once I'm ready, I'll let you know."

For now, I needed to get my head straight.