CHAPTER 8 #6
Without waiting for his response, I swiftly knelt before him and lifted the fabric of his left pant leg.
I studied the dark pink line of healed skin just below his knee, but everything looked intact.
There was no discoloration, and Cam didn’t seem to be in any pain when I gently prodded the skin around it.
The hairs on his leg tickled my fingers where my palm was cupping the back of his calf, and I swiped a thumb over them, just to feel them softly brushing against me.
“Everything looks fi-” I started but my voice died in my throat when my eyes lifted and met his.
His gaze was heavy-lidded above a deep blush that was staining his cheeks, one that could have been mistaken from the cold. But I was certain that wasn’t its cause. He was gazing down at me kneeling before him with my hands resting on the backs of his legs. It was... quite the scandalous position.
My face was just inches from his groin, but I couldn’t seem to pull my gaze from his, held prisoner as I was.
Body frozen to the spot, the cold seeped through my jeans, the damp grass wetting my knees.
But I couldn’t spare a thought to worry about that when my brain was entirely focused on the way my heart trembled at how Cam was looking down at me like that.
Like he was barely restraining himself.
Like he was moments away from pouncing on me.
Do it! Please, gods above, pounce! my mind cried out. Pin me to the ground!
There was something about kneeling before him as he watched me, desperate need darkening his eyes. It was a primal thing, the want to be dominated by him, used by him. I could practically feel his hands tangling in my hair as I imagined how it would play out.
He would grip my curls so tightly that tears stung my eyes, but I wouldn’t mind the edging pain.
My lips would part willingly, mouth open and waiting.
Inviting. Enticing. I would watch in eager rapture as he slowly unbuttoned his pants to pull his hard length free where he would press its flushed, glistening tip against my lips.
I could already feel the heat, taste the saltiness of his pre-cum...
He would be gentle and sweet at first, I knew he would.
Hesitant to hurt me or do something I didn’t like.
But as I’d moan encouragingly for him with his cock filling my mouth, my throat, he would lose that careful grip on his restraint.
He would become unhinged. Desperate. Then I would be choking on his dick, swallowing him down greedily as he thrusted into me, fucking my mouth with abandon.
Just imagining it was making me dizzy with desire as my cock filled, going half-hard at the grade-A porno starring Cam and I playing out in my mind.
But I wasn’t an exhibitionist. And despite it being late into the night in a quiet, supposedly abandoned cemetery, I didn’t want a possible audience for the first time I got to suck Cam’s dick.
Clearing my throat, I rose on slightly trembling feet. “It looks fine,” I repeated, “but I’ll still take a closer look when we’re home, yeah?”
Cam’s throat bobbed with a swallow as he nodded. At some point his eyes had glazed over, and I was certain mine were reflecting that same intense need. Perhaps he had been envisioning the same scenario I had.
I certainly hoped so.
Reluctantly pulling my gaze from his, I scanned our surroundings.
We had indeed stumbled, quite literally, into a cemetery.
A few stone and marble mausoleums dotted the area amongst the many many gravestones.
The sporadic placement of oaks looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn’t be sure with just a passing glance in the dark.
Shadows danced around us as the moon was intermittently covered by drifting layers of gossamer clouds.
“Briarwood Cemetery,” Cam told me softly as he glanced around.
“How are you so sure?” I asked him, genuinely curious.
He pointed, and I followed his direction to a large sign posted into the ground a short distance away from where we were standing.
“Alright, Sherlock.” I snorted. “Grand deduction.”
He snickered, “Want to have a look around, Holmes?”
Before I could answer, Cam had already grabbed my hand to walk us down through the rows and rows of headstones.
“What do you plan to find,” I asked. “Certainly not buried treasure. Grave robbing is just as illegal as necromancy.”
I was growing slightly nervous. Why would they host a pumpkin festival so close to a damn cemetery? And this cemetery of all places. I couldn’t exactly remember where I’d left it, but as Briarwood’s largest public cemetery, what were the odds we’d just happen upon it?
After we’d strolled around for a few minutes through the stones with their intermittent flowers and softly fluttering flags, Cam’s sudden question nearly made me stumble.
“Is this...”
High. The odds were apparently very high.
Cam had pulled me to a stop in front of a newer-looking flat stone. It was black with a name I was all too familiar with etched neatly into it.
“V. Grimsley,” Cam read. “Why do you have a gravestone here?”
Well, cat was out of the bag. I could deny that it was mine, but I didn’t have a particularly common name. Plus, I didn’t like the idea of lying to Cam. He was either going to think I was a genius or a total weirdo. There could not be anything in between.
But the question that came out of my mouth was, “How do you know my last name?”
“Saw it on your mail,” he answered. “Also, Alice said it when she was scolding you. And you told that security guard at the morgue.”
Wow, I felt stupid.
I chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck with chilled fingers, “Right...”
He watched me expectantly. There was no judgement in his eyes, just questions. Questions I had no reason not to answer. Not when it was Cam who was asking them.
“People rob houses, they don’t rob graves anymore,” I told him casually. "I keep important stuff in there.”
Not to mention my drop-everything-and-go bag. Thus, the shovel in my trunk.
When I’d settled on Briarwood because of the job posting, buying my house had been a risk, but one that was necessary to take.
I kept my backup plan, my escape route, safely hidden here.
Not six feet under, screw shoveling that much dirt, but still safe.
It didn’t lessen the lingering sense of fear that hovered around me like a cloud of dread.
Where I lived, where I worked, places I frequented…
They all carried the risk of being discovered.
I couldn’t hide forever but I also couldn’t put my life on hold just because I was afraid.
It helped lessen my anxiety to know that I had a way out if I needed it.
If I had to abandon my life once more and go.
Cam was watching me with a patient expression, so I puffed out a breath, dragging my fingers through my hair.
“I used to... move around a lot. I quickly got used to taking only what could fit on my back. Easier that way. I don’t have many mementos or valuables, but those I do have I keep in there.
” I gestured to the grave at our feet. “And a bag of essentials and money. Just in case... Well... After what Ro-”
I quickly cut myself off before I said too much.
But I had already said too much because, like a hound to the scent, Cam’s gaze hardened with intrigue.
Unspoken words floated between us, his eyes boring into mine with such open honesty that my knees nearly went weak. They were eyes that could make anyone spill their deepest, darkest secrets.
They whispered, “I see you. They promised, “I’m here.” They soothed, “You can trust me.”
I took a deeply fortifying breath of the brittle night air. In my nose and out of my mouth. Once, twice, then three times before my resolve had a chance to crumble.
“My... ex. His name is Ron, well, Byron. We ended things a couple years ago. He’s the reason why I had to uproot my life, moved to Briarwood, bounced around before getting a new place, a steady job, and got rid of everything that could tie me to him.”
Cam reached out and grabbed my hand once more, abandoning the grave with my name on it. As we walked, I spoke, the words spilling forth as they never had before. As we walked, Cam listened while I revealed to him the painful truth of what, and who, had nearly broken me.