Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 90721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Sparks of color exploded behind my clenched eyelids, and large bolts of lightning streamed through my veins, bowing my body up, allowing him to hit that spot deep inside of me that he’d found with his fingers earlier.
“Sebastian!” I gasped loudly.
“God, that tight little pussy is clamped down on my cock so hard that I can barely breathe.” He gasped.
It didn’t stop him from plunging in deeper and harder. With one, two, three strokes, he stiffened. His abs clenched, his fingers tightened on my ankles, his head fell back, and he shouted his release.
“Motherfucker!” He bellowed.
In that moment, I was glad I didn’t have neighbors, because it was obvious that neither one of us would be quiet during sex. Me with my moans and screams, and Sebastian with his growls and bellows.
When he withdrew, I felt empty, and missed the feeling of fullness instantly.
He disposed of the condom in the toilet, and fell back into bed, making me bounce with the force of his body hitting the mattress.
“Mother of God, I think you killed me.” I gasped.
“They don’t call it the ‘Little Death’ for nothing.” Sebastian agreed, as he himself was laid out beside me.
“We need more condoms.” I breathed.
“That we do.” Sebastian seconded.
***
“Here. You’re going to want this. I don’t have near enough, since I know you’ll want to do it to everyone, but there’s over five hundred pennies there.” Sebastian said, handing me a thick Crown Royal bag.
The coins in the bag jingled, and I sat it in my lap, looking at Sebastian curiously. “I guess I never really asked what kind of errand we were running. Will you tell me now?”
Sebastian was currently driving on the highway. His right hand was on the steering wheel, and his left was hanging absently out the window. He had an empty Dr. Pepper bottle that he was spitting sunflower seeds into in between his legs. The black hat that was on his head partially shielded his eyes when he looked over to me and smiled sadly.
“We’re visiting a few friends.” He said with a crack in his voice, and then stayed silent for the remaining miles it took to get to our destination.
I stayed silent as well, feeling the change that had overcome him when he passed over the Oklahoma border.
The radio was silent; the only thing breaking through was the sound of wind pounding through the open window.
It was when we pulled up to the Fort Hill Cemetery gates that I finally understood his somber mood. He said ‘we’re visiting friends,’ but I didn’t understand that ‘friends’ meant deceased. I’d thought he’d meant friends who were alive. Now, seeing the big beautiful gates, I understood.
And my eyes started tearing up.
The friends I’d seen in the picture hanging on his office. He’d spoken about them like they were his best friends in the world. Were they who he was visiting?
When he found a parking spot towards the back of the lot, he put the truck in park, released his seatbelt, and reached behind him, removing a big black gun from the small of his back. Another one came off his ankle. And yet another one came from his other ankle.
He watched my face impassively as he removed his weapons. Knives came from pockets, and I wondered what the hell he was doing.
“What the heck are you doing with all those on you?” I asked baffled.
He smiled. “I always have them on me.”
Don’t think I didn’t notice that fucking ankle bracelet on him. Which meant he wasn’t allowed to have all those weapons. Although, I was more concerned with him getting in trouble, rather than the fact that a person with an ankle bracelet that monitored his whereabouts was carrying weapons.
“Why are you taking them all off?” I asked.
“Cemetery prohibits weapons, concealed or otherwise. Out of respect, everyone follows it. If you’re carrying anything weapon wise, you should take it out of your pockets.” He said, looking pointedly at the bulge in the pocket of my jeans.
“How did you know I was carrying anything that resembled a weapon?” I asked as I removed my keys, which remarkably had a Swiss Army Knife attached to them, from my pocket.
He gave me a look. You know, the kind that resembled a ‘do you think I’m a dumbass’ stare. Then he hopped out of the truck, walked around to my side, and opened it for me.
I smiled at his chivalry, and squinted at the bright noonday sun. The sky was cloudless; so pure and blue that it hurt my eyes to look up.
Sebastian pulled the sunglasses that were hung at the collar on his shirt, and slid them on his face, effectively covering his eyes, as well as his emotions from me. Then, he took my hand that wasn’t holding the coins and walked with me to the entrance of the cemetery.
“Have you ever seen the coins on a grave before?” He asked as he nodded to the uniformed guards that were standing sigil at the gates.
“No,” I asked, confused.
His hand went to his necklace, pulling until the dog tags lay on top of his clothing.
Then he started fiddling with the bill of his cap, and I finally understood he was nervous.
“You’ll see a bunch of coins on these graves. Many times, people pay their respects by leaving pennies on the graves, it tells the families that someone visited. That’s why I brought you the bag. There’s no way you’ll be able to put that on each grave, but there are 194 stones we pass until we reach the first one I’m after, and 139 until we reach the next one. I don’t know if you want to put out all the pennies, but I expect you will.” He said, clearing his throat.
Consequently, that was how I found myself putting pennies on graves of soldiers that I never even knew. There were so many of them. It was like a sea of graves. Some dated as far back as 1919; although, Sebastian informed me that they founded the cemetery in the 1800s.