The Girl Who Digs Graves (The Gravedigger Series Book 1)

by Willie E. Dalton

  I looked at myself in the mirror and hardly recognized myself. I definitely needed to clean up more often; it was nice feeling sexy and girly.

  I walked out of the bedroom, suddenly self-conscious when his eyes fell on me.

  “Sorry I took so long,” I muttered. “I couldn’t find any shoes.”

  His eyes were taking me in so slowly and completely I wanted to cover myself up.

  “You look beautiful.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  He walked over to me. “Ready?”

  I nodded.

  We walked outside, and he took my arm. “Where would you like to go?”

  “We don’t have too many options.” I thought for a moment. “Do you have a preference?”

  “Lets go to the restaurant in the hotel just outside of town. They have decent food and pretty good drinks, and they have a nice atmosphere.”

  “Sounds good,” I agreed.

  We drove a while listening to music; it was either a very new or obscure band, because I didn’t recognize them at all. I was still immensely enjoying being with Raphael, but putting the label of date on this was making me a little less comfortable around him. I hadn’t been on a date in so long—not since my last “odd” boyfriend.

  Once we arrived at the restaurant, Raphael dashed around to help me out of the car and offer his arm once more. He knew how capable I was from day to day, so for him to offer his arm to me for any added comfort seemed exceptionally sweet.

  The restaurant wasn’t super fancy, by any means, but it was nice enough that I put my napkin on my lap and tried to keep my elbows off the table.

  “Wine?” Raphael asked.

  “Always,” I agreed with enthusiasm.

  We settled on a zinfandel called Seven Deadly Zins, and ordered steaks to go with it. While we were waiting on our food, we sipped our wine and I looked around the room. Raphael was right, this place did have a nice atmosphere. The walls were the color of rich dark honey, and the lighting accentuated it. A little vase of red flowers had been placed on every table, along with a small tea light candle. Classical violin music played overhead. It was all very mood setting.

  Once my eyes finished wandering, they came back to Raphael—who was watching me so intensely I nearly jumped.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing, I just think you’re really beautiful,” he said.

  I felt my face heat up, no doubt accentuated by the wine. I took another sip. “Thanks,” I said, looking away from him.

  “Why does me calling you beautiful make you uncomfortable?” He raised an eyebrow and looked genuinely concerned.

  I had to stop and ask myself, ‘Why did it make me uncomfortable?’

  In my silence he asked, “Has no one ever told you that before?”

  I nodded. “Ray, told me all the time, and I’ve heard it from others. Girls always think I’m too muscular,” I said again. I blushed once more when I realized what I thought to be the reason his words made me shaky. “I think the reason it makes me feel weird when you say it is because I’ve never been called beautiful by someone that I find so beautiful.” Somehow, I managed get the words past the enormous lump in my throat.

  His eyes absolutely danced with the compliment, and he smiled, showing his very white, pretty teeth. As soon as he was overtaken by the emotion, though, he regained his composure, going back to more of a ‘hmm, that is very interesting’ kind of look.

  “Thank you,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called beautiful. Handsome, yes, charming, attractive, but not beautiful.”

  “Those fit you too, but I said beautiful because of the way your hair falls against your back and shoulders—the way your eyes are always the coldest deep blue, but still manage to be warm. And your face… you are undoubtedly masculine, but you are beautiful.” As soon as I stopped talking, I glared at my wine glass thinking, You made me do this.

  He took the hand that was resting on my glass, pulled it to his lips, and laid the gentlest of kisses on the back of it. It was light and delicate, with the feel of his warm breath on my skin. I closed my eyes as a chill ran through me. I really wanted him to kiss me tonight.

  Our food came, and we talked about a little of everything as we ate and finished off the wine.

  The waiter came back. “Dessert?”

  Raphael ordered two pieces of chocolate cheesecake to go.

  I looked at him, and he said, “To have with coffee back at your place.”

  I smiled and nodded.

  There was more tension in the air as we drove back to my house. We had moved past the “interested friends” phase, and on to the “please let me get my hands on this person” phase. At least, that’s what I was feeling.

  Once in the house, Raphael set the cheesecake down on the counter, and I started putting on a pot of coffee. I felt him come up behind me and place his hands on the sides of my hips pulling them back against him. I sighed against him and started to turn around.

  He leaned in and whispered against my ear, “Go ahead and finish what you’re doing.”

  I put the filter in the basket and was trying to count out scoops of coffee, when he brushed my hair back and kissed my neck.

  I started to turn to him once more, but his hand on my waist held firm. “Ugh.” I hurriedly added the water. I turned to him, and this time he let me.

  He took my face in his hands, and I looked into those deep ocean eyes. He kissed me hard and fiercely, pressing me back into the counter. I opened my mouth to him and he took everything I gave him. He kissed me like he was starving. I tasted the red wine on his lips and I drank him down.

  He pulled back, leaving me breathless. My fingers were still wrapped in his hair, and his were tangled in mine. He kissed me quickly and smiled. “Ready for dessert?”

  I stared at him blankly for a minute, trying to determine if he was talking about sex. I must have looked confused.

  “Do you want to grab plates or pour coffee?” he asked.

  “I uhh, I’ll grab plates. Not sure I should be handling hot liquids right now,” I said, still a little shaky.

  He grinned at me.

  We ate our cheesecake sitting on the living room floor, while Raphael played some of Ray’s old records.

  “Have you ever thought about leaving here and doing something else?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Ray always told me I could be anything I wanted, and I guess with my degree I could live anywhere. It's just, this is home, and I like digging graves and tending to the cemetery. I know I might not do it forever, but I can while I’m able.”

  Raphael nodded and took a bite of his cheesecake. I watched his tongue lick a missed bit off of his lips and wished he’d kiss me again.

  “Why do you ask?” I said.

  “Just curious. I thought you might like to take a break and travel with me for a while,” Raphael said.

  The statement caught me off guard. “Travel where?”

  “Wherever we want.” He winked a blue eye at me.

  “For how long?” I asked.

  “A weekend, a few weeks, a few months. As long as you want,” he said.

  “Are you planning to leave soon?” I stared at him, now concerned.

  “I don’t know. I can’t sit still long, but I like your company, so I might stay.” Raphael’s eyes locked with mine.

  I didn’t like him leaving, but I also didn’t like the idea of giving up everything I had ever known to travel with someone I barely knew.

  “A weekend?” I asked again.

  “Sure, we can start there.” His eyes were bright. “Where would you like to go?”

  I thought about it. “I haven’t seen the ocean since I was a little girl.”

  “When do you want to leave?” he asked.

  “Next weekend,” I suggested. That would give me time to arrange another caretaker while I was away. I hadn’t asked for a vacation since before Ray died, so I didn’t think anyone would be too upset.

  “Perf
ect.” Raphael smiled and leaned to kiss me again.

  The little kiss led to more kisses, which led to him pulling me into his lap with my legs wrapped around his body.

  “Can I stay again tonight?” he asked.

  I knew this time there would be more than cuddling if he stayed. I was pretty sure I was good with that.

  “Yes, I’d like that,” I said. “I can’t stay up too late, though. I have a lot to do this week if I’m going away with you.”

  “Could I help you? I’d be happy to pitch in this week, digging, mowing, whatever you need.” He intertwined his fingers with mine and kissed them.

  “I guess I could pay you as extra help,” I mused.

  “You don’t have to pay me.” He rolled his eyes.

  I leaned in and kissed him. “Let’s go to bed.”

  “Yes, I’d like that,” he said.

  I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and hair before getting into bed with Raphael. My instincts were all over the place. I hadn’t known him long and was already taking him to bed? Again? The mirror reflected a concerned ‘oops’ face, which made me giggle, and then roll my eyes and turn away from it.

  True, I hadn’t known Raphael long, but how well did we ever know anyone? I felt like I knew him better after two days spent together than months with other people. My last boyfriend (the weird one), I had known for several months before we dated, and longer before we slept together. He ended up being psycho, and stalked me for six months after everything ended. He seemed great at first, too. You never know crazy people are crazy if they didn’t want you to know.

  I thought about the next weekend: about lying on the beach with Raphael listening to the waves and seagulls, walking the boardwalk with him and eating funnel cake, staying buzzed on daiquiris and margaritas. It sounded perfect.

  I emerged from the bathroom feeling a little nervous, and a lot excited, to get into bed with Raphael. He was on the same side of the bed as before, and had turned on the bedside lamp. He was propped up against the pillows wearing only his black boxer briefs. His skin was smooth and muscled, and his beautiful hair was down, spilling across his shoulders. Maybe I was imagining it, but I swear I could see the color of his eyes from across the room.

  “I was planning to sleep in my underwear. Hope you don’t mind,” he said

  I stood in the doorway, still taking it all in. “I don’t mind a bit.”

  Raphael patted the bed beside him. “Are you joining me?”

  I smiled, walked over to the bed, and got beneath the covers beside him. I had traded my clothes and underwear for a short silky pajama outfit.

  My legs were barely in the bed before Raphael was leaning over me. He was staring at me intently once more. “Beautiful,” he said.

  The warmth from his body was already making me want to move in closer to him. I put my hand on the back of his neck and pulled him down towards me while I raised up to meet his kiss. He kissed me deeply, and my body moved beneath the covers to find the rest of his. I needed to feel his whole body pressed against mine. He obliged, and moved so that he was directly on top of me, his mouth still locked to mine. The weight of him pressing on me was heavier than I expected, and I could feel the extra effort in my lungs to take a deep breath, but it was good. It was so good. He pulled away from the kiss and I stared into his eyes, this time feeling more bold than I had. He smiled at me, a look of pure contentment meeting my gaze of desire.

  “This is getting intense,” he said.

  “Mhm.” I could feel my breath shallow and fast against his chest.

  “I just want to be clear. Do you want to have sex tonight?” He smoothed my hair back behind my ear, and his fingers brushed the side of my face.

  I didn’t think I had ever had anyone ask me so bluntly: in the past with my two exes it had just kind of happened, even with the first one. It was kind of nice to be asked how far I wanted things to go, and not just assumed because we were sharing a bed.

  “This isn’t a one-night thing is it?” I asked. I hadn’t even realized that was a concern until I asked the question.

  He smiled down at me and kissed me. “No. I mean I don’t know where this is going in the future, but I don’t want it to be a one-night thing.”

  “Then yes, I do want to have sex with you tonight,” I said.

  Soon we were both naked, and he smiled and leaned back down to kiss me. He kissed me lightly at first, and then slowly went deeper to explore my mouth with his tongue as his fingers explored my body. He kissed my neck and made little nips along my skin with his teeth. He traced every line of my body with his tongue and kisses, until my skin was so sensitive even the lightest touch from him made me sigh and shiver.

  “Please, enough,” I gasped, and jumped as he grazed his teeth along the edge of my hip. He looked up at me and grinned.

  “Enough? You’re finished? Ok.” He rolled off of me. “Goodnight then.”

  “Ah,” I groaned. “Get back over here.” I reached over and ran my fingers down his chest and stomach, to things lower.

  This time Raphael moaned. That was all the motivation I needed. I took my turn of showering his body in kisses and nibbles and soft touches. I only made it to his stomach before he grabbed me and flipped me on my back. The table lamp was still on and we could see each other well. He was on his knees between my legs looking down at me.

  Seeing him look down at me with so much need in his eyes almost scared me, but I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anyone.

  “This is my favorite part,” he said.

  I watched him slide on the condom he had laid on the table. I looked at him, waiting for more.

  “The moment you know it’s getting ready to happen: the anticipation of how good you will feel to me, and how good I will feel to you, and being as close as we can be.” He slowly pushed into me and I closed my eyes.

  “No.” He stopped. “Look at me.” His fingers brushed my face.

  I opened my eyes and gripped his arms as he moved again. He was bigger than the other two men I had been with, and if he hadn’t warmed me up so well, it would have hurt. It didn’t hurt though; he filled me completely, and I loved it.

  “Are you ok?” he asked.

  “You feel amazing,” I said.

  He kissed me and found his rhythm. He moved me from position to position effortlessly, letting my body take him in at all angles. Some didn’t work yet because of his size, but once I was used to being with him, we could try again.

  “You haven’t come yet,” he said, nuzzling my neck.

  “I usually don’t during sex. It’s ok, you still feel amazing,” I said.

  He shook his head and made a grumpy face. “No, it’s not. What do you want me to do?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know what it would take.”

  He looked thoughtful for a moment, then grabbed the pillow from the other side of the bed. “Lift your hips,” he said.

  I did, and he placed the pillow underneath me. He slid back inside me, and I made a little sound again. His body moved, and I could tell this felt very different. He kept his rhythm steady, and I felt the pressure building.

  I let out a cry against his chest as I came. He kissed me and continued to move, building to his own release. It was too much to feel him still hitting that tender spot while I was still shaking inside.

  I bit my lip, and tried to say, “Raphael,” to stop him just so I could move the pillow, but he went harder and faster so that all that came out of my mouth was a scream. I wrapped my legs around him as I came again, this time with him.

  We both laid there, sweaty and satisfied, next to each other. Raphael’s hand found mine and squeezed it. “You can orgasm during sex.”

  “Huh. I guess I can,” I laughed.

  Raphael joined me in the shower the next morning, and though it was tempting to have him again, we refrained so I could get to work.

  “I’ll run out and get us some breakfast, and then I can help you when I get back.” He kissed me as he
got ready to go out the door.

  “Ok, that sounds great.” I was relieved. When we had gotten up that morning, I had two messages for side-by-side plots that needed to be dug: car accident.

  While Raphael went to get us some food, I got the tools out of the shed and marked off the grave-sites. It would be so nice to have help. I could dig two in three days’ time, but it really was too much for one person.

  I didn’t want to start digging and getting sweaty until I had something to eat. If I got weak and shaky from low blood sugar (more possible after last night’s activities), it would take me hours to recover. I didn’t have time for that.

  So, I walked the cemetery. I checked the front gate, made sure the flowers on the headstones weren’t wilted or turned over, pulled a few weeds, and noted which statues needed to be cleaned of bird poop.

  I walked by the newest grave in the cemetery: it was the grave Raphael had first helped me with. Her funeral had gone pretty smoothly, but there weren’t as many people as one would expect for a young woman’s funeral. I shrugged, thinking about how few people would be at mine if I died. Maybe the woman had just been an introvert.

  Something odd in the dirt caught my attention. I had packed down and smoothed the dirt once the coffin had been lowered into the grave. Now, looking down at it, it looked as though it hadn’t been touched, but something shiny was peeking out. I leaned over and pulled it out: it was a sterling silver bracelet.

  I knew there was no way I could have missed something that shiny hiding in the dirt while I was shoveling it into the grave. It was unlikely that someone, say a friend or family member, had brought it after the funeral. Why would they only bury a part of it, and then smooth the surrounding ground?