Flipping her over, she places her hands on the gravestone, giving me access to her dripping pussy. I thrust into her, gripping her hips hard. We stay like that, panting and writhing together. Night swiftly closes in around us, but I hardly notice. I can’t focus on anything but the beauty before me. Dirt covers her arms, and back as her bosom swings with each thrust, we make. Cock throbbing, I feel a zing of pleasure flooding my senses and a jolt of desire erupts down my spine as I spill my orgasm into her. I place a kiss on her shoulder, before helping her up.
Her dress is unsalvageable, but she shrugs, snapping her fingers making the fabric meld together seamlessly.
“Well, then.” She says patting her hair as if we just went for a walk through the park and she’s not covered in cemetery dirt.
“I didn’t take you here for that, you know.” I say as I finish dressing, hoping that she doesn’t think I took her here to get back at my ex.
“I hope her ghost was watching.” She says, tucking my elbow into the crook of her arm.
“Is that right?” My face breaks out into a wide smile at her response.
“Yes. Then she can see what she lost.” Warmth fills my stomach, knowing that this time I know I’ve found my right match. Imagine, I had thought placing the advertisement was just to fill a position, I had no idea how much that decision would end up changing my entire life for the better.
“Marigold, you truly are a surprise. I never know what you’ll do next.”
“Good. Then you won’t get bored of me.”
“Not possible.” We leave the cemetery, my steps feeling light as air. “So, those birds… friends of yours?”
“You could say that.”
MARIGOLD
The corset cinches in my waist making it difficult to take in a full proper breath. However, I must admit, the visual is stunning. I twirl in the mirror, taking in every angle of the dress Barrett bought me. It feels extravagant, but when I objected to such an expense, Barrett insisted that he wanted me to feel like the most beautiful woman in the room, because that’s how he thinks of me. I may have swooned a little at that sentiment. The man knows how to get the butterflies in my stomach going. And he’s right about the dress. It makes me feel exquisite.
Our guests are set to arrive at seven sharp, and I’m running terribly behind after fiddling with my hair style. Up or down? Up or down? I finally decided to let my hair hang down in loose but stylish ringlets, with a glittering black bird clip adorning the side.
I take in the lace details splayed over my décolletage, trailing down my arms and ending at my wrists. The dress cinches nicely over my hips, giving my curves a more rounded appearance that just so happens to drive Barrett crazy. I can’t wait to see the look on his face as I descend down the steps in this. Taking in one last look in the mirror, I can’t remember ever feeling this happy. Contentment is foreign to me, but I rather like it. My cheeks are a touch red from spinning. I press my fingers to them to try and cool them off, but the image staring back at me doesn’t move with me.
Frowning, I wave at myself to only be met with a menacing smile.
“No.” I whisper, seeing a puff of air from my lips hit the glass as it begins to crack. Stomach plummeting as ice sludges through my veins, I go to snap my fingers, only to find a whisp of a woman clutching my hand. She wrenches it behind me, grabbing my other hand and digs her claws into my flesh. I can’t move.
The glass breaks, flinging out over the room. A jagged piece hits me square on the cheek drawing blood and barely missing my eye.
My sister strides into the room, wearing the same outfit as me. “Thanks for the outfit, sister.” She says with a cruel smile twisting her lips, pulling the fabric down to show off her bosom.
“How?” I demand, anger coursing through my body. How I wish to knock that smile off her face. I wriggle against the poltergeist’s hold, to only have her hold me even tighter.
“If I told you that, it wouldn’t be any fun. Now have fun in your little prison while you watch me burn your happy little world to the ground.” Before I know what’s happening, I’m shoved through the broken frame of the mirror. Knees scrape against the floor, I turn seeing my sister looking victorious as she flicks her wrist over the gaping hole, effectively sealing me in.
I scramble to standing, and press my face against the glass, snapping my fingers to no avail.
“No, no, no!” My voice echoes around me as my twin walks out the door, sparing me one last look, her eyes glinting in triumph before she disappears leaving me trapped in this glass prison of my own making.
BARRETT
“Well, where is the blushing bride to be? She hasn’t run out on you, has she, old chap?” My business partner, Nigel, chortles into his drink.
I smile uncomfortably, pulling at my necktie. It’s far too hot in here with all these bodies scurrying about. Their voices carry at an octave that pierces my eardrums. I look around for Marigold, and is on cue, I find her gracefully exiting the staircase. The dress I bought her clings about her figure like a second skin. She looks as breathtaking as I knew she would. It hits me in my stomach that this vision, this goddess, is mine. Heart swelling with a possessive edge as I notice several men with heated gazes leering in her direction.
“Excuse me.” I nod to my colleagues before making my way over to her. Dodging several servers with platters full of food and drinks, I manage to make it to her side unscathed. Her cerulean eyes find mine, but they look distant as if there’s a hardness to them that wasn’t there before. “Is everything alright?” She nods, lips parting as if to say something but we’re interrupted by Nigel’s booming voice. He always did have the worst timing.
“Ah! Is this the elusive Ms. Peppins that’s stolen our Blackford’s heart?”
She smiles, but it’s all wrong. Her lips are peeled back over her teeth as if she’s sneering down at us. I frown, wondering if nerves have gotten the best of her. “My dear?” I hold my hand out for her to grab. She looks down at it as if the very thought of touching me offends her. My stomach dips wondering if she’s changed her mind about us.
“Darling.” She finally says, gripping my hand. “Who are these dashing gentlemen?” I search her eyes for a moment trying put my finger on what’s different before turning to introduce her to some of my colleagues.
