My face remained expressionless for the whole service. My eyes continued to stare blankly at whatever was ahead of me. For now, it was the priest. My mouth felt like it was glued together, mostly due to the fact that they were chapped. Everyone wept hollow tears around me, sobbing quietly to themselves as the priest murmured passages from the Bible. They all wore black articles of clothing, and some women wore veils in front of their face. Hands were being held and handkerchiefs were plentiful.

The weather on the bleak day was sunny, with no more than three clouds. It indicated a happy day, yet people were still shedding tears, which were still meaningless to me. Birds chirped happily, oblivious to the events that happened. White and yellow tulips stood along the edges of the grass. The trees’ leaves already grew into place, only missing a branch or two. I felt a slight breeze on my cheeks and concluded that this would have been the perfect spring day.

Everyone sat in black fold out chairs, looking at what was ahead of them. I, however, preferred to stay on my two feet, and keeping to the back. I did not belong here, but everyone else was unaware of one simple fact. As far as they all knew, I was simply the daughter. The daughter. The only daughter. Just plain Naomi.

My thoughts weren’t exactly in sync with the funeral either. I know I should be sad, but I’m not. I wasn’t the biggest fan of my mother. In fact, I hated her. People would say that I need to get to a councilor, or perhaps a psychologist. Anyway, my thoughts aren’t exactly reverent or solemn. They weren’t clean or pure, either. They were on Blake Carlyle. Amazingly hot and great Blake Carlyle. Deep brown eyes and jet black hair that had small strands hanging over his eyes. Blake was the definition of ‘tall, black, and handsome’. He always wore black.

We had a friends-with-benefits relationship going on, and that was saying very little. Or benefits, put simply, revolved around sex. No stupid schoolgirl flings, no blind date hand holding-there was only sex. And he was good too. Last night was great.

I’m supposed to meet him later tonight and I couldn’t wait. We’re planning to go to a bar tonight, the same one where we met for the first time a year ago. Yes, it is our ‘anniversary’ today. The same day as my mother’s funeral. Oh, joy. I can literally fuck her over.

As the service wore on, my thoughts became more and more…impure? Yeah, impure.

One night, we were both pretty pissed off so we drunk until we were way past numb. We hung out on the couch, and I was counting down the seconds. Five…four…three…two…one. Blake pushed me down and unbuttoned my jeans; he was always this straightforward. He pressed his lips to mine and traced my lower lip, begging for entrance. I opened my mouth, and out tongues collided. My jeans and underwear were already peeled off, and he was almost down with my shirt buttons. His kisses grew stronger, like he couldn’t get enough of me.

I returned his hunger with my own force. I pushed him off me while keeping our lips together. My shirt fell to the floor. I was now on his lap, straddling him. I momentarily broke the kiss to get his shirt off and he obliged, but then reconnected. His lips found its way to my neck and he sucked on me like a lollipop. I fumbled with his jean buttons, perhaps because I threw my head back. When I felt around for the garter of his boxers and found none, he smirked.

“Naomi, it gets pretty tight in my jeans when I know you’re coming over,” he said as he unsnapped my bra. That fell to the floor too.

I got off him suddenly. I wanted to play. I turned my back to him, and my brown hair fell out of the confines of my hair tie. I turned my head and looked at him seductively, my eyes telling Blake to follow.

He got the hint and followed me, getting rid of his ‘tight’ jeans in the process. I walked teasingly, swaying my hips from side to side. I heard him groan and growl at the same time. I smiled before opening the door to the bathroom. I walked to the shower and turned the water on. I faced him as I stood under the water, putting my hands on my neck then letting them wander farther down. I moved them around my breasts, and I only reached my hips when I was pushed against the cold tile, despite the hot water.

“You fucking tease,” he growled. I only smirked.

It was cut off short because he kissed my forcefully. He clearly liked being dominant, and I know I like it. Hell, when he was playing rough, it was heaven.

My arms were around his neck, and his were all over my body. One hand was occupied with tracing circles around my breasts, occasionally squeezing. The other was dangerously close to my opening. I let him take over me as the hot water pelted on top of our heads. It felt so good.

He pulled away; regrettably, I’m sure, and looked at me with his eyes. They were darker than usual. That meant one thing: lust. I stepped around him, making sure my hand lightly brushed his member. I turned the water off and slid the glass door open.

“I think our shower is done,” I voiced.

“But we aren’t,” he retorted.

Blake followed me out and grabbed my wrist. He pulled me close to him and sucked on my neck again. I walked backwards as he led me out of the bathroom and into his room. I landed on my back and my head hit his pillow. It smelled like him. I inhaled deeply as he bent his neck to move onto my left breast. My hands were on his back, digging into his skin. It looked like he didn’t mind.

Just as I thought he was done, I felt his hand on my thighs, opening me. I willing did just that and I felt his erect member within me and I screamed in pleasure. I arched my back. And he kept on thrusting himself into me. I felt myself cumming, and I felt bliss surging through me. His thrusts became rougher and harder. There were no breaks.

I screamed his name with difficulty, but more than once I found his name escaping my mouth loudly. It occurred to me that neighbors could hear. Oh well. I don’t give a damn. Blake kept on going, this time faster and just as rough. The muscles in my body contracted and I heard a groan come from his lips.

The only thing I was aware of was Blake, the wet sheets, and me because we never bothered to dry ourselves after the shower. After we dislodged ourselves from each other, I fell asleep instantly. The last conscious thing I thought was, “Holy shit.”

I don’t remember what happened after, except that I woke up to an empty bed and a note saying, “I like it when you’re wet.” I’m pretty sure there was a double meaning to that. Pervert.

I soon found myself at the end of the service. I blinked, dazed. Had I been dreaming that long? I shrugged as the priest shook his head sadly and closed the Bible. He walked down the aisle, and people followed soon after. I inwardly grinned. So much for a proper funeral service.