Grave Matter – Dark Gothic Thriller Read Online Karina Halle

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Dark, Erotic, Forbidden, Thriller Tags Authors: Karina Halle Advertisement

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Maybe I want to be punished, I think, sliding my fingers deeper until I feel how wet I am.

I’m coming in seconds.

“Oh god,” I yell out into the pillow, my cry muffled. My heart pounds in my ears, my body jerking as the orgasm slams through me.

And then I lift up my head and realize where I am.

Lying on my stomach in bed, the covers kicked to the side.

I remove my hand, my arm sore from having been trapped under my body.

Holy shit. What a fucking dream. First time I’ve actually woken myself up masturbating.

I turn over, breathing hard. I’m covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

That was wild.

I slowly sit up, trying to will my heart to return to a normal pace. I forgot to write in my diary before bed, but perhaps jotting down my dreams is a good start.

I’m about to turn on the bedside light when suddenly, I hear the floorboards creak outside my room.

I squint, looking at the crack under the door. There’s faint light from the hallway, but a shadow is moving, as if someone is passing by.

I get up and walk quietly across the room, my limbs feeling like jelly. I pause with my hand outstretched, too afraid to open it and find someone like Clayton leering outside. God, is it possible that I was moaning really loud, enough to wake someone up? Was I calling out Kincaid’s name? Fuck, I hope not.

I place my ear against the door instead, and listen.

Someone is whispering.

I jolt, pulling my head away.

What the fuck was that?!

Fear washes over me like an ice bath. I suck in my breath, feeling frozen on the spot.

Slowly, I find the courage to put my ear against the door again.

There’s a low hiss, like someone letting air out of tires, but the hiss sounds a lot like someone—or something—speaking.

Pleeeeeeeeease, it says.

Then, all is silent.

Suffice to say I didn’t go back to sleep after that, which wasn’t awesome because it was three in the morning. I stayed up with all the lights on, busying myself with a mycology book I had taken from the common room. It was only when first light brightened the darkness at five a.m. that I finally calmed down enough to let myself think about what happened. The problem was, the sex dream and the voice saying please outside the door started to blend together, until I couldn’t be sure if the latter had been a dream as well.

It was safer to think it was.

The morning class with Kincaid was weird, but only because I was making it weird—I kept thinking about my dream and his strange behavior last night. Had he gone into my room or not? If he did, why? Did he bring me my shoes, or had they always been there and I overlooked them? The more I try to think about it, the more I can’t remember, like everything is becoming a blur.

So I did my best not to stare at him and stayed focused on his lecture about the role of fungi in aquatic web systems and biogeochemistry, all of which were fascinating to me, especially how they relate to dark fungi. My ego wants to think he created that lecture just for me after our conversation, the way it tickled my brain and got all my neurons firing.

Lunch was another hearty meal of turkey and white bean chili, which happens to be one of my favorite dishes. My appetite increased a little, and I was actually able to finish a whole bowl, even though I ate slower than I ever have in my life. Lauren seemed proud of me.

Now, we’re all standing on the dock, waiting for Kincaid and Nick. The mycology cohort is supposed to go on a boat expedition to an area that isn’t accessible by road and is too far to walk.

“This is exciting,” Lauren says to me, a damp breeze messing up her hair. “I hope we see whales.”

“I want to see the megalodon,” Munawar says. “Jason Statham has nothing on me.” In keeping with his promise, he’s wearing a shirt that says Me, Mycelium, and I, which he promptly zips up under a puffer jacket. It’s chilly out, the fog thick as soup in places, but at least it’s not raining.

Kincaid and Nick appear at the top of the ramp and stroll down single file, Kincaid towering over the surfer dude, both of them dressed in heavy-duty rain jackets, Kincaid’s olive green while Nick’s is bright yellow.

“Looks like you’re all dressed for the weather,” Kincaid says to us, meeting my eyes for one intense moment, harkening back to my dream. My cheeks burn, and I look away. “If you need hats, gloves, or a poncho, they’re in bins on the Zodiacs. You never know when the weather will turn. We’ll be splitting up. Munawar, Natasha, Lauren, and Toshio with Nick. Sydney, Patrick, Clayton, Rav, you’ll be with me.” He gestures to the sleek black boat to our left.

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