SmokingHot (2 page)

“It would. It really would,” Sean Tierney former cop said to
me as he pressed me to the dank stone wall beside the door we had just managed
to barricade and seal. “I would really like to affirm my life with you, Van,”
he said. His fingers worked my button and I tried to help, only managing to gum
up the works, until he batted my hand away with a swat of his much bigger one.

“You sweet talker, you,” I said. I grabbed his button fly
and yanked hard so that all the little silver discs popped free in one fast
motion.

“See, I don’t have anywhere to lay you down and…”

“Forget that. Really. Condom? Condom!” I yelped now. It had
just dawned on me that we needed protection. Even if we came out of this whole
thing dead, I wanted protection. And here I had dropped my purse with my
emergency condom in the zipper compartment in the melee. Oh crap there was no
way that he had…

Sean pulled a long line of silver packets from his inside
jacket pocket and held them out in front of me. I didn’t know whether to laugh
or smack him.

“Gee, does the term ‘a sure thing’ sting or what? Not much,
Sean Tierney!” I snapped. But then he kissed me and I hummed against his lips,
pushing my hands flat to his hard pecs.

Sean shoved his knee between mine, truly a cop move, and
yes, it turned me on. I spread my stance and he started to wiggle my jeans off
me, clutching the rubbers in his teeth.

I snatched them out, feeling a satisfied rush of sadistic
glee when I heard his pretty pearly whites clack together hard. “Hey, now, if
you want to be mad at anyone, be mad at Clarice. She sent them to me as sort of
a joke. She was so sure you’d toss me out on my ass as being unworthy that she
went overboard in the opposite direction. I planned on—“ He pushed his lips to
the inside of my thigh, kissing a trail from my knee upward.

Outside our tiny sealed cell—total silence.

I felt bad for everyone else, but it faded as his lips moved
higher on my inner thigh. “Planned on what? On what, Tierney?” I gasped. “You
are terrible at finishing your sentences, FYI.”

“I was planning on showing them to you as a joke later in
the night. If we made it that far. A few drinks and then hey, look at what your
best friend sent me…that kind of thing.”

I swatted at him, but it was halfhearted—even I admit it—and
his hot, soft mouth found my clit and he licked me in. I was done for. I
dropped the condoms in my jeans so he could reach them and held his broad
shoulders for support as his tongue started a fabulous wet tour of my pussy.

“That would have been soooo funny.” I rambled on, hoping it
made sense in context. It was hard to think due to the broad stripes of wet
pressure he painted on me with his tongue. Sean held my thighs apart with his
hands, pushing just hard enough to turn me on so bad I felt like I was
vibrating. Every part of me, slutty nether regions, lips, fingers, eyelids. I
felt like one giant shiver and it was grand. My nipples peaked, hard and pointy
from the chill and the things Sean was doing to my clit. I normally didn’t rush
into the whole sex situation, but in this instance, I was glad I’d made an
exception. The whole “might die” thing really changed your perspective.

He reached up one hand and palmed my breast, then pinched my
nipple hard. Before I could react, he pinched the other nipple and my stomach
muscles quivered with the force of the pleasure-pain combo. “God, you are
evil.”

“Not me,” he said. Then he pushed his fingers back into me,
flexing them against that group of nerves deep in my cunt that set off a chain
reaction of hot and cold twinges and finally the orgasm I had craved. It
slammed me hard and my knees went a bit watery as I clutched at him. “Steady,
Van,” he said, grinning. So, so pleased with himself, but hey, he had every
right to be.

He grabbed a condom and got himself situated. Climbing to
his feet, he said, “See, I still don’t have anywhere to do this the right way.
I don’t want to—”

“Hush it up. We could die!” I freed one leg from my jeans. I
spread my thighs and my body opened for him, wet and willing. I took his cock
in hand and when he leaned in to kiss me, I kissed him harder than I could
remember kissing a guy. I could actually never remember wanting a guy as much
as I wanted him, but that could be the adrenaline talking. I didn’t think so,
but you never know. Either way, I was sold. If I was going to die, I was going
to get laid first.

I pushed the tip of his cock to my soaked slit and this time
I pinched his nipples. “Jesus.”

“Nope. And even he can’t save you from me,” I said, lifting
my hips up to take him in.

He only hesitated a moment and then he held me by my
shoulders, pressing me to the wall and thrust in hard, filling me up, tipping
me up on my toes with his strength. “I don’t think I want to be saved from you,
Van,” he said and started to move.

Upstairs, over us, someone screamed. Something crashed and I
tried to grab at him but he held me firm, not letting me thrash. “Another
stroke,” I managed to say, but my body was already caught up in the pleasure of
what he was doing. My fierce rush of fear was only augmenting the arousal and
need I felt. It was chaos—inside me and out.

“Just more fear. But it’s okay. For right this moment, I’ve
got you. For just this moment, we are alone and we’re safe.” His mouth came
down on mine, his tongue breaching the tight, fearful line of my lips. “Come
with me, Van,” he said against my lips.

I heard
Come with me, my love
in my head but moved my
hips up to take him, stopped struggling against his strong hands as he held me.
I tipped my head back and his lips found my throat, bit at the hollow of my
neck and I came as he gave a final hard thrust and he was coming with me.
“Okay.”

“Good girl,” he said, resting his forehead to mine, big
green eyes trying to read my face. He put his hand over my heart, his cock
still deep inside me and I felt the pressure of his touch over my spastic
heart.

“Another heart attack,” I said.

“Nah. A lot of well-deserved fear and I can hope,” he
shocked me by kissing me on the forehead in a tender gesture,” a little bit of
that is from being with me. Impending death or not.”

“Trust me. It is,” I said. So I was warming up to Sean. So
sue me.

It was when I saw that first curl of pitch-black smoke sneak
in around the rugs and rags we had shoved in the crevice that I really started
to panic. “Um. See, that’s not so good, is it?”

He’d been checking out our tiny prison space when he turned
his head. “Not really.” HIs hands started to pat along the walls faster. He’d
found something but I’d been too busy staring at the door to bug him about it.

I heard the sounds of splintering wood as I walked back and
away from the door that had been our security and was now our coffin lid.

“Help me,” he whispered. I watched the black smoke hesitate
and twitch. It reminded me of a dog’s nose when it was sniffing the air. I held
my breath trying not to…well, trying not to smell like anything if you must
know.

I turned and grabbed at the same spot as his fingers and
tugged. The wood gave way with a shriek and he grinned. “Strong woman,” he
laughed, tugging the bit of plywood free.

“Fucking terrified woman,” I said and stared the space we
had uncovered, not comprehending. “A hole? We uncovered a hole in the wall?”

“A dumbwaiter,” he said. “An escape hatch! Unless the pulley
isn’t working. In that case it’s—”

“A ticket to nowhere,” I said.

“Right.”

“Hurry!” I said because that black smoke was still sniffing
and creeping closer. As if it had no way of seeing us, but could sense us.
Bleh. Creepy black smoke. Not a fan.

He tested the pulley and the flat ancient metal tray rose.
“I think we’re in business. Climb in. Let’s see.”

“Oh, great! Make me the guinea pig. If it doesn’t work I go
crashing to my death. A fiery wreck. Carnage. Destruction. Horrible death by—”

“We’re already on the bottom floor,” he said.“

“Oh—” I took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you say so? Get out
of my way, Skippy. I’m going in.”

He laughed again and kissed me. A chaste, gentle, sweet kiss
that made me want to toss him to the ground and climb on and ride ’em cowgirl.
Instead, he helped me into the dumbwaiter and I said, “Hurry. Get in too. It’s
getting closer.”

The smoke was only about a foot or two from Sean Tierney and
it occurred to me that we reeked of the sex!

“I will in a min—”

“Now!” I said. “The monster from the box is coming.” I took
his hand when he reached for me and yanked. Sean fell into the dumbwaiter with
me and we hurried to slide the outer door down and then he began furiously
tugging the pulley.

“You know, no offense,” I grunted, helping him pull. Not too
easy to lug your own weight upward. “But I have to say, if something happens to
us, I’ll really mourn your tongue. Your tongue can do magical things.”

I heard him laugh but couldn’t see a thing. I could only
sense the walls and the pulley and even him. It was like being truly blind and
it was terrifying, more so because I realized that if that smoked started
coming in, we’d never see it.

“Well,
I
have to say, no offense to you,” he huffed.
“But I will be very sad to die without knowing what your tongue can do,
Vanessa.”

“Van,” I corrected.

“Not even under all this stress?”

“Never. Never ever, ever can you call me Vanessa.”

He sighed. “Fine. Van. Van Oliver. Better?”

“Yes. Better. And that is pretty ballsy of you to assume
that my tongue would ever go on your co—”

We were still pulling, but his mouth, soft and hot, covered
mine in the dark and I let him kiss me silent. “Pull,” he said into my mouth.
“I didn’t assume, but a man can hope…wish…dream.” I felt him smile. Yes, I felt
it, be quiet.

The dumbwaiter did a weird stilling-swaying kind of thing
and we both groped in the blackness, banging into each other. “I think we’re at
the next floor,” I said. “How many are there?”

“Four including the attic. Basement, First floor, Second
floor, attic. The dumbwaiter goes all the way up. I know because Pat liked to
brag about it and how he could send a pizza through the whole house if he
wanted without ever moving once he got the dumbwaiter uncovered and working.”

“Ah, the life of a hard-working, fast-moving man. Pizza
delivery with no motion.”

Sean grunted and we listened. Something was
whisper-scratch-swishing out there. He tied the dumbwaiter off and I realized I
could see him. Very faintly, but I could see him. From the minute amount of
light coming through the door to the dumbwaiter I could see his handsome
profile. We were smooshed in there rather good, pressed up against each other
and I put my hand in his lap. Nothing. But the longer I left it there, the more
I felt. “You’re getting hard,” I said, my lips pressed to his ear so the scary
thing out there couldn’t hear me.

“Duh,” he said. He cleared his throat.

Awkward. I could either do something with that there
erection. One for which I’d just triggered the launch sequence. The one
belonging to a man under a great amount of stress. Or I could just leave him
hanging. That was just cruel. I was a bitch but I wasn’t a cruel bitch.

I popped the button fly again and tried really hard to bend
from where I was. No go. I had to scootch back and lean forward, my toes
smashed in the corner, but finally I got my mouth to him and sucked the silken
tip of his cock into my mouth and the sound he made was reward enough for my
circus contortionist impersonation. “You really don’t have to—ooh,” he said.

“Shush,” I said, but didn’t take my mouth from him. So my
words and the vibration of my body worked through his hard-on and he put his
fingers in my hair, his breath harsh.

The dumbwaiter swayed a bit and I tried not to stop. I did
go still, but didn’t stop licking and sucking his cock. Perfectly, salty warm
skin rubbing past my lips. “We’re going to die.”

“No we’re not,” he said, fingering a strand of my hair. His
other hand was on my ass which was pressed high to the far side of the dark box
we sat in.

“No, I mean we’re going to die this way. Death by blowjob.
I’m moving this whole thing, we’re going to plummet to our deaths.” I was
trying so hard not to panic and yet, my mouth never stopped on him. I wanted
him to come. I wanted to give him that orgasm. I wanted to make him happy. It
was like an obsession.

I felt him move and we swayed more and I yelped and he
groaned and I sucked. “I have my hands on the rope,” he said. “We are not going
anywhere but up.”

“Promise?” I rubbed my hand the length of him, sucking the
tip so he hissed like a snake. I liked that sound. It turned me on.

“Promise. Now don’t stop doing that because…”

“Because?”

“You know because.” One hand stroked through my dark hair,
tangling it around his fingers and I gripped him hard and squeezed.

“Hands!”

“Oops.” The hand disappeared and I sucked him deep, relaxing
my throat. Feeling him thrust up under me just a bit. That eager, frenzied way
a man moves when you’ve pushed him past the point of manners and logistics.

My pussy went wet for him and I really wanted to just climb
aboard and fuck him blue. But not in this tiny, traveling death box. So I
worked my spit slicked fist along him until he said, “Oh, Christ, Vaness—Van.
Jesus, lord almighty, Van.”

I lapped at him, his sticky salty cum on my face and my
lips. I laughed softly, still holding him in my hand and he groaned like he was
in pain. “Don’t laugh. It vibrates.”

“Sorry. Sorry.” I moved back and found a way to sit again
and then, “I’m going to hold the rope so we don’t die in a mangled heap at the
bottom of this shaft and you’re going to get yourself all situated. In case we
die when we open this door. We don’t want you to die with your willy wagging free.”

He snorted and I snickered and then someone said through the
dumbwaiter door, “Hello in there?”

* * * * *

She was dressed in layers of batik and tie-dye. Ropes and
ropes of beads hung round her neck. An ankh on one ear, a cross on the other.
Her makeup was elaborate and dramatic and she was beautiful in a flighty,
intense kind of way. She stepped back, holding my hand to help me out. Her eyes
darted around as nervously as mine.

Sean climbed out but tied the dumbwaiter off in case we
needed it, I assumed.

“Are you okay?” she said. “I heard groaning in there is
anyone hurt?”

I felt my cheeks fire and I shook my head, averting my eyes.
Sean cleared his throat and then laughed softly. A stunted laugh, but a laugh.
That doof. The hot, sexy, really-good-at-sex-even-in-a-perilous-situation,
doof. I smacked him. “We’re fine,” he said.

“I’m Roxy, Roxy Morton, and I’m a psychic medium.”

I looked her up and down and blew out a sigh. There were
furtive sounds all around us. I could only assume that some people had tucked
themselves away in safe corners. I didn’t see the creepy black smoke, but that
didn’t mean it wasn’t coming for us. “Yeah, I can see that. And it’s a nice
costume and all but—”

My eyes went to the door and she shook her head. “Sealed.
Forget about it. Psychically this place is tighter than a submarine. If you
didn’t get out immediately, you didn’t get out. And what I meant was, I am a
real psychic medium. As in, I can talk to dead folks. And this isn’t a
costume,” she said, softly, sounding hurt.

Well, damn. “Oh, gosh, I’m…um…are you sure?”

Roxy glared at me.

“She’s under stress,” Sean said. “She doesn’t mean to
offend. Normally I’d ask you if you forgot your meds, but smoke just ate one of
the guests, so we’re going to operate under the theory that you’re not crazy.”

She just stared at us and Tierney barreled on. “How many
people are in here? He was looking around and I saw him touch his belt as if he
expected to find a holster there. Damn it, no holster to speak of. Not that I
really thought a gun would be any good in this instance.

Roxy rolled a long silver necklace around her finger and
someone screamed far off in the house. She dropped her voice, nervous but sure.
“A few got out. It…he got about six. He needs ten more. Sixteen souls,” she
said, as if that fucking helped us!

“What does that mean?” I said really, really slowly so as
not to scream at her.

“Nutshell?” Roxy asked.

“God, yes, please!”

“The spirit is a boy. The boy was left in the care of his
older sister often. She was sixteen. She would often neglect him, abuse her
power by being cruel to him and every once in a while, she’d hurt him. Hit him,
push him, that cruel stuff kids are capable of. Anyway, she was the last one in
the house every day. She’d come home from school and their mother would leave
for work. The father had left the family.”

“My god, do we need the whole family history?” Sean
interjected, looking up when we heard a thump.

Roxy looked up too and said, “If you want to fight it, you
have to understand it.”

“Great,” I groaned. “Go on! Go on!” I snapped.

She frowned at me and Sean put his hand to the small of my
back. It would probably be inappropriate to curl against him and start
whimpering, right?

“Anyway. One day she was being mean, she pushed him. He
fell, broke his neck and died.”

“Now he’s haunting us?”

“Well, he’s in purgatory and he’s pissed. His sister lied
about his death and said he just fell. He feels he has no justice and he’s a
kid and he’s been trapped for a few decades so he’s the spirit world version of
crazy.”

“Awesome!” I said and stomped my foot.

“Van, shush,” Sean said and smacked my ass. If I hadn’t been
afraid of dying at the hands of a malicious child spirit, I would have been
turned on.

Roxy, chewed her purple lip-glossed lip and nodded. “So he’s
gathering sixteen souls. The number has taken on special meaning for him. Sort
of like OCD patients have certain numbers for ritual. He needs sixteen souls
before he unseals the house. And the only one who can stop it, who can step in
and try to shut him down is the last woman to enter the house. And that would
be—”

I could feel it coming so I started shaking my head no, no,
no…

“You,” she said and pointed to me. I tried to step to the
side away from her pointing finger, but damn if she didn’t keep it leveled at
me. “You’re sort of a psychic surrogate.”

“No!” I yelped.

“I was watching the door just before we all started the tour
and you were the last one to enter.”

“No I wasn’t,” I lied.

“Yes, you were,” Sean said in my ear. Despite my fear and
annoyance, the feel of his hot breath on my skin made me shiver.

“What the fuck does that mean?” I asked. “What can I
possibly do?”

“You need to be her. You need to step in and act out and
give him some kind of closure.”

“No.”

“Then he collects sixteen souls and that’s on you.”

“That’s not fair,” Sean said in my defense. I nearly kissed
him.

Roxy Morton shrugged. “They’re ghosts. They don’t deal in
fair.”

“Look I—”

I started to say something but her big brown eyes grew wide
and she said in a spooky hushed tone. “Quick, he’s coming.”

She darted off and we barely made it into a small powder
room before the black smoke rounded the doorway. A woman who must have been
hiding on the stairwell came tearing out and right before our eyes, the smoke
enveloped her and
poof
she was gone.

Sean shoved me back, slammed the door. “But Roxy!” I said.

“She went in the next doorway. She’s probably better off
than most of us. We’ll catch up with her in a minute. Give him a minute to
clear out.” He shoved some guest towels under the door and I thanked the Martha
Stewart gods that our host, a single man named Patrick who might have doomed us
all with his taste in real estate, had the good manners to put out guest towels
for his parties.

“Why is he sealed in a box in the basement?” I asked. “Why?
This makes no sense. That woman is a crack addict. She’s crazy. She cannot,
cannot, cannot be right!” I shrieked.