Authors: Sommer Marsden
SmokingHot (5 page)
“Olé!” I said softly and Sean laughed.
He took my hand and we made our way slowly down the hall.
“Come on. You did battle with Arthur The Terrible, it’s only fitting that you
should be front and center,” he said.
“He wasn’t so terrible,” I sighed. We took another flight of
steps, making our way to the basement where the box was. Where Arthur had been
found and where the minister and the handful of folks brave enough to stick it
out waited. “He was just sad, lonely, a little nuts and beaten down by life.
I’d be a liar if I didn’t say I hadn’t been there before.”
“Me too,” Sean said. “But maybe we can change that.”
This turn in the conversation threw me for a loop but warmed
something on the inside of me that had been cold for a long, long time.
“Maybe,” I mumbled.
“I think we can,” he said and kissed me when I opened my
mouth to respond. “Shh. Let’s do this.”
So we did it. We sang and yes, god! we chanted. We showed
Arthur the light and we wished him well. We spoke and burned sage and incense
and that damn fucking box. And then we left. Sean’s friend Patrick admitted
he’d be putting the house on the market pronto and Roxy wished us well.
“You two are cute together,” she said. “And you can look out
for each other,” she said.
“Because?” Sean asked, grinning. Probably figured it was
some hippy dippy kind of deal.
“Because once you’ve been involved in something like this it
tends to happen again. You have a mark on you. Like a watermark on paper.
So…you never know.”
“Oh, great!” I said but before I could truly go apeshit,
Sean Tierney, the man I had been determined not to like, hustled me out to his
smoking hot Mustang and took my grimy ass home.
“I didn’t like it that you were there and then you weren’t,”
Sean Tierney said as he pushed me under the hot spray. Somehow he’d gotten me
in the door and up the steps and naked in between hot kisses and soft words. As
far as blind dates go, tonight had been the best of the best and the worst of
the worst. Hot, kind, sexy, funny cop boy versus rabid, crazy smoke monster
from a stranger’s basement. All in all, I’d have to call it a balanced night.
“Trust me, being in that…emptiness wasn’t so fun. It was a
tiny bit disorienting.”
He pushed my head under the hot rush of water and I sighed
at the nice kiss of warm fluid that rained down over my hair. “I thought you
were dead. I thought they were all dead.”
“Well, we have to give Arthur credit. He had collected souls
but everyone came back. Gross and covered in ick, but fine. Beyond a bit
freaked out, I think.”
Sean forced sheets of water down my breasts with his palms
and smiled when I gasped. My nipples spiked under his hand and the rush of hot
water. “Yeah, you are filthy.”
I smeared my still-dirty hands over his face and shirt and
he gaped at me. “What?” I said. “Now you are, too,” I said and hauled him into
my very tiny shower before he could recover his cop senses and dance away from
me.
“That is so not fair,” he said, but his mouth came down on
my shoulder, my throat, my chin. He found my lips with his and the water beat
at us with a relentless flurry of drops.
“Sorry. I tend to cheat a bit. If I can get away with it.”
“Hmm. We’ll have to work on that.”
I ripped at his shirt and jeans. The water made all that fabric
even less cooperative, but we managed, together, as a united front, to get him
naked. “Oh, god!” I said but sighed when I found a lone rubber in his pocket. I
had some in my room, but really, who wanted to leave a gorgeous, wet, horny man
if you didn’t have to?
“You’re an eager one,” he said.
“Not at all,” I laughed, rolling the condom onto his cock,
holding him tight in my hand, kissing him urgently.
“More life-affirming sex?”
“Yes, please,” I said.
When he pressed me to the wall, I was grateful. When he
pressed into me, I was blissed out. I stayed flat to the wall under his warm
bulk, legs splayed so he could rock into me. Holding me by the waist just
enough so that I didn’t tip since I had to perch on my tippy toes.
“I like to affirm life this way.”
“Hush up and wrap your legs around me.” He clasped my ass in
his big hands and kept me wedged to the slippery tile. I kept picturing us
going down in a tangled heap of water and limbs, but it was a risk I was
willing to take.
I wrapped my legs, felt his cock nudge my G-spot even as his
mouth found my nipple and he bit me just hard enough to make my eyes fly wide.
“Sometimes a tiny nip of pain can make you feel alive,” he explained and did
the other one.
“Oh, yeah?” But he was right. The sizzle of sting and blip
of pain and kicked off a spasm in my pussy and before I knew it, I was gripping
his shoulders and shaking as he thrust into me harder. I came with a long loud
cry that sounded like a cross between a banshee and jungle bird.
“I think that sums it up,” Sean Tierney, hot cop
extraordinaire said softly and then grunted, his mouth to my neck, his muscles
trembling with the effort of holding me and coming. He let me slide down the
slippery wall ever so slowly and I said, “Thank you for not dropping me like a
sack of cement.”
“Welcome,” he said and smacked me on the ass so hard I
yelped. Then he washed my back and my front and I did his back. We made it as
far as the red bathmat and the medicine cabinet where I had forgotten a few
condoms lived before we were at each other again.
It was on the sofa about an hour later, tangled together
under a light throw, that he said, “I think we should go on a proper date.”
“Yeah?” I poured him some more wine and topped off my own
glass. On the TV someone was trying to sell us self-sealing storage bags.
“Yeah. I think you deserve a good proper date.”
“No smoke monsters?”
“None.”
“No voyeuristic mediums?”
He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Come again.”
“Well, I’d like to,” I said and put my hand in his lap. He
was in a pair of my sweats since his clothes were currently taking a ride in my
dryer.
“Voyeuristic?”
“I’ll explain later. While you’re in me,” I said and
squeezed his cock.
“Ah, dirty then?”
“Pretty.” It was four o’clock in the morning but I was
buzzing like a neon sign, wide awake. “I mean if you like kinky.”
“A bit,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. I laughed when he
made a grab for me. “Now about that proper date.”
“I’ll go. On one condition.”
“What’s that?” He was peeling down my pajama pants and I was
letting him.
“You have to pick me up on the Indian.”
“Oh, a wild child, are you?”
I threw myself at him and he gave an oomph! Before kissing
me hard and pushing his hands into my still damp hair. “Jesus. Have you not
been paying attention?”
“I have. I have,” he said. “Trust me. A wild child and wicked
cool, I have been paying all kinds of attention.”
“Good to know,” I said, rubbing my body against his.
I heard the crinkle of the wrapper and sighed when he seated
me on his lap, my thighs wide, my body ready for him despite being sore and
exhausted. He twined his fingers in mine and when I started to move he said
softly, “Now tell me about this voyeuristic medium. And don’t spare any
details.”
Sommer Marsden writes from her cozy Baltimore home, which
she shares with a very patient family and a chunky wiener dog. She’s widely
published in the erotica genre. Her work has appeared in dozens of anthologies,
multiple magazines and on numerous websites. When she’s not writing, you can
find her haunting thrift stores, walking, drinking red wine and eating frozen
blueberries. Often simultaneously. Visit Sommer at her blog, Smut Girl (
www.smutgirl.blogspot.com
), to
keep up with her dirty ramblings and daily updates about her life of controlled
chaos.
Sommer welcomes comments from readers. You can find her
website and email address on her
author bio page
at
www.ellorascave.com
.
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