The Seekers: Into the Light

by Sommer Marsden

  "I don't care about all the stuff you think I should,” he rasped. “I don't care that they watch us. I don't care that you can pretty much read my mind. I don't fucking care, Martee. This is what I care about. This right here. This, and all the stuff that goes along with it."

  I pushed my fingers into the carpet, holding on for dear life. I slammed back against him and bucked my hips. Gently a finger was inserted into the restrictive opening of my ass. I did my best to relax as it slid home and added a new, darker feeling that invaded my cunt. I felt the friction of his cock meet the hardness of his finger and the two sensations hummed like electricity through my body. Two more strokes and I lost my tenuous grip. I spasmed, inside and out. Each muscle contracted, each muscle relaxed, so intense I bit my tongue. I pulled at him and worked him with each shudder. I deliberately clenched my cunt around him.

  "Christ, Martee,” he hissed. “That's cheating."

  He came with a roar that was half anger, half victory.

  "White light,” he wheezed and fell atop of me.

  "What?” I shifted under him until we were face-to-face and let my hands explore his back. I traced his ribs with a fingernail, and he quivered a little.

  "I talked to that psychic, Margaret LeLane. She said the white light works for privacy with spirits too. You have to be firm but concentrate on blocking them out. You may have to practice a few times but it works. They can't be with you always, Martee."

  "I've tried that. It didn't work."

  "Try harder. I think it will work."

  The temperature was still low and I started to shiver with cold.

  "Clothes!” I moaned. “Give me my clothes."

  We got dressed quickly and I turned to our spectators.

  "I know you think we don't understand your fear,” I started, hurriedly stepping into my jeans. The temperature was dropping quickly. “I do. I understand your fear, and it's common. You can go over, all of you, and stay together.

  "Judgment doesn't exist, despite what we are taught. I've talked to too many from the other side not to believe this as fact. The point is happiness. You can create the same life, the same house even, over there. All you have to do is follow the light. Find the light and cross over. It's okay."

  "I don't believe you.” Walter wasn't going to buy this with ease.

  "I swear. If I'm lying, come back. There aren't barriers. You can cross back into this world as easily as I can walk through that door if that's your choice."

  Lily was the first to show interest. She wrapped her arm around Walter's waist and looked at him imploringly. Despite the fact that Trip was oblivious to the scene, he wrapped his arms around my waist in a similar fashion.

  Dahlia surprised me by being the next to step forward. She was coldly beautiful and daunting in a sleek, fashionable way. She joined Lily in the embrace.

  Next came Rose, then Daisy, followed by Sunflower. Petunia embraced Hyacinth and pulled her forward to the group. They stood huddled together, scared but united.

  "We're trusting you,” Walter said with a sad smile. “I would hope for your honesty."

  "And you have it,” I assured him.

  "Where is it then?"

  I shrugged. “You'll find it,” I said. “If you're open, it appears."

  He gave me a brisk nod.

  "We'll leave you,” I said, acknowledging their need for privacy.

  The door swung shut behind us. Before it fully closed, I could feel they were gone.

  Trip took my hand and grinned wolfishly. “This was the best assignment ever!” he taunted.

  "We're okay?” I had spent so long pushing him away, I feared he would do the same.

  "Better than okay.” He kissed me sweetly. His tongue tangled with mine, and I relished the heat that snaked down to my groin.

  "Behave. We have to pass on the news."

  "Guys, we lost all our readings,” Mikey shouted as we re-entered the dining room. Then his eyes skipped to our entwined hands, and he laughed outright.

  "That's because Martee helped them over,” Trip said. “We're done. We can pack up the gear, and I'll call Mr. Richards on his cell phone."

  Mikey was still grinning like an ass as he dismantled the equipment.

  "What is it?” I yelled. He was annoying me and I was already exhausted.

  "Nothing. Just noticing your T-shirt's on inside-out."

  "Shit.” I dropped my head with an embarrassed sigh.

  "Forget about that. We've got to head out.” Trip was listening intently to a missed message on his phone.

  "What's the rush?” Mikey asked. I was glad to see him give Missy an affectionate smack on the ass as she passed by. She giggled like a schoolgirl and gave a little jump.

  "That werewolf lady called again,” Trip said, and then dialed David Richards.

  I wondered briefly what the owner thought when he heard our collective groan.

  We left the now-empty house and locked up. Snow was starting to fall, and I jogged in place while Trip unlocked the van.

  "Is it true what you told them?” He cranked the heat to full blast.

  "What?"

  "All of it. No judgment, happiness. That they can come back if they want."

  "It's what I've been told. I wanted them to have some peace. It was time to move on."

  "So what was the real deal in that house?” He turned the van onto Summit Avenue and merged into the sparse traffic. “Was it like a never-ending orgy, or what?"

  "No. It was a family. I know it sounds hard to believe. They loved each other,” I sighed. “Every single one of them loved the other."

  "The man was incredibly lucky or cursed, depending on your take on it."

  "How so?” I noticed we were heading toward my apartment and I felt my heart sink a little.

  "All those gorgeous women ... I assume they were gorgeous?"

  I nodded.

  "All that sex. Good God, though, can you imagine dealing with seven women with PMS?” Then he cracked up at his own joke.

  I slapped his thigh but grinned. Desire licked at my insides as I felt his muscles through his jeans. I was hoping for an encore, not a shuttle bus home. I fought the urge to reach in those jeans and take hold of him. I wanted to stroke him and make him pull over. I wanted anything but to go home.

  He pulled into a liquor store parking lot and killed the engine. “I'll be right back. Sit tight."

  I watched him go and let the sadness wash over me. It was my own damn fault. I'd pushed him away for so long he was used to it. He would take me home, drop me off, and go on with the night. I felt cold but not from the snow.

  Trip put a paper bag in the back and climbed back into the van.

  "You look beat, babe. Let's get you home."

  I nodded but said nothing. I didn't trust my voice. I always feel a little sad, a little empty after completing a job. It's part of the territory. This line of work sucks the life out of you. Literally.

  My apartment looked stark and lonely when we entered.

  "You want me to wait here or help?” Trip asked.

  "Help with what?” I couldn't help it, I let my anger rise up and consume me. “You've got your beer or whatever. You don't have to stay and help me with anything. Go home and get out of the snow. Go home and put your feet up and pat yourself on the fucking back for another job well done!"

  A little sob escaped my throat, and I felt mortified. I was showing my weakness.

  "You're infuriating,” he said tightly.

  "You're an ass!"

  He pushed me roughly against the wall and pinned my wrists with one hand. I turned my head, struggling, but he crushed my mouth with his.

  "You make me crazy.” He punctuated his words by undoing my jeans and forcing them down.

  His urgency flooded me with an eager wetness, and I braced myself as he drove into me. No foreplay or kindness—just hurried entry. Each thrust provoked a sweet, tender pain. Still slightly sore from earlier, I widened my stance to take him. His cock stretched me
and filled me. He felt like warm marble, like soft suede. The force of his body trapped me against the unforgiving wall. He cupped my ass and lifted me higher so my toes barely touched the ground.

  I pushed against him, accepting each inch of skin that touched mine. I wanted him to cover me and consume me. My mind was nothing but white light and the sound of my blood in my veins.

  I came just as Trip fell against me, his breath ragged on my breasts, his face a mask of undecipherable emotion.

  "I wanted to know if I could help you pack,” he grunted. “That's champagne in the van, Martee. To celebrate. I've waited a long time for you to come to your senses."

  His anger was fading, and he tenderly touched my brow, ran his finger across my eyelids. “They forecast a big snow tonight. More than a foot. I want you with me at my place. You know—roaring fire, champagne, hot sex ... the whole damn cliché."

  I clenched my thighs together to hold him in me. I wanted his cock nestled safely in my wetness until my feelings stabilized. I needed him close, and he couldn't be any closer.

  He relaxed against me and licked salty sweat off my shoulder. I sighed as the tears fell.

  "I'm not going to punish you. I want you. No games. And, after we do this a few hundred more times we're going to call that LeLane woman and get you settled. You'll have some privacy."

  I wiped my eyes and took a deep breath. Finally I released him. I stood naked before him inside and out.

  "I'll go pack."

  "Pack a lot.” He kissed me on the back of the neck and cupped my breasts. Each bud responded appreciatively. My cooling skin drank in his warmth.

  "And once we've fucked each other senseless, we'll brush up on werewolves."

  I started laughing. It started deep in my belly and echoed louder with each wave. It was good to laugh again. Even if I did have to chase werewolves in the moonlight.

  It's a job. Somebody's got to do it.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Dying For Love

  "Wake up, Martee Hollywood, this is your life!"

  I opened one eye and gave Trip a vicious glare. I was tired. Too tired for this annoying shit. I had to admit, though, he looked devastatingly sexy in his cut-off sweatpants. They sat low on his hips and exposed some of my favorite sweet spots. Taut, rippled abs and those wonderful hollows right along his hipbones that lead straight to the good stuff. He grinned at me, shirtless and sleep-rumpled. Yum.

  "No. Don't close those bedroom eyes again. We have a case. Let's go. Up and at ‘em. We have to pack. A six-hour drive awaits."

  "Six hours?” I groaned. “Where are we going? Mars?"

  "Glastonbury, Connecticut. A novice innkeeper wants her house cleared in time for her grand opening on Halloween."

  "That's tomorrow,” I grunted. I rolled over, stretched, and allowed myself to revel for an instant. I was wearing Trip's over-washed Austin Powers Shagalicious tee shirt, and it was as soft as butter against my skin.

  "Exactly. Hence the rushing-around part. We're meeting the rest of the gang in an hour. Now let's go!” He delivered a hearty smack to my bare ass and I yelped.

  "Oooh. I like the sound of that. We can spare a few minutes if you're so inclined.” I stretched my leg and touched him with my bare toe. Trip grinned, climbed onto the bed, and started kissing me. His breath hummed along my skin, warm and tempting.

  "Mmmm. I may need some incentive to get up and get moving so quickly.” I laughed.

  "I have incentive to burn, Babe."

  Trip wrapped my hand around his cock to show me it was true. I stroked the smooth head with my finger, earning a gasp. I trailed my nails along its length and watched it quiver from the contact. I would like some incentive, I decided. But first, I would give him some.

  I pulled my hair to the nape of my neck and held it there. Slowly, I took his erection into my mouth, sucking and pulling gently as I licked him.

  "You're giving me incentive to call and cancel the gig,” he breathed.

  "Nonsense. We can do all this and then go.” I wasn't sure if he understood me with my mouth full.

  I trailed my tongue along the main vein, buried my face in his pubic hair, and inhaled. Heaven. I gently sucked his balls as he cradled my head. How I loved to get Trip worked up.

  "Enough,” he growled and flipped me. Exactly what I was hoping for. When Trip flips me, I know I'm in for a mind-numbing orgasm.

  He brusquely gave my breasts attention, almost angrily suckling until I thought the pressure alone would push me over the edge. Rigid fingers spread my folds, plunged into my wet opening, and did marvelous things. He dipped for a delicious lap-and-lick around my clit, then pressed his tongue into my entrance. I bunched the bed covers in my fists just to keep from crying out.

  "Push your ass up,” he ordered, and I obeyed.

  He leaned back from me and held me firmly by the hips, successfully pinning us cock to cunt. He moved within me forcefully, driving his girth into me, making me sweat. His face was half anger, half humor.

  "I hate when you get me like this,” he growled. “I feel like an animal."

  Each word was punctuated by an aggressive thrust of his cock. Each thrust punctuated by a tiny spasm deep in my pussy. I was on the cusp of coming and I locked eyes with him. Mine sleepy, his arctic blue.

  I broke his strong hold on me and pulled my knees back, linking my ankles behind his back and forcing him in further. Deeper.

  "Jesus, Martee, that's not fai...” He threw his head back with a sharp intake of air and his intensity shot me straight into orgasm. Raw power and release. My hold over him was the best aphrodisiac of all. We slammed together, coming in unison. His body was taut with release. I relished the flood of warmth that traveled through me with each shudder of my cunt.

  "Ready to go?” I giggled in his ear.

  "You drive me nuts,” he sighed, nuzzling the sweet spot behind my ear. “If I didn't love you so damn much, I'd fire you."

  "No you wouldn't,” I teased and gave him a shove. “I'm the best psychic medium you know."

  His mouth encircled my nipple and sucked. Ooh.

  "That you are. In fact, you're the only one I know.” He released my nipple. “Now go get packed because we're running late.” He gave me another sharp smack to the ass.

  I grabbed my duffel and jumped out of reach. “On the trip up, we'll have to talk about this spanking thing. I think you may have a fetish."

  He gave me wolfish grin. It looked perfectly natural on his dark, unshaven face. “Wouldn't that be sweet?"

  "Hmmmph.” I started randomly throwing clothes into my bag. The last two weeks had been heaven. Our group, the Seekers, hadn't taken a case so we could all get a little rest. When you investigate the paranormal for a living, sometimes you just need some R-and-R. Much like cops and firefighters, we see the weirdest shit.

  The last two weeks had been good for me and Trip. We'd been able to focus on rebuilding our relationship, having the time to rediscover each other emotionally and physically.

  Especially physically.

  "Ready yet?” Trip called from the living room. “We're picking the rest up at the office."

  "Coming, coming,” I muttered and grabbed my duffel and my bag of tricks. Sage stick for cleansing, candles for contact, incense, some reference books, and some crystals. A day in the life of a girl who talks to dead folks. You just never know what you'll need.

  We arrived at the red brick building that houses the Seekers. Our name is boldly printed on the door. However, the legend Investigators in the Paranormal requires a microscope to read. People get a little loony when it comes to things not of this world. They usually fall into three categories—the ones who believe wholeheartedly, the ones who want you to prove it, and the ones who will throw bricks through your window.

  We try to discourage the last group.

  Our other three members were waiting on the pavement. Mikey was smoking and looking fidgety. Liz and Missy were bouncing to keep warm. We were late, and their f
aces let us know it.

  Mikey is Trip's cousin and our equipment man. Missy is a romance writer by day, a ghost hunter when she gets the call. She claims to love the excitement and the material. At age ten, she had an experience with a neighborhood ghost and has been hooked ever since. The group is rounded out by Liz, our Girl Friday. If we need it, she can get it. She's also showing some interest in learning to be an investigator.

  Currently, Missy and Mikey are knocking boots. Good for them. They'd hooked up on our last case, and were still going strong.

  "Where the hell have you been?” Mikey barked. He tossed his equipment bags in the back of Trip's van. “We've been standing out here for twenty minutes."

  Trip remained uncharacteristically silent.

  "We got held up,” I muttered, trying to suppress a smile. I gratefully accepted a lukewarm cup of coffee from Liz.

  Mikey stared at me, then at Trip. “Yeah. Held up. Sure."

  This earned a titter from mousy Missy, who was looking a little flushed herself. Had they got held up too?

  "Let's stop squawking and get going,” Trip said. “We'll all ride together, considering the price of gas these days. The van will hold everyone."

  "Great,” Mikey said. “Six hours of together time."

  "Would you rather spend the two hundred or so in gas?” Trip asked.

  "Let's go!” Mikey grumped and climbed into the van.

  Missy rolled her eyes at me and smiled. “He's just not a morning person."

  I felt a surge of heat and moisture in my crotch, and my thighs started to shake. This wasn't coming from me—it was coming from Missy. Lucky me, I'm an empath and can pick up on people's feeling. Emotional and physical. According to the vibes I was getting off Missy, Mikey was very much a morning person.

  I took a deep breath, held it for a count of four, and blew it out roughly. I pictured myself surrounded by bright white light and mirrors. This exercise would help me deflect any unwanted feelings or impressions from my co-workers. Thank God. I was still recovering from my morning incentive with Trip, and I didn't need to pick up on Missy's encounters.

  I shook off my case of the shivers and grinned. “Let's go. All aboard. To Connecticut!"