Mason looked lost. She tried not to pay attention to him, but he looked lost. Like an old man, or a puppy without its owner. He looked at her like a drowning man looks at a liferaft. "Misty, please?"
Her lips pursed automatically. He was impossible. More than a hundred years, and he'd never grown up for a second. Mason pushed people away until he was desperate and then panicked. Like a small child.
Fine, I'm listening.
He looked down for a minute. "So I've been thinking. About what I was saying last night."
Misty rolled her eyes.
"Something's really off here. I don't know exactly what, yet, but there's some weird mumbo jumbo. I mean. I guess they probably have a, whatever. Medicine man or something. But whether they have one or not—they need one. I think you might be in over your head."
Whose fault is that?
Mason went quiet, and for a moment, Misty almost felt bad. Then she ducked her head down and slid into the passenger seat of Henry's car and forgot about the whole thing.
The trip was quiet. Whatever he was thinking, he kept to himself, and when Misty got bored a few miles down the road he flinched away from her touch in a way he hadn't the day before. Something inside him had changed, she knew. She wasn't liking it. Men were easier to deal with, and a hell of a lot more fun, when they were ready to fool around.
The Henry she'd been with the day before had been, but when the night came, he wasn't that man any more. Whatever had changed hadn't just affected him. It had scared him, she thought, and that was boring. More than boring—it was frustrating.
He didn't tell her whatever he was thinking, though, even still. She came out of the car and let him walk her around the site. It didn't feel special. Rather, it felt like anything. There was dust kicking up and blowing in her face. Not for the first time since she'd been rejected the night before, Misty wondered if the trip had been worth it.
Mason made a beeline for a large, modern-looking tent across the way and disappeared without a word to her. Good riddance, Misty thought. Maybe he'd find some way to get the hell out of her life, and she could just beg off.
She stood there with her hands on her hips and looked expectantly to Henry, only to find him looking at her the same way. Like she would have all the answers from coming up a dusty mountain trail. She sat down against a stone in the middle of the clearing and said nothing. Let him think that she was communing with the spirits, or something. She could use the time to come up with a convincing enough lie that would absolve her of responsibility somehow.
Maybe the spirits wouldn't show themselves to an outsider. That way she could get out of the whole thing, no problem. No muss, no fuss, and she wouldn't have to explain why she hadn't just told him that it was a hoax in the first place.
Mason surprised her, though. She usually had a good sense for where he was, even when she felt like she had better ignore him. It was a testament to her mood that when he spoke, she jolted upright in a way that Henry would notice. There went the 'no spirits' story.
"Misty, I had a look at the kid. You know, the one your boyfriend there was talking about?" Misty looked at him out of the corner of her eye, but it was enough to let him know she was listening, even if only halfway. "Well, there's spirits down here, that's for sure. Damn near an ice-cream social, seems like. A few of them were chattier than most spirits, like they're used to this kind of stuff, I guess."
Misty couldn't resist a draw like that. And?
"They can't get into the kid. Said he's like an empty vessel, so they're supposed to go in. Whatever. High-fallutant spooks. Well, long story short, they said they can't."
Any guesses why?
"Not in the least," Mason answered.
Something wrong with the kid?
"No, they were ecstatic about the kid. Said they haven't gotten out in…I dunno, six months? Said he seemed really eager. But they can't get into him."
Misty frowned and shut her eyes, let the whole thing seep in. This trip just got worse and worse. Now she had something to tell Henry, and that meant that more and more she wasn't making a solid case for just going home. Why the hell couldn't she have just left this alone? She could be on a yacht right this second, if she'd just stayed in town and met the right guys.
Instead she was breathing dust and making herself useful to a guy who wouldn't even let her get her groove back.
This sucks.
Mason smiled. She should have realized that letting him know she was having a bad time would cheer him up. What an ass.
"I just, ah…" As she started to speak, Misty realized that whatever she said couldn't be the whole truth. 'I see one ghost but don't worry he talked to whatever spirits you're looking for, declared them losers, but then he told me what you wanted to know?'
Where did the jackassery of that entire sentence begin and where did it end? No, she'd have to lie.
But then the lies all seemed really strange, too. She hadn't talked about her so-called "powers," the ones she'd "put out an ad for." If she was a professional, she should have plenty of experience with this sort of stuff.
"I'm getting a…feeling."
"Good save," Mason said automatically.
"There's…uh…something's stopping the spirits from entering the boy. Something in our world."
"What else?" Henry's face was twisted in concern.
"They want to enter the boy's body, but they can't. That's—" She looked at Mason, who shrugged and leaned back to look at the sky. "That's all I can figure out right now."
Henry had a conflicted look. He wasn't overjoyed. She'd given him enough to know that she was working, and he might even be willing to let it go there. Whether it was her job to puzzle out the mystery of who was causing all this trouble or not, if she couldn't do it, she couldn't do it.
Then his face darkened, and Misty could feel her nipples tightening at the idea of him looking at her that way. "Then we go," he said finally, and turned without waiting for her.
Henry was a man of many moods, she was seeing now. When he wasn't being a whiny sonovabitch, each one seemed to be more interesting than the last. Too bad he'd spent the last 12 hours moping. She might have gotten the chance to jump his bones for real.
The lodge was a ways out of town, she realized. By the time they were driving back in, after the winding mountain trail, it was already getting dark. He'd go to bed after a bit, and then she would probably try to seduce him, and he'd bail on her and she'd be left there frustrated and wondering if it was that weird to touch herself in someone else's apartment. Someone she decidedly hadn't slept with.
The ride was silent. Henry was sour and frustrated and didn't look to be in the mood to talk. Misty, on the other hand, was desperate for conversation, for a single word of confirmation that she wasn't absolutely crazy. The problem was, the only living person here, the only voice she could trust, couldn't tell her if she was. Clearly he had his own problems.
As they pulled into the drive, the extent of his mood was becoming clearer and clearer. He turned to her after a long moment with the engine still running in the dark, the headlights lighting up an empty end long-since closed laundramat. She could see that his jaw was tight, his teeth practically grinding even as he spoke.
"Can I tell you something really crazy?" He looked up at her and for a moment their eyes met. Misty nodded. "I think I know what this is all about. Kinda."
"Well, then, why didn't you say something?"
"Because it's stupid, that's why. Doesn't make a bit of sense, so I assumed it's a coincidence. You don't think that because the last time you took out the garbage it was raining that the rain makes your garbage can fill up, right? Well…" Henry laid his head back and closed his eyes. "The last time I was, you know…with someone? Was about five months ago. My girlfriend at the time had left and then she called me up late one night and we had a sort of…last hurrah."
"And you think that's what is causing your spiritual concerns?" Misty blinked to try to keep her expression neutral, but i
t didn't help to hide the doubt on her face.
"Well, there's more to it than that. When I was just getting out of high school, I was the vessel, right? Seven, eight years ago, no big thing. Everyone does it. Well, come to learn that most of us end up with a little spark. Nothing like a psychic like you, of course." Misty cringed internally at that. "And come to find out that the girl I was dating had some…unique disposition with that. So I still figured it was nothing, or that the spirits were angry, or something. But maybe, I dunno…"
"What, like the two of you together having some kind of wild hatefuck made the spirits all hazy?"
"I dunno, is that how it works?"
Misty looked serruptitiously over her shoulder at Mason, who shrugged.
"I guess it could be."
"So, miss psychic, do you know how to fix it?"
"Not really."
She could feel her breath struggling to fill her lungs. Her heart was beating and she could feel her nipples rub against her bra when she moved in the car.
"If you want, we could try something…"
Henry's hand reached across the car and settled on her thigh, his thick fingers wrapping around her thigh and rubbing along the inside seam of her jeans. A jolt of something like electric shock shot up her thigh straight to her core, and she felt her head buzzing.
"Inside," she groaned.
Misty heard the car door click open and Henry's hand pulled away from her leg. She opened her own door and followed, only a step or two behind, up the steps and into the apartment. She could feel her head swimming already, between the built-up arousal she'd accumulated over the past week and the strong grasp that Henry pulled her into.
"I don't have any condoms," he said as they kissed. "I can go—"
"You can pull out, right?" Misty sucked on his neck hard, enjoying the groan of approval that Henry let out.
"Of course."
"Then don't bother," she said. His hands were moving across her body, and for the first time in what felt like forever she felt normal again. Like a woman. This was how she always wanted to feel, and her endless stream of boyfriends had helped her stay.
Her shirt came off and fell to the ground, forgotten, as Henry pulled at the bra that contained her breasts. He stopped for a moment to look at them, feeling the weight of them cupped in his hand, and then stooped his head to pull one into his mouth.
Misty had never felt quite like this, though. Like she was licking a battery. Energy coursed through her, pooling in her nipples and her womanhood. She needed this, needed it more than she had realized, and she needed it with him.
She entwined her fingers into his hair and let her hand close into a fist, pushing his mouth further onto her breast, and took his hand in hers to guide it down to where her legs met.
Henry took the hint and rubbed the heel of his palm into her, pressing the fabric of her clothing into her sensitive button. Misty let out a moan and let her lover guide her to the bed.
His hands were surprisingly soft, she thought. He seemed so big and strong, she'd thought his hands would be rougher. His soft, smooth hands worked the button on her jeans and then pulled them down her hips. He smiled approvingly at her lack of panties.
Then his hands ran their way back up her thighs, coming up to where they met, and he ran a thick finger up—not quite touching her where she so desperately wanted him to touch.
Then, before her mind could process what her body felt, his soft fingers were probing her depths, his thumb rubbing at the button at the peak of her womanhood. Misty let out a loud gasp and realized that she couldn't see. Her vision blurred and the pleasure surging through her body blanked her eyes further.
She realized her mistake, then, all of a sudden. What had she been thinking? Pull out? She was throwing away everything, and for nothing. She gasped out loud. "I want you to cum in me, baby."
"Are you…sure?"
"Ohhhhh—fuck. Yes."
She hadn't been this sure of anything in her entire life, not since her earliest memories. Damn the consequences.
She felt him withdraw his fingers, and spread herself further, offering him whatever he wanted, whatever he would take from her. She would give it. He moved between her thighs, and Misty felt him, hard and hot and big, press against her moist womanhood.
"Fuck me," she begged. He pushed in, and groaned.
The way he stretched her, the fullness he gave her, the electric pleasure that curled her toes…Misty's vision blacked out completely and he rode her, hard. The cloud of pleasure carried her through orgasm after orgasm, until she didn't know how long she had been fucking. Finally she felt him climaxing, his cum filling her in thick, ropy strands.
Her vision started to clear, and she could feel him kissing her neck. Misty laid back, enjoying the glow of so many orgasms, and rolled her head to one side to kiss the top of her lover's head.
That's when she saw them. A dozen, a hundred—in the cramped apartment, she couldn't be clear, but the room was absolutely filled with spirits, each wearing what seemed to be a strange mask. With a single voice, they all spoke at once, within her mind.
"Thank you."
And then the room was empty and she fell back, her eyes seeing nothing at all.
Three weeks later, Misty sat in the bathroom. A plastic stick sat in a cup of her urine, and she was counting off twenty seconds. She'd pull it out and let it sit, and then two minutes after that, she'd check.
She wasn't sure which she'd rather: was it just nausea, or something more?
Paranormal Impregnation 2
Knocked Up In A Threesome
Selena Savage
Misty laid back down on her bed and stared at the ceiling. Jesus. Thank God, she thought. That was too close. She'd never let go before like she had with Henry. She hadn't even planned to, just wanted to play around a little with him. But instead she was going off the deep end, and as she should have expected, Mason had jumped in to play his games.
On the other hand, there was good reason to suspect that his cum had played a major role in what had come after. Not only the nausea, the doubts. But she began seeing more of them. More than just Mason. And they knew. She'd learned something else. How to turn them off. So now she was laying back on her bed, four negative tests on the rim of the bathroom sink, in silence.
Mason wasn't gone. He would always be with her, she knew. The reasons weren't clear. Hundreds of years separated his death and her birth. But for some reason, he was attached to her, stuck with her. She almost took a sick sort of pleasure in it, now that she knew she could turn him off whenever she wanted to. He wouldn't know right away, either. He could be talking to himself for hours without realizing that she didn't hear a word of it.
He deserved it, too, after the stunt with the damn newspaper ad, after jumping into her mind and telling her to get knocked up. Still, now that she had a better grasp of her so-called "psychic" abilities, she felt more comfortable leaving the ad there. It wasn't as if she had paid for it. Mason had figured out a way, like he always did. It was impressive how well he managed to get by without a physical body.
Instead, she might as well enjoy the extra pocket money it brought in from time to time. He apartment was taken care of, and her food. The "psychic" money was easy come, easy go. Helped her wardrobe.
She came back from her weekend trip with Henry to find a half-dozen missed calls on the cell phone she'd left thinking it would just be a quick day. Little things, mostly. People wanted to hear from their dead relatives, which she could do, sometimes. Kinda. They were pretty petulant most of the time, just like in life, and she didn't want people's last memory of their mama to be "You know, your wife's haircut is awful."
Other things she faked a little. How's Fluffy doing in Heaven? How the fuck should I know, she wanted to say. But they didn't pay for those kinds of answers. So the stock response was how well they were doing.
They came in, a case or two a day, and by the time her period was supposed to roll on by, it seemed like business
as usual. But it wasn't, not really. The entire time she was thinking about that first case, and how her mornings were getting sicker and sicker. She'd always been real regular, but her period didn't start. And then didn't start. And then didn't start, and then she figured it might be time to go to the store.
It was nerve-wracking, but she did it. Negative, all the way across. She let out a long sigh of relief and went to lay down. But somewhere, deep down, she was disappointed, too. What if she had a baby? She could afford it, and her mama would stop telling her to settle down so she can have a grand-baby.
So what, though? It wasn't her mom's life, it was hers, and she didn't have anything figured out at all. She was still figuring out who she was—never mind who her kids were. Still, the thought wasn't…entirely unappealing, she admitted.
As she thought about it, the intercom sang out a jingle, loud enough to fill the whole apartment. The noise startled Misty out of her reverie, and broke the concentration it took to keep Mason at bay.
"—know you can hear me."
He was sitting in front of her, his face inches from hers. If it were anyone else, it would have been…almost sexual. But with him, it was irritating. She rolled her eyes.
"I knew it! I knew you were listening, you minx!"
She picked up the handset.
"Hello?"
"Hi, is this the psychic girl?"
Misty poked the button to buzz him in with her thumb and hung up. The man who met her outside her door, as she waited, was tall and thin. His clothes seemed almost to hang off of him like a clothes rack, and he had a thin beard that lined his jaw, serving only to make his feminine features more pronounced.
"Hi, I'm Misty Reed," she said softly, holding her hand out. He took it, and she felt how cold he was. He must have been sick, or something, but it was ice cold. Like a corpse, she thought with a shiver. And his eyes had deep, black bags underneath. "Is everything okay?"
He gave her a tired, sad smile. "Do you mind if I come in?"
A Billionaire's Heart (Erotic Romance Bundle) Page 20
