They appeared like a hologram, and I smiled. Oblivious to us, or their surroundings, they were locked in the kind of an embrace you would expect after countless years of separation.
Trip was staring, slack jawed, at the site.
"What?” I asked, but I already knew the answer.
"Did you see that?” he stammered. “Or am I running on not enough sleep and too much Martee?"
"I saw it.” I laughed. “Welcome to my world."
"Shit. I need something to ... what do you call it? Ground me! I need something to ground me."
Success had me feeling playful. The rest of the team had disappeared through the grove of trees. I reached out and took hold of Trip firmly, hitting below the belt. “I think I can ground you.” I heard the huskiness in my own voice. I suddenly needed to be as close to him as possible.
"You're screwing with me, right? Messing with my addled brain?” Despite his words, his face lit up with expectation.
"Not at all. Sometimes you need an expert to help in these situations.” I sank to my knees and pulled down his zipper. In the quiet of the country, it was clearly audible.
I took his cock in my mouth, and it jumped to meet my tongue. Eager and ready, the skin was smooth as silk. He smelled like laundry detergent, outdoors, and man. I licked slowly, savoring each second of contact. Joyous at the intimacy we were allowed. The closeness we couldn't be denied.
I paused to kiss gently the insides of his thighs, his hipbones, the fine line of hair below his belly button. Allowing my hands to continue the rhythm my mouth had started.
"Dear God, you have to ground me more often,” he said softly, gently playing his hand through my hair. He traced the outline of my jaw and swept his fingertips across my closed eyelids. His touch was so light it felt like butterflies on my skin.
I didn't answer, but murmured sweet sounds of contentment as I sucked slowly on his cock. The salty taste of the beginning of his end played across my tongue. I speeded up slightly, relaxing my throat and watching his face. The deeper I took him the more beautiful he looked. When he came, I drank him in. My eyes absorbed each flicker and twitch that floated across his face. He's mine in more ways than one. That brought me a smile.
After I made him presentable again, I kissed him. I took his arm and we started back. “What are you grinning about?” he asked. The house was finally in sight, and I could see the others loading equipment into the van. Mikey was on the cell phone. Most likely telling Margaret all was clear.
"Just happy, I guess. Happy for them. Happy for us. Happy that the only ghosts Margaret will be able to offer her guests tonight will be those of legend and lore."
"All that time she wasted here.” He shook his head. “And what those boys did to her. All that pain and violence. Even though it all worked out, it's hard to believe. She died because of love."
I took his hand and told him the truth: “In the end, it all comes down to love."
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * * *
* * * *
About the Author
Sommer Marsden lives in Maryland with her family and her red wiener dog. When she's not writing smut, she can be found walking the fat dog, watching movies, hanging out with her kids, baking, reading, emailing, or in the downward dog position (that would be yoga). She has been published extensively in print anthologies and online. She loves to hear from readers and writers and can be contacted at [email protected]. She invites you to visit smutgirl.blogspot.com/ and www.freewebs.com/sommermarsden for updates, blogs, and general chatter. Or if you would like to be her friend, go to www.myspace.com/sommermarsden.
----
Visit www.eternalpress.com.au for information on additional titles by this and other authors.
Trip was staring, slack jawed, at the site.
"What?” I asked, but I already knew the answer.
"Did you see that?” he stammered. “Or am I running on not enough sleep and too much Martee?"
"I saw it.” I laughed. “Welcome to my world."
"Shit. I need something to ... what do you call it? Ground me! I need something to ground me."
Success had me feeling playful. The rest of the team had disappeared through the grove of trees. I reached out and took hold of Trip firmly, hitting below the belt. “I think I can ground you.” I heard the huskiness in my own voice. I suddenly needed to be as close to him as possible.
"You're screwing with me, right? Messing with my addled brain?” Despite his words, his face lit up with expectation.
"Not at all. Sometimes you need an expert to help in these situations.” I sank to my knees and pulled down his zipper. In the quiet of the country, it was clearly audible.
I took his cock in my mouth, and it jumped to meet my tongue. Eager and ready, the skin was smooth as silk. He smelled like laundry detergent, outdoors, and man. I licked slowly, savoring each second of contact. Joyous at the intimacy we were allowed. The closeness we couldn't be denied.
I paused to kiss gently the insides of his thighs, his hipbones, the fine line of hair below his belly button. Allowing my hands to continue the rhythm my mouth had started.
"Dear God, you have to ground me more often,” he said softly, gently playing his hand through my hair. He traced the outline of my jaw and swept his fingertips across my closed eyelids. His touch was so light it felt like butterflies on my skin.
I didn't answer, but murmured sweet sounds of contentment as I sucked slowly on his cock. The salty taste of the beginning of his end played across my tongue. I speeded up slightly, relaxing my throat and watching his face. The deeper I took him the more beautiful he looked. When he came, I drank him in. My eyes absorbed each flicker and twitch that floated across his face. He's mine in more ways than one. That brought me a smile.
After I made him presentable again, I kissed him. I took his arm and we started back. “What are you grinning about?” he asked. The house was finally in sight, and I could see the others loading equipment into the van. Mikey was on the cell phone. Most likely telling Margaret all was clear.
"Just happy, I guess. Happy for them. Happy for us. Happy that the only ghosts Margaret will be able to offer her guests tonight will be those of legend and lore."
"All that time she wasted here.” He shook his head. “And what those boys did to her. All that pain and violence. Even though it all worked out, it's hard to believe. She died because of love."
I took his hand and told him the truth: “In the end, it all comes down to love."
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * * *
* * * *
About the Author
Sommer Marsden lives in Maryland with her family and her red wiener dog. When she's not writing smut, she can be found walking the fat dog, watching movies, hanging out with her kids, baking, reading, emailing, or in the downward dog position (that would be yoga). She has been published extensively in print anthologies and online. She loves to hear from readers and writers and can be contacted at [email protected]. She invites you to visit smutgirl.blogspot.com/ and www.freewebs.com/sommermarsden for updates, blogs, and general chatter. Or if you would like to be her friend, go to www.myspace.com/sommermarsden.
----
Visit www.eternalpress.com.au for information on additional titles by this and other authors.
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