The Resurrection of Josephine [A Ghost Seekers Novella] Read online

  "Oh yes.” Rumer grasped both of their heads, clasping them tightly to her breasts. “I love to watch two men play together. It's so sexy, especially when they're sucking me."

  Martin nibbled on her nipple, then licked it gently. He lifted his gaze to her and winked before dropping his hand from Noah's cock and leaning over to suck in as much of the man's dick as possible.

  Noah's deep groan let him know the touch was appreciated, and while Martin sucked, his fingers sought out Rumer's folds, pushing into her soft body, feeling her wetness coat his fingers.

  "Pinch her clit,” Noah said. “She likes it that way."

  Rumer's sensuous, low moan made Martin's cock jump. He stroked her folds, his fingers sliding up and down in time with his mouth, which still slid up and down Noah's length. He tongued the head, slipping into the slit, savoring Noah's groan of pleasure.

  He pulled back, watching Noah's cock bob in front of his face. He ran his tongue down the ridge in the back, reveling in the hiss of pleasure that escaped Noah's mouth. He sucked the head back in, nibbling on it gently as his fingers continued to stroke Rumer. He found her clit easily, running his thumb over the tight bud with a gentle stroke as she bucked her hips into his hand.

  Martin kissed the tip of Noah's cock, then sat back and smiled at him. Without saying a word, he transferred his mouth to Rumer, running his tongue over her outer lips, then pulling them apart and gently blowing on her wet folds.

  "Oh lord.” She wiggled and groaned as he licked and blew several times. When her groans turned deep and needy, he dove in for the kill, sucking her clit into his mouth while Noah caressed Martin's back, his hands dropping to gently knead Martin's buttocks, pulling them apart and then squeezing them back together, putting delicious pressure on Martin's nether opening.

  Noah's fingers dipped down and teased his anus. “Yeah, feels good,” Martin said, resting his head on Rumer's thigh and continuing to blow on her wet flesh.

  "Yes it does,” Rumer said, putting her hands on the mattress and pushing herself into Martin's mouth.

  He licked and teased and nibbled until her hips were bucking wildly, her pussy pushing into his mouth with abandon. All the while Noah teased him without penetration, stroking, and feeling his puckered opening with one finger while his other hand dipped down and jerked Martin's cock, varying the tension just enough to keep Martin from going over the edge.

  "You're killing me,” Martin said, panting. He glanced back at Noah, who continued to tease Martin, pulling on his cock, then stroking his balls and anus.

  "Lie down on your back,” Rumer said, stroking Martin's hair.

  Martin glanced back at her, and he could tell exactly what she was thinking. He lay down on the bed, then crooked his finger at her. “Come here, you."

  She obeyed immediately, straddling Martin's face and lowering herself until his lips touched her pussy, and her mouth could swallow his cock.

  Martin groaned as she sucked him, her mouth firmly around his shaft. Noah used his tongue to draw little circles around Martin's balls, flicking his tongue back and forth on Martin's tightening sac.

  The double attention almost drove Martin crazy. He rolled his hips as Rumer and Noah continued to suck and lick, stopping at times to give each other wet, noisy kisses. He lapped at Rumer's pussy like it was delicate cream, slipping his tongue inside and fucking her gently. When he could feel he was about to come, he moved his mouth, fearful of biting something that would cause pain instead of pleasure.

  Rumer groaned when Martin pushed two fingers inside her wet channel, fucking her in the same rhythm her mouth worked up and down his cock.

  "Here ... wait ... coming...” Martin thrashed his head about, then pistoned his hips rapidly, his cock sliding in and out of her mouth. The burst of his orgasm hit him like a train, the first jets coating the back of Rumer's throat. When Noah groaned and whispered, “share, baby,” to Rumer, the pleasure increased. Noah's mouth replaced Rumer's, and Martin shot off another round, coming harder than he'd ever come in his life as Noah fastened onto his cock, his mouth like a vacuum.

  When his cock finally settled, Martin dove back in for his treat, licking and sucking at Rumer until she screamed, then he did it some more, nibbling on her clit as she rode his mouth. He felt her pussy seize again. He clasped her thighs, pulling her down as far as she could go. When the aftershocks finally settled, he caressed her soft legs, trailing his fingers up and down as he gently stroked her insides with his tongue.

  It took Martin a few minutes to realize Noah had stood up, his cock even with Rumer's mouth. Her head bobbed back and forth as Noah anchored himself by putting his hands on the wall.

  Martin wanted to climb out from under her, to scramble behind Noah, and give his balls the same treatment Noah had given him. But he didn't want to interrupt their rhythm. From the tense stance of Noah's body, Martin figured the other man was close.

  "Rumer, baby.” Noah growled out the words as the movement of Rumer's head increased. Martin stroked her as she rode out Noah's orgasm, his cock making a loud popping noise as she released it.

  Martin continued to caress her legs, and when she went to stand, he held her close, his tongue darting out to give her a few final last lashes with his tongue. Her groan of pleasure made him smack his lips loudly.

  "Very yummy."

  Everyone laughed. Noah got up, and Martin helped Rumer stand, then quickly followed suit. He pointed to the bed. “I'll be the perfect host and go get hot towels. You two rest, and then I'll come and join you."

  He gathered three hot towels, then came back into the bedroom and handed them out. When they were clean, Martin glanced at the clock; it showed they had about four hours until they needed to meet the rest of their séance party at Lola's house on Dauphine Street.

  Martin threw the wet towels in the bathroom, not caring when they fell to the floor near the sink. “I'm not a great housekeeper,” he said as he walked to the bed, lying down next to Rumer. Noah was already on her other side, so she was again the meat in a sandwich.

  "That wonderful interlude will help me rest,” Martin put an arm around her. He wiggled his fingers in invitation, and Noah mirrored his actions, interlocking their fingers on Rumer's stomach. “Do we need to set an alarm?"

  "Noah's got a built in clock,” Rumer replied. “Comes from being a paramedic. He'll have us up in plenty of time."

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  Chapter Seven

  Lola's house wasn't what Martin expected. She died when she was eighty-two years old, leaving him to expect doilies on every wood surface and plastic on all the furniture. Instead, he saw bright colored sofas and chairs with a slight covering of dust, and beautiful prints featuring travel destinations. There wasn't a fake flower or collection of chintzy knickknacks in sight.

  "Tell me about your grandmother.” He turned to Rumer, who smiled brightly before she cleared her throat to answer.

  Yeah, baby, I remember the great sex, too. He winked, smiling at the blush that rose on her cheeks.

  "Lola was a character. She traveled a lot, and couldn't stand to sit and do nothing. She had to be on the go, from the time she got up until the time she went to bed. That's why it surprised me when she died, she seemed so healthy and active."

  Noah came in from the kitchen and handed her a cup of water, then sat down. “She had great checkups, which just goes to prove, you never know when your time's up."

  Martin chuckled. “Thanks for the reminder."

  Rumer clutched her glass. “Do you sense her presence here?"

  Martin gave her a sad look. “Not really. I can feel residual energy, but I don't think she's still around. I think she was anxious to get on the other side and see what's what."

  "That sounds like Lola,” Rumer replied with a laugh.

  "But, if she wants to help us, she could make this easy,” Martin said, turning his head toward the knock on the door. “Let them in, will you Noah?"

  Noah's look of astonishment amused
Martin. He'd had fun playing one-up with the man on the first night. The apology had seemed to take a bit of wind out of their encounters, except for the sexual interlude they'd just shared. It might be fun to pull the guy's strings a little, see how he reacted.

  "You got two hands, and two feet, do it yourself.” Noah crossed his legs and put his arms around the back of the couch.

  "What's wrong, you afraid you might miss something? I'll take notes for you, if you want."

  This time Noah narrowed his eyes, but the look in his gaze let Martin know the other man knew exactly what he was doing, and two could play at the game.

  "Sure you know how to write?"

  "I learned in grammar school, and we used a pencil and paper. What did they use in your time, a slate and chalk?"

  "Stop it you two,” Rumer said, heading for the door. Martin and Noah exchanged wicked smiles.

  "Don't call me old,” Noah said. “I can still whip your ass, pup."

  "Yeah, we'll see.” Martin greeted Fletch, Dev, and Quinn, hoping the energy from the six of them would be enough to contact Lola.

  Rumer offered tea or coffee, and everyone refused.

  "Let's keep the lights low and light a few candles,” Martin said. “Only positive energy, people, no negative, and if you think a bad thought, please go in the other room. I need happy people around me. When the mood's set, we'll sit and chat for a while, and when we're all relaxed, I'll see whether Lola wants to come and play for a bit."

  After five minutes, Dev and Fletch reconsidered their decision about refreshment, and Rumer went into the kitchen to fetch bottles of tea. When everyone was seated again, Quinn launched into a tale about a man she'd met while covering a news story today. The man, Jackson Brightly, had been arrested three times for streaking down Bourbon Street.

  He'd called the TV station to see if they'd do a story about inequality, since women walked around topless at Mardi Gras constantly.

  "So, my boss thinks this is a good story,” Quinn says with a laugh. “He sends me out, and my cameraman and I get to the door, and Jackson answers it buck nekid."

  Her exaggeration of the last word made Martin laugh. He put his hand over the candle flame, letting his body absorb the heat.

  Lola, are you here?

  No answer came to his silent summons, and Martin cast his gaze back to Quinn, who was elaborating on how she tried to interview her naked subject without dissolving into laughter.

  "So Jeffrey, my cameraman, he's snorting behind me, and I'm wondering exactly what he's focusing on, since obviously we can't shoot Mr. Brightly except from the neck up. So..."

  Lola, come out and talk with me. You can enjoy Quinn's tale. It sounds like something you'd like. Plus, you'll get to see Rumer. She needs you.

  Martin smiled at the faint shift in the room's energy. Lola was trying. He closed his eyes and focused on her signature, repeating her name softly in his mind.

  "She's here, isn't she?” It was Rumer who spoke first, and it took Martin a few seconds to open his eyes and notice everyone staring at him. All conversation had stopped.

  "Not yet. She's close, though. She's enjoying the stories. Quinn, tell us another tale, something funny. Or Noah, relate something humorous about your job, maybe someone you picked up who'd done something outrageous."

  "Lola liked to laugh,” Rumer said, smiling.

  "Yes, keep going.” As they talked, Martin reached out with his senses. He could feel Lola hovering nearby, trying to make contact, with no success. Each time it felt as if she were near, he'd double his efforts, but she'd fade, her agitation at not being successful very evident.

  He knew this one would drain him, and as his friends, old and new, traded stories, he kept his energies focused on Lola, on bringing her into the room.

  After about forty-five minutes, Noah launched into a tale about a drunk who had decided he was a statue in Jackson Square. The man waded into the fountain and assumed various poses, running from area to area so everyone could get a good look at him. At one point he slipped and “conked his head on the side,” Noah explained. “It took fifteen stitches to close him up, but he survived. Then he spent the night in the drunk tank."

  "At least he had his clothes on,” Quinn said, everyone joining in her laughter.

  "So he says.” Martin glanced at the form floating next to him. She was an older version of Rumer, with long flowing black hair and a gorgeous smile.

  "Hi.” The room grew silent as everyone turned to him.

  "Grandmother?” Rumer started to stand, but Martin put out his hand to tell her to stay silent, and still.

  "Yes,” Martin said, his voice low. “She's saying the guy might have been naked. Was he, Noah? Are you holding out on us?"

  A ripple of nervous laughter floated through the room, and Noah cleared his throat. “Yeah, the people watching him said he stripped after about twenty minutes of posing."

  More laughter filled the room, but it was muted this time, and tinged with excitement.

  "We need your help,” Martin said. “You know why."

  "Josephine. I knew she would come back to haunt me, it's just strange I had to go for it to happen."

  "She needs to die,” Martin said. “She's out of her crypt."

  "I would imagine so. Two of the witches who bound her are dead, myself and Mary Elizabeth Mason. Only Sandra Tilbet is left. And when Sandra dies, the magic will be broken. She'll take the first human body she comes across, and she'll go back on her merry way, killing witches and stealing their bodies, and their powers."

  Martin repeated her words for his audience, and Rumer held up her hands in offering. “Help me, grandmother. Tell me what to do.” She looked around as if expecting the woman to appear, and Martin wanted to gather her in his arms, push away the tears he saw clouding her eyes. Noah put his hand on her shoulder, and Martin nodded in appreciation for the man's gesture.

  "The only thing I can think of is to rebind her on Halloween. Rumer is strong enough, and the veil is thin that night. That will keep her in the crypt until you can form a better plan."

  Martin shivered as Lola's form began to fade. “Don't go yet."

  "It's so hard,” she said softly, reaching her pale hand toward Rumer. “I'm sorry for leaving you with the mess, baby girl."

  Martin tried to grab hold of Lola's essence, keep her here until she'd answered all their questions, but it was too late. She was gone. He repeated Lola's words for Rumer, and the threatened tears began to fall. She wiped them away quickly, then coughed.

  "We need to find Sandra Tilbet,” Rumer said. “Maybe she can at least tell me the spell they used. That will help."

  "Did your grandmother ever mention her before?"

  "No, I've never heard the name."

  Martin stood, his legs wobbly. Then he sat back down. Readings always took a bit out of him, and this one had left his body trembling. “We need to search, see if there's some clue here that might tell us who she is. Rumer, is that all right with you?"

  "Yes.” She took charge of the situation, sending different people to different rooms to look through bookcases, desks, and anything else they could find. It took almost two hours before Dev came running back with a book in his hand.

  "A diary?” Martin nodded hopefully, but faded when Dev shook his head.

  "It's an old phone book, with addresses and numbers listed. And one of those numbers is for Sandra Tilbet. The address lists her on Royal Street."

  "What are the odds that she'd still live there?” Rumer came up behind Dev, glancing at the address book. “It's been fifty years."

  "Well, New Orleans is a small town at heart, and lots of people stay in the same house their whole life,” Martin said. “I say we go there tomorrow and check it out."

  After a discussion, it was decided that Rumer and Martin would go, since Noah was on for the early shift. Martin could tell Fletch and Dev wanted to take part, but they didn't want to overwhelm the lady either. That is, if they found her. In the end, his old friend
s offered to do more research on Josephine and see what they could come up with.

  When Dev, Fletch, and Quinn departed, Rumer turned to Martin. “Are you all right?"

  "Drained, is all,” he said. “Sometimes it really takes it out of me, and this was one of those times."

  "We could stay here,” Rumer replied. “There's a big bed upstairs. We don't have to have sex, just relax and sleep together."

  Martin nodded. Normally he pushed everyone away after a session, preferring to recharge his batteries on his own. Tonight, however, he felt the need for companionship from the two people standing in front of him.

  "Let's go.” Rumer held out her hand, and Martin took it.

  He followed her upstairs, with Noah staying behind to turn off lights and secure the house. Rumer led Martin to a room with a huge king-sized bed, and several posters featuring different scenes from New Orleans on the walls.

  "This was my room, growing up,” Rumer said softly. “Grandmother let me keep my posters here, and I stayed whenever I felt like it."

  "She seemed happy,” Martin offered, his voice low. “I know it's hard to be without her, but she wasn't sad, except about leaving unfinished business."

  "I'll finish it for her,” Rumer said, her eyes blazing with emotion. “Josephine LeClaire will regret the day she ever laid eyes on my grandmother."

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  Chapter Eight

  "You would not believe how much she's looking forward to this.” Martin and Rumer followed the tall, dark-headed woman through the several rooms. “Ever since you called, she's been a bundle of energy, which is a good thing."

  The woman stopped and turned toward them. “Mother's not long for this world, and it does my heart good to see her happy about something. The cancer has eaten at her until she's so frail, sometimes it's hard for her to get out of bed."