TAKE ME THERE EXCERPT

Sep 17, 11:13 AM

Warning!

This is a REALLY HOT excerpt. (Sexually Explicit) 

Someone shouted, Turn the wheel, NOW! But there was no one with her. Presley opened her eyes and saw the sixteen-wheeler in her lane. Or was she in his lane? Sleep confused her thinking and slowed her reflexes. Suddenly, the steering wheel wrenched from her hands and turned sharply to the left.  She lunged forward as shafts of wheat surrounded the car.  Her head hit the hard plastic, and everything went dark.

Presley looked down. She saw her car in a wheat field, with a body slumped over inside. It took a moment before she realized the body was hers! The same voice that shouted at her earlier spoke again.

You must go back, it is not yet time.

Presley turned to look behind her. Instinctively, she tried to shield her eyes from the bright light, but her arms did not move. Who are you? I can't see.

Who I am does not matter. You must go back.

Presley knew he told her the truth. But she felt so peaceful, and free. I want to stay here.

You cannot! It is not time.

Who are you? Presley moved closer to him. With speed she did not understand, she rushed into the light that surrounded this disembodied voice. A feeling of euphoria engulfed her as she reached for him.

When they touched, her whole being shook with sensation, an orgasmic bliss like none she had ever known. She knew him! His essence flooded her soul just as his name formed in her mind. Vadim!

My Ninotchka, you cannot stay!

Searing heat ripped her heart when he spoke her name. But it wasn't her name, was it? She tried to tell him, My name is Presley, Presley Knowles. But the words stayed in her mind. With the dizzying sense of spinning out of control, she fell backwards toward the wheat covered car.

When Presley woke, her head throbbed. Gingerly touching her forehead, she felt a bandage. She slowly turned her head and realized she lay alone in a hospital room. Forcing her focus away from the pain, she closed her eyes and whispered, "Vadim?"

She heard his voice in her mind. I am here, precious one. You must rest. Quiet yourself and sleep. I will help you.

Even with the pain in her head and the need to sleep, she managed to ask, "Why wouldn't you let me stay?"

My Ninochka, you cannot yet be in this place with me.

She again whispered to him, hoping he heard her. "Vadim, please, I need to be with you."

Ninochka, you know not what you ask of me. Sweet Lord, by all that's holy, how can I refuse her?

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Vadim Comes to Presley, Continue Reading

  Presley Goes With Vadim, Scroll Down

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Presley floated in a timeless void, as though drifting on a cloud. Even with her mind fogged with the haze of sleep, she thought someone must have opened a window. She could smell something. Just as the wind would carry the scent of lilacs into a room, so did this fragrance saturate the air around her bed.

But it was not sweet like flowers. It smelled more like a blend of coriander and ginger, with a hint of musk, a deeply rich masculine odor. As the scent intensified, she began to taste it. The aroma welled up in the back of her throat and she aerated it, just as a cat aerates scent through its mouth.

She inhaled deeply, trying to draw in more of it, whatever it was. 

She heard his voice again, this time from beside her bed. "Ninotchka . . ."

Presley fought the pain in her head and forced her eyes to open for a moment. She thought she glimpsed a large man with long hair and a beard standing beside the bed. Closing her eyes again, she muttered, "You aren't real."

Oh, but Ninotchka, I am. The bed shifted as Vadim lay down beside her.

Presley whimpered. "My head hurts so much! It's making my stomach sick. Get a nurse, I'm going to throw up! "

Ninotchka, be still. I will see to you. Presley heard him speak even though he made no sound. His voice cut through the pain inside her head.

She wanted to ask him what he would do, but couldn't make the thought congeal into words. She only managed a whispered, "Vadim."

Shhhh, my beautiful one. I do not have much time here with you. Allow me to help you while I can. Brushing her hair away, he placed his hand on the bandage and gently rubbed her forehead. As he did so, the throbbing in her head subsided and the nausea calmed.

"Whatever you're doing, it's helping. It doesn't hurt nearly as much now."

 Quiet now. The injury is severe. Allow the healing to penetrate deep into your skull.

Vadim continued to stroke her head, lulling Presley into a dreamy haze. When he threaded his fingers through her hair, her scalp tingled. Then he traced a line down her face. She felt him tremble as he touched her cheek. You are even more beautiful now than you were before.

Before what? She tried to say the words, but could only think them. He still answered her, speaking to her silently.

Before this time, in a different place.

I don't remember.

That is a good thing, Ninotchka. The memories would only cause you distress.

Who are you?

I am one who cares for you. Whatever else is of little consequence.

Says you!

Is that not obvious?

Shit, this can't be real! But what the fuck! It's the best damned dream I've had in a long time.  Presley shifted, moving closer to him. When her body touched his, euphoria washed away the remaining pain. My God, this feels fantastic! These drugs are incredible!

A deep rumble of laughter filled her, laughter that came from the man lying beside her. Imbedded in the sound came the thought, I assure you, dear heart, what I have to give you is not an opiate. As the ripples of amusement faded, she heard him say, The centuries do not change some things. Even now, your expression delights me.

Presley snuggled in closer. You smell so fucking good. What cologne are you wearing?

Do women of your time often use such language? It seems some habits have changed! And I correct your perception. I have no odor as you think of it, Ninotchka. What you perceive as fragrance is my energetic signature.

Your what?

Dear one, I must leave soon, the strain of holding manifestation is great. There are better uses of this time than reflecting on my scent.

Damn, this is a dream with attitude! The pain is gone and you're making me horny as hell! That means we'd better get to the fucking part.

I did not know how much your mouth has regressed as you have progressed!

Well, it is the twenty first century. I don't know where you're from, but things have changed.

I know one universal law that has not changed. How a man takes a woman is still the same.

Presley smiled. Her complete comfort with this man surprised her. Yes, Vadim, fucking is the same.

Presley offered no resistance as Vadim's strong hands caressed her. Waves of sensation rolled through her body. He kissed her neck and her face, his whiskers tickling her skin. His long hair fell loosely around his shoulders, making the thinnest curtain around their growing hunger. 

"Vadim . . ." Presley said his name aloud, the sound of her own voice startling her. Realizing this may not be a dream at all, she silently voiced her concern to him. What if someone comes in?

No one will know I am here. If I sense anyone close by, I will leave as I came.

Are you a ghost? Or am I hallucinating from the whack I took upside the head?

Again, a rumble of laughter filled her. Some might call me a ghost. Others might call me an incubus. I am what I am.

If you are an incubus, are you going to fuck me?

That does not frighten you?

You're kidding, right?

I sense you are inclined to my being on top of you?

Well, yeah!

I, too, am inclined. I have been alone too long.

I've never fucked a ghost before.

My Ninotchka, you have been with me before!

Before Presley could question the last thought she heard, Vadim's mouth covered hers. His breath had the ambrosial flavor of his scent, and his prana intensified her arousal. Somehow, she felt his caresses inside her body as well as outside. There seemed to be no separation between them, as his ravenous desire became hers. 

To Be Continued . . .

In

Take Me There

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Presley Goes With Vadim

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We can be together if you come with me. Will you come with me, Ninotchka?

Presley's yes formed in her mind. With it came a rush of movement, as though a trap door popped open on top of her head and she flew through it.

Ninotchka! Presley tried to stop, but couldn't. The momentum propelled her forward. Vadim grabbed her, and her movement slowed.  Steady, dear one, you are new to this. Focus on me. I will help you to adjust.

Presley regained her balance, and tried to focus. Vadim still held her. Not really knowing how to touch him, she stretched her hand out. He grasped it. Her focus now completely on the movement of her hand, she squeezed. He squeezed back.

What am I doing?

You are exercising your spirit body.

Why can't I see you?  

You can see me. You have to look with your inner eyes.

I don't understand.

Dear one, if you force the focus, the image will elude you. Look gently with your mind's eye, as you would with peripheral vision. The subtle body of spirit requires a delicate focus both to see it and to move in it.

There is nothing subtle about you!  She couldn't stop the thought as it glared in her mind like a neon sign.

She heard a deep masculine laugh. It rumbled through her like riding in an old pickup truck on a dirt road. My beautiful one, I never claimed to be delicate or subtle. I am, in fact predisposed to bluntness.

She smiled and squeezed his hand again. No kidding! She could not explain it, but she felt safe with him. His strength enveloped her. She thought of the movie "Bus Stop" when Marilyn Monroe's Cherie wrapped herself in Bo's leather coat at the end of the movie. She felt herself snuggle down into the feel of him around her the same way Cherie did into the lamb shearling lining of that coat. 

However, Presley's vision remained blurred. She could only see a misty form hovering beside her. I sure as shit can feel you, but I still can't see you.

The resonance of Vadim's laughter again moved through her. Your vision will improve as you become accustomed to a lighter body. I cannot say the same about your language!

 Am I dead?

No, dear one, you are not dead. I told you, it is not time. You will return to the physical in due course. Your body sleeps now, and heals.

Vadim moved closer to Presley, his intention clear to her. She had no fear, in fact, quite the contrary. The sense of connection to him nearly overwhelmed her. But she still had her wits, and wryly acknowledged her understanding. You know, I've never fucked a ghost before.

Vadim's amusement created a luminescent glow around them. I am not a ghost! I simply do not have a physical body!

Excuse me, but where I come from, someone without a body is called a ghost! Sure as hell you're not an angel!

Here, my body is as real as yours.

Presley shook her head in confusion. Where is here?

Here is where we are.

Without thinking about the movement, Presley rubbed her head and muttered, This is the weirdest fucking dream I've ever had!

Vadim grabbed her hand and pressed her palm against his cheek. Ninotchka, I am not a dream. It is a different reality, to be sure, but it is nonetheless real.

You have a beard! Touching Vadim's face as she had seen blind people do, Presley traced a line up his jaw bone. And you have long hair!

I have both. I am the same as the last time you saw me.

Where? I don't remember.

Long ago, in a different time and place.

An image flashed in Presley's mind. She knew it belonged to Vadim. She saw a young woman stoking a fire in a large stone fireplace. Who is that?

That is you, as you were then.

No shit!

Without comprehending the speed of his movement, she felt Vadim's body press against hers. Do all women of your time have such foul mouths?

Presley fought to keep her wits about her. Do all male ghosts get hard ons?

If they believe they can, I expect they do.

You're really going to fuck me, aren't you?

I have waited a very long time to have you again, Ninotchka. I see your need as clearly as I know my own.

Don't we have a bed? With this mist all around, I feel like I'm on the Yorkshire moors in Wuthering Heights!

If you image what you want, I will make it for you.

What? You're going to build a bed?

In a manner of speaking. Show me in your mind what you want.

Presley remembered a king size bed covered with pillows she had in a Barcelona hotel. She had spent several hot nights in that bed with a Spanish bullfighter. She focused on visualizing the bed, without the bullfighter.

In utter amazement, she watched the mist clear beside them and the bed in her mind take shape.

How the bloody hell did you do that?

Molding astral matter is like shaping clay. Manifestation of objects is not difficult.

Says you!

Indeed I do!

Before Presley could say anything else, Vadim picked her up and effortlessly put her on the bed. She wanted Vadim. In the transparency of this place, desire could not be hidden.

With the whisper of a thought, the ethereal cloth of her hospital gown disappeared and she lay naked. She still could not see him clearly, but could feel his skin against hers, and she could smell him.

Presley nuzzled Vadim's neck to take in more of his scent. God almighty, you smell good! What is that?

What you perceive as scent is my energetic signature.

Your what?

My Ninotchka, those questions are not for this moment. It is time for us to consummate our love once again.

To Be Continued . . .

In

Take Me There

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