Thursday Taste: Another Nibble of "His Cemetery Doll"

I decided it had been far too long since I had anything really steamy to post. This Thursday, let me share another delicious taste--a sinfully good one--from His Cemetery Doll, my current work-in-progress.

 

Every Thursday, a group of writers gets together to post excerpts of current works in progress. This week I'm sharing a little more of my current project, His Cemetery Doll, a story of a ghostly lover in a haunted graveyard.

Please support the Thursday Tasters by visiting the link at the end of this post and visiting the other wonderful works posted this week!

 

They stood in quiet, Conall staring out at the countryside himself. At some point, he found himself tilting her face up to his, kissing her lips over and over in sweet, slow desire.

His doll extended her arms up and around his neck. Her little pink tongue—warm and soft—traced the line of his lips, and her hands ran up to cradle his head as she kissed him more deeply, drawing him in.

Conall let his hands slide down, over her breasts and around to cup her back. Ribbons unraveled, revealing her body to his touch. The line of her spine, so gracefully arched, so sensual and beautiful under his searching fingertips...

They slid down to the grass, never letting go of one another. Conall guided her hands to his belt and she undid it, slipping fingers underneath his jeans to find his ready cock. He stripped out of his shirt and guided her touch back up, around his neck, sliding her up to kiss her face again as he freed his wild erection.

"Up," he gasped. His hands crept around her to grasp her buttocks and guide her as he commanded, sliding her to straddle his lap.  His shaft rubbed along the wet, spreading softness of her folds, her slick heat welcoming him. He recognized it in her slow, rhythmic motions as she rocked against him: exactly like before, in her vision, they had been made for this dance. Their bodies fit together, they were meant to slide perfectly into one another's arms. He held her firm, rounding hips up to meet her, sliding the head of his erection up and down her cleft and teasing the tight bud of her clitoris.

"You're warm for me," he whispered against her throat. "Already...so quickly..."

His doll arched. He caught the soft gasp not from any breath but from the quick quiver of her lips, the brief tension of her shoulders. She closed her arms around him, pulling his face to her breasts and pressing her entire length to him. She threw her head back in elation as he slid his cock up and in, sheathing himself in her velvet wet sex. 

Thighs tightened around him; Conall fell back on one arm, the other circling her by the waist, as he thrust slowly, savoring every inch of hot, delicious tightness inside her.

"You...were made for me," he breathed against her skin. He pressed his lips to her neck, then licked the graceful curve of it, tasting flawless white skin as smooth as glass. His doll rode down on him, accepting him with glorious, worshipful indulgence—if she'd heard him, she hadn't reacted, and he didn't mind.