Dancer of the Nile (Gods of Egypt) (14 page)

A little silence fell between them, but not uncomfortable.

“I should take you back to the dancers,” he said at length, as it became apparent she wasn’t going to have a chance to pet the baby camel any time soon. “Better for you to travel with them than here with me and the camel drovers.”

“All right.” Nima let him lead her away from the baby camel, which was successfully nursing now.

“About this evening—” Kamin said, not wanting any further misunderstandings to arise between them.

 
“I want to dance for you,” Nima interrupted him. “A private dance,” she continued, blushing, not meeting his eyes.

His cock twitched, and he fought to concentrate, not sure he’d heard her correctly. “I only have so much self-control. Are you sure performing for me—and the aftermath—are what you want? You said you didn’t do private dances.” His heart sank as a new possibility occurred to him.
And does she mean this as a farewell?

“I might not have another chance to dance for you, to be intimate with you. Traveling with the caravan for a few days has been nothing short of a miracle. The outcome of our journey remains uncertain, hanging on a roll of the dice. Or a toss of the senet sticks,” she said with a smile.
 
“I don’t expect—or want—you to have self-control. I’ve chosen to dance for you of my own free will. How you choose to reward me for my skill is up to you.” Nima peered up at him coyly from under her lush eyelashes. “A dancer does require a certain amount of audience appreciation to do her best.”

Even in the rush of arousal, he fastened on the point that meant more to him even than a private dance and the lovemaking that would follow. He caught her hand and swung her around to face him. “Then you aren’t going to sign a contract with Ptahnetamun? Not going north with the dancers, but leaving the caravan tomorrow with me?”

 
“I’m going with you, soldier, gods know why.” She leaned closer and winked. “I think you need me.”

“No argument there.” He hugged her. “Gods know you’d probably be safer in the caravan than you’ll be staying in jeopardy with me, eluding Hyksos at every turn, but the thought of journeying on without you was a heavy burden on my heart.” Kamin took a deep breath. “There are things you should know about me, but I’m under stringent orders not to reveal anything until my report is safely delivered to the nomarch. Not even to you. But I swear—”

She put her finger on his lips to silence him, then framed his face with her hands as she said in a low voice, “I know you’re an honorable man. I know you treat me as your equal.” A smile lit up her face. “I know you have three younger sisters who probably adore you, and I don’t need to know anymore right now. “ Going on tiptoe, she kissed him on the lips, ignoring the whistles of the nearby drovers. Strolling on, hand in hand with Kamin, she said, “There are things I must do if I’m to dance properly for you tonight. I’m hoping the troupe will be able to provide what I need. ”

“All
I
need is you,” Kamin said, kissing her cheek.

“Gratifying to hear, soldier, but I’d like to present a better show than just myself humming, dancing in this shabby dress.” Eyebrows drawn together in a frown, she picked at the skirt fabric. “Not suitable for a performance of the kind I have in mind.”
 

“We’ve no deben or coin,” he reminded her.

“The troupe shared a few of their coins from the first night’s performance with me. And I’ve done a bit of gaming. No senet for high stakes,” she rushed to assure him. “But I do know how to win at other games.”

They’d arrived at the well, and the dancers called to her to join them.

Kamin kissed her hand. “Until tonight then.”

***

After his eagerness and impatience all day during the caravan’s march, their tent was empty when he stepped inside that evening. He’d stopped at the water casks first and used up most of his daily ration in a rushed bath, so he wouldn’t offend Nima by coming to her smelling like a camel. Splashing the tepid water over himself, he thought longingly of the baths at home.
I must be getting soft. Never worried about my grooming on a mission before.

 
Kamin’s chuckle ended, and the breath whooshed out of his chest as he surveyed the tent worriedly for signs of Nima.
Where is she? I wasn’t exactly expecting her to be lying naked on the pillows, but certainly I thought to find her waiting.
Someone pushed into the tent behind him, and he pivoted, a little off guard, hand on his knife hilt, but the newcomer was Thala, the Minoan dancer.
 

“Don’t worry about your woman,” the woman said. “She’s obtained a slightly larger tent for her, uh, performance tonight. I’ve been sent to guide you to the right place.”

Wondering how much cheating at games of chance Nima had done in the last two days to arrange the evening in a way that seemed suitable to her, Kamin followed Thala outside and farther down the line of tents until they paused at a larger blue enclosure, set up a bit away from the main encampment. Thala led him inside.

Again, there was no sign of Nima. His anxiety thrummed through his body.
Where is she?

“She requests you to take your ease.” The dancer gestured toward a pile of pillows and cushions against the far wall of the tent. “I’ll leave you with your dinner—stew with steamed grain, almonds, dates, beer. Nima will arrive shortly to entertain you.” Grinning, she left him alone in the tent, carefully closing the fabric panels behind her.

Wondering whose tent this was and how Nima had wangled their use of it for the night, Kamin set aside his weapons, keeping them close at hand in case of emergency. Surveying the food, he choked down one bite of stew then pushed the bowl away on the low table.
I’m not eating without Nima.

The curtain between the halves of the tent twitched, drawing his attention. A moment later, Nima slipped through the narrow space. Barefoot, she was dressed in an unusual outfit, constructed from pieces of shimmering red fabric, cleverly draped and knotted strategically on her body to show flashes of skin, tantalizing glimpses of her sensuous figure. The costume was accented with filmy scarves. A jeweled sash rode low on her hips, anchoring the slit skirt, golden tassels bobbing with every step. Her jet-black hair was braided tightly in classic Egyptian tradition, waist length, soft end brushing the luscious curve of her bottom.
 

Inhaling sharply, Kamin leaned back, his cock already rising to strain against his loincloth, balls drawing up tight to his body.
Gods, she’s beautiful.

Nima came to the center of the tent, eyes focused on the floor, then chimed her finger cymbals once and lifted her head, eyes seeking his face. Kamin swallowed hard. Raising both arms above her head, fingers cupped as if to catch raindrops, she assumed a classic dancer’s pose, one foot planted solidly, on tiptoe with the other. A moment later, unseen musicians seated in the outer chamber played the first measures of music. Kamin heard a hand drum, flutes, other instruments he didn’t recognize, playing a version of a tune known as a standard in taverns along the Nile.
She must have practiced with them on the march, during the day.

Keeping her eyes locked on his face, Nima rose effortlessly onto her toes, signaling the beginning of his private dance. He couldn’t have looked away if the entire Hyksos army had burst into the tent. She undulated her hips in time to the music, swirling two of the scarves through the air in sinuous arcs, now concealing, now revealing. As the pace of the song altered and switched to a subtle dance pattern, she dropped the sheer fabric triangles, moving her feet in rapid but tiny steps, translating to an enticing display of the abilities of her limber core muscles and hips. Time and again the sparkling belt drew Kamin’s eyes to her pelvis as she moved in sensuous patterns. The beat rose and fell, accented by the throbbing drum, and she thrust her hips and pelvis in sync with the music, now this way, then the other direction, maintaining the amazing gliding step. Every few measures of the song, she would allow the upper portion of her body to sway, forward, back, sideways, breasts bobbing against the shiny fabric restraining them, as if she were offering herself for his feasting then coyly withdrawing before he could taste.

She made a
 
slow turn as she danced, until she no longer faced him. Her hips moved rapidly in tight circles, first to the right and then to the left, in time to the music, while her hands wove patterns in the air. The music called her to a series of incredibly intricate steps, emphasizing her grace and her muscle control. Revolving to him again as the dance proceeded, Nima continued the erotic movements, the music adding intensity to the dance.
 

Aroused to the point of physical pain, Kamin strove for self-control. Shifting his hips involuntarily, he imagined himself plunging his aching manhood into her, her strong dancer’s muscles sheathing him, drawing his cock deeper into her body. Her dance was a skillful blend of raw sensuality with the elegance and refined movements seen only in high temples. He’d never beheld the like before. Oh, he’d been at performances by the best dancers in Thebes. He’d even had such dancers performing primarily for him, as Nima did tonight, but there the resemblance to anything he’d ever before experienced stopped. Dancing for all men with consummate skill, Theban dancers were professionals, smiling radiantly and impartially for the entire audience. Only the richest or most highly born men could expect an invitation to bed a top-tier Theban dancer.

As she performed for him alone, Nima’s smile was genuine, not practiced. The delectable hint of shyness, the faint blush on her cheeks said she was inviting him and
only
him to make love to her.

More scarves, then the skirt and jeweled belt fell to the tent floor as she wove her magic dance, until she was in her breast band and a tiny loincloth. Kamin could hardly restrain himself from leaving the pillows to take her in his arms and plunge his cock into her before the dance ended. His blood raced. The slight amount of coverage on her breasts and mound as she danced was more erotic than if she were nude. He imagined himself pinning her beneath him, ripping off the fabric, setting his lips to her most private places while she writhed in pleasure.

Nima opened the dance up for a few measures as the music slowed, the sensuality heightened, swirling in her dance space, arms moving languorously to frame her face, her body… The drum beat faster, and she twirled, cymbals chiming on her fingertips to punctuate each movement, then suddenly the climax was reached, the dance was done.

Head bowed, Nima sank to the floor, one arm extended to him, palm up.

All his senses on fire, Kamin surged from the pillows, bending to take her hand and pull her into his arms. He kissed her, crushing her body to his, hands roaming over her back, the perfect curve of her bottom. He unfastened the simple knot on the upper garment and yanked it out from between them, his hand going to caress and savor the soft curves of her breasts. “Gods, woman, you’ve driven me insane.”

She peeked at him through her long lashes. “My dance pleased you?”

“I’ve never seen anything to rival the performance you gave.” Picking her up so she wrapped her legs around his waist, as he had fantasized so many times since they’d met, he carried her the few steps to the pillows and laid her tenderly on the soft surface. Tearing off his confining robes, he unwound his loincloth to let his erection spring free.

She lay on the pillows, smiling at him, only the scanty loincloth remaining to her. Kamin’s knees trembled ever so slightly with the sheer effort it took to restrain himself from coming just admiring her body displayed for him. Nima reached up one hand to him. “Is something wrong?”

“No, everything is perfect. You’re so beautiful, I want to take my time, admire every inch of you.” He lay on the pillows beside her, cupping one breast with his hand, relishing the weight and the satin feel of her skin, kneading the nipple until it was a bud, then lowering his head to tease and suckle. She held him close, one hand tracing the pattern of his muscles, gliding over his chest, past his waist, to curl possessively around his jutting
 
cock.

Kamin groaned, raising his head. “Nima,
stop
. Your dance has me so hot, I’ll finish before I can make love to you properly if you keep touching me.”

“We have all night,” she answered, rubbing his cock in a slow, circular motion from root to tip. “Although I can’t perform an encore, since Andrios only lent me the services of his musicians for the space of one song. Grudgingly.”

“A repeat performance of your amazing dance would probably kill me right now.” He captured her mouth again. Sliding one hand along her body, enjoying the feel of her supple dancer’s muscles under his palm, he caressed the curve of her hip before sliding his fingers under the edge of her loincloth, parting the silky curls and finding to his delight and relief that she was wet and slick. The discovery was so pleasing, arousing him even more, it was a moment’s work to rip the fabric away from her body, Nima lifting her hips to make the process easier.

Pushing her thighs open, he slid down her body, admiring the effect of his darkly tanned hands on her soft thighs and exploring her with his tongue, licking, savoring the essence of woman. She tunneled her fingers in his hair and arched her body as his skillful massaging of her most private places brought her closer to climax. Convulsing under him, she screamed his name. As her tremors of pleasure diminished, he withdrew, taking her in his arms again and gazing tenderly into her face.