The Gypsy King (18 page)

A deep, rich magical place that started with wetness and heat and ended with her whole body completely drained, exhausted, and finally at peace. She got angry and selfish, she got mean and laughed, then grinded harder into Isabella’s hungry mouth. Isabella’s hot breath and smooth lips and tongue felt so absolutely insane, so fucking good, she was going to that perfect place in about five seconds!

Isabella pounded the brush so fast that slapping sounds filled the wagon as it hit its mark with 181

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every thrust.

“That’s my girl….give me that tongue…keep

fucking me…that’s it, oh my God!” She held

nothing back this time, she had her beautiful soul-seer right where she wanted her, needed her. She closed her eyes tight enough to hurt, arched her back, bent her knees further until her thighs and her calf muscles were screaming, shaking and trembling, then drove herself harder and faster, up and down, until spasms began surging up through her entire body again and again!

In seconds, her fingers were numb from the

grip she had on Isabella’s hair and head and she lost all control and began bucking wildly with more force than any horse she had ever seen! She thrashed and slapped at Isabella’s mouth and tongue with her pulsing clit and finally her orgasm engulfed her completely like the ground rushing up to her when she jumped off that crazy bridge—it hit her hard and complete and it was all she could do to breathe.

She screamed a deep, guttural scream that

rocked the wagon and her head exploded into blackness and millions of bright white and red sparks seared her brain and singed every nerve in her body. She could hear herself screaming, but she sounded far away like she was in a tunnel. She lost all feeling in her hands and toes and, for a full minute she convulsed, her pussy involuntarily slamming against Isabella’s face and the hairbrush 182

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deep inside her until she came slowly back to earth. She was pleased to hear her lover actually whimpering beneath her, trying to lick up as much of her orgasm juice as she could. Her legs were failing her and her chest was raw from her hot breaths. She released her hands and Isabella’s hair fell across her thighs, some sticking to her sloppy mound.

Isabella fell back in exhaustion and slowly pulled the brush from Veronique’s gaping, greedy cunt. Veronique stripped off her top and let her breasts breathe, reached down, pulled Isabella up to her mouth and pulled her bare chest into hers.

She could feel her own heart pounding against Isabella’s and they beat as one for several minutes.

She kissed her deeply, sliding her tongue as far back into her mouth as she could take.

Isabella reached up and put the hair brush

between their lips and they both sucked and licked it dry, taking turns pushing their new lover deep into their throats and laughing as it popped out, glistening and always ready.

“Mmm…we taste good, don’t we?” Veronique

asked her with affection that was missing many minutes before, but returned now in abundance.

She rubbed Isabella’s cheek where light red welts from her slap were still crimson against her caramel flesh. “You okay?” she asked with sincere compassion.

Isabella’s eyes were still shedding tears from 183

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the intensity of having her face fucked and her arm and wrist were still shaking from their uncontrollable cramping. She was sloppy wet from her eyebrows to her chin, glistening from Veronique’s love juices. She smiled, then grinned and broke into a true laugh.

Then with all her strength, she slapped

Veronique’s ass as hard as her weakened body could manage. Smack!

Veronique screamed in real pain for the first time all day and laughed as she thought about how good her body was feeling. Memories of her and Diego flooded her mind along with how good Isabella felt between her legs. She smiled.

These gypsies were passionate and very

physical and she was beginning to like her new friends very much.

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s much as her days were filled with endless Achores, the nights with the gypsies were for celebrating and sharing friendship. Each night revolved around campfires and hours upon hours of music and singing. It seemed everybody in her family danced, and after a few weeks, Veronique learned how to gyrate her body sensually to a variety of music she found astonishing. Dancing and singing was followed by fantastical stories from some of the most dramatic and spellbinding storytellers Veronique had ever heard or seen.

Most were entertaining, others not so much due to too much drinking, but Nanosh was by far the most honored storyteller in the
kumpania
.

Veronique found herself eagerly desiring his voice and the exaggerated way he told his tales. His manner and the way he spoke made her wonder what other pleasures he could ignite with his gifted tongue and dramaturgic hands.

She often found herself sitting at the biggest fire 185

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and playing a drum or clicking spoons to

complicated rhythms she could only pretend to understand. But it was always good fun! The gypsies talked and laughed animatedly through whole nights sometimes, and Veronique tried her best to stay up and be part of the group. They never seemed to run out of things to talk about.

She often found musical instruments thrust into her hands and was made to dance while trying to play at the same time.

Almost every other night some of the younger girls were asked to dance to honor their new guest and she felt important, although somewhat shy about this attention. Other women would dance and many were very sexy and natural, but none compared to her lover, Isabella. She danced for everyone’s enjoyment of course, but Veronique caught her eye on many occasions. She loved to imagine her olive colored skin tingling and twitching and the way she tasted and smelled. Her loins ached to return to Isabella’s wagon soon.

There was always boisterous singing and

clapping until the sun came up. Then everyone scattered with the pale predawn light to his or her eiderdowns for a few hours of sleep. It was one of these nights that Veronique listened in rapt delight at Nanosh telling the story of the shooting star that fell to earth.

The campfire lit his dark features and made his stature appear even larger and fuller than ever. He 186

Morgan Rush

was a proud and skilled man and his confidence exuded from him as he threw his hands in the air and looked as if he could hug the whole world in his exuberance. He whispered and described how he rode to the river’s edge while he slapped his hands on the legs of his trousers imitating the clopping sounds of the horse’s hooves.

All but the oldest children were in bed while the adults listened quietly, chewing on roasted nettles and savory air-dried hedgehog meat.

Liquor and beer of all sorts flowed like water and Veronique drank freely, too. But unlike her friends and lovers back in Lourmarin, none of her

kumpania
acted angry, upset or rude in any way even after some were falling down drunk in the surrounding fields.

Nanosh stood, talked, whirled and danced in the firelight, explaining how his task this evening was to scout the woods for suitable campsites. He continued and Veronique realized the crowd

around the campfire had grown large and most were smiling and whispering and pointing at her.

It was only then that she realized Nanosh was telling the story of how
she
was saved on the night she foolishly jumped from the footbridge.

She looked around her and her first instinct was to bolt and run away in embarrassment. But she was a different woman these days and, instead of leaving, she stayed and concentrated on Nanosh’s mouth, face, his emphatic hands and the sound of 187

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his voice. It was a good story and he finished it with a smile. The crowd erupted in loud and strong clapping and knee slapping for several minutes. They toasted Nanosh as he took a bow and it brought tears to her eyes. Tears and a familiar heat raged through her.

It was early morning now and the excitement of his story, once finished, brought a lull to the campfire. Everybody spread out, kissed each other on cheek and mouth, then went to bed. Veronique stayed and waited by the campfire, appearing lost in her thoughts.

Nanosh walked up slowly and was wiping his

mouth heartily as if he either just finished a luxurious gourmet meal, or was about to devour one himself. He stood in front of Veronique. She looked up at him and was about to thank him when he extended his hand down to her and she took it and stood up. The campfire backlit her firm, curvy figure and her body poured through her white dress. Other than her still-swollen ankle, she was physically comfortable these days. She felt her nipples pushing through her white dress and admired how her hips pushed forward against the soft fabric. She stood, proud and strong, and looked at the silver-tongued man who saved her life.

He looked deeply into her eyes and brought her hand up to his mouth slowly in a very dramatic way. He pulled her close to his lips, then suddenly 188

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slapped himself hard in the face with her hand and broke out in a full, loud laugh! Veronique laughed, too, but was confused.

“I am sorry, Falling Star, if I embarrassed you. I wanted only to tell our family the joy in my heart after finding you and bringing you to us for awhile.” He then pulled her hand to his mouth again and kissed her fingers, stroked his strong face with the back of her hand and, in a manner that seemed completely natural to him, ran his tongue from her wrist to the tip of her longest finger.

Veronique shivered as a jolt of passion ran through her entire body. It was a ridiculous gesture, but she found herself tingling with delight. A thousand images flashed through her mind, all of them involving Nanosh’s tongue, mouth, teeth and lips. She was practically purring as she smiled at him in appreciation.

“Would you like me to show you where we

almost lost you?” He asked her in a way that was not condescending or spiteful, but instead, sounded genuine and sincere.

“Sure. I’m not really sleepy and maybe you can tell me some more of your stories while we walk.”

They walked beside each other with enough

room between them that Veronique started

wondering if she had been imagining his desire for
her
.
Maybe he was doing what he did best. Acting?

He wasn’t pawing at her and he didn’t have his 189

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arm around her like she expected and wanted.

Another jolt ran through her body. She admitted that she certainly was ready for him to let his intentions be known. His strong white teeth and lively hands were flooding her mind and her loins and she was feeling herself getting frustrated again.

She calmed herself down and waited patiently for him. They walked quietly and she wondered why the typically theatrical and dramatic Nanosh was so quiet. They reached the end of the caravan and strolled past the last wagon as the moon painted the fields and campsite with a dim, grayish light. Veronique began to think back to how much she loved walking in the woods when she noticed Nanosh looking at her and smiling.

He suddenly reached for her hand and pulled her roughly behind the last wagon in the line.

Veronique said nothing about such a daring, but much welcomed surprise. Instead, she let him push her up against the small step of the wagon and place both her hands on the railing. Every bit of the passion and intensity Veronique saw in his storytelling came at her full force as he brought both of his hands up to her face and cupped her like he held a delicate statue. He kissed her with enough power to almost bruise her top lip.

His mouth tasted like cinnamon, cherries and clover with a hint of smoke. She found it

intoxicating and opened her mouth. She gave in to 190

Morgan Rush

his talented tongue eagerly. He raked her teeth and ran his tongue over her mouth as if he was sipping wine from her lips. He was running his hands through her hair, stroking her head in long, firm strokes that felt fantastic. Visions of Isabella’s brush danced in her head like fireworks.

She felt like she was in a movie and being

kissed by the leading man. There was no

hesitation in his manner and she enjoyed knowing he was a man who knew what he wanted and he apparently wanted her. He was bold, confident and full of the intensity she had enjoyed so much with Diego and even Isabella and Ahndray, too.

Her mind flashed back to swimming in the

river with Ahndray. She politely pushed it aside and tried not to think or dwell on the way

Ahndray held her, entered her and made the stars shake in the sky. She grinned as she imagined feeling Ahndray’s tremendous girth up inside her for more than a few seconds. She was already soaked and getting wetter. She bucked

uncontrollable against Nanosh’s trousers, but he stopped her gently. He smoothed her hair with his hands and held her until she was still, yet breathing heavily.

“Tonight is my night to give to you, Veronique, but you will wait until I am ready to do as I wish, and I am going to make you wait as I entertain you. Like any story worth telling, it is always a shame to hurry to the finish.”

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He said it with such conviction and poise that Veronique found she was nodding in agreement.

She wanted him to make her wait, she needed reined in as he did his horses and she wanted to be the object of his attention as an actress would be on his stage. And she suddenly wanted very badly to be teased until her earth shattered and she was on the precipice of yet another universe of pleasure.

She looked at him, then nodded and quivered as he nibbled on the delicate spot beneath her ear.

She cringed, but enjoyed how he ran his tongue directly beneath her healing, but still tender, wound. Amazed, she understood exactly what