The Gypsy King (19 page)

Nanosh was telling her and she resigned herself to him and his desires. She sighed, relaxed and felt her nipples become hotter and tighter as her breath slowed. She began to feel the woods and the moon, the taste of clover and cinnamon, on her skin.

Nanosh placed both hands on her shoulders as if he was talking to a dog or a horse and smiled brightly. “Stay.”

She giggled and nodded with as much drama

as she could muster without laughing loudly and waking somebody up. Veronique watched as he strode past her, opened the door to the wagon and went inside. He returned after only a minute or two, simply held out his hand and led her into his wagon.

192

Morgan Rush

he walked into the wagon and was pleased to Ssee it completely lit with what must have been dozens of candles in all shapes and sizes. Their scents filled the air—blackberry, cinnamon, apricot, pine, vanilla, lavender and even nutmeg and rosemary. Unaware she could smell so many scents in one place, she inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. She could feel their warmth emanating all around the small, but cozy room.

“Veronique,” Nanosh whispered, “new

experiences call for surprises sometimes and tonight is all about pleasure, not about the past and whatever pain that may dredge up. You’re safe here, you’re smiling these days and I can tell the warmth from my campfire has been heating you up all night.”

His voice was mesmerizing and she watched

him closely, the way he moved, the way he would wait to smile until he held her eyes with his. She 193

The Gypsy King

felt the familiar trickle of anticipation oozing down to her pulsing lips and she looked around the wagon for where they could lay down and relax. Nanosh’s wagon looked twice as roomy inside as her own wagon. She realized it was because he had no bed, no eiderdown to take up space and make the place feel like a closet. She scrunched her toes on the luxurious carpet, looked down and smiled. She studied the floor and

counted eleven unique and unusual carpets

covering every inch of what would typically be hard wood flooring.

Each was a different pattern and print, but they were all plush and luxurious under her bare feet.

She could only imagine where Nanosh had

traveled in order to acquire these beautiful works of art. The six small windows lighted a standalone basin on which lay several different soaps, bottles of colored water and perfume and an airy, coral reef sponge for bathing. The only other furniture in the room was a small four-drawer marble top chest and dark red velvet chair.

The chair caught her admiring eye. It was

beautifully ornate and carved out of what she thought could be mahogany. It had thick, round claw feet and two sturdy, very wide arms, but the beauty of the chair was the backrest. It stretched almost to the ceiling, at least five feet in height, and was delicately stuffed and tacked with bright gold tacking. It was another example of beautiful 194

Morgan Rush

craftsmanship. The chair looked so inviting that she wanted to sit in it, pull her feet underneath her and listen to Nanosh tell stories all night.

Nanosh guided her to the middle of the wagon.

Holding her shoulder so she would not move

from that spot, he searched one of the drawers and returned to her holding a verdant green velvet scarf.

“Tie this over my eyes so I cannot see, please,”

he instructed her gently.

Veronique was puzzled, but he looked at her reassuringly and she complied. She tied it around his eyes.

He turned to face her and told her to stay where she was standing. “Remove your hair ribbon and dress.”

She paused. She was perplexed and not quite as comfortable as she had been on the porch of the wagon.

“My lovely Veronique. I cannot see you now.

You have no reason to be bashful, ashamed or afraid of me. I will not watch. Trust me.”

He spoke to her as a good friend would talk to another and she wanted to please him so he would continue speaking. His voice was having an

amazing affect on her libido. Although she

understood the silliness of his request, she played along because she was now intensely curious and well,
what a sweet way to begin
. “Why?” she asked with a coquettish grin. She was stalling and 195

The Gypsy King

hoping he would explain more in the same

wonderfully enchanting tone.

“Trust me,” he replied with a grin.

Veronique untied the ribbon in her hair and loosened her dress. She heard it drop to the carpets in a hushed whisper.

“Now, go over to the basin and grab whatever soap you like, wet the sponge thoroughly and bring it to me.”

She turned and walked to the basin as he began talking to her in a calming voice that reminded her of warm wind through the trees. His tone flowed and halted, then picked up speed, fell quiet, resonated through her skin, her ears and even her hair. She picked up each block of soap and inhaled its aroma. She selected one that had a breathtaking scent of sunflowers and pecans. She admired the little specks of crushed shells sprinkled sparsely through the thick, hand cut slab. While she lathered up the sponge, Nanosh began telling her another version of the story he told around the campfire.

“I had my arms completely around you and

was kicking with all my might. My gaze moved from the oncoming shore back again to your silken water-soaked body as the river’s water coursed over your dress and down your hips and legs.”

Veronique played along, but had to chide him a little bit. “You had time to look at my wet breasts and my dripping fur while you were saving my 196

Morgan Rush

life, Nanosh? Now that is romantic, isn’t it?”

He smiled beneath his blindfold, held out his hands and made a
come hither
movement with both hands like a small child beckons for

something he wants.

Veronique was intrigued and touched at the

same time. One moment he was one of the

strongest men she had met and, in the next, he was showing he had the strength to be as

vulnerable as a child. The enigma of him played with her mind. She found herself giddy at the excitement of not having any idea what was in his imagination and she wondered what he was going to do to her.

“These hands have held you tightly and I

wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed being so close to you and how much I am going to enjoy being close to you again, right now.” He spoke calmly, but there was an edge of passion in his voice now.

She came to him with the soap and sponge and playfully pushed against his body, giggling while she pushed him a little off balance because he could not see her.

He laughed. “Do you feel safe here, Bright

Star?”

“Yes.”

“Then put the soap and sponge down on the

carpets and remove my blindfold, I have a

surprise for you.” He pointed up to the ceiling of 197

The Gypsy King

the wagon.

Veronique followed his finger and was

surprised to see a large bolt secured in the main frame that went across the roof of the wagon. An eyehook hung down on an adjustable chain. Her heart sizzled. “I bet you do,” she managed to sputter. She untied his blindfold.

He reached for her hands and began tying them up until they were secure, but comfortable. He lifted them high above her head, stretching her out completely, until her ribcage extended out and her breasts were almost flat against her body.

Her hips stretched out and she could feel her pussy lips lifting up along with her thighs as she extended to the tips of her toes. She wondered if he could tell she was turned on.

He dropped her just an inch or two until she was barely standing on the carpets but she was very comfortable, stretched out and vulnerable.

She felt almost completely suspended, hanging from the beam and used her feet to twirl herself around slowly, giggling. It was an exciting feeling and not unreasonably uncomfortable. Her juices coursed through her now and she wanted him to explore her aching body, pinch her nipples, massage her legs, take advantage of her

vulnerability. She giggled again.

He continued talking to her. “I’m glad you are enjoying yourself tonight. Now I am going to bathe you as if you were floating once again in the 198

Morgan Rush

Chamois, except this time, the water will be warmer and you can smell the scents of faraway lands at the same time. Instead of remembering the pain of that night, we will work together and replace it with unbelievable pleasure. So much so that it will never hurt you again.”

Veronique closed her eyes and felt warm tears welling up and streaming down her face. She heard the soapy water fall into the basin and she jerked when he first touched her.

In her mind, she was standing at the footbridge, but instead of jumping, she stood still and stretched her arms in front of her. She could feel the warm summer winds blowing through her

hair and caressing her body. Nanosh was

whispering in one ear, then moving over quickly to the other so she didn’t know where his voice was going to come from next. Lulled into a deep relaxation, she soon began enjoying the rough, but highly stimulating, reef sponge bathing her tender skin. She imagined she was flying, not falling.

He started with her face and washed every inch of her from her eyes to her neck to her shoulders.

He traced his fingers across her most sensitive areas—the nape of her neck, under her lithesome arms, her wrists and the small chasm beneath her neck and chin. Each was massaged and soaped, along with her hands and arms, until he reached her heaving breasts. He paid special attention to her swelling areolas and aching nipples. She more 199

The Gypsy King

than once felt like a goddess in winged flight soaring over the river, across the fields and through the woods of her childhood. She slowed or went faster depending on his strokes of the sponge. All other memories vanished and she was happy to be here beneath his healing touch.

Her tummy and deliciously pulsing mound

were next, now dripping with her own cleansing and purifying fluids. He took his time near her nether regions and spun her around like a

ballerina until she knew she was facing away from him.

He slid her legs apart and ran his soapy sponge from her dripping lips to her delicate tight rear hole. She gasped at how intimate and thrilling it was to have him so close. No man had ever been so intimate and personal with every inch of her body. She imagined him studying every curve and crease. She felt his fingers brushing across her inner thigh and lightly grazing her ass, lips and soapy, soaked fur. She sucked in deep breaths, waiting for him to penetrate one of her openings with his either fingers or tongue. Unfortunately, nothing like that pleasure rush was forthcoming.

He was teasing her and she knew he would

have his way for as long as he wanted. He was gentle with her swollen ankle and even kissed it several times, apologizing to her in an overly dramatic tone for hurting her when he was pulling her to the shore that night. He continued with the 200

Morgan Rush

rest of her body, even soaking and soaping each individual toe and the rough soles of her feet.

She giggled and pulled away, but his firm grip ensured she was going to have to bear it and, once she relaxed, even the arches of her feet were enjoying his attentive cleaning. He missed nothing and when he was done, she could feel the residue of soap on every inch of her skin. Aromas from the candles mixed with the sunflower and pecan from the soap. She could feel the temperature in the wagon climbing quickly.

He emptied the basin, filled it with clean water and returned. Again went over every inch of her now tingling and twitching skin. He washed her with the same care and tenderness he bestowed on his horses. She loved how fresh and alive she was feeling. She found herself bathing blissfully in his complete attention. When he was done, she was so aroused she was shaking. She didn’t want him to stop touching or talking to her.

He paused. “How are your arms? Are you still comfortable?”

“Yes, the strain actually feels good. I feel very alive right now. Don’t stop.” She heard herself almost pleading with him, but let any fear wash itself away.

He touched her face gently and left her while he reached into the drawer again. This time he produced two more scarves. He snapped them in the air and Veronique shuddered a bit, but more 201

The Gypsy King

out of anticipation than fear now. He reached for her and he growled in her ear in a voice that left her more wanting and needy. She could feel him running the scarves over her face, making them dance along her nose and rubbing her cheeks and lips with them. They smelled of oils, wine and the ocean. She found it very pleasant.

He gently put one finger in her mouth.

She sucked on it hungrily and he slowly put in another. She gobbled them up, too, and was

happy to open up wide as he plunged three thick fingers into her willing mouth. She sucked on them with a passion that had been flowing from somewhere she had not discovered until very recently.

“Trust me,” he whispered in her ear, pulling his fingers out. He watched as she opened her mouth wide, thinking there was going to be a fourth intruder in her tender mouth.

She groaned, wanting to taste all four fingers and feel them stretching her like Ahndray’s cock when it swelled up inside her. Before she knew what was happening, he plunged a bundled up scarf into her mouth, then wrapped another

around her head and, within seconds, she was gagged.

She moaned and took a few large breaths

through her nose, then bucked and twisted. She soon heard Nanosh talking into her ear, consoling her, placating her, smoothing her fears and 202

Morgan Rush

convincing her he would never hurt her. Soon she settled down.

“This is so when you scream, we don’t wake up the whole
kumpania
, my falling star.”