| Subject: Mon Roi - Chapter 48 Rated NC 17* Long |
Author:
Loveroy
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Date Posted: Tuesday, October 19, 02:58:08am
In reply to:
Loveroy
's message, "Mon Roi - Chapter 36 and forward" on Thursday, August 12, 02:40:15am
Nikita stood underneath the stream of hot water coming out of the showerhead; her skin feeling the tiny needles of heated liquid beat forcefully against her enlivened body and she reveled in the simple act of bathing. Sleep escaped her that glorious night, she was too excited with being awake to waste anymore time resting, after all she was comatose for a long time and thus she considered rest a redundancy. Her skin was red from the temperature and the power of the pelting water; she then took a dollop of an herbal shampoo and scrubbed her scalp with force, still wallowing in the enjoyment of the mundane.
Following the instructions on the back of the shampoo bottle, she ‘wash, rinse and repeat’ a couple of times, making sure to squeegee out every last bit of the bubbles from her now clean-smelling hair. She took a sea-sponge from the well stocked bathroom she inherited and scrubbed anxiously her skin, her mind wondering if she used a sponge before, wandering through the information contained on the labels that hung from the packaging. Finally, when she felt she was squeaky clean, she turned the water to cold and screamed at the feel of the freezing water rinsing the vestiges of all homegrown beauty concoctions that she used to pamper herself.
Turning off the stream of water and moving joyfully towards the towel rack, she chose a large towel to wrap around her body and a smaller sized one to wrap around her hair, towel drying the mane with expertise. Somehow Nikita remembered how to brush her teeth, plopping a bit of mint based dental powder unto an archaic looking brush, her mouth after brushing felt fresher than she remembered. Next, it was time to apply her makeup and after reading the print on the containers she decided to apply just moisturizer with a blush of a tint, some mascara and a dab of gloss to her lips. Nikita wanted to see where these products were being manufactured and smiled at the fact she somehow remembered that a process needed to be completed in order to have these necessities available.
Walking into her tiny bedroom from her diminutive bathroom, Nikita removed the towel around her hair as she mindlessly picked up a brush from the top of her dresser and sat before a mirror to brush her damp hair. The woman saw the reflection there and tears began to roll down the beautiful face, who was that blonde looking back at her, the one brushing the tangles from the wheat colored hair. She had no notion who she could be, was she someone worth knowing, was she someone worth recalling, was she a worthwhile member of society and could she be trusted? The blonde beauty dried her tears with a monogrammed kerchief; she touched the antique stitching and wondered whom the ‘R’ belonged to. Not a twinge of recognition in her smile for the handkerchief belonging to her great-grandmother Roberta.
Nikita hung the damp towel that wrapped her body on a hook to dry and pulled a red satin, shiny and soft thong and matching bra from the top drawer of her dresser, the cool material sexily encasing her body. As she stood in front of her closet and donned a black skirt, black sweater and leather jacket banding her waist with a red silk ribbon she tied in a bow, she thought perhaps it was better to leave the past in the past. One last look in the mirror and she approved, walking again towards the closet she put on red high-heeled pumps and felt a tugging at her groin, somehow Michael’s face appeared in her mind.
It was still dark outside, not even the simulate sun making its obligatory appearance and as she sipped a cup of chamomile tea by the window in her living room, Nikita spied the subtle lights emanating from the neighboring castle. She thought about Prince Michael, not that the handsome man escaped her attention for a moment, in fact for some reason he was forefront in her thoughts even as she earlier took her invigorating shower. The memory of her sexy fantasies about Michael made her laugh, how was it that she knew he was the one making her feel tingly all over. Somehow she thought this visual was not too appropriate, after all he was the Prince and then at that moment, she pictured Michael’s piercing emerald gaze over her overheated skin and blushed again.
---
Prince Michael lay on his bed sound asleep, his breathing deep and steady, his eyes fluttering obviously in the middle of a perfect dream; the room was dark, and the blackout curtains pulled tightly did not let in the slightest bit of brightness. The man on the bed was naked, that was just the way Michael slept, the room was extremely cold and yet his skin was heated. The dream continued with a background of sky blue, the puffy clouds subtle and almost non-existent and then the blue turned into Nikita’s eyes, how the Prince loved delving in that blueness.
From his point-of-view in the fairly young dream Michael watched a bikini clad Nikita dance between two innocuous looking men her hips moving sultrily, the critical bend of her knees keeping perfect tempo to the music. Prince Michael smoked a cigarette; the smoke raising randomly from his lips as his eyes never left the woman’s face, her eyes proclaiming that she knew what he was wishing for. In the dream, Nikita danced for him, the music sweltering and loud blocking the remainder of the room’s occupants as she invited Michael to come closer, to join her.
He strutted over to a potted palm and finding no other place to snuff his cigarette, he ground the tobacco into the dirt and the cigarette was doused, Michael then approached the sunlight that was Nikita. The couple stood face to face, her hips still swaying to the pounding beat of the music, her eyes still buried into his startling green ones, their lips a whisper away from each other. The non-descript men disappeared from Michael’s dream; the white bikini became a red slip, silk and lace almost encasing the fantastic woman still dancing before Michael. The music turned to a scorching love ballad accompanied by a rhythmic jungle beat and Nikita’s body moved closer and more sexily obviously designed to unglue the always formal sovereign.
Michael’s dream then took a lustful path as it meandered through the wishes he held so dear and he embraced Nikita in his arms as they swayed to the music. Her hands and his dancing, her hair silky to his caress sparkled, her semi closed eyes gleamed. He knelt before her body, his muscles quivering either from the force of keeping himself from devouring the woman or from the strain of holding back from forgetting her urgencies. Michael was always a thoughtful lover and he insured Nikita received his diligent concentration when they made love, her needs came first. However, this was his dream and Michael was ready to enjoy his selfish reverie.
He moved a hand sinfully slow across her body, raking his nails against her thighs and arms, and when he reached the spaghetti straps of the pretty slip he ripped first the left, then the right, carefully exposing her perfect breasts to his hungry gaze. Her nipples were hard, erect and ready to be plucked, inviting him to devour them with the same hunger she used that night to polish off the quart of chocolate ice cream. He licked and kissed the solid tips and languidly enjoyed the feel of the entire breast in his hungry mouth. Michael remembered Nikita’s breast as being a perfect size, the delicate elegant bust of the woman he loved.
He lay his head on her breast and allowed Nikita to kiss his forehead, the top of his head and the back of his neck, slowly mapping this man’s erogenous zones. His earlobe was next and then behind the ear and the introduction of her tongue to the shell made Michael moan with the pent up need for this woman. He felt her arms hold him firmly, he needed that feel of security from her, the woman was back in his dreams, not as an ephemeral preoccupation but alas as a possibility for happily ever aftering, after all this was Camelot.
When Michael’s erotic dream was about to hit a crescendo, when their mouths were tasting the bliss of connection, Michael’s ever faithful servant Rene Dion came into the room as he did long before. Rene opened the drapes as the sun was raising, and a monogram pillow hit him on the arm bringing a smile to his face; it was good to see the Prince back to his sunrise ornery self. Michael was much more than Rene’s Ruler, the Prince was the servant’s hero, and the man opined that no one deserved happiness more than Michael.
Michael menacingly whispered from his place on the bed, “Arręte Rene.”
“She is here Your Highness, I thought you would want…” The man did not finished his announcement and Michael was up and on his way to the bathroom.
Michael yelled while stepping through the door of the bathroom, “What time is it?”
“It is 6:00 a.m., she said she was eager to start her work day,” Rene answered as he moved around the room pulling clothing out of closets and setting coffee out for the monarch.
Michael ordered as he went into his shower “Bring her in, I will just be a few minutes.”
Rene moved to leave the room and answered, “As you wish Your Highness.”
“And Rene, send her in alone, I don’t want to be…” Rene didn’t bother listening to the rest of the order the Prince was delivering. It was obvious the young monarch wanted to be alone with his lady, no matter how inappropriate the whole scenario would seem to anyone watching.
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