| Subject: Mon Roi - Chapter 49 |
Author:
Loveroy
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Date Posted: Thursday, October 21, 12:17:49am
In reply to:
Loveroy
's message, "Mon Roi - Chapter 36 and forward" on Thursday, August 12, 02:40:15am
Nikita entered the now brightly lit room and cleared her throat before calling his name, first softly then with crescendo, “Mykohl…MYKohl”, there was no answer from the Prince.
She moved around the room enchanted by the antiques, the works of art, the drapes and riches strewn or properly placed all around the dwelling, this was after all the Prince’s abode. She could hear something and moved closer to a door that was ajar, and she realized the sounds she heard were, a faucet being turned off and water stopping its pounding drizzle. Nikita could see through the space between the ornate door and the frame, the silhouette of Michael towel drying his naked body, a view more enchanting than those found in the bedroom.
She watched his rippling muscles move perfectly as he manipulated the enormous towel under an arm, around his neck, drying the athletic back and then moving slowly down to the perfect ass. She sighed audibly and Michael started to turn, so Nikita abruptly moved back, coming in contact with an enormous portrait covered by a red cloth that slipped to the ground resting in a puddle next to her feet. Before she could look up at the mammoth painting Michael was standing by the door, jeans on, waist unbuttoned and zipper opened, and wearing neither shirt nor shoes.
“Morning,” Michael said to a stunned Nikita, “you are here early.”
She stood and then genuflected at Michael’s amused reaction, “Your Royal Highness, I was eager to start my work.”
“I see,” he quipped, “Please, don’t do that anymore.”
“But I wouldn’t have to bother waking you once I know what it is I am to do.” She was moving towards the table where the coffee service waited.
“I didn’t mean waking me, I meant don’t bow before me again.”
“Your Highness, we are in the castle and I think that people need traditions. What bigger tradition than the monarchy?”
She served a cup of coffee, like the night before – black in a dainty china cup. She turned and handed it to Michael who was now wearing a shirt still unbuttoned and was threading a belt through the belt loops. His zipper was now fastened, but the button was not and Nikita moistened her lips at the sight he presented.
She spied the portrait, a majestic blonde woman bejeweled and elegant in an ornate ball gown of satin, tapestry and gold threads, Nikita exclaimed, “She is beautiful, who is she?”
Michael didn’t bother turning, he knew who was in the portrait and looked for recognition in Nikita’s face, finding none. Nikita was not identifying her ancestor and didn’t detect the resemblance. Michael thought Nikita was beautiful and was more irresistible in all her innocent glory, so without thinking he held her chin and kissed her tenderly on the lips.
She didn’t move, her eyes were opened enjoying his gentle caress. He answered, “The love of my great-grandfather’s life.”
“Is that him?” She embarrassingly asked, pointing at the portrait hanging next to the woman’s picture, “you look like him.” And then looking back at Michael who still stood close to her she asked, “Why was her portrait covered by the cloth?”
Michael, realizing that Nikita was not ready to start threading her past together answered, “Rene has been cleaning the castle, perhaps he had not reached this portrait yet. Come lets take a tour of the place.”
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