Read Taming Her Gypsy Lover for Free Online

were you?”
    He did not look up. “I had a wife, once. She died in childbirth, a year ago.”
    “What was her name?”
    “We do not speak the name of the dead,” he said, rather coldly. “It is not the way of the Roma. When a person dies, we sell their possessions or bury them with the body. And do not speak their name, for fear that their spirit will follow us, and do us ill.” He looked around his tent, as though searching for something. “Since she left me, everything I have is new—the tent, the bedclothes, everything. There is not a trace of her left. I was told it would be better that way.
    “There was not an evil bone in her body. She would do no harm to anyone, in this life, or the next.” Chal sat down on the edge of his cot, bewildered. “Even if she wanted, she could not find me again. Her name was Bella.”
    Emma sat down upon the bed he had made with his own hands, big enough for two, though he slept alone in it. She put her arms around his neck and drew his lips to hers. He kissed her hungrily, as though the contact could drag him back into the present.
    And she returned the kiss, wanting desperately to ease his sadness. “You are right,” she whispered. “Your bed is very comfortable. And your house is warm and dry.”
    “You like it?” he said hoarsely. And she wondered if he spoke of the bed, or the things that might happen in it.
    “Yes,” she answered, to both questions. “But is it sturdy enough to make love in?”
    “I do not know,” he admitted with a sly smile. “As I told you, it is a new bed.”
    “And you are a vigorous lover. Perhaps it would be better if you allow me to test the strength of it.”
    His eyes held a kind of amazed relief as he let her reach for him, pulling the shirt out of his breeches, and working it up over his body, over his head. Tossing it away. She ran her hands over the smooth skin of his chest, massaging the muscles of his shoulders and back as he groaned in satisfaction.
    “That feels,” he grunted in relief, “very good. When you work, you get sore. There.”
    “I will make it better,” she said, rubbing harder, feeling him relax.
    He pressed his face into her shoulder, kissing the bare skin at her throat, and she laughed. “How do you like me as a Gypsy girl?”
    “I like you very much. I like you any way I can have you. And even more, when you do what you are doing to me.” He gave an uneasy laugh as she caught at the buttons on his breeches, opening them.
    Then he stared past her, at his shirt where she had dropped it, as though trying to distract himself. “When the earth is your floor, you learn to take better care with your clothes than that.”
    She grabbed his member in her hand and stroked. “You will teach me. After. And some of your language as well. For example, what am I to call this?”
    He gave a groan. “That is my midjloli . And it is near to midday. There is little time to be playing with it.”
    “Perhaps you should be silent, as I was in the garden on the day we met.” She stroked him, finding him hard and yet soft as velvet.
    “We are in the tent together, in the middle of the afternoon. People will wonder what we are doing.”
    “They can wonder if they like. But if you do not tell them, then no one will know for sure.” She ran her hand along him again, using the other to cup his testicles. “And I mean to be very quiet.” She slid down the bed, kneeling at the foot, settling between his legs and dipping her face forward to trail her hair over his body. “Let me show you.” Then she leaned forward again and brought her mouth down over him, tightened her lips, and lapped once, with her tongue.
    “So keres?” His body gave a sudden jerk and he tried to sit up, then realized his vulnerability and relaxed again. But he was muttering an almost steady stream of Romany, either curses or entreaties, she was not sure.
    She pulled away. “If you wish me to stop, you must tell me in English, for I do not understand