Gypsy King by Cynthia Sax

Gypsy King

by Cynthia Sax

Cover art: Bryan Keller

ISBN: 978-1-60521-505-1
Genre(s): Urban Fantasy
Theme(s): Magic and Mayhem
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1527

Blurb:
Cora doesn't need a crystal ball to know the tall, dark stranger standing in front of her is trouble. When he pays to have his fortune told, she sees the two of them making passionate love. Tamos isn't destined to be a transient lover. He's a man she could love for all eternity.

The problem is... Cora doesn't do love and she doesn't do eternity. She likes her freedom. She isn't going to give that up for anyone, not even the smooth-talking, knife-throwing, jail-springing king of the gypsies.

Excerpt:
Gypsy King


Cynthia Sax

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2011 Cynthia Sax

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Walk on by. Walk on by. Cora chanted that refrain over and over in her head. She'd spotted the stranger the moment he set foot on the pier. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his toned physique clad in a form-fitting dark suit. Shoulder-length black hair was pulled back from a chiseled face. He was refined yet primitive, and he was not the typical tourist.

He paused in front of her tattered sandwich board. "Gypsy Rose," he read, his deep voice rolling over Cora like the ocean waves. His gaze met hers. His eyes were sky blue, contrasting vividly with his tanned skin. "How original." His lips quirked upward, drawing attention to the crescent moon shaped scar below his mouth.



"I have a permit." Cora tilted her chin up defiantly. Hers was a legal though transient business. There was no need for harassment.



"I'm sure you do." He spun the folding chair around and sat down, his long legs straddling the back. The seat creaked a noisy protest. "Shouldn't you have a crystal ball?"



Her face heated. She'd had a crystal ball. A child had smashed it to pieces a week ago. "It doesn't work that way." Cora smoothed the colored cloth covering her makeshift table. The crystal ball, the tarot cards, and the palm readings were only for show. She gathered her information by touch.



"You're blonde." He reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair back into her red scarf. "I thought gypsies were supposed to have dark hair." His fingertips brushed against her jaw. Sensation shot over her skin, causing Cora to shiver. "Cold, my little gypsy?"



She didn't answer him. The sun blazed on her shawl-covered shoulders. The nearby ice cream vendor, David, did a brisk business. A pale-skinned tourist slathered on sunscreen. The man knew she wasn't cold.



He knew much more than that, she suspected. This handsome stranger questioned her name, her hair color, and her vagabond existence. She straightened the stack of cards. His blue-eyed gaze followed the movement. Panic coiled tight within her stomach. "Is there a question you wish an answer to?" She fought the urge to run, concentrating on business.



"You're the fortuneteller. You tell me." He placed a folded hundred-dollar bill on the table. It was five times her going rate. "Or doesn't it work that way?" he mocked her earlier words. A small gold hoop dangled from his left earlobe.



Cora preferred to see only what her customers needed her to see. The past was easy to access, laid out in their minds like a book to be read. The future was more difficult. It consisted of fleeting images that might or might not come true.



As the stranger tapped his fingers against the tabletop, she pressed her lips together. With this arrogant man, she would read everything. She'd learn all his secrets. "Hold out your hands, palms up."



His hands were worn, a shade lighter than his wrists. Deep lines crisscrossed his palms. He sported no wedding ring, only an antique signet ring on his right hand. His shirt cuffs were crisp and spotless. "Don't worry, little gypsy." White teeth flashed in his dark face. "I washed my hands."



"So have I." That wasn't what worried her. It was the foreboding feeling that with this reading, her world would change. She lowered her hands on his. The contact was instant electricity. She closed her eyes, throwing herself into his being.



Stretches of tanned skin filled her view. The skin was perfect. The rawhide brown pulled taut over defined muscles and was covered with the sheen of fresh perspiration. His black locks were loose, brushing teasingly over his bare shoulders. Her gaze dropped. The bare skin didn't end. He was completely nude. Strong shoulders tapered to a slender waist and a tightly clenched ass. His ass pumped back and forth between spread legs. The legs were golden and clearly female. The sound of panting and moaning echoed in the darkened room. Fingers tipped by fire-red nail polish gripped his back, leaving a trail of red. Blonde hair draped over the black silk sheets. She couldn't see the woman's face.



She didn't want to see the woman's face. Moisture flooded Cora's pussy. She didn't want to see him fuck the woman. She pushed past the image to... nowhere. There was only a brightly-lit nothing. She retreated.



The viewing angle had changed. He kissed the woman, devouring her mouth, her hair partially shielding her face. His hips moved, his large cock spearing between golden pussy lips again and again. He cupped the blonde's ass with his hands, allowing him to drive farther into her. Cora's pussy throbbed. No one had ever fucked her with that sort of passion.



She pulled her gaze away and headed in another direction with her search, hitting another stark white wall. This was beyond her experience. She faced nothing as though he had no thoughts, no history, no future, nothing other than his enthusiastic fucking of the blonde. She turned, and she was in the bedroom again.



"Tamos, Tamos, Tamos," the woman called. The voice sounded familiar.



"Come for me, Cora," he coaxed. "Come for me now." He bent his head and kissed her neck.



The woman's name was Cora. Cora froze. It couldn't be her. It had to be a coincidence. The woman screamed his name, her fingernails digging into his back. Tamos thrust twice more and then stiffened, his roar of satisfaction ringing in Cora's ears.



The woman fell back in the bed, her limbs loose. It was her face looking back at her. Her lips glistened. Her eyes shone. She looked beautiful and alive and happy. "I love you, Tamos." She reached out with her hands, and Cora saw in her countenance that she did.



This was the man she could love. That realization chilled her to the bone. Love meant commitment. Commitment took away freedom. Cora cherished her freedom more than she valued her life. "No." Cora pulled back her hands, opening her eyes. She would never settle down to one place and one man.



"No?" That man, Tamos, laughed, the sound like waves breaking on the shore. "Is my future that bleak?" Although he feigned ignorance, Cora read the naked, open desire in his sky blue eyes. He knew what she'd seen.


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