Poker Posse 1: Looking at Rose (18 page)

Words spilled from her lips. Rose was incoherent, barely aware of the pleas and cries for possession as Ibraham played her body like an instrument. A brush here, a pluck there. No matter how she moved against him, rubbed her bottom across his groin, pushed her breasts into his hands, he denied her. Soon the crowd was on her side, speaking up, calling out encouragements.

Her mind spinning, Rose could hear the cries from the people around the stage over the music just as Ibraham went still behind her. The quiet rasp of a zipper sounded like an explosion to her, but she knew no one else had heard it. The whisper of latex over flesh blended with his voice as he breathed into her ear. “I love the way you come alive in front of a crowd, Rose. I love how your body moves perfectly in time with mine whether we’re alone at my apartment or here.”

The silk covering her eyes loosened and fell away, drifting down her body to the floor as Ibraham merged his body with hers. The feel of him filling her, moving inside her, pushing deep, settled the urgency driving her. It wasn’t enough though. Not nearly enough. She rocked her hips back, wanting more, needing more. The scratch of his chest hair over her back combined with the heat of his skin, surrounding her in his scent.

Rose turned her head so her mouth connected with his, tongues tangling together, sharing their flavor and breath with one another. His hand was hot against her lower belly as he pulled back, then thrust forward, picking up the pace as the need for climax clawed at her center.

Ibraham separated his mouth from hers and leaned his head back enough that he could meet her gaze. His eyes were a molten gold, liquid and hot, dangerous as he watched her, spilling heat and fire through her blood seconds before he compelled her, “Come.”

She couldn’t look away even as her body caught fire. Pleasure exploded outward, starting beneath the warm weight of his palm and rippling in concentric waves until her legs felt like jelly and her head was almost too heavy to hold up. The world faded as she fought to keep her eyes open and failed.

Minutes passed. The sway of the cage, and the quiet
thump
of it settling onto the stage registered on the periphery of her senses. The soft warmth of a blanket cocooned her before her restraints were removed and Ibraham scooped her up. The sounds of the club faded as he held her close and carried her into the private room behind the stages.

Sleepy, but aware that her lover hadn’t climaxed, Rose squirmed in his lap as he cuddled her. He halted her hands when she reached through the blanket for his pants. “No, Rose. Later.”

She recognized the tone immediately and acquiesced without protest. Needing the warmth of his body against hers, she snuggled closer, her cheek on his shoulder, her left hand tracing the hairs on his chest. A flash of light winked off the yellow diamond solitaire he’d slipped on her finger a week earlier.

As if reading her mind, Ibraham lifted his hand to cover hers. He rubbed his thumb over and around the two-carat stone. Dipping his head, he pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss.

On a sigh, Rose confessed. “I love you.”

Ibraham smiled and kissed her forehead. “I know. I love you too.”

She waited, enjoying the quiet, the soft brush of his hand over hers, the warmth of him holding her close. Finally she lifted her head. Ibraham’s head was tilted back against the sofa cushions, his eyes closed. He looked so relaxed she hated to disturb him. “Ibraham?”

He didn’t move. “Yes, love.”

Rose nuzzled her nose into the curve where his neck and shoulder met. The smell of him—grapes, leather, and sex—made her shiver. “Next time, can we leave the shades up on the shop window?”

Rose’s head spun with the swiftness of Ibraham’s reaction. From one second to the next, she went from being cuddled on his lap to being stretched out on the sofa. The blanket covered the sofa beneath her as Ibraham pinned her down, his hips between her thighs, his chest crushing her breasts as he gazed down at her, amusement glittering in his eyes. “How about I talk Sheriff Dixon into letting me use his handcuffs, and he can enjoy a coffee and cupcake and looking at Rose while I indulge in my sweets maker?”

Rose arched closer, purring in ecstasy as Ibraham joined his body to hers. “Mmm, oh yes, I think that would be wonderful.” Images of Ibraham laying her out on her worktable while Zack relaxed at the wrought iron table on the sidewalk quickly faded as Ibraham chuckled and nipped at her throat.

She lifted her arms, wrapping them around his shoulders as he settled into a fast, hard rhythm meant to satisfy both of them. Six months seemed so far away, but a lifetime with Ibraham was worth the wait.

The POKER POSSE Series

Looking at Rose

Born in California but raised in Las Vegas, Nevada, Qwillia Rain embraces fully the independent spirit of the West she grew up in, even if she currently resides in North Carolina.

Qwillia has worked at a diverse mix of jobs including casino change person, bill collector, book store and video store clerk, and computer teacher to Kindergarten through 8th graders, but writing has always been part of her life.

In 2007 her first book was published, opening a whole new world where she can play with her characters and get paid for it.