Poker Posse 1: Looking at Rose (10 page)

She seemed to think about it for a moment before answering. “No, you’re capable of that.”

“But not discerning?”

Rose shook her head. “You’re discerning, but—”

He cut her off. “But you think I’m swayed by the fact that you’re tall?”

Again the half shrug. “Could be.”

He could see the emotional confusion in her eyes, her face. It wasn’t hard to figure out what might be going through his woman’s head. Rose didn’t know how to interpret his signals. She didn’t view herself as attractive because of her height, but at the same time, she wanted to believe his attraction to her was based on more than her height and their friendship.

The words she’d used the previous night came back to him. To better work with her on discovering the beauty he saw, he needed to understand her thinking. “You said something last night about knowing your faults. Explain.”

She didn’t look away from him, but he could see she was uncomfortable with the question. “I listed them last night.”

“No. Explain why you call them faults and not flaws.”

For just a moment, anger blazed in Rose’s eyes. As if she was furious with him for making her dwell on the details. Perhaps he would tell her his reasoning, perhaps not. Nonetheless, it was important to know what he would be working with.

“It’s like diamonds. Flaws are topical. On the surface. Something that can be polished or corrected. Cover them up with some cosmetics. Faults go all the way through, a weak spot in the design. It can be covered over and patched, but too much stress will cause it to fracture.”

Ibraham nodded, the picture in his mind growing clearer. “Ah, and you see yourself as a diamond in the rough?”

Rose chuckled and shook her head. “No. I’m the rock that put the pressure on to form the diamond.”

“The part that needs to be chipped away to get to the diamond.”

“Exactly.”

A heavy sigh punctuated his words. “I don’t believe that.”

Hope seemed to flare, then dissipate in Rose’s eyes, like a child desperate to believe in Santa Claus but too aware of reality to give into the fantasy. “I’ve lived with this my whole life, so I think I’m a better judge.”

“Lesson number one, Rose. A relationship between a dominant and his sub is based on mutual respect and trust.”

“Makes sense.”

Ibraham moved close enough that he could feel the tips of her breasts grow hard against his chest. He didn’t allow her to look away from him. “You’re beautiful, Rose.”

She started to shake her head.

“Do you think I’m lying?”

Rose began to gnaw on her lower lip, her barely visible teeth white against the pink flesh. She didn’t answer.

“Shall I prove I’m right?”

She closed her eyes but didn’t respond.

“We’ll take this in stages. First, what are the safe words?”

“Green, yellow, and red.”

Ibraham brushed a kiss over her lips. “Very good.” He held up the blindfold and waited until Rose had looked at it, then back at him, before continuing. “Do you trust me, Rose?”

She nodded but didn’t say anything; the flush in her cheeks darkened.

“Tell me what level. I need to hear the words.”

The muscles in her throat worked as she swallowed, then responded, “Green.”

Again Ibraham rewarded her with a kiss, allowing it to linger before pulling away. “Thank you. Close your eyes.”

He took his time situating the cloth over her eyes, making sure it was snug enough that she couldn’t see under it, but not so tight as to be painful. If he was going to accustom her to his particular fetish, she’d have to become more comfortable with her body, see it as he saw it.

After moving so the standing mirror was behind him and Rose’s back brushed his chest, Ibraham smoothed his hands down her shoulders and along her arms. He played with her fingers, turning her hands over so they rested in his before he began to stroke his thumbs over the softness of her palms. “I’m always amazed at how beautiful your hands are, Rose. And the skill in them.”

He brushed his lips behind her right ear and made his way down her throat to the neck of her T-shirt.

Her response was wrapped in a gasp as he lowered her hands to her waist and slipped his fingers under her shirt to the soft skin of her belly. “Th-thank you.”

Unlike the previous night when he simply moved the shirt out of his way, Ibraham wanted the soft cotton covering her completely off. He moved it up and over her head without disturbing the blindfold and tossed it onto the bench at the foot of his bed before returning his hands to Rose’s pink flesh. He followed the blush from her abdomen to her breasts, cupping the mounds and playing with the rosy nipples with his fingers as they hardened into stiff peaks.

“So fucking pretty.” Ibraham turned her so she faced him and he could visually savor the curves he caressed. The soft pink tips against the ivory smoothness of her breasts enchanted him. The contrast of his tanned fingers and her pale skin spun images of what the audience at the Omen would see. How they’d react. His hard cock grew harder.

He lowered his mouth to her ear. “Put your hands on me, my Rose.” He waited, then sighed at the soft pressure of her fingertips carefully inching their way along his arms, rubbing the silk of his shirt until she threaded them through his hair.

“Mmm. I sit outside your shop and watch you play with your treats and imagine your hands on me. Touching me.” As he spoke, Ibraham moved his hands from her breasts down her ribs to the waistband of her jeans. With his fingers on the button, he asked, “Tell me you’ve thought about touching me, my Rose.”

Her fingers tightened, then relaxed to rub along the collar, then down the closed front of his shirt. Down, then up. “Yes. I’ve thought of touching you.” Rose’s voice was husky with desire.

“Tell me. How do you imagine it?” Ibraham focused on the trembling in her body and the need filling her words as he loosened the fastener and lowered the zipper on her jeans.

“I want to feel the warmth of your skin against me, to tangle my fingers in the hair on your chest. To see if your nipples get hard like mine.” Each breathy description was followed by a soft moan as Rose responded to his touch.

Ibraham eased her jeans and panties over her hips and down her legs, pausing to stroke or kiss the pale flesh exposed by the retreating denim. “Take my shirt off, Rose. Show me what you want.”

There was only a moment’s hesitation in Rose before she used touch to guide her in slipping buttons from holes, starting at the bottom and working her way up. There was a brief moment, when he eased her feet from her discarded clothes, when Rose fumbled with her task, having to bend to keep hold of his shirt as he squatted in front of her. She quickly regained herself and finished the last button seconds before Ibraham parted the moist petals between her thighs and lapped up the warm cream coating her flesh.

Rose cried out, but Ibraham didn’t turn from his pleasure. The taste and smell of her surrounded him, filling his senses and making him drunk to have more. He pulled away to gaze up her body at her face. Her breasts jiggled; the muscles in her belly fluttered; her breath came in rapid, desperate gasps, and he liked it. Savored the power she gave him simply by allowing him to touch her intimately.

He licked his lips, rolling her flavor over his tongue like sampling his finest vintage. “Peach-infused chardonnay.” He identified her taste even as he parted the soft black hair covering her sex and returned for more.

The blunt edges of her short nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders as Rose held on and arched into his mouth. “Please. More.”

Ibraham allowed himself only a few moments longer. Bringing her to climax with his mouth wouldn’t suit the purpose of tonight’s lesson. Rose needed to see herself the way he saw her—beautiful. Before his need could overrule his intent, Ibraham took one last taste, sliding his tongue deep, then pulling out to flick the firm pearl of her clit. He rose, moving behind his woman and wrapping one arm around her waist while he used the other to ease the blindfold from her eyes.

He dropped the silk to the floor and waited.

Rose arched back against him, her bottom rubbing against the stiff shaft of his cock straining at the leather encasing it. She clutched the wrist of the arm around her waist, and her head tilted back to rest on his shoulder. Warm lips parted, allowing her to nip at his throat with her teeth even as breathy pleas whispered over his skin.

“Please. More. I need—”

Ibraham turned his head and captured her mouth with his, sharing the taste of her while indulging in the warmth and sweetness of her kiss. He felt her fingers sink into his hair, tugging him closer, holding his lips to hers as if she didn’t dare let him go.

With a twist of his wrist, he gripped the hand still at her waist and drew it down her body. Over the warm, pulsing skin of her belly to the juncture of her thighs still wet from his attention and her juices. Fingers tangled together, he guided her touch to the slick, swollen folds of her pussy and dipped inside.

There was no coaxing necessary as Rose easily fell into a rhythm of strokes and thrusts that matched the advance and retreat of their tongues. Carefully, he eased his hand from hers and lifted his lips as Rose continued to pleasure herself without his urging. He wrapped his left arm around her waist and slid his right hand behind her knee, lifting her leg up and to the side, opening her body so he could better view her intimate flesh in the mirror before them.

Ibraham was mesmerized by the play of her fingers in her tight flesh, the sounds of her gasps mingling with the wet slide of her fingers. The flush of arousal rising in a steady tide of pink from her belly to her cheeks and down her legs fascinated him, and the slight swelling of her breasts made him itch to clamp the stiff, pink peaks with jeweled clips before nibbling on them for hours.

It took time for him to shake himself free of the spell the sight of her cast. When she was on the cusp of climax, he lifted his hand from her waist. Forearm nestled between her breasts, he gripped her chin in his hand and nipped her right ear before breathing his command into it. “Open your eyes, Rose.”

Heavy lids fluttered but remained closed, the thick, black lashes a silky fan above her cheeks.

Again his teeth pinched the shell of her ear. “Open your eyes. Now.”

With a gasp, Rose complied. Dazed blue eyes slowly focused on the view in front of her. Ibraham felt the moment she realized what she was looking at, and the dominant within him purred as he felt her body’s reaction—she came.

A soft, gasping cry slipped from her lips as she arched up, pressing back against him as her body tensed and climax washed through her. She never quit looking in the mirror. The quivering muscles of her belly and legs attested to the length and strength of her orgasm.

Long minutes later, her body limp against him, Ibraham lowered her foot back to the floor and settled both hands at her waist. He held her gaze in the mirror as the color slowly faded from her skin.

“Beautiful, Rose. No faults. No flaws. Simply beautiful. That’s how I see you. Not just on the outside, but in the way you respond to my touch, my voice, my commands. It’s how a dominant selects his sub. Not for what she possesses on the surface, but for the strength and grace that dwell deep within her.” His lips caressed her cheek as he envisioned displaying her for the audience of the Omen. “I want to show that to others, so they know it belongs to me.”

The color returned to Rose’s cheeks, and her gaze lowered. With a sigh, she turned in his hold and snuggled against his bare chest, her arms tight around his waist, fingers softly petting the skin along his lower back.

After several quiet moments, she leaned back, her gaze searching his before she started to open her mouth.

Ibraham suspected what she was going to ask, and he stopped her. “No. No sex.” He set his fingers over her lips to stop the request. “You are beautiful, love, and if I could give up kink, I’d do everything in my power to get and keep you out of your panties and in the nearest bed so fast your head would spin.”

Her brow creased in confusion. “Then why?”

“I like my kink, Rose.”

“I could—”

He shook his head. “No. If you’d had even one lover, I would still be wary.”

“But—”

Despite his unease, Ibraham wasn’t ignorant of his nature. And he didn’t doubt Rose wanted him as much as he wanted her. If he was going to cross that line and actually introduce her to his world, it wouldn’t be based on a passion-induced whim. “I want you, Rose. But I also recognize how important this decision is. I want you to think about it. Consider it seriously. Remember what I told you at the Omen?”

Rose nodded but didn’t say anything. Her fingers traced the whorls of black hair on his chest while she studied him. “You like to…” She hesitated.

Ibraham finished for her. “I like to fuck in public, Rose. And not just at the club. At play parties and other gatherings I attend with people I know in the lifestyle. Sometimes in places where the chance of being caught makes it well worth the risk of a fine or even jail time.”

He hugged her and set a soft kiss on her lips. “I like to bind my lovers and make them come until they beg me to stop. I like toys and ropes. Anal sex and blowjobs. I even enjoy giving pain if that’s what my partner wants.”

Rose’s gaze dropped to his chest as she watched him step away and button his shirt back up. “What if I want to try?” she whispered.

Finished with his shirt, Ibraham tucked his right hand under her chin and lifted her head until her eyes met his. “This isn’t a game for me, Rose. If you can’t handle your mother knowing you were in the Omen tonight, how are you going to handle the things I might ask you to do?”

She held his gaze, and her chin lifted just the slightest bit higher. “I want to try.”

Her spunk only made his cock throb harder. Would that spirit come into play if they scened together? Would she play the brat in order to push him to punish her more instead of asking for what she wanted? The opportunities and possibilities were endless, if she truly knew that his lifestyle could appeal to her.