Rose, Exposed

by Afton Locke

  The powerful yearning she’d felt in the car claimed her again. A hum filled her head. She didn’t know if it was cicadas, her blood or the fairies singing because they’d arranged this.

  He looked up at her with dark, worried eyes. “Are you all right?”

  Hardly. She wanted to tear her dress off—ripping off every small button from bodice to hem—and swim against his naked flesh in the river. Next, she wanted to lie naked and open-legged on this quilt, waiting for his hard, wet body to enter hers.

  She set down the other half of her sandwich, which she didn’t have an appetite for. Then she stole a glance at her mother to see if she had any idea such passion filled her body. Luckily, the woman’s face was placid as she gazed at the water and yawned. She either didn’t feel the sparks crackling nearby or chose to ignore them.

  “Heavens, the sun has made me so sleepy,” she said.

  “Rest,” Rose told her. “You usually take a nap in the afternoons anyway.”

  “You’re quite right. I can’t think of a more beautiful place to sleep.”

  While Mother closed her eyes, Rose tidied the picnic basket and walked with Leroy by the water’s edge. When he took her hand and held it, she shot a worried glance at the chair.

  “She’s asleep,” he said. “We finally have some real privacy.”

  Before she could take in the strong, solid warmth of his hand, his mouth lowered to hers. He kissed her slowly, extending the tip of his tongue to wipe a crumb from her bottom lip. Something wet and hot made its way down her thigh. If she saw much more of this man, she’d be doing laundry for the rest of her life.

  Her fingers dug into the green cotton covering his shoulders. “Leroy, you have to stop.”

  His hands gripped her arms. “I’m just getting started, sweet girl.”

  Beard stubble scraped across her upper lip, hardening her nipples to painful points, as he went in for another kiss.

  “You taste so damn good, I just can’t get enough.”

  “Someone might see us,” she protested.

  What if Mother woke up or, even worse, what if Father changed his mind and decided to join the picnic? But if Leroy kept kissing her this way, she wasn’t sure she’d care anymore. Besides, Mother snored softly now.

  “I know where we can get some real privacy,” he said.

  “Where? I can’t leave Mother.”

  He pointed to the boughs of the large oak tree his bicycle leaned against. “Up there.”

  She looked up at the mass of green leaves. “How are we going to get up there?”

  Instead of answering, he picked her up, hauled her over his shoulder as if she were a bag of feed and climbed his way up to a sturdy bough. It took every bit of Rose’s willpower not to squeal while he did, and she didn’t feel very safe now either.

  He sat against the trunk, straddled his legs over the bough and settled her into his lap with her back against his chest. Tingles of excitement bubbled to each fingertip. Her dignified family had raised her to look out windows and, good heavens, now she was up in a tree. This man was even wilder and earthier than she’d first thought.

  Through the leafy canopy of filtered sunlight, she could just make out her mother, who would have a harder time seeing them.

  “Leroy Johnson, you’re crazy,” she said.

  “Crazy about you.” His heated arm slid around her waist, making her feel safe despite the height. “Rose, I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve dreamed about you every night since I’ve met you.”

  His hot mouth traveled across her cheek down to the hollow of her neck. The sensation of his insistent tongue on that sensitive flesh would’ve knocked her out of the tree if his arm weren’t fastened around her. While his other arm settled on top of the first, his thumb scraped the undersides of her breasts, igniting flickers of pleasure. Surely he hadn’t done that on purpose!

  The hard ridge pressed against her backside didn’t help matters either. If only his trousers weren’t so tight. Instinct told her that hardness needed to be inside her and tempted her to rock her pelvis across it. Luckily, she didn’t always listen to her instincts.

  His green shirt made him appear to be part of the tree. Maybe he was a lusty tree satyr.

  “This feels so wicked.” She couldn’t seem to catch her breath enough to talk as he nibbled the edge of her jaw with his teeth. “It must be wrong.”

  He clasped her chin and turned her head toward him, showing her the seriousness in his eyes. “It’s not wrong. Nothing has ever felt more right. You’re the one, Rose.”

  Her heart fluttered, weightless, above the ground with the green leaves around them when a warm breeze passed through. He couldn’t possibly mean what she thought he did. “I’m the one…what?”

  “The one I’m going to marry.”

  Oh, no. That was exactly what he meant, all right. Flattery, passion and delight made her want to soar off the branch, but reality threatened to drop her to the ground.

  “I’ve kissed a few girls in my time,” he went on, “but you’re different. I’ve been telling people I wouldn’t settle down until I found the right girl. Now I have.”

  The feeling of rightness filled her too, but it couldn’t be.

  “How can you be so sure? We hardly know each other.”

  “I just know.”

  “I can’t marry you, Leroy.” Sadness for what could never be filled her as she touched his face. “Father would never approve.”

  But he shrugged off her concern. “I’ll work harder. I’ll get promoted. Then he’ll be convinced I’m worthy enough of you.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t understand. Father intends for me to marry a white man.”

  Chapter Four

  The force of Rose’s words nearly knocked Leroy out of the tree.

  “A white man? You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m afraid I am. Father is planning it very carefully. After the dinner you shared with us, I found out it’s the reason we moved here.”

  Leroy shook his head, hoping he hadn’t heard right. The green leaves danced in the breeze near his head, mocking him.

  When he found his voice, it was hoarse. “Is that what you want?”

  She shifted so hard in his lap he almost lost his grip on her. “Goodness, no. I don’t want to marry at all.”

  He blinked, not sure if he was relieved or disappointed by that. “I thought all young ladies dreamed of marriage.”

  “Not this young lady.” Rose picked off a nearby leaf and spun it by the stem. “I wouldn’t mind falling in love, though. Then I suppose it wouldn’t matter to me what color the man was.”

  His mouth finally pulled into a grin. Now those were words to give a man some hope.

  “Don’t let your father force you into a situation you don’t want. Life is too short for that, sweet girl.”

  She lurched again. If this conversation weren’t so serious, the squirming of her ass on his lap would tempt him to take her virginity up here in this tree. He would only have to lift her dress and have her straddle his erection.

  “I can’t disobey my father,” she declared.

  Her brown hair stirred in the breeze. A ribbon, tied at the top of her head, kept it off her face, but the rest was free. It had a slight wave to it and he couldn’t resist tracing his finger over a curl.

  “Respecting your family is important.” He spoke slowly, choosing each word. “But you’re a grown woman now. You’re entitled to make up your own mind.”

  “Father says he knows what’s best for me and that I’ll thank him later.”

  Lucky for him, most white men wanted to marry their own kind.

  “And how does your father plan to arrange that kind of marriage?”

  Her soft brown eyes touched his face before dropping to her hands. “You thought yourself I looked white when you first met me.”

  Leroy expelled the breath he’d been holding. “I was afraid of that. Rose, pretending you’re white when you’re not is foolish. Hell, it
could be dangerous too. Have you heard of the Klan?”

  “Of course,” she whispered.

  “They nearly burned down Caleb’s business on Oyster Island. If he and Pearl hadn’t left town, one or both of them could have been killed.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t realize…”

  “You see, when we stay in our place, the Klan leaves us alone.”

  “Pretending I’m white wouldn’t be staying in my place, would it?”

  “Not if they find out about it.”

  Leroy leaned forward and inhaled the rosy scent of her long hair. What kind of father would put his precious daughter in such danger? A cruel one or a foolish one. He had to stop him, but how? It wasn’t his place to interfere in another family’s business.

  His arm remained fixed around her waist. Maybe if he held her up in this tree long enough, she’d belong to him. Rose’s danger aside, he swore he’d die before he saw her parading around on the arm of some white man.

  A butterfly landed on the hand around her waist and flexed its wings. The sun coming through the leaves brightened its pretty colors.

  “Oh, it’s beautiful,” Rose whispered.

  “You want it?” Without waiting for her answer, he clapped his other hand over the butterfly, trapping it.

  “No, let it be free,” she said, clawing at his hand, “or you’ll destroy it.”

  After hesitating, he finally opened his fingers. The butterfly wasted no time flying away. To his dismay, he’d broken a tiny notch from the tip of its wing and his hand was covered with blue dust.

  “I’m glad it’s all right,” Rose said. “That butterfly could have been an air elemental. That’s a type of fairy.”

  “Oh.”

  His arm tightened. She wasn’t married yet. There was still time to change her destiny. Time to get his heart broken too, he realized. He knew what his mama would say. She’d tell him to leave white-looking girls alone and find somebody practical. After kissing Rose, he’d never settle for practical now.

  “Well, I sure as hell don’t want to marry anyone else,” he replied.

  She looked straight ahead. “You’ll forget me in time.”

  He touched her cheek, turning her head toward him. “No, you’re wrong. I’m never going to forget you.”

  Leroy kissed the freckles on her nose with softness and found her mouth again, punishing it with hardness. He was going to damn well make sure she never forgot him either. Her lips opened and trembled as he swept his tongue inside, swirling it and claiming every surface of his own. Every slick patch of skin. Every tooth. Mine! Next, he caught her soft bottom lip between his teeth, nipped and pulled.

  She twisted in his lap, planting her hands against his shoulders. It took him a while to realize she pushed him away, not closer.

  “Stop it,” she cried. “What are you trying to do to me?”

  “Trying to make you remember me,” he yelled back, forgetting all about her mother sitting nearby. “Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t want me.”

  The same force he’d battled with her in the car returned tenfold. For some reason, this girl made him lose complete control of himself. It was as if he were a bull and she waved a red flag before his eyes.

  Her dress had too many buttons to count and there’d be hell to pay if he ripped any off. The muscles in his hands coiled so tightly he could barely make his fingers work as he fumbled with the buttons covering her chest. She didn’t try to stop him or help him. Just watched his hands with passion-glazed eyes.

  At last, the bare swells of her breasts peeking out from her lace bra rewarded him. They set high on her body and were just big enough to fill his hands.

  “Tell me you don’t want this.” He strummed a finger over her swollen nipple. “And this,” he added, bending to take the tawny nub into his mouth through the thin lace.

  Pulling her breasts free of the wet fabric, he tasted bare skin and suckled the firm peak, realizing this was the sweetest part of her he’d tasted yet. Never in his life had he found anything so perfect for sucking as her elongated nipples. Her moaning sigh begged him for more. The pressure of hard tree bark against his balls already made them ache. The rosy scent and smoothness of her young breasts made them nearly explode.

  His mouth moved to the other nipple, sucking it harder than the first. Nipping the firm bud with his teeth as he had her mouth. A warning flashed through his mind that he must be hurting her by now, but she didn’t stop him. She just breathed hard. Drops of wet heat leaked from the tip of his penis when her fingernails scratched through his hair, pulling his head closer to her breasts.

  The realization that this sweet gentle rose liked lovemaking as rough as he did galvanized his cock. Thorns, he realized. That’s what made roses so exciting.

  “I do want you,” she finally cried. “God, Leroy I want you so much.”

  He pulled his head away to admire wet, hard nipples, swollen to nearly double their original size from what he’d done to them.

  “That’s what I needed to hear, sweet girl.”

  She looked down and traced a finger over one of the swelled points. They must be sensitive, because her own light touch made her shudder. Leroy bit down too hard on his tongue. Mercy. He could watch her do that for hours. The throbbing of his cock inside his trousers made him realize just looking at her could make him come.

  “You do such strange things to my body,” she said.

  He adjusted her so her back contacted his chest again. This time, he reached in front of her and ran his palms over her breasts to soothe them. He cupped them and caressed them, memorizing their size and shape. This made her his even more than the passionate sucking had. He wanted to wake up with her every morning and study her breasts this way.

  “I need to see you again,” he stated.

  Gently, she pushed away his hands, rearranged her bra straps and buttoned her dress. “Under the circumstances, I don’t think it’s wise. Father watches me as if he were a hawk.”

  And he had too many job responsibilities to sit in a tree all day playing with a woman’s breasts. But he couldn’t walk away now.

  “Forget marriage. I just want to spend time with you.” It would be better than nothing and might eventually make her realize she couldn’t live without him. “This seems as good a place as any. Can you meet me here in the evenings?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I plan to come here and paint the water during the days.”

  “Days,” he repeated.

  “You have work then, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “Caleb let me come here today, but just the one time.”

  She sighed, pulling his attention to the sweet breasts that were now covered by her dress, but branded as his underneath. “Well, I suppose that’s that. It’s for the best.”

  “No, I’ll work something out,” he said.

  “I’ll be here tomorrow afternoon painting,” she said, “with or without Mother.”

  Leroy peeked through the foliage at the slumped figure below. When he’d first seen the woman today, he’d been disappointed as hell. Now he realized having a chaperone nearby wasn’t such a bad idea. If he and Rose had been alone, he’d have taken her virginity on the picnic quilt already. It would’ve been too soon.

  He pressed a kiss to her lips. “Then I’ll try to be here tomorrow too. Noon?”

  “Rose? Rose, where are you?”

  “Yes, noon. Mother’s awake.”

  Before Rose lurched again and sent them both falling to the ground as if they were leaves, Leroy grabbed her and carried her as he climbed down the tree.

  Mrs. Wainwright sat up straight and rubbed her eyes. “Oh, there you are. Where were you?”

  Leroy picked up his cap, which was still lying on the quilt where he’d left it. “We were just talking behind that tree.”

  Rose took her hand. “Did you have a nice nap, Mother?”

  Standing by her mother’s side in her demure blue—or whatever color she said it was—d
ress, no one would ever guess how wild she’d been in that tree. No one but Leroy. She’d agreed to see him again and that’s what counted. To get another taste of those sweet breasts, he’d be here tomorrow even if he had to quit his job.

  Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.

  * * * * *

  The next day, Rose and her mother headed back to the waterfront. This time, Rose put everything in a wheeled cart Father had found in the old shed. Again, he’d insisted on carrying everything out for them and again she’d refused.

  “I’m glad Father is allowing me to paint here,” she couldn’t resist saying.

  Her mother looked thoughtful. “As long as you remain in the privacy of our grounds while he figures out your future, I don’t imagine he cares what you do.”

  If he only knew what she’d done yesterday in that tree with Leroy. Her breasts still ached from the sucking and nibbling. Beneath the discomfort, though, desire tingled. The more Leroy gave her, the more she wanted. She hoped he’d be able to get away from work today.

  Mother yawned as she walked. “The sun is so strong. It’s making me sleepy already.”

  Rose hid a small smile. Yes, Mother. Sleep.

  “Thank you for not saying anything to Father about Leroy yesterday.”

  Mother sniffed. “I hope you’ve come to your senses.”

  When they arrived at the same spot they’d chosen before, she set up her easel and the fold-up table for her paints. The table even had a hole for her parasol, so she thrust it in. Next, she hurriedly squeezed some green and blue paint on the palette for the river. If Father thought she came here to paint, she must come home with a painting. How could she do that if she spent the whole time up in the tree with Leroy?

  When she realized he wasn’t here, disappointment weighed down her limbs, but it would make things simpler. She could actually focus on painting. Holding a sandwich in one hand and her paintbrush in the other, she forced everything from her mind but her art.

  She’d just blocked out the first rough layer for the water when the nearby bushes rustled. Leroy was here. She knew it without seeing him. Apparently, he didn’t plan to show himself until her mother fell asleep.