Rose, Exposed

by Afton Locke

  “May Rose and I have matching evening gowns, Mother?” Mary asked.

  Rose flushed under Mrs. Carter’s appraising gaze. Maybe shopping wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  “What a lovely suggestion,” the woman said. “Different colors, however. We wouldn’t want you two looking exactly alike.”

  Different colors, Rose thought. If she only knew.

  “Perhaps a pale blue or pink for you, Mary,” the woman continued, “and a darker color for you, Rose. The shade of rose, perhaps.”

  Mary soon latched onto an elegant style available in an assortment of colors.

  Rose’s breath faltered when she read the price tag. “I couldn’t accept such a gift.”

  “Nonsense,” Mary’s mother said. “I want you to be the most beautiful young ladies at the art show. Everyone will gaze at you instead of the paintings.”

  Later, they walked out carrying elegantly wrapped packages. Each girl had a new gown and Mrs. Carter treated herself to a new hat. Rose didn’t think she’d ever enjoyed herself this much. After being caught between two races her entire life, she finally belonged somewhere.

  “Next, we’ll have some tea and then dinner,” Mrs. Carter announced.

  Mary pointed down the street. “There’s a coffeehouse.”

  “Perfect,” her mother said.

  Before they arrived, however, Mary’s shoes scuffed to a stop on the cobblestones. All she could seem to do was point at the man standing against a building.

  Mrs. Carter squinted. “Is that the gardener?”

  Rose’s eyes widened and she almost dropped her dress box when she eyed the familiar plaid cap. Leroy said he’d come here to watch over her, but she never imagined he’d actually do it. How could he afford it?

  He returned her stare and raised his chin as if to tell her he was just doing what he’d promised to do. When the other women weren’t looking, she pulled off her hat, signaling him to hide his cap.

  “I’m sure it’s not him,” Rose said. “Come. Let’s get that tea. I’m parched.”

  The coffeehouse had a wooden floor, magnifying the voices of the patrons. Rose led the others to a table near one of the large windows and chose the chair with the best view so she could spot Leroy. She barely noticed the sound of muffled traffic from outside, the scent of hot coffee inside or the taste of her tea.

  As she spooned more sugar into her tea, she spotted a flash of Leroy’s tan shirt across the street, making her spill some on the table. At least he was doing a better job of hiding himself, but Rose had no intention of being spied on during the entire trip.

  Mrs. Carter tidied the mess with her napkin. “Rose, do be careful.”

  “Forgive me,” Rose murmured. “I’m clumsy today.”

  After drinking half her tea, she excused herself, saying she needed to get a bit of air.

  “Don’t go far,” Mrs. Carter told her. “The streets aren’t safe.”

  As soon as Rose ducked around the corner, Leroy appeared by her side. Without a word, he pulled her into a narrow alley nearby, pushed her against the brick wall and clasped her jaws with his hands. His powerful lips captured hers in a kiss she had no power to stop.

  The woodsy scent of him enveloped her as she rested her hands on his wide shoulders. As usual, the heat of his skin burned through the fabric, awakening every nerve in her body. A gush of moist heat flared between her legs. For one crazy minute, she wanted him to lift her skirt and pierce her with his broad cock right here against this wall.

  Finally, she found the strength to pull her mouth away. “What are you doing here?”

  He lifted a brow, still holding her against the wall at the waist. “Protecting you while you pretend to be white.”

  She struggled to ignore the heat of his hands so close to the undersides of her breasts. Half of her wanted him to reach up and thumb her aching nipples.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” she said, struggling vainly against his grip. “I don’t need protecting.”

  “The hell you don’t. This city is full of bad men.”

  Remembering the bellhop, she could hardly disagree. “How did you find the money to come here?”

  “I work for Henry Rockfield at the old plant again.”

  She frowned. “Not Caleb?”

  His eyes lowered. “I went back on my word. I said I’d work for him this weekend, but then I had to come here instead.”

  “So you lost your job because of me.” She slapped one of his shoulders. “Leroy, why won’t you just give up? I said I can’t marry you and I meant it.”

  “Because I’m not a man that gives up easily. Whether you marry me or not, I have to make sure you’re safe.”

  “The others have already recognized you,” she protested. “Mary is terrified of you after what you did on the porch. If they see you again, there’s no telling what they’ll do.”

  He nodded and cast a quick glance at the end of the alley to make sure they were still alone.

  “I’ll be more careful,” he promised. “We can find so much joy in this city, Rose. They even have jazz clubs for people like us.”

  People like us. He meant colored people. Yet a few minutes ago she was white. It seemed Baltimore was even more confusing than Oyster Island when it came to her mixture of races.

  She squirmed out of his grip. “I’ve got to get back to the coffeehouse. The others will worry and look for me.”

  “Meet me outside the hotel tonight at ten o’clock.”

  “Ten? But that’s so late. Mrs. Carter will never let me—”

  He put a hand over her mouth and then removed it to kiss her. “That’s why you’re not going to tell her. They’ll probably be asleep by then anyhow.”

  “Leroy…”

  “Come on, sweet girl.” He squeezed her hands. “Let’s enjoy the city together for one night. You owe me that much.”

  His endearment pulled her back to the oak tree where she’d found love in his arms. Back then, they would have given anything to have a night all their own. She’d made it clear she’d never marry him. What could one night hurt?

  When she took her seat in the coffeehouse, the others had finished their tea.

  “Do you feel better?” Mary asked. “Did the air do you some good?”

  She nodded, unable to admit Leroy’s lips and hands had been more refreshing than any air could have been.

  “Where on earth did you go for so long?” Mrs. Carter asked. “We were about to come look for you.”

  Thank goodness they hadn’t or they might have seen her, breathless, in Leroy’s arms. A mere hour ago, she was in love with being white. Now that Leroy had offered her a tantalizing night on the town as his colored lover, she couldn’t resist that either. Why couldn’t she choose one race once and for all?

  Why did she have to?

  * * * * *

  That night, Leroy waited in the shadows near the hotel as tendrils of fog drifted around his feet. It rained earlier and the steam of the day collided with the cold wetness.

  Please come, Rose. I don’t want to feel like a fool standing out here alone all night.

  He’d told her he’d come here to keep her safe. What he hadn’t told her was that he’d also come to keep her from getting lost in a white world. Cursing softly under his breath, he glanced at his watch again. It was quarter after ten and he was sure she wasn’t coming.

  Maybe he shouldn’t have come either. She had a chaperone to protect her. Working at the old oyster plant this past week immersed him in his old life. It wasn’t an easy one, but it was peaceful. The problem was he couldn’t forget about this girl and he would know no peace until he did.

  A tattoo of heels on the cobblestones tugged him out of his thoughts.

  “Leroy.”

  His name was a whisper he barely heard above the foghorns in the distance, but it sent blood rushing into his cock. She’d come.

  He squeezed her hand. “Thanks for coming, sweet girl. You won’t regret it.”

  She
cast a worried glance up at the windows. “I hope they won’t find out.”

  Leroy grinned as he whisked her down the street and into the colored neighborhood. Tonight she was his. He looked up at the dark sky, hoping it would never end.

  They approached a jazz club. Smoke and throbbing music spilled into the street from the open doors, pulling them in. Maybe this was exactly what Rose needed. Away from their disapproving families, they could just be themselves. Here, she could freely discover the sensual black woman that lived inside her.

  A few people stared in their direction, no doubt questioning her pale skin. Bringing a white woman into this kind of club was not an acceptable thing to do. He yanked the ribbon from her hair and mussed it up before he led her to the dance floor.

  “Leroy, what are you doing? I spent at least an hour trying to iron my hair without Mary finding out.”

  “That’s just the point,” he breathed in her ear. “You look too white. Watch the other women. Move the way they move.”

  She coughed from the smoke and looked around, blinking as though she were an animal out of its usual habitat. “What kind of place is this? Mrs. Carter wouldn’t approve.”

  No doubt she noticed the way most of the couples danced, limbs entwined and pelvises grinding against soft curves. Most people had their eyes closed, lost in the music and passion. Sultry perfumes mixed with body heat filled the dim room—and his mind—with lust.

  Leroy laughed while he clapped a hand over the delicious curve of her ass. “She sure wouldn’t.”

  He was glad Rose wore the dress with dots all over it. The slinky fabric, soft under his fingers, hugged her body.

  “People are staring at me,” she said.

  “That’s because you’re the most beautiful woman here,” he whispered in her hair. “Look at me, not them.”

  She finally did when a saxophone purred a solo. The sight of her velvet-brown eyes rocking before his wrapped him in magic and the bass player plucked chords deep in his soul. He would pretend she was his wife, just this one night.

  “Do you still love me?” he whispered in her ear.

  She didn’t answer, no doubt pretending she hadn’t heard.

  The longer they danced, the looser her long limbs became. Soon her waist undulated in his hand and her soft hips swayed against his. Even the band members swayed from left to right. The sensation of her round breasts pressed against his chest made it hard to catch his breath. He brushed his hardness against her, lightly at first and then deeper.

  Bump…sway…thrust, again and again—the rhythm of the music nothing but an endless, slow fuck with a melody attached. His balls ached with the need to press her against a wet brick wall and pound his cock into her until dawn.

  “I need to be inside you,” he said, unable to bear the teasing dance any longer.

  “Leroy, this is all wrong. So wrong.” Her voice cracked, ending in a helpless whisper.

  He pressed a wet, hot kiss to the side of her neck. She shuddered in response. “Then why does it feel this right?”

  Her arms tightened around his neck but she didn’t answer.

  “Let’s go outside.” He didn’t wait for her to refuse. Breaking away, he released the cloud of warmth they’d built between them.

  Before she snapped out of the spell the club wove around them, he led her to a dark alley and pressed her to the brick wall as he had earlier today. He barely noticed the sound of passing cars and the laughter of other couples who’d come out here for the same reason they did.

  He undid a couple of buttons below the big collar of her dress, revealing her lacy bra. His swollen erection exploded from his trousers as soon as he opened them. After sheathing himself with the condom he’d brought, he swept a hand under her dress. His fingers discovered the wide-legged panties and slick, skin-tight fabric encasing her legs.

  “You’re wearing silk stockings,” he said.

  “Every woman in the city does but I prefer…not to.” Her words faltered when he dipped his tongue to the exposed hollow between her breasts. “I can’t be rough in them or they’ll tear.”

  “I prefer your bare legs too, but we’ll just make the best of it, won’t we?”

  His fingers slipped under one of the loose legs of her panties and toyed with her garters until they found her slick channel. Her slippery juices ran across his fingers, reminding him of hot syrup. Her pussy had never been more ready for his cock. The rosy scent of her aroused body surrounded them and almost made him come before he entered her.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this,” she protested. “You know we’ll never marry.”

  Pressing her hard against the rough bricks, he thrust up inside her to the hilt. “Who said anything about marriage? This is about fucking, Rose.”

  Her eyes widened—from his sudden intrusion, words or both. “Must you be so crude, Leroy?”

  He rolled his eyes at her fancy words. Lord, she sounded more white every day, but they didn’t need words tonight. He clamped both his hands against the soft, hot skin of her hips and tangled his fingers around her garters.

  “You’re just as crude as I am,” he finally answered. “You love having your pussy fucked in the dark. Don’t you, Rose?”

  “Yes,” she breathed, arching her head back to rest against the wall. Headlights from a turning car swept a glowing arc across their legs.

  “You can pretend to be white all you want,” he said, grunting as he speared her again and again. “You can’t live without my black cock inside you, can you, Rose?”

  Her hands clawed at his chest. “No.

  Leroy thrust harder, pounding her ass against the hard wall with a solid thumping sound that tightened his balls into two explosive marbles. She’d never been this wet, this tight.

  With each thrust, he pounded out his frustration as he sometimes did when he hammered nails. How many times had she changed her mind about marrying him? He’d lost count. At least she was his for the moment. His heart lodged in his cock, pulsing and aching for her. He gave it to her and pulled it back again and again until he was so out of breath he thought might die.

  “You like it…rough, don’t you, sweet…girl?”

  How he wanted his rose, thorns and all.

  When she stiffened, he clapped his palm across her mouth as a mixture of a moan and scream tore from her throat. When the muscles of her cunt bore down, nearly squeezing him off at the root, his knees collapsed. They drifted into a breathless heap while he spurted endless streams of his seed into the condom. His heart, as sore as their bodies, floated back to his chest.

  A pair of footsteps nearby brought them to their feet in a hurry. After the person passed, they tidied themselves.

  “I have to get back to the hotel,” she said.

  He clutched her shoulders, not wanting to let her go tonight…ever. Maybe if he held her against this wall, he’d never lose her.

  “What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked.

  “The art show is tomorrow night at the hotel,” she replied. “We’ll return to Oyster Island the next day on the steamboat.”

  He kissed her damp cheek. “I need to see you again.”

  “Leroy, I can’t keep meeting you this way. The others will find out.”

  He walked her back to the hotel. Although he wanted to hold her hand, he didn’t want to attract any attention in the white part of town. When the tall building came in sight, he looked up at it. As soon as she went inside, she’d be white and unattainable again.

  “I want to make love to you in one of those fancy beds up there in that hotel. It’s about time, don’t you think?”

  She looked up too. “Are you crazy? I share a room with Mary. Her mother is right next door.”

  “You said the art show was tomorrow night. They’ll be at that, won’t they?”

  “Yes, and so should I. It’s the reason I came here,” she replied.

  Leroy looked around and back at her as if a big wave might come along and sweep him away. “What time is the show
and what’s your room number?”

  Rose sighed and glared at him. “I hate how you never take no for an answer.”

  He grinned at her. “Think of all you would’ve missed out on if I did.”

  Her dark eyes simmered with the passion they’d just shared outside the jazz club. She nibbled her bottom lip before answering. “The art show is from nine to eleven.”

  “Then I’ll be up there at ten.”

  Once he managed to get the room number out of her, he squeezed her hand goodbye. Despite being here with white people, he’d brought out her blackness even more. She belonged to him more now than she had at the beginning of this day.

  Forget her? It had been tempting to cling to the past at the old oyster plant, but now he realized the past was over. Rose was his future. This trip might be the best thing he could have hoped for.

  By the time it was over, she would finally be his.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next morning, Mrs. Carter, Mary and Rose returned to the hotel after eating breakfast out. Sitting in the hard wooden chair with her sore backside reminded her of last night. Having Leroy’s cock pound her against that brick wall was the most exciting thing she’d ever experienced. Marry him or stop giving him her body, she told herself again. She was no better than the other harlots she’d seen last night, grinding their pelvises on the dance floor.

  When Mary asked where she’d been last night, she claimed she’d gone out to look for water nymph fairies and got lost. Why in the world did she agree to let Leroy come to her bed tonight? He was the one who’d always warned her about playing with fire and now he was about to light a giant torch. But she needed to feel his skin against those luxurious sheets just once.

  If she wasn’t going to marry the man, she needed to stay away from him. He said last night had been about fucking, but he was wrong. His raw emotions were strong enough to crumble the brick wall to dust. It was selfish to keep his longing for her alive. After this trip, she promised herself she would finally end it.