by Qwillia Rain
A sigh filled with expectation and excitement left Ari’s lips. “The Omen.”
Oh my! Rose swallowed her gasp.
“Are you crazy, Arabella Winifred Smythe!” Mirrie exclaimed dropping back in her seat, her hands over her pregnant belly. “We can’t go to a place like that.”
“Why not?” Norah asked, a flush on her cheeks hinting at the fact that she might know more about the risqué club than just the rumors floating around town.
Mirrie waved one hand in the air but couldn’t seem to formulate words for her thoughts.
Rose decided to help her. “It’s a BDSM club, Norah.”
Norah shrugged. “So. It’s a club where we can find men. More men than we have wanderin’ around Magnolia.”
“That’s for sure,” Ellie snorted.
Mirrie didn’t look convinced, but Rose could see the logic. “She has a point, Mirrie. From what I’ve heard they get a lot of people from around Savannah in there on the evenings the club is open to the public.”
Ari nodded. “Exactly, Rose. We’ve all spent years waiting for Mr. Right, and he’s never showed up. Who’s to say we won’t find a man to fulfill our needs at the Omen? It’s not like we’ll be expected to get all wild and naked the second we walk through the door. It’s a club, just like any other in Savannah.”
That wasn’t precisely the truth, and Rose was sure Ari and the others knew it. But no one protested as Ari laid out the plan for the next evening’s entertainment.
Chapter Three
Rose didn’t bother going directly home after leaving Ellie’s mom’s house. Darla Ann was more than likely going to pop in sometime in the next few days, if Mirrie had heard right, which meant the woman would titter and gush about her upcoming wedding all while picking at Rose’s selection of cakes. Which meant it would be best if she had a list of suggestions ready when the blushing bride arrived.
She unlocked her shop door and deactivated the alarm before flipping on the light at the front of her store. From her closet of an office, she grabbed the three-ring binder of photographed samples for cakes and a notepad and then dragged one of the tall stools up to the wide counter next to the register. “Heaven forbid I should give her the same cake as the last two times,” Rose muttered as she began flipping through the binder.
It didn’t take long for her to become engrossed in her task. The list of potential cake and frosting combinations quickly filled the notepad. Once she had half a dozen figured out, she moved on from the list to actually baking some of the samples. Not only did it prepare her for Darla Ann’s descent the next day, if Mirrie was right, but it gave her something to do to work through the thoughts that kept cropping up when she let herself think about Ari’s planned excursion to the club the following night.
She’d pulled the minipans with the fresh-baked cakes from the oven and set them on a rack to cool before turning to get the ingredients for the various icings.
“What are you doing here?”
The voice behind her startled a shriek from Rose and had her grabbing the nearest item to her for a weapon. She clutched the marble rolling pin she used for her fondant and spun to face the intruder. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Ibraham grinned at her. His hair was mussed, as if he’d just gotten out of bed. He wore a black button-down shirt and pants—Were those leather?—but his feet were bare. In his left hand, he clutched a baseball bat. “I heard noises. I thought you were an intruder.”
Rose took a moment to let her heart return to her chest. “How did you know?”
Ibraham set the bat aside and leaned against the wall. “I live upstairs. I heard the door open and knew you’d left earlier to spend the evening at your friend’s house.”
“Upstairs? There isn’t an apartment above my shop.” The property manager handling the building had given her the option of leasing a unit with living quarters included or one without. She’d chosen one without an apartment. Price and the fact she was content at home made the decision to rent the space easier.
“There is.” Ibraham didn’t expand on his comment. Instead he asked, “Why are you here so late?”
She thumped the pictures in her notebook. “Anticipating a visit from Satan’s twin sister.”
The dark brow over his right eye rose. “And you want to have tea and biscuits ready for her when she arrives?”
Rose laughed and settled her elbows on the counter behind her. “No. Wedding cake. There’s a woman I knew from high school who is getting married. She made a comment about having me design and make the wedding cake. I wanted to get a head start on the samples for her.”
Ibraham nodded. “This wouldn’t be Darla Ann Schiff, would it?”
“Yes. Do you know her?”
“She was in my store today selecting wines for the reception.” The smirk on his face widened. “And you are right.”
“I am?”
“Oh yes. She is the devil’s twin.”
Rose laughed. “She hasn’t changed then.”
“Was she always so…?”
“Difficult,” Rose offered although the temptation to say bitchy was hard to ignore.
Ibraham rolled his eyes. “That is being polite.”
“Sadly yes. The best thing about Darla Ann is the fact that she’s two years older than me, so I didn’t have to deal with her for too long. Unfortunately, she had a younger sister two grades behind me who was just as bad.”
The amusement dimmed in his eyes. “And what did the Schiff sisters do to you, Rose?”
Rose grinned. “Nothing too terrible, Ibraham.”
The smile was wiped from his face, and the intent look in his golden eyes sent a shiver down Rose’s spine. Something about his expression warned her not to avoid answering him. “Such as?”
Lifting her arms from the counter, Rose stood up straight and clasped her hands tightly in front of her. She’d hated dealing with Darla Ann and Stella Lee Schiff, not to mention the little clique of girls that followed the two like a pack of hyenas sniffing out weaklings in the herd of students at Magnolia High. “You’ve seen Darla Ann, Ibraham. With her blonde hair and blue eyes, size 2 body, and size 5 feet, she was the darling of the high school. I wasn’t, and she made very sure I knew it.”
“How?”
Rose rolled her eyes, held her arms out, and turned a quick circle in front of him. “Look at me, Ibraham. Compared to Darla Ann, I’m a troll. Too tall with boats for feet. I should have a sign that reads ‘wide load’ stuck to my butt—”
Ibraham’s expression was a blend of shock and anger. “That isn’t true.”
Rose tucked her fingers into the front pockets of her jeans and smiled. “It’s sweet of you to say, but I’ve lived with being a lumbering giant for too long not to know my faults.”
He moved so quickly, Rose was crowded against the counter behind her, the stool she’d been sitting on shoved out of the way, and Ibraham plastered to her body from waist to knees before she finished speaking. The heat in his brown eyes stirred the embers deep in her belly, and the firm jut of his cock was obvious as he held his hips to hers.
Oh my. She may have imagined a scene like this when she’d showered earlier, but never did she think it would actually happen. Not with him. Not to her.
Ibraham planted his hands on either side of her, trapping Rose between his body and the tile counter behind her. “If I was just being sweet, Rose, I wouldn’t sport a hard-on every time I’m near you.” He gripped her waist and lifted her onto the counter, making sure to drag her body along his as he did so.
He didn’t give her an opportunity to respond before his mouth covered hers and all thought stopped. The smell of leather and sweat and the faintest hint of grapes surrounded her. The taste of Ibraham blended with the bite of peppermint and the crisp flavor of wine as his tongue swept inside and twined with hers.
Fantasy was one thing, reality another, but having Ibraham in front of her, touching her, kissing her wasn’t something she was willing to
pass up. Not for anything. She’d endured his teasing and quips for twelve long months. If he was really interested enough to take things to a personal level, she wasn’t about to fight him. Rose wrapped her legs around his waist and hugged him close. Her arms tucking under his, her fingers clutching at the shirt covering his back, she fought to draw him closer even as her lungs burned, desperate for oxygen. The hand at her waist slid under her shirt, the warmth of his fingers making her moan and press her hips against his. The ridge of his erection rubbed her mound through the layers of denim and leather separating them. She wanted more. She wanted to feel his flesh against her, the heat of his body covering her, the heavy thickness of his cock filling her, driving deep again and again. All the things she’d read in Ari’s novels spun through her mind as the blood rushed through her veins.
Chilly air brushed her back the moment he pushed her shirt up. Rose arched into his arms, wanting more. Needing to feel his body against hers, she squirmed, helping him shift her T-shirt out of the way until it bunched under her arms, leaving her chest bared, on display to him.
Ibraham lifted his mouth from hers and dropped his gaze to her breasts. He moved his left hand up from her hip to cup and weigh each breast, his calloused fingers rough on her delicate skin. “You left your bra off for me. Very good.”
Rose wasn’t about to argue. She had left her bra at home because of him. Not that she’d expected this to happen. Never in a million years could she have expected this. Earlier the scrape of her aroused nipples against the soft cotton and lace had driven her to distraction while she was getting ready to leave for Ellie’s house, so she’d stripped out of the darned thing and left it on the end of her bed. Ellie and the others weren’t going to care, and Rose wasn’t going to be miserable all night.
He dipped his head and stroked his tongue over one hardening crest, then the other, before whispering, “So pretty and pink.” He nipped one swollen peak, suckling it, rubbing it between the roof of his mouth and his tongue all the while his other hand moved from her back to tug and pinch her other nipple
He laid her on the counter, her head dangling off one side, her hips held in his hands as his mouth trailed fire from her sternum to her navel. Dazed and aroused, she blinked at the inverted sight of her shop’s front door. The hum of tires on the road next to the array of stores registered at the same time headlights flashed past. It wasn’t unheard of for Zack Dixon, the county sheriff, or one of his deputies to swing by and check on the shops. With no shades on the front door and the light on, anyone who might pull into the mall’s parking area could clearly see what she and Ibraham were up to. The idea of being watched, of someone seeing exactly what was happening to her made her head spin and her heart pound even harder, but she didn’t want him to stop. The fear of discovery blended with excitement, and it fanned the flames Ibraham was building in her body. She moaned, arching up, wanting more even as his fingers slid the button and zipper of her jeans open. An audience to her seduction, especially the sexy sheriff, would only make things hotter. Ibraham worked her jeans and panties off her hips and down her legs.
Her nudity registered on a primal level, but the need burning in her belly, coiling in her womb silenced any protest or concerns. It didn’t matter if someone saw them. This was Ibraham. She’d woven fantasies around him, ached to have his attention, and here he was. With her. Touching her. She squirmed, her body desperate for more before the first swipe of his tongue brought a cry to her lips. Her back arched, and her hands scrabbled for purchase on the cool tile counter, knocking the binder and her notepad to the floor.
Rose lifted her head, needing to commit to memory every second as he buried his face between her thighs and brought her favorite fantasy to life. For months she dreamed of feeling his mouth on her. Countless times she’d imagined his tongue delving between the folds of her sex, licking her clit, and fucking her tight pussy the way she wanted his cock to.
Senseless cries and grunts of encouragement slipped from her mouth. She buried one hand in his thick hair, half afraid he’d pull away and leave her wanting. Sensation built on sensation; the tingles and pulses she’d produced when masturbating were nothing compared to the rush of feeling his attentions induced. Long before she was ready for it to end, her body spiraled up and over the edge, spinning her into the ether. The coil, spun so tight in her lower body, released, and climax unwound in rippling waves of heat and liquid fire.
Her bones liquefied, and her muscles lost their strength. Rose cried out, flopping back onto the counter and sobbing with release and babbling incoherently. “No one ever…never knew…I’ve…didn’t know…”
IBRAHAM CHUCKLED, EASING her into a sitting position on the counter, his arms holding her up, her head resting on his shoulder. He rubbed his hands slowly up and down her back while her breathing eased and gradually returned to normal. He figured he’d give her a few minutes to settle back to earth before he took her upstairs to his apartment and started round two. His cock throbbed, aching to burrow into the sweet, snug confines of her pussy. He wanted to feel her squeeze him, surround him like a soft, velvety glove, but he had no intention of christening every flat surface in her shop tonight. Soon, but not this time.
“That can’t be your first orgasm,” he teased, although the thought of being the first to bring this lovely armful of woman to climax stirred the Neanderthal slumbering inside him.
“Mmm. Nice,” she mumbled. Rose nuzzled closer and nipped at his throat. Despite her limited dexterity, her hands worked on releasing the buttons of his shirt.
He wondered at her words, a niggling suspicion rising slowly to the surface in his mind. “None of your lovers have made you come?”
Rose rocked her head back and forth between his neck and collarbone and fumbled the buttons loose on his shirt with clumsy fingers. “Nuh-uh. Only me. Never had lover,” she muttered before she nibbled at his throat with her teeth, then used her tongue to lick away the sting.
Never had—libido slammed into the brick wall suddenly hoisted by logic.
No lover meant— His body howled in protest even as the dom within him swung the door shut on taking this interlude any further. Safe. Sane. Consensual. They weren’t just words. It was a code of honor any decent man and any dominant who respected the kink lifestyle took to heart.
Cursing softly in Slovakian, Russian, and English, Ibraham eased Rose’s shirt back down over her magnificent breasts before he carefully disengaged her hands from their tormenting progress in baring his chest. He leaned down and retrieved her panties and jeans from the floor and slipped them over her feet and up her legs to the middle of her thighs.
“Aren’t you…?”
She set her hands on his shoulders as he lifted her from the counter. He avoided meeting her gaze until he finished pulling her panties and jeans over her hips and fastened them.
He took a deep breath and smoothed the fluttering tendrils of inky hair away from her face. He didn’t dare try to fix the ponytail that hung askew at the base of her neck. Not without running the risk of his need overwhelming his conscience. “I didn’t know you were a virgin, Rose.”
She blinked up at him, the happy fog of climax dissipating and being replaced with a blend of embarrassment and defeat. “Was I too clumsy? Did I do something wrong?”
Ibraham brushed a soft kiss against her lips. “No, Rose, it isn’t you. I’ve never been a woman’s first lover. I’ve never wanted to be. Until this moment. But there are things you don’t know about me, and now isn’t the time to discuss it.”
“When?” Her disbelief was clear in her voice.
Ibraham pushed his fingers through his hair. “Soon.” He motioned to the back door. “I’m going to run upstairs to grab my shoes, then I’ll come back down and escort you home.”
Rose seemed to have regained her composure. She shook her head. “No. You don’t have to do that. I still have to finish the cakes.”
“You should go home.”
She took a step away from him and
moved around the counter, putting the tiled barrier between them. Leaning down, she picked up the notebook and the pad that had been shoved aside.
“I have things I need to finish, Ibraham.” The trembling in her fingers gave away her nerves, but the direct look and the confident way she held his gaze assured him she was building the walls between them, separating them.
At the same time he cursed her strength of will, Ibraham felt pride in how quickly and well she composed herself. “Call me when you’re ready to leave, then.” She could be stubborn, but he wasn’t about to allow her to endanger herself out of a sense of pride.
When she started to refuse, he didn’t bother walking around the counter. He vaulted it and had Rose backed into it for the second time that night. She clutched the notebook and pad between them. He made sure she understood he meant business. “Call me.”
Rose glared at him, but she nodded.
Before she could turn away or protest, he bent forward and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. He lifted his mouth from hers. “Don’t forget to lock the back door after me.”
One hand came up and pushed at his chest. “Fine. Now will you go?”
Taking his time, he stepped away from her and walked around the counter to pick up the bat he’d left propped against the wall. The sound of the things she held being slammed down on the counter brought a grin to his lips, but he made sure to remove it when Rose accompanied him to the rear entrance of her shop.
He turned to face her. Lifting his hand to cover hers where they gripped the heavy metal door tightly, he held her gaze. “Darla Ann and her little friends didn’t pick on you because you were a troll, Rose. They did it because you’re a Siren, luring men away to drown in the pleasure of your body and the decadence of your treats.”
She shook her head, but something in her eyes hinted that his words created a reaction within her even as she closed the door between them. As he waited for her to throw the dead bolt, Ibraham wondered if he’d let himself into something he wasn’t equipped to handle. All he had to do was figure out if his Rose would like his particular form of kink, or if he’d have to seriously consider doing the one thing he’d never imagined to have this woman, to have Rose.