Poker Posse 1: Looking at Rose

by Qwillia Rain

  “No, please.”

  There was no fear in her eyes. “What, Rose?”

  She swallowed and took a deep breath. “I want to touch you. Please, Master. Let me.”

  He nodded and released the cuffs. “As you wish, pet. But remember what I said.”

  Confusion clouded her features.

  “About liking others to hear?” he prompted.

  Rose groaned and squeezed her eyes shut, then nodded. She tried to stifle her moans even as she squirmed on the bed, arching into his touch.

  Ibraham continued to speak, his voice clear to both Rose and the spectators watching them. “A proper bedding requires clear evidence of arousal.” He lowered his mouth to her breasts and savored the salt-and-peach taste of her skin as he nibbled on one pink tip, then the other.

  Beneath him, Rose arched closer and moaned, her need evident. Ibraham continued his excursion south, stopping to dip his tongue in her navel before moving on. The scent of her arousal was heady, filling his nose and washing over his tongue as he opened his mouth and inhaled. Peaches, chardonnay, and a hint of spun sugar.

  Mind focused on building her pleasure, he parted the pink petals of her sex and lapped at the cream coating her flesh. More was produced as he circled her clit with his fingers, pinching and tugging the bud to prominence before sucking it into his mouth. Her voice grew louder, wilder as he worked one finger in and out, then a second, stretching her body, preparing her for his possession.

  Carefully he stroked her, building her need, the fire within her, before he backed off. Twice more he took her to the edge but kept from tipping her over, the sound of her cries filling the room, satisfying the dominant within him. At last, when her fingers clutched at his waist, her body arched against him, and she begged for completion, he moved into position and gave her what she pleaded for.

  The heat and clasp of her body had his body on the edge of climax. The thin layer of latex between them dulled the sensations, but only slightly. Slick walls hugged him, tightened and relaxed in coaxing pulses, drawing him deeper. Her legs wrapped around his hips, blunted fingernails scratched his shoulders and ribs as she scrambled to find purchase.

  As he moved the last bit, sealing his body to hers, Rose arched against him, her breasts flattened against his chest, her mouth open and gasping as she muttered unintelligibly.

  He gave her a moment to adjust, to give her body time to accept the invasion of his before he lifted onto his elbows and looked down at her flushed face. He searched her features for any sign of distress or pain, not sure what he’d do if he found either, but determined to have her fully. “Okay?”

  She blinked, then smiled and nodded. A wicked gleam filled her blue eyes, and she whispered, “Now that I’ve been appropriately bedded, can the fucking begin?”

  Chuckles sounded from the audience outside.

  Ibraham didn’t stifle his amusement. He captured her mouth in a deep, tongue-tangling kiss and didn’t lift his head until they were both out of breath. “Most definitely, pet; now the fucking can begin.”

  And it did. Long, languorous strokes and hard, pounding thrusts drove her deep into the mattress and stifled any words she might say. A smattering of applause came from beyond the mirrored walls. Only moans and gasps of pleasure filled the room as he settled into a hammering rhythm, intent on imprinting his possession on her soul.

  The audience didn’t exist for him; nothing but the sound and feel and smell of the woman beneath him registered in his mind or on his senses. In and out, deep, then shallow, he felt her climax around him twice before his own body relinquished control and the fire wrapped around his balls, searing his lower back, then finally exploded.

  Even as he worked to catch his breath and Rose began to relax beneath him, Ibraham leaned up on one elbow and reached for the discreetly hidden controls on the wall beside the bed. With a flick of a switch, the lights went out, the walls became opaque, and he and Rose were alone with only their reflections surrounding them.

  Soft hands stroked over his ass and up his back as gentle lips pressed kisses to his neck and shoulders. After a prolonged silence, Rose giggled. “A bedding ceremony?”

  Ibraham leaned down to nibble on her throat and growled. “A time-honored tradition practiced in noble houses throughout Europe and Great Britain.”

  Rose snorted. “In the Middle Ages.”

  He propped himself over her, grinding his hips into hers, letting her feel the gradually hardening length of his cock still tucked deep inside her. “Exhibitionism at its finest, my Rose.”

  Her laugh turned into a soft moan as her hips rocked against his and the intimate muscles around him slowly began to squeeze.

  Chapter Ten

  The heat and rub of hands over her naked skin brought Rose slowly to the surface of consciousness. She moved into the caress, taking her time to blink her eyes open and take in the sun-washed cream walls and heavy, masculine furniture. The twinges in intimate muscles overworked and overstimulated by the events of the previous evening gradually evaporated the sensual fog, but a languid and lazy glance at the clock made her gasp. Her eyes shot open, and Rose bolted upright, out of Ibraham’s seductive hold.

  Throwing the covers back, she muttered aloud, “It’s after ten. I’m so going to be late.”

  Behind her, Ibraham shifted on the bed, propping himself up on one elbow to watch her stumble to the bathroom. After using the facilities and washing her hands, Rose shuffled back into the room.

  Rose was more than aware of the slight stiffness of her movements, but there was no way she could ever be sorry. Not after all the wickedly wonderful things Ibraham had introduced her to the night before. Not after experiencing the power and energy of his passion, his command. The feel of his gaze on her made her want to preen, to be proud of the body he’d shown off to the club members the night before. The attention had been invigorating, empowering. Much more than she’d ever imagined it could. She found her dress draped over a chair near the bathroom door, but she kept her gaze on Ibraham while she tugged it on.

  Ibraham didn’t hide the way his hand slipped under the sheet to stroke the firm rise of his erection. “What’s the rush?”

  Rose forced her thoughts away from that tempting path despite the whimpers of interest her body produced. She bent down to search first under the chair, then under the bed for her panties. She could have sworn she’d put them back on before Ibraham brought her upstairs to the guest accommodations at the Omen. “I have to hurry. I’m supposed to meet Ellie and Ari and Norah at Mirrie’s place to get things set up for the baby shower this afternoon. I need to get home, shower, dress, and then get the cupcakes and treats from my shop before driving over to the Hamptons’ home.”

  Ibraham watched her watching him. “Your friend still lives with her parents?”

  Rose scraped her fingers through her hair and rolled her eyes at him but had a difficult time focusing her thoughts as she followed the slow, sexy rise and fall of his hand under the covers. She could see the wicked grin on his lips, and she didn’t care as the warmth between her thighs began to stir.

  In answer to his comment, she explained, “No. She lives in the guest house on the judge and Miss Mabel’s property.” Dressed but definitely sexily rumpled, Rose lifted her gaze to glare at him, her hands on her hips. “And just what is wrong with a young lady livin’ with her mama?”

  Ibraham let go of his cock and fished under his pillow for something. When he pulled his hand out, the panties she’d been searching for dangled from his fingertips. “I think there is nothing wrong with a young lady living with her parents.”

  Knowing it for the trap it was and more than happy to play along, Rose knelt on the bed.

  Ibraham waited until she reached for her undergarment before snagging her wrist and tugging her forward. Her body sprawled over his, his hard cock separated from her by the draping of cotton sheet and the silk of her dress. Against her lips he teasingly said, “Living with her parents is all well and good, but i
t makes it difficult for a man to thoroughly debauch her if he’s constantly tiptoeing past her papa’s bedroom.”

  Rose’s laughter grew somber for a moment at the thought of her father. “No daddy to tiptoe past in my house. He died five years ago.”

  Ibraham placed a soft kiss against her lips. “I am sorry, Rose.” Trying to rebuild the levity, he grinned. “But mama bears can be more formidable than papas.” Considering her mother had already interrogated him once, not to mention her friend Jake, Ibraham wasn’t looking forward to a repeat of either performance.

  Rose nodded in agreement and squirmed when he rolled her onto her back and held himself over her. “True. My mama is quite handy with a switch and staple gun. And she can always call up my Uncle Ray to help with a whoopin’.”

  “Uncle?”

  “Uhm hmm, he was Daddy’s partner in the garage. He still runs it, but he’s got a few more guys working for him since Daddy passed.”

  “Ah yes, the garage.” He let the words linger before adding, “So gaining access to the Princess Rose will be quite the task.”

  Despite the ache in her body from the previous evening, Rose wanted him. Need warmed her loins, slowly building each time he rubbed against her. Taking the initiative, she tugged the sheet from between them and wrapped her legs around his. She used one hand to pull the skirt of her dress to her waist, while the other reached between their bodies and encircled the thick warm shaft of his cock. The low groan that issued from his lips and the heat in his gaze made Rose smile. “Not so difficult a task, Master Ibraham.”

  She heard him take something from the bedside table and wasn’t surprised when he held a foil-wrapped condom out to her. “Then show your Master what you’ve learned.”

  With trembling fingers, she took the condom, but instead of opening it, she scooted farther down, until her mouth was poised over the damp tip of his cock. A slow swipe of her tongue removed the pearly drop of precum, then the second that welled up. She kissed and caressed his hot skin from crown to base, paying attention to the throbbing veins and the bit of flesh connecting shaft and balls.

  Working her way back to the tip, Rose licked and kissed every inch before opening her mouth and taking his rounded head inside. She could feel him tense over her; the spurt of precum bathed her tongue with its salty flavor. With one hand on his shaft, she took more in, suckling and lapping at each inch she swallowed before finally drawing it out of her mouth and rolling the condom over and down his thick, hard length.

  Ibraham gave her no time to move. He dragged her up and settled his mouth over hers, devouring her lips even as he pressed forward, sliding deep inside in one smooth, firm stroke. He lifted his lips from hers, his breath a hot steady wash over her face before he increased his pace, driving her arousal high and fast. “Such a naughty princess.”

  The fire was building so quickly inside Rose could barely speak; no thought, let alone words, could be formed. Pleasured cries and keening moans filled the room. She clutched at his shoulders, uncaring of the wrinkles and sweat staining her dress as climax clawed at her, desperate for release. She tried to hold off, to wait, but it refused to be contained.

  Even as Ibraham tensed over her, his body slamming deep, her body rebelled and her orgasm slipped free of her control. She barely heard the command, “Come,” as waves of pleasure coursed outward from her womb to engulf every muscle and nerve. A second, then a third climax rocked her. Ibraham retreated, then thrust hard inside her twice more, his own release warm through the thin layer of latex.

  Long minutes later, he eased from her body and then the bed, tugging the sheet off her before dragging her upright.

  A sharp swat to her bare hip sent a jolt of sensation through her body and made her yelp.

  “Up, woman. You’re going to be late.”

  Rose grimaced at the clock and followed Ibraham into the bathroom to bring what little decency to her appearance was possible before she had to go home and face her mother.

  * * * *

  Of all the things Rose expected to find when she rushed into her house with Ibraham behind her, her mother still wearing her housecoat and wrapped in a strange man’s arms was the last thing on her list. Behind her Ibraham snorted, the sound choked off when she glared at him.

  “Mama?”

  Viola scrambled out of the man’s arms, her hand to her lips as she took in her daughter’s disheveled appearance and the man behind her. “Hi, honey,” Viola responded weakly as the man chuckled and picked up his discarded shirt from the arm of the sofa and slipped it on.

  Ibraham’s hands settled on Rose’s shoulders, steadying her. She took in the mussed state of her mother’s hair and the evidence before her that while she’d been pleasurably occupied with Ibraham the night before, her mother had been entertaining a gentleman as well.

  “Well, I hadn’t exactly planned on you meeting him this way, but”—Ibraham motioned to the man next to her mother—“Rose, this scoundrel is my uncle, Vladamir Presnaytz. Uncle, Rose Whittman.”

  Rose held her hand out to the man before her, amazed that he stood as tall as Ibraham. Amused gray eyes smiled down at her, and the silver at his temples was a sophisticated contrast to the ebony hair neatly styled and trimmed above his collar. Without hesitating, Vladamir held her fingers and bowed over them, brushing a soft kiss against her knuckles.

  “A pleasure, Miss Whittman.”

  “Uncle?” Viola’s gasped question drew everyone’s attention. What little color she’d had in her face had leached away, and she swayed on her feet. Her blue eyes went wide, and her gaze shot back and forth between Ibraham and Vladamir.

  “Mama?”

  “Mouse?” Vladamir’s voice overrode Rose’s. He scooped Viola off her feet and settled her onto the love seat nearby.

  Viola seemed oblivious. She muttered and mumbled to herself while Rose hurried into the kitchen and brought back a glass of water.

  “Oh this is bad. So bad. Oh, my poor Rose. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. But I should have known.” Viola prattled on until Rose held the glass to her lips.

  “Take a sip, Mama, and calm down.”

  Viola ignored the water and reached out to stroke Rose’s tumbled hair. “I’m so sorry, honey, but I can’t…you can’t be with… I’m so sorry.”

  She didn’t know what had upset her mother, but the more Viola babbled, the more nervous Rose became. She set the glass on the coffee table before she dropped it, then reached out to hold her mother’s hand. “Mama, what are you saying? Who can’t I be with?”

  Viola looked over her head at Ibraham and squeezed her eyes shut before returning her gaze to Rose. “Him. Ibraham. You can’t be with him. It’s not right. Not natural.”

  Behind her she could feel the surprise and offended pride radiate off Ibraham like the heat of a blast furnace, but Rose forced herself to ignore it.

  Vladamir glared down at her mother. “That is uncalled for, Viola. Ibraham is a good man.”

  Viola lifted tear-filled eyes and whispered, “And her cousin.”

  Vladamir went pale and stared at Rose. Rose swallowed and sat on the coffee table facing her mother, not sure she’d heard her correctly.

  “What do you mean cousin?” Rose croaked, not wanting to believe what her mother was suggesting.

  Viola focused on Rose, the hold she had on her hand growing tighter as if her mother was afraid she’d pull away. “I’m so sorry, baby. I should have told you years ago.”

  “Told me what, Mama?”

  “Joe wanted me to tell you, but I couldn’t. I didn’t know who Ibraham was. I didn’t know about Vladamir. You can’t be with Ibraham.” Before Rose could voice her protest, her mother continued, “Remember I told you you get your height from your daddy’s side of the family?”

  Rose nodded.

  “Mouse?” Vlad lowered himself onto the arm of the settee as he looked closer at Rose and Rose looked at him.

  “Mama?”

  “I didn’t know I was pregnant until af
ter I came home, and Vlad was married.”

  “Married?”

  “Pregnant?”

  Rose’s and Vladamir’s voices overlapped.

  Ibraham interrupted, his tone thick with anger. “Just because you left Vlad doesn’t mean the same will happen between Rose and I. How does your affair have anything to do with us?”

  Vlad gripped Viola’s arms and gave a gentle shake. “She is my daughter? You kept her from me?”

  This time Rose could feel the blood seep from her face. She recognized why her mother was suddenly against her being with Ibraham. She pulled her hand from her mother’s hold and stood up. “If he’s my father, then—”

  Viola’s eyes swam with tears and regret. “Ibraham is your cousin. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

  Rose’s head spun with the implications of what she’d done the night before and all the people who’d witnessed it. She could feel her heart break in her chest. When Ibraham moved to put his arm around her, Rose tried to pull away, but he stopped her.

  “Enough.” His stern command halted all conversation.

  “But—”

  “Mouse, stop.” Vlad gently covered her mouth with his fingertips.

  “It’s okay. We’re not related.” Ibraham cupped Rose’s face forcing her to meet his gaze. “Vlad is one of my father’s best friends. He isn’t my uncle by blood.”

  “But you call him uncle?”

  Ibraham took a deep breath and smiled at her. “And you call your father’s best friend uncle. It is the same with Vlad and I. His father came to America with my grandfather. My father and Vlad grew up together. They are as close as brothers without being kin.”

  Rose could feel her heart calm and her breathing relax. “That explains some of it.” She turned to look at her mother and the man seated beside her. Now, knowing what her mother had confessed, she could see the similarities between herself and Vladamir. “But it doesn’t explain how he knows my mother.”