by Qwillia Rain
“I met Vladamir when I was at a librarian’s conference in California.”
“When you were both married?” Rose settled deeper into Ibraham’s arms, shocked that her mother would have been unfaithful to her father—her husband—to Joe.
“I wasn’t married to Joe then,” Viola assured her.
“And I wasn’t married either,” Vladamir snapped.
Viola turned to look up at him. “But she said—”
“Who said?”
“The woman who came to your apartment. She said you were her husband. That she tolerated your infidelity—”
Vladamir shook his head. “And you didn’t wait to speak to me? Didn’t bother to ask me?”
Ibraham cleared his throat. “I think you can settle the issue of who did what later, but right now, I think Rose would like to know how she came to have two fathers.” He looked down at her, and Rose nodded.
Viola smiled softly. “I didn’t realize I was pregnant until a few months after I returned to Magnolia.”
“And I would have been right behind you if you’d not lied about who you were,” Vladamir grumbled even as he gently caressed Viola’s hand.
“Did you trap Daddy into believing I was his?” Rose couldn’t fathom her mother doing such a thing, but considering the fact that her parents married only six months before her birth, she’d always known her presence had forced their vows.
Viola shook her head. “No, honey. I didn’t. We were friends all through school. From the first day of kindergarten through our college graduations, Joe Whittman and I always looked out for each another. When I told him I was pregnant, he stepped up and offered to marry me to give my baby a name.”
Vladamir frowned. “He did not suggest you tell the real father? That you tell me?”
Viola lifted her hand and stroked his cheek. “He wanted me to. Argued for days with me to call you, but when I told him you were married, he stopped.”
She turned to Rose and smiled. “From the day you were born, Joe loved you. Before he died, we’d talked about telling you the truth, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t take you away from Joe.”
Rose nodded her understanding, but Viola wasn’t finished.
“I was married to Joe for twenty-one years, but he was never really my husband.”
“I don’t understand? How can he not have been your husband?”
Viola sighed. “We never slept together. Were never husband and wife because Joe loved someone else.”
Things began to click in Rose’s mind. “Uncle Ray?”
Viola nodded. “Your daddy never told anyone but me. He and Ray loved each other, and they spent as much time as they could together. For a long time, Ray lived with us, until you started school, then Ray thought it would be best if he moved into the apartment over the garage.”
“Those nights Daddy stayed at the garage?” Rose asked.
Viola smiled. “Alone time for Ray and Joe. They really loved each other, had since junior high, but it just wasn’t acceptable, even then, for them to come out.”
“What about after they graduated high school?”
Her mother shook her head. “They couldn’t. Joe’s parents were dead, but Ray’s daddy was so set against a man being with a man—”
Again Vladamir interrupted. “Why didn’t you come to me, Viola? You should have told me.”
She agreed. “I couldn’t come between you and your wife.” When he would have protested she held up her hand. “I know now you weren’t married, but then”—she cupped his face in her hands—“all I knew was what the woman told me when she came to your apartment. I was embarrassed, ashamed of coming between a husband and his wife. It seemed easiest for me to leave.”
Ibraham’s hand rubbed along Rose’s back, soothing the hurt and confusion swirling inside her. It sounded so crazy. Insane. Things like men who married women to hide their homosexuality and secret babies only happened in books or movies. Not in real— A picture of Mirabeth and Parker flashed through Rose’s mind. Laughter suddenly bubbled up. Rose covered her mouth to try to stifle it.
“Rose?”
Ibraham and her mother’s voices were heavily laced with worry. Rose’s laughter grew louder. “Oh, Mama, now I know why you always sided with Mirrie when the ladies down at the church would gossip and carry tales about her and Parker.”
Viola turned pink and giggled, the sound young and free as she nodded. “Of course, dear. Mirabeth is a lovely young lady. I felt terrible when her marriage ended, but I have to wonder about that baby. I find it hard to believe that Parker would let her raise that baby alone, but it’s even harder to imagine him as the daddy. Joe was never interested in having—well…relations with me.”
“Oh no!” Rose glanced at the clock and pulled away from Ibraham. “The baby shower.”
Viola gasped. “I completely forgot.”
Neither woman paid any attention to the men as they rushed toward the stairs, their words overlapping as they discussed who would do what to get the treats and gifts to the judge and Mabel Hampton’s guesthouse where Mirabeth lived.
IBRAHAM GLANCED AT his uncle, a wry grin lifting his lips. He looked pointedly at the other man’s bare feet and half-buttoned shirt. “So, the reunion with your mouse went well?”
Vladamir finished the last few buttons and tugged on his socks. “Do not think you will distract me, Ibraham. It is clear that you had…relations with my daughter.”
He laughed at his uncle’s pointed use of Miss Viola’s term. “With your blessings, if you recall, Uncle.”
Cool gray eyes narrowed as Vladamir scowled at him. “I did not know she was my daughter when I gave those blessings, pup.”
“Before this morning, you didn’t have a daughter,” Ibraham reminded him. Before his uncle could bluster and protest, he leaned forward and assured him, “Do not worry, Vlad. When the time comes, I swear I will ask your permission for her hand.”
Moments later, Rose and her mother descended the stairs in a swirl of flowery print dresses and excited chatter. Ibraham grinned at the high heels that put a sensual sway into his Rose’s hips as she walked toward him. He’d have to make sure to keep her supplied with sexy footwear.
Ibraham and Vladamir silenced their women with kisses before leading them out of the house and into their respective vehicles.
Chapter Eleven
The warm weight of his hands against her back made Viola snuggle in closer. The steady thump of Vladamir’s heart beneath her ear reassured her even as the heated length of his erection began to press against her belly. Tilting her head back, she grinned up at him. “Behave yourself. People are watching.”
Vlad chuckled and pulled her closer and lowered his hands to the plump curve of her bottom. “Let them watch, Mouse.”
Viola recalled him whispering the same words to her twenty-seven years earlier when he’d swayed on the dance floor with her, ignoring the lively beat of the music in favor of simply holding her close. Just as he was doing now. Through the crowd she caught glimpses of Rose and Ibraham moving to the beat, their bodies touching, caressing, as if they were the only people in the world.
“He will marry her.” Vlad’s uncompromising tone vibrated against her cheek.
Viola looked up at him. “Of course he will. Why do you think I picked him out.”
“You picked him out?” The eyebrow over his left eye rose, then fell; clearly Ibraham had picked up some habits from his honorary uncle.
“Oh yes. The second I spotted him on his cage, I knew he was just the man for my Rose.”
“Our Rose.” Vlad’s attention moved to the barred cage across the room.
If Viola didn’t know any better, she’d bet Vlad was squirming inside at the thought of watching Rose and Ibraham perform. Not that she didn’t feel the same way. There were just some things a mama did not need to know about her baby. Hoping to change the subject, she pouted. “I don’t know what I’ll do when Rose moves out.”
Vlad harrumphed. “She’s not
moving out. Not yet at least.”
He seemed almost pleased Rose had refused Ibraham’s suggestion that they move in together before they marry, but Viola didn’t think her daughter’s resolve would last the whole six months. More like a month or two. And she certainly wasn’t happy that she couldn’t have more time alone with Vlad. “True. It’s not like you’re a young man. So you won’t miss out on any fun with our daughter around to interrupt us. It’s probably a good thing that Ibraham’s family is obligated to attend the wine competitions in Europe and South America for the next six months. Gives you time to build your stamina.”
A groan sounded over her head. “Evil woman. You were the one who started things; I was merely finishing them.”
“Not quite finished,” Viola reminded him.
“Well, I would have if our daughter hadn’t come barging in. Did you not teach her to knock before entering a room?”
Viola rolled her eyes. “There’s no door to the kitchen.”
“What about the laundry room? It has a door.” Vlad began moving her from the dance floor toward the double doors leading out of the Omen.
As she followed him, Viola caught Rose’s attention and waved her good-bye. Her daughter buried her face in Ibraham’s shoulder, a blush turning her cheeks red as she recognized exactly why she and Vlad were departing. To Vlad she responded, “Yes, there’s a door, which you forgot to close.”
Outside the club, Vlad pinched her bottom and glared down at her. “I did not expect you to be so loud, my mouse. Next time I will remember to cover your mouth when we play that particular game.”
Viola giggled, feeling young and alive again and ready to see just where her Master might take her.
* * * *
A crowd, smaller than the one she’d encountered her first night in the Omen and made up of club members only, mingled and chatted around them as Rose followed Ibraham from the dance floor toward his iron-barred cage. Her nerves had eased somewhat when she’d spotted her mother and Vlad leaving. At least she wouldn’t have to deal with the embarrassing thought that her mama might be watching her.
Ibraham released her hand after they stepped over the green line marking the floor near the stage. Just like the first night she’d stepped through the club’s doors, Rose watched Ibraham climb onto the top of his cage and check the chains securing the cell to the winches above.
Using the controls, he hoisted the wrought iron display case from the stage until it hovered several feet off the floor, offering patrons on both the main and second floors full view of the cage and its contents. It was empty now, but not for long. Rose could feel the excitement and nerves begin to build inside her belly. She watched as Ibraham lowered the cage back to the platform, then executed a graceful forward flip off the top and landed in a crouch at her feet. The look in his eye made her heart melt—he wanted her, and he didn’t care who knew it.
This time, instead of simply caressing her with his gaze, he moved his hands slowly up her body. His touch communicated his intentions. First he removed the black stilettos from her feet. Then he fondled her legs from ankle to thigh before he slipped his fingers under the hem of her black leather miniskirt and teased her sex through the scrap of lace covering her.
Next he moved his touch to the black sequined halter, playing with the laces around her ribs and the back of her neck just as he had that first night. Anticipation had her mouth going dry. In moments he’d strip away her clothes and have her exposed, naked, before the audience. The thought should paralyze her with fear, but it didn’t. In the time since her first visit, she’d learned so much, about the lifestyle and Ibraham, but more importantly, about herself.
Amusement glittered in his golden eyes, distracting her from the swirling thoughts in her head. Ibraham lowered his mouth to hers. “Come into my cage, Rose.”
She opened her mouth to agree, but her yes was lost in his kiss. He devoured her mouth like a man who’d been left wanting for weeks. A completely false circumstance since not two hours earlier Ibraham had acted out her fantasy of taking her on the workbench in the display window of her shop. With the shades drawn and lights off, of course.
Disinclined to deny him, Rose arched into his touch, needing to feel him against her, the heat of his body through the leather and silk covering them. When he lifted his head and Rose caught her breath, she nodded. “Yes, Master, I’ll come into your cage.”
Ibraham smiled and held his hand out to her. She slipped hers into his and followed him to the stage, fully aware of the patrons’ gazes on them. Knowing they were being watched only intensified Rose’s arousal. Her skin tingled, and her nipples peaked, the chill of the floor beneath her bare feet only heightened her awareness of the achy burn building at the apex of her thighs.
The cage door opened on silent hinges. When she stepped inside, Rose realized a thick layer of Plexiglas was fastened in place over the barred base of the cage. Black leather manacles hung from short chains on either side of the bars both on the top and bottom. The cage was nearly two feet higher than Ibraham’s head and wide enough that when her lover stretched her arms and tightened the manacles around each wrist, her arms hung at roughly forty-five degree angles from the sides. This was different from the mirrored room. There was no barrier beyond the bars surrounding her from the people looking up at them. A sense of exhilaration bubbled up inside her. The subtle picking and insults she’d been subject to from Darla Ann and her clique were lost beneath the murmurs of appreciation and approval that came from the club members nearby.
“This time you don’t get to watch, Rose.” Ibraham pulled a length of black silk from his back pocket. “I want all your attention on my touch.” He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her lips before stepping behind her and settling the blindfold over her eyes.
The silk was warm against her skin and wide enough that she couldn’t peek under it. Ibraham checked the fit of the cloth, making sure it was snug but not too tight. Disappointment brought a pout to her lips. “It’s no fun if I can’t see,” she complained.
Ibraham chuckled and applied a firm swat to her bottom, startling a yelp from Rose. “I want your attention on me, love, not you playing to the audience.” His admonishment was loud enough the people nearest the stage heard him and laughed.
“But we like the way she plays, Master V,” a man called out.
It took a moment for Rose to put a name to the voice—Sheriff Dixon. Ibraham’s response only made the heat rise in her cheeks.
“I’ll keep that in mind the next time you’re on patrol, Zack.”
The whir of the motors preceded the sway of the cage as it rose from the floor. She could feel the heat of his body behind her. Cool air drifted down her face and over her breasts, easing the burn in her cheeks and causing her nipples to pucker and harden against the sequined fabric of her halter.
Ibraham slid his hands under the shimmery fabric. He cupped her breasts in his hands and pinched the stiff peaks between his thumbs and forefingers. “Hmm, I’ll have to tell Master Damian to turn down the AC more often.” His lips caressed her neck, teeth nipping at the lobe of her left ear.
Voices murmured below them, but Rose couldn’t make out the words. Her mind was completely focused on her Master’s touch. He caressed her breasts before releasing them and smoothing his hands down her ribs to her belly. She wriggled her hips, pushing back toward him, enjoying the heated ridge of his cock against her bottom.
With deft fingers, he slipped the button and zipper of her miniskirt free and pushed it over her hips and down her legs. Her panties were removed next, before Ibraham eased each foot from the fabric so it didn’t hobble her. Over the pounding of her heart she couldn’t hear if he tossed them somewhere inside the cage or dropped them through the bars to the stage below.
Comments and calls of encouragement were a buzz in Rose’s ears, each one as stimulating as Ibraham’s touch. They warmed her body, heated her core. The arousal she’d entered the cage with intensified. She began to tremble,
and her breathing increased. She swayed forward, then back, anxious for a touch, a caress—anything to take her body higher. Ibraham stroked her legs, pulling a long, low groan from her. The calloused warmth of his fingertips trailed upward from her toes, over her instep to her ankles, around to the backs of her calves to the sensitive dimples behind her knees, then up to her thighs. She wanted more. His hot breath stirred the curls covering her pussy as he eased her legs apart until her feet were wide enough to allow her lover access to her sensitive flesh.
“Shh, pet. I’m right here.” His fingers accelerated her body’s interest with soft strokes and firm pressure on her swollen clit.
He pressed a kiss to the soft skin of her lower belly before standing up and pulling her close long enough for her nerves to subside a bit. The warmth of his breath tickled her left ear as he whispered, “Focus on me, Rose. On my voice, my touch.”
Rose didn’t trust herself to respond, so she nodded. It was so hard to focus with all the stimuli surrounding her.
He moved his hands up her back. One stopped at the bottom tie of her top while the other continued up to the laces at her neck. With his lips barely brushing hers, Ibraham spoke as the bows were tugged free, loosening her last piece of clothing. “You’re beautiful. I love the peaches-and-salt taste of you, the petal softness of your skin.”
After he eased her top from between them, the light layer of hair on his chest teased her nipples. In the back of her mind, Rose recognized that he must have removed his shirt and was now only covered in black leather pants, but the rest of her thoughts revolved around the embers of lust burning deep in her belly.
The heat and length of his erection rubbed over her belly as he pulled her close and rocked his hips against hers. Lost in the rhythm, it took a moment for Rose to realize when he moved from in front of her to behind her.
A moan slipped free of her when he tugged her back tight to his body, snuggling his firm, leather-covered cock between the cheeks of her bottom.
“Do you like my cage?”