by Qwillia Rain
Rose nodded. “Mmm. Yes.”
“Can you feel how everyone is watching you?”
“Us,” she corrected, even as her body warmed. The energy she felt from the dozens of pairs of eyes focused on her and Ibraham was intoxicating.
Ibraham chuckled. “No, pet. They’re watching you. All the men are looking at your plump breasts and curvy hips, imagining they’re the ones touching you.”
The idea that she could be an object of desire to others was exciting, but not as thrilling as being desired by Ibraham. She focused on him. “And you, Master. Do you like my breasts? My hips?” She rubbed against him, moaning louder as his fingers dug into her hips while the ridge of his erection brushed over the pucker of her ass.
“Didn’t you like the way I filled that sweet little pussy of yours while we were in your shop?”
Rose turned her head and brushed a kiss against his cheek, her breath catching as Ibraham moved his right hand from her hip to her mound, his fingers petting the hair covering her flesh before slipping between the folds and searching again for the hidden bundle of nerves.
The thought of his cock filling her, sliding deep, then pulling out had moisture pooling inside her. It wouldn’t be long, she was sure, before her juices would be slipping down her thighs.
“Do you need a reminder of how fast I can make you come, Rose?”
She nuzzled her face into his throat. “Mmm, yes, please.”
The fingers between her thighs latched on to her clit and pinched. “Yes, please, what?”
“Master.” Rose gasped wriggling in his hold, not sure if she was trying to get away or increase the sting of his hold. “Yes, please, Master.”
The pressure eased, and Ibraham pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “Very good, pet.”
She felt him step around until he stood in front of her. Anticipation tangled through her body like the buzz of electricity through a power line. She gripped the chains securing her cuffs to the cage, grounding her to the here and now.
He brushed his mouth over hers, then coasted down her throat to whisper soft kisses along one shoulder, then the other. He kissed his way back up her throat to her ear. “Let them hear you, Rose. I want everyone to know how much you enjoy me fucking you.”
Rose moaned, arching close. “I will, Master, but can’t I see them?” She so wanted to watch the men and women watching her. Their attention made her aware of her body and the pleasure Ibraham found in it.
His wine-and-chocolate-scented breath warmed her face as he cupped her cheeks and his mouth hovered over hers. “No. It’s only a few more than our bedding ceremony. And just the private club members. Eventually I’ll take you during an open night when nonmembers are present and the crowd is larger, but you have to learn to focus on me, not your pleasure.”
She trembled in his hold, overcome by her passion for this man. She wanted everyone to witness it again and again. She knew she was beautiful to Ibraham. He’d told her often and demonstrated his attraction with every touch, every kiss. She knew he’d never let her come to harm, and understood displaying her satisfied both their needs.
“You enjoy being watched as much as I do, Rose.”
Ibraham’s words sent a jolt through her body. The modest voice in her head vehemently denied his words, but honesty won out. “Yes. I do like it as much as you, Master.”
She leaned forward and rubbed her lips along his throat. “I’ll enjoy it even more once your cock is filling me.”
Ibraham nipped her bottom lip. “Just for that, I think I’ll make you wait.”
The confidence in his voice stilled the butterflies in her belly. “Please, Master.”
“What, Rose?”
She drew a deep breath, inhaling the scent of his skin, leather, and the hint of grapes that always clung to him. “Please fuck me.”
Ibraham laughed, the sound loud, overriding the buzz of conversation, and the music filtering from the speakers. “Patience, little sub.”
Rose rocked forward, rubbing her hips against his.
His hand lowered in a firm swat to her bottom. “I set the pace, pet. Now pay attention.”
“Yes, Master.” She gasped as the wet heat of his mouth surrounded one nipple while he pinched and plucked at the other with his fingers.
His words were soft, only for her, but the gazes of the people watching her brought nerve endings to life and made her tingle with anticipation. She moaned, loud and long, letting their audience know how well loved she was by her Master.
“That’s it, Rose. Let them hear how much you like this.” Ibraham pitched his voice so the members close to the stage could hear him.
With her eyes covered, Rose’s senses were heightened. The smell of Ibraham, leather, and the mingling fragrances of colognes, perfumes and lotions worn by the people below swirled around, then drifted away as the air-conditioning units circulated the air through the club.
She could hear the suggestions being called out, but Ibraham ignored them. He lingered on one breast, taking his time to taste and lick the smooth skin before carefully mapping every pucker and bump of the areola, then moving onto the nipple. Once he thoroughly explored her right breast, he shifted his attention to her left.
Rose didn’t dare squirm, but she had no problem letting loose gasps and cries. Each one was quickly rewarded. A nip of his teeth, the brush of his hand over her belly, the rub of his fingertips between her labia with a press to her clit—fleeting pressure that teased more than satisfied. Even as she ached to come, as the urgency in her body rose higher and higher, the arousal twisting and turning inside her, Rose fed off the energy of the audience.
Their attention, their focus was like a living brushstroke along her skin, coasting softly behind Ibraham’s touch as he moved from in front of her to behind her. It had taken some time, but Rose knew why being watched was so invigorating. Why Ibraham liked it so much. It was the power it gave. Knowing that others were entranced by the way a body moved, how open and free each expression on the face was. Like a dancer on a stage, she controlled how much or how little the crowd was allowed to see. She controlled their pleasure.
Words spilled from her lips. Rose was incoherent, barely aware of the pleas and cries for possession as Ibraham played her body like an instrument. A brush here, a pluck there. No matter how she moved against him, rubbed her bottom across his groin, pushed her breasts into his hands, he denied her. Soon the crowd was on her side, speaking up, calling out encouragements.
Her mind spinning, Rose could hear the cries from the people around the stage over the music just as Ibraham went still behind her. The quiet rasp of a zipper sounded like an explosion to her, but she knew no one else had heard it. The whisper of latex over flesh blended with his voice as he breathed into her ear. “I love the way you come alive in front of a crowd, Rose. I love how your body moves perfectly in time with mine whether we’re alone at my apartment or here.”
The silk covering her eyes loosened and fell away, drifting down her body to the floor as Ibraham merged his body with hers. The feel of him filling her, moving inside her, pushing deep, settled the urgency driving her. It wasn’t enough though. Not nearly enough. She rocked her hips back, wanting more, needing more. The scratch of his chest hair over her back combined with the heat of his skin, surrounding her in his scent.
Rose turned her head so her mouth connected with his, tongues tangling together, sharing their flavor and breath with one another. His hand was hot against her lower belly as he pulled back, then thrust forward, picking up the pace as the need for climax clawed at her center.
Ibraham separated his mouth from hers and leaned his head back enough that he could meet her gaze. His eyes were a molten gold, liquid and hot, dangerous as he watched her, spilling heat and fire through her blood seconds before he compelled her, “Come.”
She couldn’t look away even as her body caught fire. Pleasure exploded outward, starting beneath the warm weight of his palm and rippling in concentric waves until her legs
felt like jelly and her head was almost too heavy to hold up. The world faded as she fought to keep her eyes open and failed.
Minutes passed. The sway of the cage, and the quiet thump of it settling onto the stage registered on the periphery of her senses. The soft warmth of a blanket cocooned her before her restraints were removed and Ibraham scooped her up. The sounds of the club faded as he held her close and carried her into the private room behind the stages.
Sleepy, but aware that her lover hadn’t climaxed, Rose squirmed in his lap as he cuddled her. He halted her hands when she reached through the blanket for his pants. “No, Rose. Later.”
She recognized the tone immediately and acquiesced without protest. Needing the warmth of his body against hers, she snuggled closer, her cheek on his shoulder, her left hand tracing the hairs on his chest. A flash of light winked off the yellow diamond solitaire he’d slipped on her finger a week earlier.
As if reading her mind, Ibraham lifted his hand to cover hers. He rubbed his thumb over and around the two-carat stone. Dipping his head, he pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss.
On a sigh, Rose confessed. “I love you.”
Ibraham smiled and kissed her forehead. “I know. I love you too.”
She waited, enjoying the quiet, the soft brush of his hand over hers, the warmth of him holding her close. Finally she lifted her head. Ibraham’s head was tilted back against the sofa cushions, his eyes closed. He looked so relaxed she hated to disturb him. “Ibraham?”
He didn’t move. “Yes, love.”
Rose nuzzled her nose into the curve where his neck and shoulder met. The smell of him—grapes, leather, and sex—made her shiver. “Next time, can we leave the shades up on the shop window?”
Rose’s head spun with the swiftness of Ibraham’s reaction. From one second to the next, she went from being cuddled on his lap to being stretched out on the sofa. The blanket covered the sofa beneath her as Ibraham pinned her down, his hips between her thighs, his chest crushing her breasts as he gazed down at her, amusement glittering in his eyes. “How about I talk Sheriff Dixon into letting me use his handcuffs, and he can enjoy a coffee and cupcake and looking at Rose while I indulge in my sweets maker?”
Rose arched closer, purring in ecstasy as Ibraham joined his body to hers. “Mmm, oh yes, I think that would be wonderful.” Images of Ibraham laying her out on her worktable while Zack relaxed at the wrought iron table on the sidewalk quickly faded as Ibraham chuckled and nipped at her throat.
She lifted her arms, wrapping them around his shoulders as he settled into a fast, hard rhythm meant to satisfy both of them. Six months seemed so far away, but a lifetime with Ibraham was worth the wait.
Loose Id Titles by Qwillia Rain
The POKER POSSE Series
Looking at Rose
Qwillia Rain
Born in California but raised in Las Vegas, Nevada, Qwillia Rain embraces fully the independent spirit of the West she grew up in, even if she currently resides in North Carolina.
Qwillia has worked at a diverse mix of jobs including casino change person, bill collector, book store and video store clerk, and computer teacher to Kindergarten through 8th graders, but writing has always been part of her life.
In 2007 her first book was published, opening a whole new world where she can play with her characters and get paid for it.