Poker Posse 1: Looking at Rose (17 page)

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?”

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.