by Afton Locke
Between dances, Jonathan introduced her to his sister Mary and his mother Doris. With blonde hair and blue eyes to match the ruffles of her blue silk dress, Mary resembled a princess herself. Rose was sure she’d enjoy her company more than her brother’s.
The next dance was a slow, romantic one. Jonathan took her hand and wrapped his other around her back, sliding it over every exposed inch of her. Never mind the low neckline. Now she wished Mother hadn’t bought her a backless gown. She felt more naked than ever with this stranger’s hands exploring her bare skin.
What if his touch dipped lower and he discovered she wore no underwear?
Even worse, he pressed her body so close to his she could barely breathe. At this angle, it was even harder to keep her balance. She glanced around the room and noticed most of the other couples weren’t quite this close.
She smelled the powdery scent of his skin and the wool of his jacket. His lips brushed her forehead and, good heavens, something hard pressed into her belly. There was no mistaking Jonathan Carter wanted her. The mayor’s son, no less. Father would be very pleased. She hoped he appreciated it because if she’d had any idea what this dance would be like, she would never have come.
Jonathan revolved her into a circle as the music droned on in a song that seemed never to end. Now she had a view of the windows…and Leroy’s face looking in.
Rose buried her face in Jonathan’s shoulder as her heart nearly jumped out of the bodice of her dress. Leroy was here, watching her dance with a white man. When he’d threatened to come, she’d never imagined he’d actually do it. For some reason, he wore a chauffeur’s cap and uniform. The sight of him in the double-breasted navy-blue jacket with gold buttons spread heat through her body.
Could he see how closely Jonathan held her? Did he know she had a hard cock pressed against her belly?
Judging by the angry expression on his face, he did. The arrow shape of his nose matched the downward slant of his drawn brows. Underneath, his mouth was a straight line. As Jonathan continued to revolve her, she momentarily lost sight of Leroy, which was almost a relief.
When the window came back into view, Leroy paced back and forth more than a caged animal. A maid stood nearby. Was that Mother? Maybe she could talk some sense into him. Rose wouldn’t be surprised if he broke the window, barged in and punched Jonathan in the face. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that never happened.
Unfortunately, Jonathan noticed him too. “Look at that crazy colored man peering in the window. He obviously doesn’t know his place.”
“And what place is that?” Rose couldn’t resist asking.
“Waiting quietly by his master’s car.” Jonathan’s scowl deepened. “I’d prefer not to dirty my suit tonight, but the boys and I can teach him a lesson if needed.”
The boys? Mayor Carter was the Grand Titan of the Klan, Leroy had told her. She knew without asking who the boys were.
Jonathan snorted. “The thought of his eyes on you makes me sick.”
Rose was sure the feeling was mutual.
He smiled at her. “I want to see you again, Rose.”
Her stomach lurched. She’d been hoping to leave early tonight with no entanglements. She definitely never wanted to see this man again, but how could she decline without angering him? If she did, Father must never find out. He was counting on her being courted and married by a white man. If this dance failed to meet that objective, he’d eventually find another way.
“We could meet somewhere, I suppose.”
“Church, tomorrow,” he said.
“All right,” she replied.
Would she really attend? Would she tell Father about the invitation? She’d decide tomorrow. Even if she did go, at least there’d be no dancing.
As the song ended, Jonathan clutched both sides of her face and planted a cool, wet kiss on her mouth. It happened before she could stop it and her gut instinct to push him away took over before she remembered to be polite.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“No, I am,” he replied, his gray eyes glittering with warning. “This isn’t the time or the place.”
It made her wonder what he would do to her in a more private setting.
Realizing Leroy must have seen the kiss, Rose’s head whipped toward the window, but he was gone. Her insides sank inside her. If she hadn’t lost him already, she surely had now.
She should never have come to this wretched dance.
* * * * *
Mrs. Wainwright tugged on his arm again. “Go home, Leroy. Please!”
Rage clawed at him harder than a bunch of hungry vultures. “Did you see that? Did you see him kiss her?”
Not to mention the touching. That monster got to rub his hands all over Rose’s bare back! He hadn’t even touched her there yet. Where had she gotten that pink dress? Hell, it wasn’t even a dress. It looked as if someone had tried to throw some cloth over her body and missed. His fist longed to smash through the layer of glass so the physical pain could match the ache in his chest.
Rose was so beautiful tonight. She looked as if she belonged in there, as if she’d been attending white dances all her life. Why couldn’t he be the one in there dancing with her? Why did he have to watch her through a lousy piece of glass?
“You shouldn’t have come. Why torture yourself this way?” Rose’s mother asked. “My husband made it very clear he doesn’t want her to see you.”
Leroy himself wondered if borrowing Caleb’s car and an old chauffer’s outfit from one of his coworkers had been a good idea. He missed the plaid cap that had become such a part of him.
“Why aren’t I good enough?” he asked, as if the pompous man stood there himself. “I care about her, I’m strong and I have a good job.”
“He has very high expectations,” Ella replied.
He finally turned away from the window, realizing what he couldn’t see couldn’t upset him and make him lose control. Throwing a rock in the den of the Klan would not be a good idea.
“I realize I’m not rich or anything, but why is he so obsessed with whiteness?”
The woman sighed. “He wants our daughter to have all the opportunities of a white person. He means well.”
He studied Mrs. Wainwright’s face for the first time. On first glance, it looked patient and serene. A bomb could blow up at their feet and her expression probably wouldn’t change. But when he probed deeper, he saw the resignation in her eyes, the tiny lines of strain around her mouth.
If Charles Wainwright had wanted so much to be white, why hadn’t he married a white woman? He decided not to insult her by asking.
“Do you approve of me?” he asked instead.
She glanced at the window and then studied her hands. “You do have a bit of a temper.”
Leroy paced again. “That’s because I can’t stand seeing Rose in such a dangerous situation when I can’t do anything about it.”
“Then it’s not just jealousy?”
“That too,” he admitted, “but I’m more worried than anything else. You know what’s in that house.”
Mrs. Wainwright nodded and rubbed her chin. “She’ll be careful. Listen, Leroy. I appreciate your concern, but please don’t make things worse. Her father loves her and wants what’s best for her. We have to trust the man of our household.”
Leroy resisted the urge to spit with disgust on the sidewalk. Maybe Rose and her mother had blind faith in that foolish man, but he didn’t. Charles Wainwright was wrong and Leroy planned to stop him before he did any more damage.
“I’m going to go back inside and wait for her,” Ella said. “Now go on home.”
He tipped his hat to her, but only moved down the sidewalk away from the window. He had no intention of leaving this dance tonight until Rose did.
* * * * *
When Rose finally walked out of the Carter home by her mother’s side, she was so relieved to leave, she wanted to take off her heels and run out.
“Thank goodness that’s over,” she
said in a low voice.
“Didn’t you enjoy yourself?” her mother asked.
“Hardly. My feet hurt and that man pressed himself against me. Let’s get out of here before he comes after me.”
Their steps echoed on the sidewalk. “Who was he? He seemed quite taken with you.”
Rose rolled her eyes heavenward. “The mayor’s son.”
“Oh, your father will be very pleased to hear that.”
Despite the warm evening air, Rose shivered in the thin chiffon of her gown. She couldn’t wait to take it off and put on her familiar cotton batiste nightgown.
“I saw you outside with Leroy,” she said. “I hope you talked some sense into him.”
“I tried.” Mother pointed. “There’s the car.”
But a broad-shouldered man wearing a chauffer’s cap stepped in front of them.
“You shouldn’t be here, Leroy,” Rose hissed.
She would never forget the hurt in his eyes when Jonathan had kissed her. He’d been a fool to come and subject himself to it and the guilt made her feel worse than the kiss did.
“Get in.” She recognized his plain black car and the hard lines of his face didn’t allow for argument.
“Thank you, but Father is expecting us at home,” she said.
He took a step closer and looked at her mother. “Tell Mr. Wainwright you didn’t feel well and left early. Tell him the chauffer of one of these high-falutin’ white men here will bring Rose home later.”
Rose’s hands balled into fists against the chiffon folds of her gown. “You can’t take me home. Father has forbidden you to court me.”
“He won’t see me in the dark and I don’t plan on walking to your front door.”
Mother blinked several times. “Oh, dear. This is most unusual. Charles will be worried.”
“Get in the car,” he said again to Rose. “We have to talk.”
Would this grueling evening ever end? Her mother rubbed her crinkled brow, no doubt plagued by a headache already. Rose kissed her on the cheek.
“Go on home, Mother. I’ll be along very soon.”
She shot a glare at Leroy as if to tell him their conversation would be a short one.
“I’ll follow you to your driveway to make sure you get there safely,” he told her mother.
As if realizing he wouldn’t change his mind, Mother turned and walked toward the Packard.
“Now for the last time, get in the car,” Leroy said under his breath to Rose. “This isn’t exactly the kind of place I want to make a scene.”
He’d almost made one earlier, but she didn’t bring it up. Leroy already resembled a firecracker ready to go off. When he opened the back door, she wondered why he didn’t open the passenger door instead. Then she remembered she was playing the role of a white woman and he was pretending to be her chauffeur.
Her hand tingled when he clasped it to help her step up to the running board. She barely noticed how much older and simpler this car looked compared to her father’s. It was probably no simpler to drive, however.
Entering the car, she finally felt that sensation she’d been missing all night—bubbles of sweet anticipation dancing through her veins. As she settled onto the cloth seat, smoothing the skirt of her gown so it wouldn’t wrinkle, she realized she had no idea what Leroy would say or do.
A blend of danger and excitement danced down her spine as he started the engine.
“We’re off Mayor Carter’s property,” he said moments later over the seat. “Now you’re mine.”
Chapter Seven
Leroy didn’t say another word and neither did Rose. She clutched her handbag, more nervous than she’d been on the way to the dance. This evening had been the most unusual one of her life and it wasn’t over yet. Of course, she couldn’t expect the summer solstice to be dull.
They followed Mother until she made a left turn into the driveway to their home. What would Father think when Rose wasn’t in that car? If Mother didn’t already have a headache, she would now.
Leroy drove another few miles before turning right into a dirt parking area near a collection of crude cabins. Through the wall of trees surrounding them, moonlight reflected on the water.
“Where are we?” Rose asked.
“Pearl Point. This is where I live and work.”
Relief pressed her to the seat. At least he’d taken her to civilization.
“Stay there,” he said when she reached for the door handle. “I’m coming back.”
As promised, he got into the back, sitting closely beside her on the seat, which wasn’t that wide to begin with. It reminded her of the day they’d met. She heard his fast, deep breaths as he looked at her in the moonlight. His scent enveloped her, a potent mixture of desire, anger and freshly chopped wood that brought her nipples to erect attention. At the same time, she slid even closer to the door.
“What did you want to talk about?” she asked, breaking the silence.
“I have a few questions about your new man.”
She picked up her purse and gestured with it. “He’s not—”
He clasped the back of the seat behind her head and supported his weight with his legs instead of sitting. It reminded Rose of a picture she’d seen in a book once of a panther about to pounce.
“Don’t lie,” he whispered. “I was there, remember? I saw everything.”
“You shouldn’t have come.”
“Why not?” he snapped. “So you could hide your passion for other men?”
She swallowed to wet her dry throat. “Jonathan forced his attentions on me.”
The back of the seat trembled with his anger as the muscles in his arm bunched under the chauffeur costume.
“Oh, it’s Jonathan, is it? Tell me something. Can he kiss as good as this?”
With the speed of a tornado, his lips appeared against hers. Her tender mouth was no match for his hard, demanding one. It was as if he were a vortex that pulled her in. First her mouth, then her face and entire body. Her hands collapsed onto his shoulders to grasp for some footing.
His breath filled her while his spicy scent intoxicated her. Her head snapped back when his mouth released hers. When his punishing lips moved to her neck and sucked, vocalizations spilled from her throat. She didn’t even know what they meant—uncertainty and a tinge of discomfort mixed with a need so staggering she could hardly bear it.
Leroy’s strong hand clutched the back of her head while his heart thundered against hers. Each time his hot tongue swiped her neck and moved to torture her ear, she released more breathless, unintelligible sounds. Scalding fluid leaked from her cunt. Surely her gown was ruined by now.
“You,” she finally croaked in a hoarse whisper. “You’re the better kisser.”
For the first time all evening, he smiled, but it didn’t last long. “Lean forward.”
She didn’t know why he asked, but complied.
“What the hell kind of dress is this?” His hand scraped across the bare flesh of her back, releasing a heated tide just under the surface of her skin. “You’re practically naked!”
“It’s the latest fashion.”
“I saw that man’s hands all over you. Looked like he was loving you in a bed for everybody to see.” His fingers pressed into her soft flesh. “I hadn’t even touched you here yet.”
What was she supposed to do? Apologize? Beds hadn’t been on her mind at the dance, but they were now. As Leroy’s strong fingers worked down her spine, they threatened to strip her completely apart, heart and all.
With no warning, he yanked down the delicate neckline of her bodice. The chiffon flounces on her shoulders slid down her arms without protest.
“I saw that fool staring at your chest too. Whose is it, Rose? Mine or his?”
The skin of her breasts tingled, bathed in the warmth of his breath as he talked. The scorching intensity of his gaze hardened the nipples so much they ached. To answer, she arched her back, thrusting them forward.
It was all the invitat
ion he needed. He ran both hands over every inch of them as if claiming every bit of her for himself. The rough callouses and the heat of his touch made her writhe with pleasure. These were the hands she wanted, not Jonathan’s long-fingered ones, which were soft and cold.
Please suck them. Oh, Leroy, please.
But he was so unpredictable, she was afraid to give him any encouragement. As if to answer her desires, he dragged his mouth lazily across each nipple, teasing her.
“Harder,” she whispered.
He grunted in reply, closing his teeth on an enlarged bud. Now his mouth was just as hard on her nipples as it had been earlier on her mouth and neck. How could a man have such powerful muscles in his lips? The sensation was so intense she could barely stay seated. Frantic, her hands scratched at the soft denseness of his hair and pulled on his ears.
“Yours,” she yelled out, unable to bear any more. “Everything I have is yours.”
“I don’t like this hairstyle.” He yanked the pins from her head. “It’s too fancy and white.”
The ends of her hair tickled as they brushed her wet, swollen breasts, and the wave her mother had so carefully ironed out before the dance returned. Was it from the humidity of the air or their heated passion? As though it were a second skin, her gown stuck to her from perspiration.
“It’s awfully hot in here.” She wiped the damp hollow between her breasts. “Can we roll down a window?”
He shook his head. “Got to keep the mosquitoes out.”
And he still didn’t look convinced that she only wanted him. Her heartbeat staggered when he reached for the waistband of his trousers. What was he going to do to her next? A moment later, he held his bare cock in his hand, pointing it at her as if it were an offering.
She knew she shouldn’t look, but couldn’t help herself. The shaft was as stout and straight as a tree trunk and the dark head, slick with juice, glistened in the moonlight. The source of his musk was here, she realized. The smell of his desire, combined with the heat they’d built up in the car, brought her close to swooning.
Rose tried to back up further, but she was already against the door. “We can’t— I can’t— We’re not—”
