by Afton Locke
Soon he thrust into her hand. The tight ring of her fingers, slippery from his pre-cum, made stars dance before his eyes and his knees wobble. His mouth clung to hers. It was as if he’d drown if he broke contact with her lips.
When he pulled his mouth away and stopped thrusting, she blinked in surprise.
“You need to kiss him goodbye,” he told her.
“Put my mouth on it?”
“That’s right, Rose.”
Their only witnesses would be the rows of canning jars sitting on dusty shelves. He lifted her to sit on the bench behind him, putting his cock on the same level as her mouth. Then he held himself in his palm—an offering. Take me, he thought. Take all of me and don’t ever let go.
When she bent forward and kissed the head, he swore he’d never felt anything as perfect as her lips on his most sensitive flesh.
“There,” she said, folding her hands in her lap. “I said goodbye to him.”
He grinned at her. “That was a mighty fine kiss, but he needs to feel your tongue too.” To demonstrate, he bent and kissed her, sliding his tongue around the edge of her teeth and along the length of hers, from base to tip.
“I’ll try,” she said.
When her pink tongue extended and lapped the head, he had to grab the shelving behind her for support. He’d needed this for so long. Hell, he’d wanted this since the rainy afternoon he’d met her in that car.
“More, Rose. Take me in your mouth.”
She cupped her hands around the base of his shaft, her fingers tickling the hair around his balls. A fire hovered in his loins, ready to consume his entire body. It all depended on her. This was even hotter than taking her virginity in the shed.
Rose gave him so much. If only she could give him forever.
When her lips circled his head and tightened, he discovered the flesh inside her mouth was just as exquisite as her pussy. Digging her nails into his thighs, she took more of him inside—more than he ever dreamed she’d take. The wetness of his cock moving in her sweet mouth made the only sound in this underground sanctuary.
“Do you still like it rough, Rose?” His hoarse voice cracked in the middle. “Because I need to be rough right now.”
She pulled his wet penis out of her mouth with a pop. “Be as rough as you need to be.”
Without another word, she braced her hands against his hips and opened her mouth. He took one of them and wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock again.
“That will keep it from going in too far.” Once things got rough, he wouldn’t have the presence of mind to think of it.
When he watched one unbelievable inch after inch slide between her beautiful lips, it felt so good he thought he might die from it. She never stopped amazing him. For one last time, at least, she’d bring him to his knees.
One primal grunt after another scraped itself free of his throat as she worked her innocent magic on him. He thrust harder and harder, knowing he wouldn’t hurt her because of the hand clenched around the base of his cock. Flames scorched his balls, filling them with molten fluid. When he came, he was going to erupt harder than a volcano.
The sound of shattering glass barely fazed him but losing her mouth did.
“What was that?” she gasped.
At the same time, they noticed the broken bottle of canned tomatoes on the floor.
“Leave it,” he barked.
Before she could argue, he inserted himself back into the hot cavern of her mouth. He was so close to coming he didn’t care if the world ended. She had to finish this. After that, she didn’t owe him anything.
To avoid breaking more bottles, he decided not to grab the shelving again. Instead, he put one hand on her shoulder and dug the other into his buttocks as if to hold off his climax or hasten it—he wasn’t sure which. When his release came, it ripped through him hard enough to tear his limbs off. A raspy cry filled the cellar and his ears until he realized it was his own.
His cock slipped out of her mouth as milky-white fluid bathed her chin and lower lip. Her rapid swallows told him he’d gotten some inside her too.
“I’m sorry, sweet girl,” he said, still holding her shoulder for support. “I meant to ask…to pull out… No time.”
He gasped for air so hard his throat became dry enough to crack in half. He might be a big, strong man, but this girl could break him in half faster than she could a wishbone. Maybe she just had.
“It’s all right,” she whispered. “Despite everything else, you’ll always be a part of me.”
When she alternated between licking his seed from her bottom lip and his cock head, he would have come again if he’d been physically able to. He planted his hand against the rough brick wall to cool the heat in his body.
Then something squeaked and a flood of bright light burned his eyes. It took him several endless seconds to realize the doors had opened. The cook stood there, her wide eyes fixed on the scene before her.
“I just came to get a jar of…peaches,” she said.
“Oh, Cali!” Rose covered the bottom of her face with her hand.
Cali grabbed the jar she needed and rushed up the steps. “Don’t mind me. Get on back to what…y’all were doing.”
Then she looked at the broken bottle on the floor. “I’ll clean that up later.”
After the woman left, they cleaned themselves hastily with a piece of cheesecloth Leroy snatched off a bowl of fruit.
Thank God that wasn’t a white person, but it was bad enough. Rose shook so hard her teeth chattered.
He stroked the back of her head. “It’ll be all right.”
Then he bent to kiss her, tasting the salty flavor of himself on her lips. “Thank you, but this isn’t goodbye, you know.”
She didn’t answer as she rushed up the steps and out the doors.
Chapter Fifteen
Rose waited until nighttime to visit Cali in the kitchen. She’d kept her eyes averted through dinner and couldn’t eat anything.
“What’s wrong?” Mary had asked her several times.
She kept waiting for someone to toss her out on the street, but it didn’t happen. Cali must be keeping her discovery to herself—for now. How had Leroy managed to get his penis inside her mouth after she’d said goodbye? It seemed she couldn’t decide anything on her own without falling under the charms of his body. But it was more than physical. Something magical happened whenever they were together.
When Rose entered the kitchen, Cali was sitting at the table, the big candle burning before her.
“I’ve been expecting you,” the woman said without looking up.
Rose sat in front of her but couldn’t look at her. “How much did you see?”
“Plenty,” Cali replied.
“I was trying to tell him goodbye,” Rose said, studying her fingernails.
Cali snorted. “Well, you have a peculiar way of saying it.”
“Again, I ask for your silence.”
Cali’s golden eyes, hotter than the flame, seared her face. “Why should I? Don’t you know you’re playing with fire? White as you look, you could get that man killed.”
Rose’s stomach clenched. She hadn’t thought of it quite that way, but the woman was right. If someone else caught them, rape might be assumed. Wondering what the punishment for a colored man raping a white woman would be made her shiver. It would be severe, whatever it was.
“I saw you and Mary lookin’ at my black candle earlier,” the other woman said. “It was part of a ritual to mourn my dead husband. A man I can’t ever bring back.”
“Well, it’s over with Leroy and me now,” Rose whispered.
“Is it?” Cali hissed. “How long do you think you can get away with this lie you’re living?”
Rose gripped the table. “I’m sorry I ignore you when Mary is around. I know it isn’t right, but—”
But the other woman held up a hand to stop her. “Don’t give no never mind about me. It’s what you’re doin’ to yourself that’s got me worried.”
“I-I’d better go.” Rose stood, needing to get out of this room and away from that candle before she lost her mind. “Thank you for your silence.”
“I’m not doing you any favors.” Cali shook her head. “Why don’t you admit to everyone what you really are and go marry that man?”
“It’s not that simple.”
Cali smirked. “It could be.”
Rose frowned. Yes, it could be…if she and Leroy had different families.
* * * * *
The next morning, Mrs. Carter smiled and clasped her hands together before class. Two pink spots of excitement stained her cheeks. Rose almost wondered if Cali had told her secrets, but the mayor’s wife certainly wouldn’t be happy if she’d learned Rose was colored and messing around with the gardener.
“I have an announcement.” She took a newspaper clipping from the pocket of her houndstooth-patterned dress and read from it. “There’s going to be an art show in Baltimore this week at the Chesapeake Chambers Hotel. Let’s see, the theme is Maryland’s Modern Woman. An art college there is sponsoring it to exhibit paintings from the top schools. They’re even having a competition.”
She paused for one quick breath. “How I wish we were a big enough school to compete. Perhaps next year.”
The students nodded with bored faces.
“Though I wish I could take all of you,” Mrs. Carter continued, “I’ll have to limit it to just two.”
Everyone came to life, dropping paintbrushes and jumping out of chairs.
“Oh, take me!” one girl said. “No, me. Me!” another exclaimed.
Mrs. Carter’s heels clicked on the floorboards of the porch as she paced. “The first girl will be my daughter, Mary. As for the second, I thought of having a contest, but there’s not enough time.”
Take me, Rose said to herself without even knowing why. Wasn’t her life confusing enough already? Her heart hammered when the woman came to a stop in front of her easel.
“There is one girl here whose work is superior.” She looked at Mary, who sat next to Rose. “What do you think, Mary? Would you like Rose to accompany us?”
Mary’s face lit up with a dazzling smile. “Would I?”
Her mother clapped her hands. “Then it’s settled. We’ll leave on the steamboat Friday.”
Mary squealed, jumped out of her seat and hugged Rose. “It’ll be a trip to remember. I just know it!”
Rose hoped she was right, and she realized it was perfectly timed. Now that she’d said goodbye to Leroy, it was painful to have him still here. Seeing his broad shoulders reminded her she’d never get lost in his fierce hugs again…never kiss those sculptured lips…never feel the magical root that grew between his legs.
The sooner they forgot each other, the better.
“May I have a new dress, Mother?” Mary asked.
Mrs. Carter smiled. “We’ll shop while we’re there. You shall have the latest fashion. Rose too.”
“But I have no money,” Rose protested.
“We do,” Mary replied.
The latest fashion? Rose’s parents had always dressed her in such dull, conservative clothes, she never felt fashionable. Except for the revealing summer gown, of course. She would have gladly accepted conservative while dancing with Jonathan Carter to prevent him from groping her.
If being white meant wearing the latest styles, she had to admit she rather fancied it. Anything would be better than staring at Mrs. Johnson’s sour, disapproving face for the rest of her life.
The uncomfortable moment in front of Cali’s candle last night was all but forgotten.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, Leroy walked to the general store in town to buy supplies for the school. Rose was right. He should leave this place. Now that she’d said goodbye, there was nothing here for him anymore. How could he ever say farewell to the only girl he’d ever really wanted? He still felt her warm, snug mouth around his cock.
Did the woman who’d discovered them in the cellar yesterday say anything? He assumed not or he would have heard about it, he thought as he paid for the goods with the money Mrs. Carter had given him. In a way, he was relieved it was over between him and Rose. They seemed to bring each other only pain.
But it wasn’t over for her. She still carried out her dangerous deception of being white and he wasn’t about to stop watching over her. Why did Pearl have to get with child now? Caleb needed him more than ever and he’d like nothing better than to quit this demeaning job once and for all.
“Will there be anything else?” the clerk behind the counter asked.
Leroy eyed the phone on the wall. “Yes sir. I need to place a call, if you please.”
“Hello?” Caleb answered after Leroy gave the operator the number of the Pearl Point oyster plant.
“It’s Leroy. I thought you might need some help with the baby coming.”
“Well, holy catfish,” the other man replied with his usual deadpan humor. “Does this mean you’re finally coming back?”
“Close. I’d like to help you on the weekends. I can see my family every other Sunday and for shorter visits.”
The phone line crackled while Leroy waited for Caleb’s reply.
“That would be fine, Leroy,” the other man finally said. “We could sure use the help. Er, did something happen to change your mind?”
“No, not particularly.” Leroy preferred not to admit Rose’s rejection. “You can pick me up first thing in the morning Saturday at the school…I mean your old house.”
Leroy left the store with a lighter heart than he’d entered with. If he couldn’t have Rose, he at least could do some meaningful work and help his family. Besides, he hadn’t given up on her completely yet. He swore she would be his wife someday, if he had to lay down his life to do it.
* * * * *
Rose squeezed a liberal amount of white paint onto her palette, mixing the various piles with tints of brown and gray for the shading. The excitement she’d felt this morning about the trip disappeared as soon as Jonathan Carter sat across from her in his full Klan regalia.
She couldn’t help staring at it in sick fascination. If he knew what she was, he wouldn’t just sit there with a placid grin on his face and his hood resting in his hands. He’d probably choke her.
“Make me look powerful,” he told her. “I’m the protector of mankind.”
Rose gulped as tentacles of nausea emanated from her stomach. “I’ll try.”
A restless breeze matched her mood today, making the screen buzz as it blew past. Mary didn’t have an easy time, either. Her subject was Cali and neither woman looked happy about it.
“I simply can’t paint portraits,” she exclaimed, staring at the mixed piles of brown paint on her palette. “I’ll never get the color right. Why can’t I paint one of the girls instead?”
Rose wished the same thing when she glanced at the other students who’d been paired up to paint each other.
Mrs. Carter rested a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “I assigned you to paint Cali because it’s a challenge. You wouldn’t want me to pick another girl to go on that trip to Baltimore now, would you?”
“No, of course not,” Mary replied.
Rose forgot about her own assignment as Mary’s shaking hand wielded the brush, splashing paint across the canvas. First, she painted the outline of an enormous candle with a huge flame. Then she cast on strokes of a scary face, floating above it. Rose imagined she could hear the girl’s thundering heartbeat. Fear directed every brushstroke. The painting would be good, if not flattering.
Jonathan cleared his throat, pulling Rose’s attention away from Mary.
“Hadn’t you better get started?” he asked. “Mary is ahead of you.”
The twist of his mouth indicated what he thought about the subject of Mary’s painting. How Rose longed to tell him she’d rather paint the dark, mesmerizing shades of Leroy’s face than his.
Rose had barely blocked out the basic shapes of Jonathan’s painting w
hen a scuffing sound at the edge of the porch distracted her. Of all times, Leroy had chosen now to clean the porch screen. It was over between them. Why hadn’t he left? Seeing him made her heart ache with what could never be. Maybe she’d be able to forget about him during the trip to Baltimore. She doubted she’d ever forget him completely, but being away from him would make it easier.
When he glanced at what she painted, his head reared back in horror. Now her hand shook as badly as Mary’s. Very subtly, she shrugged as if to tell him she hadn’t chosen this assignment. Trying to paint Jonathan while Leroy watched her was impossible.
“You look so beautiful when you’re painting me,” Jonathan said.
When he stood, Rose’s palm sweat against the brush, almost making it slip out of her hand. “You’ve broken your pose.”
“To hell with the pose,” he said, bending over her. “I must kiss you.”
No! Not only did she not want to kiss him, she didn’t want Leroy to watch. He’d endured enough pain on her account already. She turned her head, eluding the white man’s lips, but he was persistent and eventually found them.
Nausea squeezed her stomach, making her gasp. Because he wore such a hateful costume, his kiss was especially repugnant. She would rather die than marry this man.
The other girls stopped painting. Everyone stared at them, including Leroy.
“Honestly, Jonathan.” Mrs. Carter, who’d been sitting in a wicker chair reading while the girls painted, closed her book. “You’re disrupting the class. Do behave yourself.”
“I’m sorry, Mother.” He took his seat again.
A metallic crash sent everyone’s attention to Leroy. The carefully blank face that colored employees strove to show around whites was long gone. He’d never been good at that anyway, Rose realized. The boiling mixture of rage and pain in its place singed the inside of her chest.
She put her hand to her mouth as she observed at the spectacle. The screen had detached from the top piece of wood and crumpled in his hands. Flecks of blood showed on his palms from the ragged edge of metal mesh. He stared at them all as if he were an enraged bear about to tear the entire house down, board by board.
