When With Rome (Perfect Gentlemen Book 1)

by Natalie Gayle

  Carlene releases the breath she’s been holding, and I work

  my hands over her shoulders and up the sides of her neck waiting for her to answer me.

  Carlene

  “Feeling a little shy, Oz?” he prompts.

  I’m still trying to process what he asked me.

  Oh, my God! How do I answer such a question?

  I’ve never talked about my sex life and what I like with anyone. Not even with Phillip. We’d just done it.

  Rome continues to run his magical hands over my back and shoulders. Every touch is driving me mad, slowly mad with want. I probably should have called a halt to this long ago, but it just feels too good. So naughty but so right at the same time. I can feel him enjoying my inability to answer his question.

  “Yeess,” I finally manage to hiss out rather than elaborate.

  “That surprises me, Oz. An up front, independent woman like yourself should never be uncomfortable asking for what she wants.”

  Eeeeek! If he only knew. I’m not those things, am I?

  “How about I go first? I’ll tell you what I’m feeling and what I like, would that make things easier?”

  “Yeess.” I breathe again with relief at him taking the lead.

  “Let me tell you about how I feel having my hands on you like this, your body sleek and slippery with oil I’ve rubbed into you. Do you know what it does to me, Carlene?”

  His voice is hypnotic. Barely more than a low whisper, but with the ragged edge of want tempered by the smooth baritone.

  “What?” Did I whisper the word or had I just imagined it?

  “It makes me hard with need for you, Oz, so hard.”

  “It does…?” The thought catches in my throat, and I wonder at the integrity of his words.

  “Yes, you don’t believe me, do you?” His hands slip down my arms, and his chest skims my back. He catches my hand at the end of the stroke and moves it backward until our joined hands cover the unmistakable length of his desire safely hidden behind his casual slacks.

  “Feel my cock, baby? That’s you, all you. I know you’re feeling it too, even if you’re not ready to admit it to me, yet.” His hand leaves mine, still lightly cupping him through the material of his trousers and returns to rubbing tantalizing circles over my shoulders.

  He’s silent for a few moments, and I’m torn between the feel of his hands on my back and the torment of having my fingers lightly brushing against his erection. I want to feel the length of him, learn his size and shape, how he likes to be touched, but uncertainty plagues me.

  Rome leans down to where my neck is exposed and breathes in my ear. “Open my pants, Oz. Do it, baby. I know you want to. I want you to.”

  Having Rome demand it of me changes something in my head. Before I can take the time to think, I act in direct compliance to his request.

  My fingers fumble one-handed with the catch and zip before I succeed. His hand travels down the length of my arm again to my hand, where he runs his fingers over the back of my hand right to my fingertips then over my palm before working his way back to my bicep.

  “Now take my cock out and hold me in your fist.”

  Something in his voice brokers no retreat. Once again, I don’t think—I do because he asks me to. The length of his engorged flesh eases the elastic of his boxer briefs away from his body, allowing me to easily push his underwear down and do as he has asked.

  Then realization hits.

  Rome is only the second man I’d ever touched intimately.

  What do I do now?

  Before I have time to think too much, he removes the conundrum from me. “Close your fingers tighter, Oz. Let me feel you gripping me.” I do as he asks, and I feel his fingers snaking down to close over mine. “Firmer, like this, baby. You’re not going to hurt me. Feels better.” This time, I can clearly hear his breath hitching, and he leans forward and kisses the shell of my ear.

  “Stroke me, Oz.” And now I realize why he smoothly coated my hand in a light layer of oil a moment ago. His hand moves over mine as he guides and shows me what he likes.

  “That’s it gorgeous, just like that.” His hand moves off mine and up my arm again as I continue to repeat the stroke he taught me seconds ago.

  “Feels so good.” And I believe him. I can hear it in the tone of his voice and feel it in the hard steel covered in the smoothest, softest skin in my hand. He’s getting even longer and harder in my fist with every stroke.

  I’m giving this to him, making him feel like this.

  “Twist your wrist at the end of the stroke.” I do as he asks, and immediately, I’m rewarded with the hiss of his breath sucking in sharply.

  I pause. Have I done something wrong?

  His hand covers mine once again. “So good, do it again just like this.” He guides me through one stroke then let’s me do the next by myself.

  With each stroke, he gives a little moan or something to let me know he’s enjoying what I’m doing to him.

  Then he catches my hand again, halting my strokes any further.

  “Enough for the moment. Now it’s your turn, Oz. Turn over.”

  What?

  “Roll over, baby, and let me finish what I’ve started.” Is he referring to the massage or the huge amount of need for him he’s created in me?

  “The towel…” He stills my motioning hand with his.

  “Is not needed.” And he gently uses the connection of our joined hands to roll me over. I go willingly, albeit filled with both uncertainty and also a deep-seated desire for him.

  He leans down and presses his lips to mine briefly. They’re warm, soft, and reassuring. Exactly what I need to build my confidence right now.

  As much as I notice his eyes scan the length of my naked body, I also feel it. It’s intense, and I have to fight the urge to cover up, but I instinctively know he’ll only convince me otherwise.

  “You’re beautiful. Let me worship you a little more, Oz.” I drop my eyes from his, immediately missing the privacy I enjoyed before, as he worked on my back.

  He leans forward and nabs a little kiss from my lips. “Eyes on me, Carlene.” With that, he steps back and toes off his shoes and casually peels off his socks. Then he undoes the top two buttons of his shirt before reaching behind to pull it straight over his head. It’s almost as if he can’t wait to get naked for me.

  Me.

  This is somehow all for me.

  His torso is magnificent. Tanned, toned, and each muscle, individually defined. I’m certain he could easily pose as a model for an anatomy class, if the mood struck.

  He pauses with his hands at the low waist of his pants.

  “Ready?” It’s the last step, almost as if there’s no going back. No putting the lid back on Pandora’s box, so to speak.

  “Yes,” I breath. I want to see the sculpture complete. I want to see the length of him I’d felt in my hand a few moments ago.

  Those intense brown eyes of his never leave mine as he pushes the fabric down his thighs and steps out of both his pants and underwear.

  Then he nods, and I knew what he wants. It’s time to look. I take a long blink, almost bracing myself for the full effect of the picture…and I need to.

  His cock is long and proud, just a smidge short of hitting his belly button. Almost as if it is standing tall, demanding my touch and attention. He stands with his legs about shoulder-width apart, enduring my tentative inspection.

  Just like his torso, Rome’s legs are perfectly matched to the rest of his physique. Strong thighs and hard, defined calves. I could look at him for hours and never get bored. His body is an artwork.

  Without thinking, I circle my finger in the air, and he quirks an eyebrow and tosses a smile my way before doing as I asked.

  His back matches his front. Wide, developed shoulders flow into a muscled lower back and a butt that fills out his jeans to perfection.

  He’s definitely the perfect, in perfect gentleman.

  Playfully, he strikes a body bu
ilding pose, showing off his biceps and even more muscle development in his back and shoulders. It’s the sort of hard, dense muscle that has been built over years of concerted effort.

  Rome turns back with a seductive smile. “Do I pass inspection, Oz?”

  I let out a little laugh. “You know you do.”

  “Good, because it’s time I did a little more inspecting of my own.” He grabs the bottle of oil from the counter and pours a little into his hands before stepping back over to the bed.

  His hands begin at the tops of my shoulders and work from my biceps down over the slope of my chest but avoid my breasts. I’ve learned already, Rome is a master of creating anticipation with his hands.

  “Your skin is perfect, Oz. Barely even a freckle. It’s so beautiful, I want to kiss you everywhere. Feast on you.” He’s back to using the mesmerizing combination of his hands and voice. It’s deadly to my hormones and any self-control I may have.

  Each stroke of his hands move them closer and closer to my breasts. Suddenly, having his hands on them is what I want and need more than anything.

  Surely, he must know how much I want his hands there? My nipples are hard little pebbles almost yelling, but rather than give me what I want, his hands skim down my sides and linger momentarily on the outside curves of my breasts.

  Just when I think he’s going to ease the ache and touch them, he slides his hands underneath and runs the length of my ribs to my hips and across my stomach.

  I can’t stop the little annoyed puff of air from escaping my mouth.

  “What’s up, Oz? Did you want something?” He does that sexy little eyebrow raise in unison with the corner of his lips to tease me further.

  Then, as if nothing has happened, he continues rubbing my belly lightly and down over my thighs. “You know you only have to ask, and I’ll give you whatever you want. I want to give you everything.” The sound of his voice is intoxicating. His eyes are focused on the movement of his hands as he spoke, until finally they flip up to meet my gaze.

  “Ask me, Carlene.”

  It’s a challenge, a dare, and a promise all rolled into one.

  My throat burns, and my chest squeezes tight. I’ve never asked for anything in the bedroom before. Just gone along with whatever Phillip wanted. This is so different, Rome wants to know, and now, it seems ridiculous not telling him even if it is embarrassing to me.

  “Put your hands on my breasts, Rome,” I manage to whisper.

  A satisfied smile slips into place on his face, and he eases his hands back up my thighs over my stomach and straight up and over each breast.

  The slide of his palms over my distended nipples rips a breath and a groan from me as I feel my empty center squeeze in both need and frustration.

  “Good, make some noise for me. I like to know I’m hitting all the right spots.” He draws his hands back, and I think I might have whimpered a little more. “I have a hunch being vocal about what you want and feel is not something you’re familiar with. With me, I want to hear it all, know it all. Give me all of your pleasure, Oz. Talk to me. There’s no bigger turn on for me.”

  There’s something so huge building in my body. I ignored it at first. Very quickly, it’s become too strong, too enticing— now I have to have it.

  Rome has been relentlessly tempting me. My resistance is all but gone.

  “Please, Rome,” wobbles from my lips.

  “Please what, Carlene?”

  My throat closes up, and I can’t form the words; years of accepted silence has rendered me mute. His eyes lock onto mine, and it’s as if he can read the silent screams of my soul.

  “You want me to suck those pretty nipples that are standing so tall and straight for me, don’t you?”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  Relief at his words and choice to relinquish the hard line he was taking mixes with need—so much need.

  “It’ll be my pleasure, baby, and it will be yours, too.”

  He lowers his head to where his hands are on my breasts. His hands morph from administering a massage to cupping my breasts and offering up their fullness into his hungry mouth.

  I can’t remember it ever feeling like this. His tongue laves at my nipple before he twists it with his dexterous lips and then finally draws in for a hard suck.

  The most amazing jolt of pleasure passes through me. My body is hot and needy. In need of more of whatever he wants to do to me. Whatever pleasure he can give me.

  The fingers of his other hand toy with the nipple of my other breast, and my hips rock up toward him, seeking his body. Needing him more and more.

  His hand slips downward from my breast and rest on my mound before stroking me with a feather light touch. So light, I almost wonder whether I am imagining it.

  “You’re so responsive, baby. I could get you off with just playing with your breasts, couldn’t I?” Maybe I’m imagining his fingers down there? There’s no smugness to his words, just assured confidence. What he suggested has never happened to me before. Already I have no doubt with him, and what he is making me feel, it would all be true.

  He pulls back abruptly, and before I know it, he has an arm under my knees and another around my shoulders lifting me from the table. Two steps, and he places me gently on the bed. A second later, he moves the pillows from the top of the bed to within reach and stands back looking down at me.

  “That table’s no place to have the orgasm I’m going to give you.” A whimper escapes from my throat, and I can see the heat in his eyes. “I want you comfortable and safe when you thrash and buck for me the first time. You with me on this?”

  “Yeess,” I manage, and a, “hurry, Rome,” surprises me even more.

  “Relax, I’ve got this.”

  He grasps my ankles and startles me a little by pulling me down the mattress as he drops to his knees between my legs at the end of the bed.

  Then he hooks my legs over his shoulders, and I freeze and desperately try to squeeze my legs closed. This isn’t what I expected and so out of my comfort zone.

  “What are you doing, Rome?” I squawk.

  His head lifts, and our eyes meet. I read nothing but patience.

  “I’m about to lick and suck on your pussy until I bring you so much pleasure, you scream for me to stop. Why, what are you worried about?”

  My mind wars with me. Can I let him? Should I? It sounds so…

  Every muscle in my body has tensed, and my heart is pounding so hard, I can hear it thudding in my ears.

  “I’m not…” I can’t finish.

  “You’re not what?” he presses gently, never moving from where he is.

  This is so hard. How do I tell him? My face is burning with embarrassment, and I have no idea how to tell him.

  “You’ve never really had a man go down on you before, have you, Carlene?”

  “We didn’t do that…” came blurting out. “He didn’t like it.”

  “What about you, Oz? Do you like it?” Rome insists.

  “I don’t know...” I manage around my tongue, which feels like it’s stuck to the roof of my mouth.

  Rome slips my thighs from his shoulders and climbs up onto the bed with me. His arms embrace me, and his lips meet mine softly. There’s a comfort and reassurance to his touch on my body, and I can feel my apprehension begin to slip from me, until I’m soft in his arms once again.

  He pulls back a little and looks at me as he pushes a strand of my hair back behind my ear. “Sorry, Carlene, I moved too quickly. I should have given you more time. I got too eager to taste you. I never want you to feel unsure with me.”

  “Too eager to taste you.”

  Can that possibly be true?

  I’m so unsure but have to know. “You really mean what you said? You really want to do that? I’ve wanted to but...”

  Phillip had never liked to do it and had made me feel awkward to even suggest it, so I’d let it go. It wasn’t worth getting into with him.

  “Yeah, I do, baby. It’s about one of the grea
test gifts a woman can give to a man.”

  Isn’t it the other way around? Phillip had made me feel like I was being unreasonable. Rome picks up on the confusion I’m feeling and gives me a slow smile as he strokes a finger over my cheek.

  “It’s our egos, you know. Nothing is as good for the male ego as delivering a mind-blowing orgasm to a woman. It makes us feel accomplished and beat-your-chest male. No better feeling. And I haven’t come across a woman yet that doesn’t like her pussy being eaten. So, I’m thinking it’s a very safe bet you’re going to love it. I know what I’m doing, Oz, and I’d really enjoy giving you this pleasure. Will you let me?”

  Oh, my God, I’m so far out of my league, but how can I refuse an offer like that?

  “Do it, Rome,” I say with a lot more confidence than I feel.

  He chuckles. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

  Rome

  Her husband should be horse-whipped, but I can’t really come out and say that, now can I? What I can do is show her exactly what she’s been missing and just how much she can enjoy it.

  And I fucking love the steel with which she told me to just do it. A little more confidence in the bedroom, and this woman is going to be smoking hot. This is one of those times that I really hate other dudes. I’d bet my Lakers season tickets, Carlene has had nothing but straight, missionary, vanilla sex. If she’s managed an orgasm that way, then the woman is innately talented.

  Right now, I need to recover some ground. I broke the mood by moving too quickly. Never skip steps when you’re with a new woman and you don’t know their comfort zones, triggers, or history. Age is no factor in telling experience.

  Rookie move, Rome.

  Stupid thing is, my cock is straining to be inside her. That never happens. It’s normally exactly the opposite with most clients, and I have no trouble pounding away until I get them there. When I finally do get inside her, I’m going to be using every last trick I know to keep from coming until she does.

  Her body shivers a little as I run my hands down her sides, and she curls into me tighter. Yeah, it won’t take much to have her right back there. She’s so damned responsive, and I have a feeling her ex has never taken advantage of it—for both of their benefits. Such a pity. Oh well, I’m about to change all that and I have every intention of making the most of everything she gives me. It would be sacrilege to do anything else.