She milks me dry before rising up off my cock. She wipes her mouth violently with her backhand. My juices have turned her into a savage, and all civility leaves me as I’m ready to be feral right along with her.
CHAPTER 5
Lisa
R oman tasted amazing, and he knows it. He can see from my expression, my need for him. Now there’s blood in the water and this shark is circling.
He kills the engine and steps from the car. It’s dark, and we’re in the middle of who knows where. Suddenly those scenes from the Hostel movies and every Stephen King book I’ve ever read come rushing to my brain. What in the hell was I thinking getting in the car with this strange man? I pride myself on being sensible and keeping my wits, but one slip up and now here I am, a prime candidate to wind up in the police blotter before sunrise.
I thinking of all the ways my twenty-one years on this earth can end, when suddenly I hear a tapping on the window. He rapping the knuckle of his index finger against the glass. He’s got that Sicilian mobster smirk on his face that’s doing nothing to ease my fears. I say nothing.
“Care for some fresh air, or is there something in the car that’s too good to leave?” he says.
I would like to stretch my legs. As much as I enjoyed sucking him off, it did get a little cramped. I’m still nervous about where we are and what we’re doing, but I realize if he did have something scary in mind there’s not a lot I could do to stop it now.
“What is there to do outside the car?” I ask.
“Get some air, and I want to show you something.”
He’s still not doing much to ease my fears, and I’ve seen how this ends in more scary movies than I can count. I always yell at the TV when I see those bone-headed girls making the obvious mistake, but when I’m faced with a similar situation in real life I somehow follow the same path.
I step from the car and he sees something is off.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “You’re shaking.”
“Just a little cold is all,” I say.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Where are my manners?” He quickly removes his jacket and wraps it around me. If he did have unsavory plans for me, he’s certainly remaining a gentleman until the end.
He takes my hand, and we begin walking further from the road.
“Where are we going?”
“I live right here,” he says.
“Can’t we just drive in then?” I ask, his story making little sense.
“Unfortunately we can’t. I have guests and I’ve promised them the house to themselves. I’m sorry that this is a little strange…okay a lot strange, but they arrived a day ahead of schedule. As a host I have to respect that. Plus they had a long flight, so I don’t wish to disturb them. I hope you can understand my predicament.”
“Then why are we going this way…sneaking around in the night?” I ask, hoping he can understand my predicament. I consider screaming, running, or kicking him. How quickly hot and sexy has gone to cold and scary.
“Guest house. We’ll have it all to ourselves, and it’s not connected. It sits just next to the other property and is separated by some hedges, so they won’t even know we’re here.”
“So you’re sneaking around on your own property?”
He laughs slightly. “It does seem like that, doesn’t it? I don’t quite feel like I’m sneaking. It’s not like we’re in a crouch, or low crawling in the grass like a squat team, but I do understand how it could seem a little odd at first glance.”
“Sir.” a voice says and I see a man just in front of us. My heart practically jumps out of my chest as my hand rises to my mouth.
“Sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay,” I say, but it’s clearly not.
“Did they get settled in, Lorenzo?”
“Last light went out just thirty minutes ago, sir. Where shall I park the car?”
“Good question. Can you keep it by the guardhouse for the night? Keep an eye on it?”
“Certainly, sir. Will you be needing anything this evening?”
“Not that I can think of. Thank you.”
“My pleasure, sir. Enjoy your evening,” he says.
We walk a bit further and my worries start to subside a little.
“You have a security guard?”
“I have three,” he says.
“Three? Why do you have three?”
“Because it’s a lot safer than having only one.”
I smile at his sarcasm. I like his wittiness. “But why even one?”
“You never really know who’s a whacko and who’s not these days, right? Whacko. That’s the word you use in North America, correct?”
“The younger crowd usually uses creeper, but yeah…for someone your age whacko could probably make sense,” I say, showing him I can dish it out just as well as he can.
He tells me the lights around the outside of the house are deactivated, as is the sprinkler system, in order not to wake the guests. I can’t see the house too well, but from what I can see it appears as elegant and tasteful as he is.
He keys in the code on the pad and the door opens. “This is the guest house?” I say, my mouth hanging open.
“The one and only. Sorry, it’s a little sterile,” he says. I haven’t had anyone over in a few weeks. I’ve been away on business.”
“Business must be good,” I say, realizing my comments may have been too direct.
“Yes, things are going well. Thank you.”
“Can I ask what you do?”
“You certainly may.” he says, but not answering.
I realize my fears were unwarranted, at least the super crazy ones I was dreaming up, the moment I see a picture of him on the wall in a deep embrace with Monica Bellucci. There’s another on the mantle of him in Paris at the Eiffel Tower with Sophia Lauren. They’re not tacky, packaged holiday brochure looking photos. These are real. The people he is with are truly his friends. You can see it in their body language…the way they are completely at ease with each other. I place my bag down and walk towards the kitchen.
“Can I get you a glass of water, or something to drink?” he asks.
“Water would be great, thank you.”
“Sparkling or still?”
“Still, please.”
I realize no one at college has ever asked me “sparkling or still” before, and I also realize I’ve never been around this level of elegance before. Everything is confirmed when I see a Polaroid hanging from the fridge. It’s attached with a magnet of the Isle of Capri. On the Polaroid are Roman and James Gandolfini, smoking cigars together. My absolute favorite actor of all time, smoking stogies with a man who I just took in my mouth…just like the big fat cigar he so casually puffs on in his photograph.
I stand up straighter and improve my posture. I want to look like a lady, but in the presence of a man such as this I especially want to impress. There is no mistaking what he does now. He’s involved in some way in Italian cinema, and I am officially blown away. I think back to one of my favorite movies of all time, Cinema Paradiso, and remember the tale of two generations working together in such a beautiful way. The irony is not lost on me one bit, for tonight this distinguished man will take me under his wing and show me a thing, or two, about life, passion, and romance.
CHAPTER 6
Roman
C aesars Palace?”
She laughs.
“Is nothing sacred anymore?”
“I guess not,” she says.
“First a hotel in Las Vegas, and now a hostel in Rome. What next?”
“Probably either something gargantuan waterpark in Dubai or a TGI Friday’s salad.”
I laugh so hard I almost snort. “Unfortunately you’re probably right.” I look over at her, and marvel in her tenderness. She’s stripped bare this morning as she sits in the passenger seat of my car. No makeup and no hairspray, and she looks incredible. Her hair is still wet from the shower she took, and her skin is radiating yout
h and all the excitement of a life yet to be lived and adventures not yet taken.
I wonder to myself if that’s all that last night was…an adventure to her. Was I nothing more than something to cross of a list? An Italian guy in Rome…check. Next will be a Parisian man outside the Louvre. Maybe it’s not even that. Maybe it’s simply to have a glass of red wine in the park in front of the Eiffel Tower.
I don’t judge her, not at all. Life is meant to be lived, and sex is part of living. She’s a young, independent woman and she can sleep with whomever she wishes. But at the moment I am passing judgment, but on myself. Am I jealous? I’ve never been a jealous person before, but something about her makes me question that.
I want today with her, and another night. A chance to explore what we had, and maybe what we can have, before she moves on to the next stop on her European rail pass.
Am I losing my mind, or just crazy about her? She told me she had one more year of university, or college as she referred to it, to finish back in the United States. I could never interrupt her education, nor would I want to. What about when her education is finished? What will she do then? She’ll be looking for a job, almost certainly, and I have more than enough connections here and abroad to help her if she wishes.
But what is it that she wishes for? That’s the sixty-four thousand dollar question that hangs over this goodbye.
“I think you’re right,” I say, knowing that the imminent parting is going to feel so wrong.
“Well, I better get going.”
“Are you sure I can’t interest you in a cappuccino?”
“I’d love to, but I have to meet my parents today.”
“I see,” I say, grasping for mental straws. “What about after they depart Rome. What then?”
“I’ll return home with them.”
“But what about Paris? You wanted to see the Mona Lisa, no?”
“I guess I’ll have to save that for next time.”
“For next time,” I say, as I place my hand on top of hers.
I like the feeling of her, but I hate the feeling of this. The idea of finding someone that seems so perfect, and then letting them go. It’s not my style, but it’s also not my style to beg.
I lean in and she turns away. Denied. I kiss her on the cheek and then on the forehead. I can see she’s eager to move on, and as much as the though of that eats away at me, I must respect her wishes.
“Here,” I say. “Take this.” I hand her my business card. “If you need anything while you’re here, please don’t hesitate to call.”
“Thank you,” she says, taking the card and then reaching for the handle.
“Even just a coffee,” I say.
She nods as she opens the door. I spring from my seat and run around to her side of the car to open the door for her. I take her hand and help her from the deep bucket seats. I want to smell her one last time. To have that one last moment to touch her. I lean in and kiss her hand. She slings her bag over her shoulder and walks up her steps to Caesars Palace.
I laugh at the name, and realize Julius wasn’t the only Roman who’s been stabbed to death. The only difference was my stab wounds were to the heart.
CHAPTER 7
Lisa
C heck out is in fifteen minutes,” the receptionist says.
“Okay, I just have to clean out my locker,” I say.
I enter my eight-bed girls dorm and am thankful that it’s empty. I’m the last to check out. I sit on the lower bunk and lean forward with my head in my hands. What a night.
Roman was incredible. He was gorgeous, a gentleman, caring, and very, very successful. He was absolutely the perfect guy, at the wrong time. If only this trip was post graduation, or maybe before I started college. Things might have been different then. At least I would have been able to try.
I smile at what we had, and not at what we can’t have. I pull out my phone and scroll to my WhatsApp group chat with my two besties back home. I search for the three emojis I’ve been waiting to send them. I tap on the Vegas cherries, the balloon, and then the sewing needle. I hit send, and lean back, knocking my head on the railing from the bunk above.
“Ow!” I say, as I rub my head. I guess that’s what I deserve for bragging about my sexual exploits.
You didn’t!
Congratulations!
Finally!
So your pussy DOES actually work!
How was he?
I laugh at my friends. They want to know everything, and how can I blame them? They’ll get the juicy details when I get back, but I need to throw them a bone until then.
An Italian Stallion, I type.
Jelly!
Totally jelly!
I laugh at their word for jealous, and realize maybe I’m jealous too. What will Roman do now? What direction will his life go after our chance encounter? Will he bump into another tourist girl tonight only to give her the same experience, or was it truly a one-time thing like he told me? Why do I even care? I gave him my virginity and now I can move on. I can focus on graduating and the real world. But right now I can only focus on him. Am I the one who’s jealous?
I look out the window of the room and flash back to our last moments in the car. I wanted to kiss him and he wanted to kiss me. I turned my head to avoid the pain. I knew if I kissed him again I might not be able to open that door and walk away. Part of me wished I hadn’t. I wished I had just another day with him, or at least a few more hours. I wanted to learn more about him, and discover this world he lived in.
Let it go, Lisa, I tell myself. You’ve got to meet your parents now.
“You’re Lisa, right?” the girl from the receptionist says as she sticks her head inside the doorframe.
“Yes.”
“I’m terribly sorry, but we have to clean the room for the incoming guests. We have to ask you to check out now.”
“Of course,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
The girl smiles and her head disappears. I’m sad about what could have been, but I’m happy I was able to meet this wonderful man and share a special moment with a very special man, a man who I’ll never forget for as long as I live. And that’s exactly what scares me the most.
CHAPTER 8
Roman
I leave the radio off as I speed back home. I barely kept it together back there when I dropped Lisa off. I was very close to that line where dignity and self-respect are lost. I had teetered on the precipice, but hadn’t fallen off the cliff. It was a close call.
I pull into the drive way and give a wave to Giovanni. Lorenzo’s night shift has ended and now Giovanni will handle the daytime security.
I stop at the horseshoe driveway and quickly make my way to the house. I look at my watch and realize I’m right on time as I press the doorbell.
“They’re having breakfast, sir.”
“Thank you, Giuliana,” I say. “How’s your morning?”
“Very good, sir. Thank you.”
The moment I enter the dining room my arms extend and Larry drops his fork and knife and rushes towards me.
“Roman! How are you, fratello?”
“I don’t see you for a few years and you’re suddenly speaking Italian?”
He laughs. “I wish. Roman, you remember Leah?”
“Of course,” I say, hugging Larry’s wife.
“And this little guy you’ve never met. This is Lucas.”
“Good morning, Lucas,” I say, extending my hand.
“Buongiorno, Mister D’Angelo.”
“And a good morning it is!”
I join Larry and his family for breakfast and try to convince them to stay at my home while they are in town. Larry says he doesn’t want to put me out, but finally admits that Leah and Lucas are insisting on staying at the hotel they’ve booked due to the swimming pool. I laugh and remind him we do have a sea nearby to which he simply shrugs. “That’s what I told them,” he says and we share a laugh.
An hour later Lucas is tapping his foot uncontrollably and Leah i
s making eyes at Larry. I nudge him in the side and motion with my head towards his family.
“I think it’s time to check out that pool,” I say. We both laugh and a few minutes later Giovanni has the Range Rover pulled around and we’re packing up and heading out.
Italian Stallion: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 17) Page 3
