The Gentleman (Carver Brothers Book 1)

by Dianna Roman

I’ve looked at attractive men before and been able to control myself. With Pete, it’s not the same. There’s a source there, calling me. It’s not just the way he looks or even our unfathomable chemistry. It feels like something more.

He was handsome when I met him, but he gets more attractive each time I see him. Each time, I learn a little more about him and his personality. Each time, it spins a thread through my heart, tethering him there more securely. My heart.

It’s dark outside the dining room window, but it’s as though a warm ray of sun is cascading in, washing my body from head to toe. Pete. Me and Pete.

Yesterday, the way he traced my face, my mouth—it was so tender, reverent even. I’ve never felt so special. That was more than teaching. I don’t need to ask Brice or read an article to know that.

The thought of another annual party where I stand awkwardly in the shadows, avoiding people, is not something I’m looking forward to. I wish I knew how to better belong to this family, but I don’t know if I’ll ever get it right.

My poor baby Cam 🥹

I know she means well, but the instant her mouth opened, I knew I was doomed. The only person, in Dad’s opinion, who can’t possibly have a good idea besides me, is Mom.

His poor Mom 🥲

My family is so fucked up. I don’t know why it hits me like a newsflash. I think I’ve always known that they are to an extent, but I mean, they’re really fucked up. Aren’t they? Bossy, pretentious, unfeeling—the lot of them. With the exception of Mom, who falls into the oblivious category. I want to go home.

I’m raw, so raw it’s like this ruse of a family dinner just stripped the flesh off my body. I somehow doubt that a comfort muffin and a cozy blanket could heal a wound that painful. Maybe I’m fucked up too, because I know what would absolutely cure the sting of their condescension. Pete. He’d tell me what to do, in a good way.

His brand of bossiness heals me. It comforts me. He only tells me things I want to hear, things I want to do. It’s like he was scripted just to fix the mess that I am.

I feel stronger after my time with him, not like my soul has been torn out of my ...

Each step further away from my family makes it easier to breathe. Each recall of my interaction in the broom closet yesterday with Pete becomes a drug that I crave another fix of. I need it. I need him.

Even if my family accepted my sexuality, which I live in fear of finding out, there’s no way I’d subject Pete to sitting through those dinners. I couldn’t survive the humiliation of him seeing the way they talk to me. How could he respect me after a meal like this one? I got dressed down by a five-year-old for crying out loud.

🥺🥺🥺

I’m pretty sure I know the answer to that, even though I’d hate to think my family would do that to someone. I’m property that they don’t care about, but refuse to relinquish control over.

While I’m convinced Pete was more worried about my safety than his own, I think his chivalry is misplaced. I’m not safe for him. I’m dead weight that would only drag him down. I’d lose whatever luster he sees in me once he got one glimpse of what my life is really like.

Omg Cam 😭😭

I’m barely gay, if I’m living in a shadow that even the darkness doesn’t see.

I am a coward because, as much as I want to, I will never look at him again. What’s the point if I don’t have the courage to do what it takes to keep him?

My throat thickens when he enters the room. I don’t have to see him to know he’s inside. I sense his presence the way I always sense it. I can feel his heat. I can smell his Pete scent.

Slowly, my gaze travels up the rest of his impeccable gray suit jacket. Just a glimpse, I tell myself. Just a glimpse to make sure he’s okay. My vision, however, collides with the intense brown eyes looking down at me like they were waiting to see mine. They might as well be hot coals, searing me all the way down to the cushion of my seat.

If I wasn’t sitting down, my knees would have given out. I don’t know if I’m being convincing enough to come across as a good mix of concerned and indifferent, or if he can see in my eyes that he’s the only thing I ever want to look at.

Thanking her, he turns on his heel and leaves. The room gets smaller, or maybe gravity gets stronger. I’m mass that doesn’t fit in this space any longer now that he’s gone.

One sight of his face when he finally looked up at me destroyed any resolve that I had about staying away from him.

This is my chance to give him a real gift, one not made of freaking silicone that needs to be inserted somewhere. This entire evening is my love letter, but I’ve never written one. I can’t be Unleashed Pete tonight. I need to be Perfect Pete. Given that I’m the polar opposite of perfect, terrifies the shit out of me.

Rolling my neck, I clear my throat and shake the sand sensation from my hands. I probably look like I’m having a full-body muscle spasm. I’m a freaking catch alright. Fake gay. Liar. Filthy talker. Toy inserter. I’m basically a goddamn psychopath.

Be normal, Pete. For one night. For him. Please.

“What…what is all of this?” “It’s…your prom. The one you should have had.”

“I can’t change your past,” I explain. “I can only give you new memories and hope they’re better ones.”

I’m at a loss over what to do next, but he’s still here. He’s still here and looks… happy. Happy is good. It’s the only look I want for him.

The desire that makes me go feral is looking back at me.

“You’re looking at me like that again,” I caution softly, when his gaze returns to mine, hooded with lust. “I know.”

“Then you’re wearing far too many clothes for what I’m going to do to you.”

“Are you still wearing the plug?” Chewing his lip, he hesitates. “You didn’t tell me to take it out.” My heart pumps with a sudden rush of blood. Gagoonk. Gagoonk. He was waiting for me?

Omgggg unleashed Pete 🥵🥵

Unleashed Pete

🥵🥵🥵🥵

“Now, show me that dirty little secret you’ve been hiding.”

Omgggg!! 🥵

My hand is shaking as it hovers over the heat radiating off his skin. I’m afraid to touch him, afraid of breaking the special gift that is him, so I lower my hand carefully until it settles on the silky flesh of his ass cheek.

I’ve never felt more wanted in my life. I need to make sure he feels the same.

I’m not sure if it’s his innocence or his efforts, but I don’t ever see germs when I look at him.

Omgggg unleashed Pete 🥵🥵

His desperation has me so carnal, I want to eat him alive.

Tugging again, I draw the plug free and watch his hole twitch at the loss of it. Drawing my finger over that pulsing circle, it kisses my skin in response to my touch. “What about now? What are you thinking about?” I catch his reflection in the mirrored closet doors. Sighing, his eyes slip closed. “You. Still you,” he murmurs hopelessly, but as though he’s perfectly content resigning himself to that hopelessness. “Sounds like you’ve got a problem.” “Yeah.”

“This is what you really want, Cam. Isn’t it? Not the plug.” “Yes,”

“Just…I can’t believe you went to the trouble to get this fancy room with a big bed only to have me up against the mirror.” Does he really not know? I approach behind him, enraptured by him from head to toe and everything his presence here tonight represents. “If you saw what I see, you’d understand.”

“Twenty-five years,” I whisper, inching closer until my cock nestles against the seam of his ass. “That’s how long you’ve waited for this, right?” “Yeah.” “And now that it’s about to happen, you’re still sure?” “I’ve never been surer of anything.” “You’re sure you want it to be me?” “Yes.”

“I’m going to fuck you now,” I inform his reflection. “Please,” he pleads. Why is the sound of him begging for me so damn beautiful?

“I wasn’t finished.” “Sor–” he starts to apologize, but I won’t have it. He'll never apologize for anything again, if I have any say in it.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” I cut him off. “And when I’m done, you’re never going to want ...

Gaping at my reflection, his irises widen as he absorbs my news. I don’t know if he’s even capable of speaking right now, but his acceptance is vivid in those blue pools of arousal. “Nod, Cameron.”

I hope that Pete is prepared to be responsible for my heart and soul because I think I just cracked open and let both spill into his capable hands. He knows me. Really knows me.

Staring back at his diligent eyes in the mirror, I realize it’s another thing I like about him. He’s both light and dark. The sun and the storm. A firm, confident hand, and a passionate tenderness that I feel to my bones.

“Push, sweetheart.” My heart gets hung up on that rogue endearment just as I feel him press forward. I forget to follow my instructions until a slicing sting shoots through the perimeter of my hole. I choke down a whimper and bear down on the intrusion. He’s not an intrusion. I want him there more than I’ve ever wanted anything, but it’s so much.