The Gentleman (Carver Brothers Book 1)

by Dianna Roman

Hanging my head, I gulp for air and blow out breaths like I forgot how to breathe. He’s more pliable and warmer than my dildo, and while there’s a soreness surrounding him, I can feel tiny, euphoric vibrations all the way to my toes. They’re radiating from my prostate like it knows he’s close.

“You have no idea what you’ve done to me,” he grunts, sounding pained.

“Shit. Do you need to stop?” “No.” I squeeze his fingers to convince him. “Don’t stop, just…give me a minute?” “Take as long as you need,” he soothes, pressing kisses to the back of my neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”

This whole night—the room, that tux he wore, the flowers, him—it’s not anything I expected, but everything I didn’t know I needed. This is so much more than sex. It’s patience. Understanding. Compassion. Acceptance. Everything I’ve always wanted rolled up into one age-old act by the perfect man.

His words and tender touch are a lubricant, relaxing my apprehensive muscles. Like a switch was flipped, my body starts to accept him, letting him in deeper.

I can feel his heartbeat in his cock. I can feel it against my back, where his chest is pressed against my spine. I swear it’s synced with my own. He’s everywhere. I fucking love him being everywhere.

He retreats an inch and then returns, making my prostate sing so loud I moan. “Better?” he asks. “Yeah.” “Take it then, Cam. When you’re ready, take what you wanted.” Fuck. This man. Always nudging me to be brave and bold like him.

The fluctuation of losing him and then regaining him is a roller-coaster of heartbreaking agony and indescribable joy. I think he might be right. I won’t ever want to do this with anyone else but him.

“That’s it, Snuggle. Show me what you wanted to do to that plug when you thought of it being me.” It’s the filthiest image I’ve ever conjured, and I want to live in it, but I must be hearing things. “‘Snuggle?’” Nipping my shoulder and then dragging his tongue over the spot, he buries his nose behind my ear and inhales. “You smell like Snuggle. It fucking drives me crazy.”

“Almost as crazy as watching you fuck yourself with my cock, like y...

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t hold back any longer.” “You never should.” Pressing a kiss to my shoulder, his hand makes a languid pass up and down my waning shaft. “Now, do it again, sweetheart.” Again? Is he serious? I still haven’t even caught my breath. “What? I…I can’t.” Ignoring my breathless laugh, his words are an encouraging purr. “Yes, you can.”

“Did you come?” “That’s not the point. I haven’t been standing here thinking of every disgusting thing I can think of just for you to only come once. Let go, Cam. I told you; this is your night.”

Turning my head, I’m not disappointed. The need I see in his eyes, and maybe even adoration, is so much more vivid than through a reflection. “You’re my night,” is all I manage, leaning in for a kiss.

Slipping my hand behind his head and into his hair, I open up a place inside me I didn’t even know existed. Maybe I kept it locked up tight to protect myself from the threat of it never being filled by my family. I couldn’t feel empty if its doors were secured shut. Right now, though, it's like I’ve let a river in. Each worshipful kiss Pete gives me, each careful delve he makes into my body, each gentle caress of my chest, my stomach, or my cheek—I stow it all away into that secret place, accepting it with open arms. My heart is full. So damn full.

It’s like floating away and leaving my body. The thought of Pete and me flying high above the world where no one can touch us has me smiling. I can’t even open my eyes, but happiness must be enough fuel for the muscles around my mouth.

Gahhh this writing is so beautiful 😍

Could he be any more of a dream?

My plans to become confident enough to socialize with and make a move with another man seem a distant memory. I know that’s why I sought Pete out, but I received something so much more from our time together. I can breathe. Like really breathe. My lungs moved in and out for the last twenty-five years, but it feels like I just released the first exhale of my entire life.

My heart trips when he rolls toward me. He’s so close, I can feel his breath. It’s neither good breath nor bad breath, although I don’t consider any breath to be good when it’s in my face. It’s just Cam’s proof of life. I’m mesmerized by any sign of him existing. How can something so perfect exist on the same plane as something so imperfect?

There should probably be significant emotions I feel about being with a man for the first time. The Pete of a few weeks ago might have analyzed the hell out of what just happened. Right now, the only thing resonating through me at his query, though, is that I know I finally slept with the right person.

“You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.”

“I will never be able to tell you how lucky I am that you picked my office to visit that day.”

“That’s something you’ll have to decide on your own. I know it’s not what you asked me for that day at my house, but I won’t take it back. I’m not ashamed about not taking it back.”

“I don’t want you to take it back,” he whispers.

“Easy decision,” he adds. “You’re sexy when you’re bossy, but I think you’re even cuter right now, looking like you don’t believe me.”

I have him. I fucking get Cam. Drawing him closer, I roll to my back, taking him with me. Sliding my hand into his hair, I pour my joy out into his mouth until he’s panting for breath and chuckling.

It’s like being really seen or meeting the counterpart of one’s soul.

Realizing I get to wake up to his head on the pillow next to mine has me smiling. I got my wish.

He dreams about me picking apples? I would pick apples all fucking day for him if it made him happy.

“I can help pick apples,” he offers excitedly. “I won’t get in your way. I promise.” Fuck it. They can scrutinize me all they want. They already do anyway. I’ll be damned if anyone makes him help pick, though, as damned as I’ll be to deny him something he clearly has his heart set on.

“You’ll be there, right?” he asks, smiling up at me. “Of course. I won’t leave you to fend for yourself somewhere you don’t know.” “Then it’s the only place I want to be.”

I kiss him. And then I kiss him again and again until he has no air left to say things that make my cup run over.

There are nothing but hearts in my eyes today. I have a boyfriend, an extremely thoughtful boyfriend.

Imagining him sitting there alone every evening under that furry throw blanket he had slung over the arm of the sofa had me drawing him into my arms and kissing the life out of him. Each kiss was a promise that he’d never have to spend another evening alone now that I have him in my life.

🥹🥹🥹

His nervous articulations will never cease to be endearing. I do want him to meet my family and vice versa. They’re quirky and sometimes too much, but they’re a part of me. They’re where I came from, and although they sometimes go about it in ways that are less than comforting, they understand me.

I used to think that them knowing my past made them the people who knew most that I’m broken, but as I glance at the eagerness in Cam’s eyes to be a part of my world, I know I was wrong. He wants me, broken and all, just like they do. I think for all my complaining, I go home to feel normal.

Was he expecting my family to think I’m a nuisance because of my OCD? They’re more than accepting of my needs, sometimes too accepting. Even Jesse. He limits his stupid ribbing to only when there’s just family around, never giving me grief in public.

I obsess over everything, over every little detail until I’m a prisoner to irrationality that seems perfectly logical to me.

I thought… maybe you were trying to trick me, but then I realized you weren’t. You were just you, and I was me, and you…liked me. You actually liked me as me, and then it didn’t seem to matter if I’d never been with a man. I was…bewitched.”

I’ve shocked him into silence. As he blinks at me, I mourn the loss of adoration in his eyes. He doesn’t need to like me. He needs the truth. He deserves the truth, no matter that it probably just cost me him.

I quit going to therapy in college. I’d reached a place where I knew how to protect my emotions when the world didn’t conform to my needs. I never considered that I would have to protect someone from me. Why did I let my need to solve his problems overshadow being honest?

“Of course, I felt sorry for you. No one should be treated the way they treat you, Cam. You should have all those things that you asked for. I just never imagined I’d want to give them to a man, but…but it’s the only thing I’ve never had to think about once it presented itself. I’d give you anything you asked for. I could never say no to you. I don’t know why this never happened to me before. It’s you. You just… I want to be the one in your story. And the more you talked about dating apps, the more I thought about you having those first experiences with someone else… it made me crazy.”

“I’m fucked up.” The admission comes out choked, making me hate that I’m not being the strong man he thought I was. “I’ll never be normal. I hate body fluids and the sound of loud chewing. I move shit around if it doesn’t look like it’s in place. I didn’t even know what a prostate stimulator was until I searched the internet. I overanalyze everything and hum the fucking birthday song when I wash my hands. I’m not a gentleman, but I’m yours, if you want me. I’d be honored to be yours. Lucky. So damn lucky. I’ll never hide anything from you again.”

“I’m fucked up too, Pete.” His tender delivery reminds me of my mother’s tone when I was a child and she’d reassure me that nothing was wrong with me. I appreciate his care, but I want his pity as little as he wanted mine.

“But you managed to be the first person to make me feel like I’m not. I don’t want someone to be afraid to be themselves around me. I know what that’s like. I can’t change your past, either. I don’t want to, but I’d like to know about it. The truth, whatever it is.”

“What did you think of your first blow job with a guy?” Is he… giving me a chance? His teeth sink anxiously into his lower lip, revealing the curious Cam that I know and adore. It’s that look of acceptance I’ve become smitten with and thought I’d never see again on his face. I scoff in disbelief. Swallowing against my racing pulse, I inch forward, hopefully. “It was un-fucking real. You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

“I don’t care if we do everything wrong. I just want to do it with the person standing in front of me.”

“Then I’m yours.” My paranoia tells me his proclamation has to be tit for tat, but this is Cam. Not a jaded businessman who thinks the boss’ sons are out to get him. How could he have such a methodically planned list of wants and yet only a matter of minutes after my confession decide to accept me? I must be gawking like a buffoon, because he smirks and whispers, “Nod, Pete.”

Are gentlemen supposed to cry? I don’t know, but I said I’d give him anything he wanted, so I give him the nod he asked for. I’m rewarded with a soft kiss that I know I don’t deserve, but will endeavor to earn for as long as I live.

This spot is no longer just some insignificant point halfway between Bellevue and Wenatchee. It’s the place where my misery died, and the rest of my life began.

“Maybe we can do ‘research’ together,” he offers cheekily. I don’t care if his laughter is at my expense. He’s happy, and he’s onto something. Threading my fingers through his, I give his hand a squeeze. “We can do everything together.”