If Only (32 page)

I lay back; eyes closed, one
arm behind my head, and my legs stretched out and crossed over at the ankles.
With hardly any people around, it’s calm. I feel so relaxed I could fall asleep
right here.

Roman whispers in my ear, “I
wanna ask you something, but it’ll give me away.”

I open my eyes and gaze up
at him, lying on his side, facing me, propped up on his elbow. He’s close, but
it doesn’t feel intrusive. “Give you away?”

His eyes are smiling. “Yeah,
you’ll know where I’ve been looking.”

I grin with humored
curiosity. “What would you like to ask me?”

“Are they pierced?” His tone
was secretive – even though no one would’ve heard – and his gaze shifted in the
direction of my breasts. It’s impossible not to laugh at his mischievous
expression. I hadn’t even noticed him checking them out. I’m not wearing a bra
underneath my yellow halter top, so it doesn’t surprise me that he suspects,
though, it does require observation to note my hidden treasures. I nod,
chuckling. “Nice,” he says. 

I close my eyes, my smile
remaining. That’s an example of one of the many things I like about Roman. He’s
open and suggestive, but it never feels sleazy or inappropriate.

After a moment, he moves the
hand that I have resting on my lower tummy and places his there instead, but
under my shirt. He strokes me slowly, his palms and fingers are tender and
warm, his skin smooth. It feels great to be touched. Now I know it’s been a
long time since I’ve shared intimacy with someone. Now I also know I can be
intimate and close to Roman. So I don’t stop his caress.

I also don’t stop him when I
feel his lips press against mine. They’re soft, the gentle prickle of his
stubble reinforcing his masculinity. He takes his time, lightly brushing the
flesh of my mouth with his, before gently nudging his way in. The connection of
our tongues feels right, and our kiss deepens, but remains slow and
exploratory. It’s gratifying and I can taste the strawberries he ate a short
while ago. The entire time, he continues to rub my lower tummy. 

When we’re in the Kombi, and
ready to leave, just as I’m about to turn the key in the ignition, Roman says,
“Would you like to come to my place, or would you rather go home?” His offer
holds no expectations, or pressure. I know I have a choice here. And I’m not
naïve, I’m aware of where this will probably lead.

But I feel comfortable and
ready.

“I’d love to see your
place.”

I toe-off my tennis shoes at the front door, as I walk
into Roman’s first floor apartment in downtown Scottsdale. I didn’t have him
down as domesticated, but he is, there isn’t a single thing out of place and
it’s one of the cleanest homes I’ve seen. As I expected, there are many
cultural influences; Indian rugs on the floor, African statues, Asian and
Egyptian paintings. The furniture consists of slouchy couches and lamps, all in
burgundy and navy. There’s even a picture of
Clint Eastwood
in
Dirty
Harry
, which makes me think of home.

We enjoy some cold beverages
in the open kitchen, and I take the time to admire the view of the mountains
from the window. Even after over a year of being here, I still appreciate the
beauty of Arizona. We exchange words and kisses, and I’m so getting used to
Roman’s sweet lips.

After our drinks, I get a
full tour of the house, the last stop – Roman’s bedroom. His bed is low like a
futon with different colored, non-matching blankets that seem to work well
together. The décor goes with the rest of his place.

As he takes me by the hand,
I can’t decide if I’m nervous. My heart has kicked up a little, so, yes, maybe
I am. Once we go where we’re headed there’s no turning back. I’ve never taken
sex with a guy lightly, and this is no different.

Roman sits at the foot of
the bed with me standing in front of him, between his legs. “I noticed your
pretty tattoo in the park. When did you get that done?” Pushing my shirt up to
just under my breasts, he holds it up with one hand while the finger tips of
his other trace my pink and red rose vine.

I see my body art all the
time, but I don’t like to think about it. I can remember both days with perfect
clarity, the way Joe’s touch felt, the conversations we had, his smell, his
expressions. I’ve heard it said that you never forget the day you had your
first tattoo. That’s true for both of mine, though in my case, I remember for
different reasons. It hurts too much if I focus on them. For some reason, my
piercings don’t affect me in the same way. Maybe it’s because it was during my
tummy tat that I first knew my attraction to Joe was more than physical.

I try to smile, but frown
instead. “I was eighteen,” I mumble. Over eight years ago, it feels like a
lifetime ago, but I remember it as though it was yesterday.

“Why does it upset you? Do
you regret it?” His soft gaze holds mine.

“No. No, I love it.” I
pause. “Joe did it.” I’m not sure why I answered in that way, like I expected
Roman to know who Joe is. It’s the only way I could answer, but it’s the first
time I’ve mentioned him to the man in front of me, or anyone else.

He stops his finger traces
and kisses me above my navel piercing. “I won’t rush you into anything, but I
really hope this can be the start of something good between us.” His lips are
still pressed against me, his eyes trained on mine.

I offer a genuine smile.
“Me, too.”
And I do, I do want him.

I’m ready to move on.

Lifting my halter top up
over my chest, I take it off and drop it on the bed. Taking hold of Roman’s
hands, I place his palms over my breasts and let my head loll back and my shoulders
relax. It feels so great to be touched. And even better when I feel light licks
across my flesh, along with the tickle of warm breath. The delicate slide of
tongue around my nipple hardens it and sends glorious sensations through me. A
thumb strokes my other nipple and I absorb the sensation of it tightening under
Roman’s tease. My body feels extra sensitive, for some reason. I’m throbbing so
intensely, I feel like I could almost come from this alone.

“Your skin is so soft,” he
says, as serene kisses cover my tummy and he starts to unbutton my cut-offs. My
fingers get lost in his sun-kissed curls and I bury my lips among their
softness, kissing the top of his head, inhaling the sweet almond scent of his
hair.

After removing my denims and
panties, Roman presses a slender finger into me, and a little moan escapes me
and gets lost in his golden locks. I can hear my own wetness, as he strokes my
inner walls.

Bending my knees, I kneel on
the edge of the low bed, between his thighs, and reach down to unbutton his
shorts. With one hand, I slip in, taking hold of his hard ... what the fuck?
My eyelids fly open, in shock. I realize that I haven’t thought about what
Roman’s cock would be like.
Why haven’t I thought about it? I did with
Nick, and Jackson – and I didn’t even go there with him. Countless times I
wondered about Joe’s.

Roman’s is fucking huge!
Mammoth, behemoth, gigantic ... any word that sounds bigger than big – apply
it.
Lots of foreplay, lots of foreplay,
I tell myself, trying to relax.
And
pelvic floor exercises after, to stay tight.
I know the female body is
equipped to deal with much bigger things than a man’s dick, but shit!

May I remind you that I’m
only five-foot-one? I have guesstimated Roman to be at around Five-ten, but
it’s not his height that’s of focus here. It’s that thing that’s thicker than
my freaking wrist. Given my size, that’s probably not even a useful analogy.

I grip him firmly and stroke
him, up and down, and he lets out a deep throated moan. That sound sparks
something in me. His stiff monster of a cock, yes it scares me, it scares the
shit out of me, but it doesn’t stop me from dropping to the floor, on my knees.

Roman leans back, supporting
himself with his hands on the mattress. I tease the broad head with my tongue, swirling
around it, and then I stroke his full length with long, slow licks along the
underside of his shaft. Wrapping my lips around the tip, I seize as much of his
length as I can. I’ve got about half of him covered. Sucking firmly as I
retreat, my palm forms a tag team with my mouth and I go to work. My heavy
breathing, through my nose, mingles with Roman’s groans. “Shit, you’re fucking
incredible,” he says. That’s the first time I’ve heard him use a swear word. I
like it. And it turns out that in over a year of no action, I haven’t forgotten
how to use my mouth. I’d smile if I could.

On perfect timing, with my
over stretched and almost aching jaw, Roman eases me away from him and shifts
back on the bed. I wipe my wet lips with my wrist as I stand up and watch him
get naked. His body is lean and strong, with a sprinkle of fine blond hair
scattered across his chest and down his stomach.

He’s even sexier than I
thought; a damn fine specimen of a man.

I watch as he unrolls a
condom, on to his monster of a cock, and then he ushers me to him, not that I
need much persuasion. I’m more than game. I crawl on the bed and straddle him.
Once I position myself correctly, I slowly, slowly, very slowly, ease myself
down his long, thick hardness, letting it stretch me.

“Oh, shit,” he says, as I
stop at the base. “Oh, you’re tight.”

A startled laugh escapes me.
“Me tight!
You huge! Is that even compatible?” I give
an experimental grind of my hips. I feel full and stretched, quite stretched,
but it doesn’t hurt.

“Opposites attract, sugar.”
His voice is strained and sexy. “Damn, you feel good.”

 Unhurriedly, I rise up
and slide down, and up again. Roman holds my hips, but doesn’t try to influence
my pace or depth. As I accommodate him better, sensations heighten, I get wetter,
and so the cycle goes. It feels sooo much better. “Okay. Let’s fuck,” I tell
him. He smirks at me, his expression is like that of a lion that’s about to
attack his prey.

As I ride him, taking every
inch of him, Roman thrusts up into me, bringing about a divine interaction
between pleasure and pain.
Hell-fucking-yeah.
He
clasps my breasts firmly and then tugs on my nipple bars, the slight discomfort
only adding to the enjoyment, and I liberate my moans.

“You’re a little package of
dynamite,” Roman says, as he rolls over, laying me on my back. I giggle at his
words.

Bending my knees toward my
chest, with the soles of my feet against his pecs, he fucks me harder, faster.
All this action has me gripping the edge of the mattress, above my head, and
screaming like a fucking porn star. He’s taking me without mercy, there’s no
pain, just pure, intense satisfaction.

“Your cunt is insatiable,”
he tells me, his voice coarse. He thrusts slightly harder, cursing as he comes.

Seconds after he withdraws,
he has his mouth buried in my ‘insatiable cunt.’ I lay like a jelly fish,
feeling like I have nothing left to give, until the pulsating pleasure of
orgasm consumes me. As it passes, I free his curls from my grip.

After, we lay together, side
by side, sticky, our legs entwined – sometimes talking, sometimes in silence –
comfortable with each other, as always. I like this other side to Roman I’ve
experienced. I’m not surprised, he’s always been suggestive and I suspected
he’d be a beast in the bedroom. But I wasn’t expecting that behemoth cock of
his.

Now
that
was a
surprise. 

It’s the day my parents and Elena, who’s now pregnant
with her second child, and my cute little nephew, Caleb, are due to visit.
We’ve planned their stay around the St Patrick’s Day celebrations at Fountain
Hills.

They’ll be meeting Roman for
the first time. I’m not looking forward to that part, because I know mom and
dad don’t approve of the age gap. They also think it’s a delayed rebound relationship,
or some kind of comfort type thing. They’re wrong; Roman’s too good for that.
Even after all this time I still feel guilty about Nick. I’ve learned from my
mistakes, no way would I get involved with a guy unless it’s what I truly want.

I do truly want to be with
Roman.

I’m in a good place at the
moment. Roman is romantic and fun, and being with him is effortless. There’s no
pressure, or expectations, we’re just going with it and enjoying each other.

I’m bursting with excitement
and I can’t stop peering through the window. Finally, I see my uncle driving up
to the house. I rush out the front door and wait by the drive. When Uncle Vince
parks up, my sister assists Caleb out, and he runs to me with his arms open
wide. I adore being an aunt. I speak to Caleb all the time, and I love his
chatter down the phone, but nothing beats seeing him and squeezing him.

The house is full and lively now. We all sit in the
living room drinking tea and coffee, and my parents and Roman talk. I’m trying
not to watch them too much. The only person missing from this picture is Su;
she and Zack are on vacation for their third wedding anniversary. Other than
her absence, this all feels perfect.

We arrive at the fountain in Fountain Hills and watch
the water turn emerald green.