Smoke and Sin (The Perfect Gentlemen 4)

He shoved the thought aside and concentrated on the feel of her body against his. Her nipples were already hard, poking sweetly against his palms. He pinched them and breathed in her scent, something citrus and jasmine mingled with her own arousal. He let her intoxicate him, and his mind buzzed with her nearness. It was like being drunk on the very best Scotch. He remembered getting high on Augustine. He’d never felt the dizzy, sweltering need again after her. Never imagined he would. But it was back—with a vengeance.

“I liked that shirt, Roman,” she complained, but her words sounded more like a breathy moan.

“I needed it off your body. I need this gone, too.” He skimmed his palms down to the waist of her skirt, tore through the button, yanked down the zipper, then shoved it over her hips. It pooled at her feet, and Roman admired his handiwork. In mere seconds, he’d stripped her down to a pair of barely there undies and fuck-me heels. She could leave those on, but the pretty bit of lace was in his way. It would have to go. He didn’t really care if that was in one piece…or two.

Roman caught sight of her in the mirrored armoire that dominated one side of the bedroom. She looked like sin. In the tussle, her hair had come undone and now flowed loose around her shoulders, thick and wild. Some would call it brown, but it was a mix of chestnut and red with sun-streaked gold. A long curl brushed against her ribs, luring his gaze to her curves tucked against him. Her breasts were perfect, round and topped with blushing nipples he intended to suck until she squirmed and begged for mercy. He might show her some…but probably not.

He rolled the hard tips and watched as her lips parted and desire filled her face. Her breasts swelled in his hands.

That wasn’t the only thing swelling…

Roman pinched the sensitive nubs again, squeezing a little harder. This gasp sounded more like a moan. She squirmed against him, letting him know she was every bit as aroused as he was.

Raw possessiveness raced through him. The way he wanted her now, he’d been a fool to think he could truly want anyone else. Augustine had always been the only woman who could make him lose his mind, let go of everything but the thought of being with her. Though time had changed them both, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Gus was definitely more lush than she’d been in her twenties, her hips wider, her thighs thicker, waist seemingly smaller. All of that only made her more gorgeous to him. Her curves complemented the confidence her youth had only hinted at. Now, it had come to fruition. She stared right back at him in the mirror, her lips curled up. Yes, she knew exactly how beautiful she was. He wanted her even more for it.

He felt his way down her body, to the lace of her white panties.

“I’d almost forgotten how beautiful you are naked. And you’re more stunning now than you were then.” No denying he’d dreamed of her at night, but now that he was here with her in the flesh, reality was shockingly better. She was so vibrant and warm that it hurt.

How long had he been cold inside?

“I swear if you pull the same trick on me you did last night, you won’t enjoy the rest of your evening, Roman,” she warned as he slipped his fingers under the waistband of her panties and drifted toward her pussy.

He’d been an ass, even if he’d been trying to protect her. But now they had an agreement. He didn’t need to negotiate with her, try to exchange pleasure for her compliance. No, now he had control. He could simply enjoy her.

“I won’t.” He wasn’t letting her go tonight. She was in his room and she would spend the night in his bed. She would wake up in the morning and find herself wrapped around him while he pounded inside her. He only had a few weeks. He intended to make the most of them. When he wasn’t working, he would be fucking her until he’d purged her from his system.

“Everyone is going to know about this. You can say you’re watching after me, but everyone with half a brain will know we’re having sex. The rumor mill won’t stop at this shore, either. People in DC will hear all about it, too.”

“Let them gossip. I don’t care. Do you really give a damn, Augustine?”

Before she answered, he slid his fingers over her pussy. She was already slick and ready for him. The way she responded so totally, it was as if she’d been made for him. And when he skimmed over her clitoris, her head fell back against his shoulder with a groan.

“Roman…”

“I’m here. I’m the only one with you. All those busybodies can go to hell if they have a problem with us. I’ll fire anyone who says anything other than ‘Congratulations. The two of you are great together.’”

Until now, he would have shared her concerns. Appearances were everything in politics. Reality didn’t matter half as much as perception. He’d preached that to the rest of the White House staff. But now that he had Gus’s bare curves against him, he couldn’t remember what the hell he’d been so worried about. He was single. She was single. There was nothing to stop them from falling into bed and staying there as long as they damn well wanted. If someone wanted to gossip about them, why should he give a shit? He was one of the most powerful men in the world. If he wanted to fuck the most beautiful woman he’d ever known, he would.

“That’s the Roman I remembered. The one I dreamed of,” she admitted, her voice low.

“And this is what I dreamed of.” He let his fingers slide through her pussy as he rubbed her slowly, soaking his skin in her sweet arousal.

So wet and ripe. She was slick enough to take him now, but he wanted more. He wanted her writhing, needy, begging…

With a groan, she moved against him, her backside rubbing against his cock in a silent plea. Arousal gripped Roman by the throat. He couldn’t breathe through the need without inhaling her and wanting more. But he still held back, watching in the mirror as her pleasure unfurled. He loved the sight of her in his arms, so feminine and wild. And right now, all his.

Gus bit her bottom lip as he eased the pad of his finger over her clit again, pressing down lightly. Then a bit harder. Her body bucked, pelvis pressing up. Her breathing turned choppy. He smiled.

“Roman!” Augustine didn’t pretend she was unaffected or play coy. After all, she was a sensual creature. That open, honest sexuality had always made his pulse pound and his cock ache. Nothing had changed in the last thirteen years except that she’d ratcheted up her effect on him.

Her stare tangled with his as she slid one of her arms up and around his neck, anchoring her closer to him. The other she slid to his thigh, then around his body to cup one cheek of his ass.

Gritting his teeth, Roman held her in his strong grip. If he let her go, he would shove his cock inside her before he’d explored her body as thoroughly as he ached to. The temptation to bend her over, shove his slacks and boxers down, and fuck her until they both screamed out and found relief was strong. He’d done that plenty of times in their past. But after waiting so long for her again, he didn’t want this over fast. He intended to drag it out, make her feel every sensation he could heap on her. He wanted more.

Shooting her a cocky grin, he withdrew his fingers and took a step back. “No orgasm yet, Augustine. I want to taste you. I didn’t get my mouth on you last night. I want you to come all over my tongue. Panties off. Lay on the bed. Spread your legs for me.”

“I shouldn’t. I know how this ends but…” She pushed the tiny scrap of silk off her hips as if she didn’t have an insecurity in the world and strode to the bed, sending him a come-hither glance over her shoulder. “I want to see if this is as good as I remember.”

God, he wanted that, too. He needed to know for his sanity.

She did his bidding, sliding her gorgeous body across the bed and spreading her legs for him. Roman stared for a moment, taking in the sight of the best pussy he’d ever had. He’d wanted to live between her legs when he was younger. Despite the years and reaching the pinnacle of power, he still couldn’t think of any place he’d rather be.

On the other hand, he recog

nized their old pattern. They’d always fought, then fucked, only to start the cycle all over again. Sometimes it had happened so fast he hadn’t even recalled what they’d been fighting about. One minute he’d been yelling about something he would have sworn was vital. The next he would have his tongue deep inside her, lapping her up and soaking in her taste, dizzy with her scent, right before he plunged into her with every ounce of his strength. But he wasn’t twenty-five anymore. He didn’t want to hurry their foreplay just to get inside her tonight; he also didn’t want to revert to screaming, then patching things up in bed.

He wrapped his hands around her ankles and removed her shoes. Those fuck-me heels were a crutch for her, a shield that showed the world how powerful she was, but she didn’t need them while she was with him. If he was careful, if he showed her that he could be good to her, she wouldn’t feel the urge to protect herself from him, just surrender everything that made her the woman he’d never been able to forget.

Surprise widened her eyes. “I thought you liked the shoes.”

Something he’d never felt before gripped him: pure possessiveness. The moment that had seemed merely sexy seconds before now felt precious. He didn’t know why but he damn well intended to experience her even as he imprinted himself on her indelibly.

He drew her foot to his lips, kissing the pretty, painted tips of her toes. “I like you more. I like you even better when you’re completely naked and open to me.”

He dragged his lips across her arch, up to her ankles. Odd that he found her feet so pretty. But everything about Augustine lured him. Her calves were firm and round, her knees dimpled and lovely. Why hadn’t he taken this kind of time with her before? He’d spent a year in her bed, but every encounter had been fraught with urgency, with stirred anger and whipped passion. And fear. He’d both been afraid of getting caught with her and being caught up in her.

No, he’d been most fearful of how completely he lost himself in her.

He smoothed his fingertips up her legs, loving how velvety her skin felt under his palm. What would have happened way back when if he’d slowed down? Would he have felt this searing need? Would he have felt then how right it was to touch her, like he did right now? Would he have fallen even more in love?