Razzle Dazzle Page 19

  Roman increased his speed—he’d waited long enough. There was always a point where Roman could no longer control the intensity of his thrusts. He would fuck uncontrollably until he was spent. That was part of the reason he was so careful to make sure Jack was completely ready.

  Roman reached the point of not being able to stop, and tore his gaze from the mirror, concentrating on the spot he was slamming into. His balls pulled up into his body, and as soon as he felt the first pulse in Jack’s ass, he yelled out a guttural sound and pumped his jism deep inside Jack. Roman held his dick all the way in, allowing Jack’s spasms to continue milking his cock as Jack finished.

  They both gasped for air, neither one wanting to be the first to move. As Roman’s penis softened and slid out of Jack, he lowered his leg to the floor for better balance. He reached under Jack’s torso with one arm and gently helped him become upright again. Jack groaned.

  “Oh, my back. And my legs.”

  “My poor angel,” Roman said in a pouty voice. “Look what I’ve done to you.”

  Roman scooped a surprised Jack into his arms and carried him to the bed. He lightly tossed Jack down and climbed in next to him. Roman hovered over him, looking down into Jack’s eyes. He stroked Jack’s face with the back of his hand then lovingly rubbed Jack’s chest. Roman sighed. Every gesture he performed on him was a testament to the difference Jack had made in Roman as a person. When he was with Jack, Roman felt human.

  Roman bent to kiss Jack’s lips and savoured them for a while. When he broke away, he smiled down at Jack.

  He finally said it. He loves me.

  Even as the thought entered Roman’s mind, he reminded himself of a schoolgirl. But it was not to be helped. That was how he felt, and he wasn’t going to fight it. There was no reason to—Jack was his.

  Jack had a deliciously sore ass, and he was comfortably held in Roman’s arms. And he loved Roman, he was sure of it. Every sweet, thoughtful thing Roman did had made Jack’s heart finally fill to bursting. He couldn’t deny his feelings, even if he still felt a little twinge of guilt deep down where he didn’t want to look. He needed to be in the present, and look forward to his future. The future that he was sure would now include Roman, for always.

  Jack gave a long contented sigh.

  “Feeling good, are we?”

  Roman stroked the top of Jack’s head, as Jack lay on Roman’s chest, one arm draped across it, and a leg slung over Roman’s legs.

  “Just wonderful, Roman.”

  Jack was so sated that he hadn’t even thought of having a cigarette right after. It appeared that Roman hadn’t either. It was good that they were so comfortable with one other.

  “My dear Jack, I fear that I’ve been horribly selfish, and have been keeping you prisoner here…”

  “Oh I didn’t think that…”

  “Shush, Jack, I’m trying to tell you something.”

  “Sorry.”

  “As I was saying, we haven’t been anywhere in days—other than that detestable studio—and even though I’m loath to take you from our sanctuary here, I thought it might be nice to take a trip somewhere.”

  Jack leaned up excitedly on one elbow to look at Roman. “Really?

  Roman smiled up at him. “Why yes, my angel. Where would you like to go?”

  Not again.

  Another question Jack wouldn’t have the answer to, just like the menu choices. The only trip he had ever taken was the one that had brought him to California, and that hadn’t been for pleasure. Where did people go just because they wanted to?

  “Uh… Where do you think would be good?”

  Roman smiled at Jack knowingly. “Ah, I see. Well, we both don’t have any fucking film commitments in a few weeks. You’ll be done with your next Marvin Holst extravaganza, and I’ll be starting a picture with Global’s newest wonder director the following week, so we would have the in between to sneak away. It will still be October, so we should be okay as far as the weather—”

  “That’s perfect!”

  Roman looked at Jack, a little annoyed. Jack knew he had a bad habit of interrupting people—Nick used to always remind him. Jack cringed at the thought.

  “I can see you realise what you just did, but now I have to know. What’s perfect?”

  “I’m sorry, Roman.”

  “Never mind that. Perfect?”

  “Oh. Yeah. I was just thinking my birthday’s that week—”

  Roman sat straight up. “Birthday? Well why didn’t you say so, my dear Jack?”

  Now who’s interrupting?

  “I don’t know. It’s never been that big of a deal anyway.”

  “Well it is to me. How old will you be?”

  Jack was surprised at Roman’s question. Somehow he’d just assumed that Roman already knew his age—he’d seemed to know so much about him when they first met. Now he was nervous. What if Roman didn’t realise how young he really was, and changed his mind about them being together? That was one of the many things that had gone through Jack’s mind after Nick had left. Maybe he’d thought that Jack just wasn’t mature enough.

  “Jack, you have that worried look on your face. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

  “I guess I thought you knew my age already.”

  “As soon as you tell me, I shall. So?”

  Jack squirmed. “I’ll be twenty.”

  Roman raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat. “I see. A little younger than I’d thought, but there’s nothing wrong with that. Now that that’s been settled, what day is your birthday?”

  “October twenty-third.”

  “How delightful. As it turns out, my birthday is November eleventh. I think we should have a joint celebration when we go away. I was thinking Catalina Island, how does that sound?”

  An island?

  “It sounds swell, Roman. So how old will you be?”

  Roman rolled his eyes. “Let’s not ruin a perfect evening, shall we?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “When you get to my age, you shall. To ease your fears, I’m not quite old enough to be your father, at least not in any acceptable sense.”

  “I don’t have any fears about you Roman, I love you.”

  Roman’s eyes softened. “And this is why I can’t resist you, Jack. You are full of such innocence and wonder.

  As was typical, Jack wasn’t entirely sure what Roman was talking about, but everything between them seemed okay. And that was all that mattered.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The film that he and Trixie had been filming had just wrapped, and it was a huge relief. Jack wasn’t entirely sure he’d done such a great job, as he’d been so distracted worrying about Roman all the time. Roman had been so wound up the past few weeks that Jack hadn’t known what to do.

  Everything had been going as it always had—incredible nights of sex, going to some of the restaurants Roman had promised to take him to and lolling around Roman’s estate. They had taken the occasional swim, and Roman had finally shown Jack the rest of the house that included an indoor pool for the winter and a set of weights that helped Roman maintain his physique. Jack had wondered about that, as Roman didn’t seem to be too fond of physical activity—unless it involved ravishing Jack’s ass.

  One of the best things they’d done, however, was to go back to Santa Barbara, not only for El Encanto, but to watch the polo matches on a Sunday. There were many other stars there, and it had been terribly exciting. Jack had been thrilled as the players rode the ponies hard, dirt kicking up everywhere, the fight for the ball intense. Roman had explained to Jack that it was actually a very dangerous sport, and that it wasn’t unusual for there to be injuries, or even a death if a rider fell, and a horse trampled or landed on him. After that information, Jack had been even more on edge.

  On that trip, Jack had actually got to meet both Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks, but he had been too panicked to say much of anything. Roman had handled everything perfectly—as he always did—so Jack
had been saved once more.

  But then things had taken a darker turn. The first morning Jack had needed to be up early for his first day of shooting, Roman had kept him up all night before, saying that if he had to be kept apart from his other half he would need his fill of Jack before he left. Roman had taken Jack over and over, much to Jack’s amazement. Even though Jack could come two or three times a night, he had been exhausted before they were through. He couldn’t imagine how Roman had done it when he claimed to be so much older.

  From there, things had only become tenser. Roman had pouted whenever Jack had to leave, and it had broken Jack’s heart. He’d professed his love over and over, but nothing would soothe Roman. Jack’s stomach would twist the entire way to the studio, and sometimes for most of the day. He’d wished he’d known how to reassure Roman that everything was okay, and that it would only be for a couple of weeks. The film he and Trixie had done was a frothy comedy with the two of them playing the sweethearts of the picture, so Jack had known it wouldn’t be a long shoot. But still, Roman had even been incensed over the film itself. He’d kept raging that Trixie was ‘all wrong’ for Jack, and that ‘the fucking studios don’t know what they are doing’.

  Roman had sent flowers to him every day, and Jack had told him how much they meant to him, but that hadn’t been enough. Sometimes Roman had appeared unannounced on the set, demanding that Jack be released for a couple of hours for lunch. It was awkward for Jack, and he’d been sure that most of the cast and crew resented him. He had been so thankful to at least have Trixie on his side—even if she didn’t seem to be so keen on Roman anymore. Marvin had tolerated Roman to a certain extent—as they went way back—but at one point he’d pulled Jack aside and said, “Watch out, kid. You have a promising career, but these antics of Roman’s are going to get you a reputation.”

  Then the gifts had begun to pile up. Jack would return home at night—Juan, not the studio, driving him back and forth—and discover that Roman had been shopping all day. The bedroom would be filled with presents for Jack, and when he’d protested the first time, he’d thought that Roman was going to come apart.

  “You told me I could do whatever it was that made me happy, remember? Well, this makes me happy, Jack. If I can’t have you by my side where you belong, then I can at least spend my lonely days acquiring beautiful things for you.”

  So Jack had accepted the gifts, and given back to Roman all that he had to give—his love. Their late nights continued to be passionate, tender and fulfilling. But in the mornings when Jack had to leave, it would be as if none of it had ever happened. Jack would spend his days filled with dread over whether or not things would be all right between him and Roman. Then it would start all over again.

  Thank God this fucking film is over with, and Roman and I can spend the next week together.

  It had been next to impossible to find a birthday gift for Roman. When Jack wasn’t at the studio, Roman insisted that Jack be by his side constantly. That did little in the way of allowing Jack space to surprise Roman. The previous weekend, Jack had asked Roman if they could go shopping, and Jack had thought Roman was going to actually faint. Roman had suspected that Jack was up to something, because Jack had consistently resisted any shopping trips.

  It had taken a lot of pondering on Jack’s part to figure out what he could give to Roman that he would like, and that wouldn’t just be another thing that would get lost in with all of the other extravagant things Roman already had. Jack wanted Roman to have something that reminded him how much Jack loved him, even if they weren’t together every day. He’d thought long and hard before he’d come up with the idea of a poetry book. The only problem with that idea was that Jack knew absolutely nothing about poetry. All he knew was that it had something to do with people who were in love. Since Roman was so cultured, he would understand what Jack was trying to do. Jack had just needed someone to help him a little in picking it out.

  He’d tried Trixie, but her ideas hadn’t been too great.

  “Ya should write him somethin’ honey. I know some limericks ya can borrow. They’re kinda like poems. And they’re real dirty. I bet Roman would like that.”

  She’d shared a couple of verses, and Jack had decided he should try something else. He didn’t know what a ‘nantucket’ was, but it didn’t sound very romantic.

  Jack had settled on the shopping trip to at least get out of the house. Since Roman wouldn’t let Jack out of his sight for even a second, there had been no choice but to finally confess that Jack wanted to buy him a birthday gift, but that he wanted it to be a surprise. All of the past weeks of anguish had been worth it to see how Roman’s face lit up.

  “My dear sweet Jack. We shall go downtown, and while I’m at the Bullock’s Department Store, you may have Juan take you anywhere you’d like.”

  Jack had been so shocked that Roman was actually going to let him out of his sight, that he’d jumped into his arms, and after Roman had swung him around, laughing, their playfulness had delayed their shopping excursion for another hour.

  Jack’s search for the perfect gift for Roman had been nerve-racking. He could read and write well enough—Nick had made sure of that—but there were so many fancy words he didn’t understand still. He’d picked up on some from being around Roman, but they were primarily related to food, drink and sex.

  Just as he’d despaired of ever finding the right thing to give Roman, he’d wandered into a second-hand bookstore. He didn’t want to buy Roman anything used, but everything he’d looked at in the regular stores hadn’t been right. There had been some beautiful-looking old books in the window that had green, red or blue-coloured velvet covers, and fancy writing on the front. When he’d looked at the sides, the volumes had gold around the edges. There had been some like that at the other stores, but they’d had paper jackets, and there hadn’t been anything special about them.

  An older man had come up to Jack and asked him if he’d needed help. Jack needed a lot of help, but he hadn’t been sure what to ask for. After some prodding, Jack had finally admitted that he wanted to get someone special a romantic poetry book, but he didn’t know what kind to get.

  “What does your special lady like?”

  That had been the exact reason Jack had avoided asking for assistance. He had blushed so hard that he’d almost bolted from the store. But he’d been determined to get something nice for Roman, so he’d stayed. Looking around to make sure that no one else could hear him, he’d whispered to the man, “It’s not for a lady.”

  Jack had been poised to run to the car and yell at Juan to drive away fast if the old man had made a ruckus, but Jack had been stunned when he had merely patted Jack on the shoulder, smiled in understanding and had led Jack over to a locked case. After pulling a small key from his pocket and opening the wood-framed glass door, the man had removed a dark blue book with a small amount of gold embossing on the front and the gold edges. It hadn’t seemed very special to Jack, so he hadn’t been sure why the bookseller was trying to get him to buy it.

  The old gentleman had explained to Jack that it was a book of poetry by a man named Walt Whitman, and was called Leaves of Grass. He’d said that the poems weren’t specifically love poems, but more of a celebration of life, and that love was an important part of that. He’d told Jack that it would be an excellent gift to give to anyone that meant a lot to you. Jack had flipped through a few of the pages, and looked at some of what they said. He hadn’t been sure what the few phrases he’d read meant exactly, but they’d made him feel good. He’d decided to buy it. The man had wrapped it up for him, and advised Jack that he should write something in the blank part of the book before he gave it to his special friend.

  That was what Jack had done that day at the studio. And as soon as Juan arrived to pick him up, he could get away from the studio for a while, and just concentrate on him and Roman. They’d be taking a boat out to Catalina in the morning, and Jack wanted to make sure that he wrote the perfect thing in Roman’s book be
fore they left.

  The studio had just called to say that Roman’s new picture was being delayed an additional week because their new director was being difficult.

  Excellent. That gives me two full weeks with Jack.

  Roman sat on his terrace smoking what must have been his tenth cigarette that day. He’d made sure to have Juan leave a little earlier before fetching Jack, so that he could load up on Murads for him. Roman didn’t want to get stuck on that island without his preferred brand. He was finally relaxing a little bit for the first time in ages.

  What really concerned Roman was how he’d been so unprepared for the onslaught of conflicting emotions he’d had when Jack had started his new picture—and which he was still going through, to a degree. The fact that Jack would be in his arms—and not leaving them for at least two weeks—had calmed him considerably.

  I’ve never been like this. He’s worse than a drug.

  He craved Jack’s presence all the time. Whenever Jack was away, he couldn’t seem to concentrate and was even more irritable than usual. Roman couldn’t stop the constant worry that someone else would capture Jack’s heart and take him away. Nothing like that had ever troubled Roman before. He had always been the prize that everyone sought to acquire—and never could. That was because Roman hadn’t been interested in belonging to anyone. He’d wanted his freedom to indulge in whatever pleasures he chose, and with whomever he chose.

  He checked his pocket watch and wondered what was taking his fucking driver so long. He’d made sure that Jack’s birthday trunk that was filled with all of his gifts had already been packed. Hector had also verified that their other trunks were ready to go, and that the hotel in Avalon Bay had reserved two adjoining rooms for them on the top floor. Juan would be transporting them to San Pedro early in the morning where they would board the vessel taking them across the water to the small island off the coast of California.

  Roman didn’t give a shit how early they were leaving—he was going to be inside Jack at least once that night, more if he could convince him. Roman had been careful to always hide his container of white powder, and he needed to be sure that he had it with him for their week away. Roman was so consumed by his lust for Jack that he couldn’t think of anything else.