Mr. Romantic: A Mister Standalone (The Mister Series Book 2) (19 page)

I never take my eyes off her. She swallows hard and all I can think about is how it felt to be in her mouth last night. The way her muscles moved against my dick when she swallowed. I wish she was facing me when I unloaded my come in her mouth. I wish I could see the way it must’ve dripped out when I took her by surprise.

Ivy nods her head yes to my question and that’s all the permission I need. I take her hand and lead her into the shower, pushing her under the water, and then pushing her some more, so she has to bring her hands up and place them on the wall if she doesn’t want to crash into the marble.

I press my body against her back, my dick so hard it slips between her ass cheeks, and now it’s my turn to moan. “Do you remember asking me to fuck you in the ass last night, Ivy?”

“I take it back.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. “I’m not gonna, you silly anal virgin. I just wanted to remind you how horny you were. So turned on, you almost begged me for it.”

“I couldn’t help it, I was scared.”

Awww
. I actually feel bad. “I can make it up to you.”

“I’m sore, Nolan. I don’t think I can.”

“I’ll be careful this time,” I whisper in her ear. “I promise.”

She hesitates as I wait. “Tell your secret first. I want to know why they call you Mr. Romantic.”

“You know that will change things, right?”

“Why?”

I start kissing her neck, my lips pressing against her soft skin, my teeth unable to stop the small nibbles. “Because it actually is romantic,” I say. “The name isn’t ironic, Ivy. They call me Mr. Romantic because I was doing something very romantic back in college.”

“What?” She turns her head, and I take the opportunity to kiss her on the lips. She opens for me and all I want is to put my cock back inside her. Inside her pussy. Between her lips. But I settle for my tongue. For now.

“I…” I want to laugh. Because it’s ridiculous. “I had a thing for drawing girls while I fucked them. And you know what?”

“What?” she whispers into my mouth. “Tell me what.”

“They liked it. They thought it was romantic. I was good at it. And it got around school that I liked to do this. And that’s why they call me Mr. Romantic.”

She pulls back and turns around. I let her because I want to look at her tits again. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” I say. “I swear.” I squeeze both nipples at the same time and she closes her eyes. “But there’s more to it than that. Everything has a catch, Ivy. When you stepped into this house there was a catch.”

“You want to fuck me.”

“Hell, yes. And I’m going to.”

“What if I say no?”

“You won’t. Now listen to the catch, OK? Because this is what makes all the difference. The catch was…” I can’t believe I’m talking about this again. It’s not good. I should shut the fuck up.

“What?” Ivy asks. “Tell me. Tell me what it was.”

“The catch is that I like to do things to them during sex. Rough things. And so after I pose them in just the right way, and after I draw most of it, I add those rough things to the drawing and ask them if they
’
ve ever done it before. Ask them if they
’
d like to try it.”

“What kind of things?” She’s afraid. I can tell. Her eyes are wide and she’s breathing faster.

“Choking, for one.”

She gulps air as my palm rests on her neck. Her eyes flutter as my thumb presses against her jugular vein.

“So I dangle the bait and see if they bite. Does it turn them on to see the drawing? Or do they walk out?
”

“How many walked out?”

I lean into her ear and whisper, “Only one.”

I take my hand off her throat and she opens her eyes. “Why do you do it?”

“It turns me on. You wouldn’t understand. You’ve never really been with a guy.”

“I was with you. Last night.”

I shrug and step back. “I was holding back. Plus I don’t do it much these days.”

“You still draw?”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

“I can’t. I burn them afterward. I don’t keep the pictures.”

“Then draw
me
. And prove it.”

“I will, Ivy. If that’s what you want. But I like to fuck hard afterward and you need it soft.”

“I don’t believe you. I think you’re lying. I think you’re the one responsible for my fake r
é
sum
é
. I think you brought me here.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. But it was you. I know it.”

“Then why are
you
here?”

She has no answer for that.

“I know why you’re here, Ivy.”

“Why?” She straightens her shoulders like she’s trying to be brave. Like I’m scaring the shit out of her and she’s forcing herself to remain calm.

“You told me. You want me to fuck you. So let me. Let me fuck you again and this time, you won’t cry afterward.”

Her eyes narrow. “You knew I was crying?”

“No. But I’ve thought about it. I’ve run the whole thing back in my mind and I get it. I hurt you. And it wasn’t my intention. I just like to fuck a certain way. And if I had known you were a virgin, well
…
” I laugh.

“You wouldn’t have touched me.”

“I would
not
have touched you. I can’t risk another girl misunderstanding my intentions and accusing me of rape again, now can I?”

“You did rape her, didn’t you?”

“I did not.”

“She
thought
you did, though. Didn’t she?”

“She didn’t, Ivy. I swear. It was nothing like that.”

“Then tell me what it was like.”

“No.”

“Then why should I trust you?”

“I never really asked you to trust me, Ivy. I just wanted to fuck you.”

“And now you want to fuck me again?”

“Yes. Again, and again, and again. I feel a little possessive of you now. Like I have a claim. Like you’re mine.”

She licks her lips, but it’s a nervous gesture.

“I’ll be careful,” I say. “I can make it up to you, Ivy.” I place my hand on her cheek and press her back against the tile. The whole shower is steaming up from the hot water and a mist floats between us. A thin mist that might as well be a wall. “I’ll show you why they call me Mr. Romantic. You won’t be disappointed.”

She just stares into my eyes.

“Say something.”

“I can’t,” she whispers.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t trust myself.”

I grin.
Oh, you little fucking virgin
. “You don’t need to trust yourself, you just need to follow my lead.”

“I can’t do that either. Something is missing.”

“You know what’s missing, Ivy? My dick inside you again, that’s what’s missing. I know you’re inexperienced, so I’m gonna talk you through this. Turn around, press your hands on the tile above your head, and open your legs.”

“No.” She licks her damn lip as she says it. And then she says it again. “No.”

“Then what are we doing here?”

“Negotiating, Mr. Delaney. Isn’t that what one does in a business agreement?”

“Is this business?”

“It is now.”

I tuck my head down to hide the grin. “OK,” I say, looking back up at her. “Let’s make a deal. What do you want?”

“The truth about that night.”

“Can’t do it, Ivy. I haven
’
t told anyone. Not my sister, not my friends, not my father, not even my mother. And if I
were
going to tell someone, it would be my mother, not you.”

Her shoulders relax and she takes a deep breath. “So you’re a mama’s boy?”

I shrug. “Maybe. But I’ll tell you what. I’ll play the game with you, if that’s what gets you off. I’ll draw you. I’ll pose you and draw you. Naked, out there in bedroom. And then you’ll see that what I just said is true.”

“What do I have to give you?” she asks.

“Turn around. Press your hands on the tile above your head. And open your legs.”

“What will you do then?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

“I want to know
now
, Nolan.” Her chest is rising and falling even faster now, letting me know her heart is beating fast. She’s scared. Really, truly scared.

“Do it and I’ll show you. You know you want to. Or you’d be out of here. And don’t give me some stupid excuse that you have no ride or you’re on the wrong side of the country. If you think I’d strand you with no ride home, then I don’t want you here.”

I wait her out as she considers her options, but the seconds tick off and I know she won’t make a decision unless I push her. “Decide, Ivy. I’ve got better ways to spend the day than standing here in the shower waiting for you. How will you ever be in charge of anything if you can’t make your own decisions?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Who said anything about fair? Fuck fair. If life was fair, I’d have my college degree right now. If life was fair, my father would still care about me. If life was fair, I wouldn’t have been accused of rape. Life has never been fair. Not for me. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

Chapter Twenty-Two - Ivy

I shouldn’t believe him. I should just push him away, put my clothes on, and demand that he takes me home.

The problem is… I don’t want to do any of that. The problem is… I want to do everything he just commanded. The problem is I feel powerless and powerful in the same instant.

I can walk out or I can make him do things to me that most people only dream about. I can stand firm and go home wanting or I can give in and go home satisfied. I can learn his secret or I can remain ignorant.

I turn around. I stretch my arms up, my breasts rising with the motion, and place my palms flat on the cold marble tile.

And I open my legs.

Nolan bends down and I get nervous. I look over my shoulder and I’m sure I’m going to pass out from the fear coursing through my veins, and the steam I have to inhale, and the heat that surrounds my body.

Nolan places both of his hands flat on my ass cheeks, spreading them apart. His tongue darts in and licks. Not my asshole, not my pussy, but somewhere in between. “That,” Nolan says, “is a beautiful fucking sight.”

He caresses my opening with his tongue and stands back up. I have to rest my head against the tile too. It’s spinning out of control.
I’m
spinning out of control.

“Don’t worry,” he says, pushing his chest against my back, one leg pressing between mine so he can stimulate me. “I won’t fuck you.”

“What?”

“You can control that, Ivy. See how generous and fair I’m being? Hmmm?” He nips my earlobe and I suck in a breath. “We can do that your way. But I’m going to make you earn that drawing.”

“You want me to suck your dick again?”

“Well, sure. But not now.”

His hand fists my breast, squeezing it so tight I let out a squeak from the pain. And then he eases up and his fingertips glide down to my waist, over the curve of my hip, and reach between my legs.

He strokes me in small circles. Tiny, tiny,
tiny
circles when all I want is something big to be right there.

“More,” I say. “I want more.”

“More what, Ivy?”

“Press harder,” I hear myself say. “Push them inside me.” Goddammit. Why am I letting him make me do this?

He’s not making you do anything, Ivy. You want this.

And I do.

My wish is granted. He strums my clit faster and faster and I start moaning. My moans echo off the walls, and the ceiling, and inside my brain. All I hear is my own pleasure when the strumming stops and he slips a finger inside me.

“You want to know what it feels like to have a cock in your ass, Ivy?”