Mr. Romantic: A Mister Standalone (The Mister Series Book 2) Page 10

  That’s… a thing? “You liked that?” I look at his legs, all wet with the come I spit out.

  “Liked?” he says. “Fucking loved it. You’re a blow job natural, Ivy.” And then he leans down and kisses me on the lips. “That’s what I taste like,” he says, pulling away. And then he slips his fingers inside my mouth and says, “This is what you taste like.”

  I taste sweet. He tastes salty.

  He kisses me on the mouth again. “I gotta go find a condom. Just relax for a second.”

  I rest my head back on the covers and stare up at the ceiling. I came. My fingers dip between my legs, amazed at how wet it is down there. I came with a guy. And I sucked his dick. And I liked it.

  When he had his fingers inside me, it hurt. I thought for sure he’d know. I thought for sure there’d be blood or something to give away my secret. But he didn’t. He just kept going.

  I’m smiling when Nolan returns, rolling the condom over his still fully-erect cock.

  He bounces on the bed next to me, lying back and patting his stomach. “Climb on, Ivy. Face me this time so I can squeeze your tits and slap your ass at the same time.”

  Jesus.

  But it surprises me how happy he seems. All the walls he had earlier are down.

  Is that all it takes to get a man to open up to you? Sex?

  “Come on, baby. I’m ready to go again.” He pulls me towards him, and when I swing my leg over his middle, he slaps my ass hard and says, “Hurry. I need to be inside you.”

  This is when I get nervous. A finger or two is not that giant cock I just had in my mouth. “I like it slow, remember?”

  “I’m OK with slow.” And then he winks. “At first.”

  Oh, God. All my bravery is gone. I’m really going to let him put his dick in me.

  And it’s going to hurt, hurt, hurt. Just like those girls said on that forum.

  I hover over him, hesitant. And just as I’m about to tell him maybe this isn’t a good idea, he says, “Wait.”

  “Wait?”

  “Yeah, hold on.” His fingers slide between my legs, pushing into my pussy. “Let me get you good and wet.”

  Oh, yeah. I’ve read about lube. We’re not using lube, but I’m slick down there.

  “Fuck, Ivy.”

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” He laughs. “Nothing at all. You’re just so goddamned wet. I want to lick your pussy so bad.”

  “We can do that instead,” I say, hopeful.

  “Fuck that. We can do that all night. Right now, all I want is for you to push yourself down on my cock and let me fuck you—”

  “Slow,” I remind him.

  “Right. We can do it slow.”

  I take a deep breath and ease myself down. He guides the tip of his dick into my opening, pushing against my folds.

  It fucking hurts! Those girls were right. It fucking hurts!

  “Relax,” Nolan says. “Why are you so tense?” He massages my shoulders for a second and I try to relax. I think I read once that tensing up makes pain worse. But that was for like, a broken ankle or something. Not losing your virginity.

  “That’s better,” he says. “And I get it, you like it slow. But not too slow, right?”

  He likes it fast and hard. He’s said this a few times already. So I smile and say. “Not too slow.”

  “Good,” he says, like he really means it.

  I don’t want to disappoint him or make him suspicious. So I ease down a little more. It’s feels like my vagina is being ripped open. But I bite back the moan of pain and bury my head in his shoulder.

  Nolan responds by wrapping his arms around me and moving his hips in a gentle sideways motion.

  It feels good. The pain recedes, and the way he’s moving makes me arch my back. Somehow, he’s hitting my clit.

  “Do you like that?” Nolan asks when a soft moan fills the room.

  “Yes.” I don’t even recognize my voice. My mind is filled with the pleasure.

  I ease my hips down a little more, sinking over his cock. Covering him, like the girl described in her post. I feel in control. Like I’m the one calling the shots.

  “Move your hips with mine, Ivy. Yeah,” he says, when I respond. “Like that. You’re driving me fucking crazy with this slow stuff.”

  But I like it. It’s perfect. I’m used to his thickness now. The stretching feeling is going away. I’m actually enjoying myself.

  “I’d like to flip you over, Ivy. Push your face into the mattress. I’d pound you hard. I’d pull your fucking hair so hard, pull your head so far back, you’d have to look me in the eyes as my other hand wrapped around your throat. I’d kiss your mouth as I made you come all over my dick.”

  I can feel my next orgasm building. I’m bewildered by all of this. The way he’s talking to me. What he’s doing to me. It’s everything I thought it’d be. He is everything in bed. Everything a girl wants.

  “Come, Ivy. Come right now.”

  I do. I come. I come and he holds me close, makes me feel so close to him. I bite his shoulder as the wave of pleasure makes me shudder. And I wait for him to do the same. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t stop, his hips never stop that motion. And before I know it, he’s thrusting up against me. I realize then that he wasn’t fully inside me… but he is now.

  I scream from the pain, and all Nolan hears is the pleasure of my orgasm. Because he breathes hard in my ear, saying, “Yes, yes, yes,” over and over again. And then he stops. “My turn, Ivy. My way now.”

  He rolls us over, his crushing weight pushing me into the bed, but all I’m thinking about is the relief of not having him pounding his dick into me.

  A second later I’m face down on the mattress, his chest pushing hard against my back. His mouth on the back of my neck. “Now you’ll see how I do it. None of that soft shit, Ivy. I like it hard. And when I’m done, you’ll like it hard too.”

  He grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. just the way he told me he would.

  He pulls hard, making me look up at the ceiling. I concentrate on it as he thrusts his dick back into my pussy.

  I scream again, the pain shooting through my body.

  “Fuck, yes,” Nolan says, his face hovering over mine now. Hiding the view of the ceiling. “Scream, Ivy. I like the way you scream.”

  He fucks me.

  Hard. And when he’s ready, he pulls out, rips the condom off, flips me over, and says, “Open your fucking mouth.”

  I do it automatically. Like I’m under some kind of spell. And then he comes all over my face, my tongue, my hair.

  And when he’s done, he collapses on top of me, rolls to the side when I grunt and try to escape, and wraps his arms around me. “We’re going to do this again. Later, when I’m not so sleepy and content.”

  I cry into my pillow, sticky and wet from his come. I wipe as much of it as I can on the pillowcase and then just lie still as the hours tick off. I don’t fall asleep until there’s a crack of light coming through the closed blinds.

  I feel like I just barely closed my eyes when Nolan gets up and walks into the bathroom. I roll over and watch him disappear inside, then scoot over on to the other side of the bed so he won’t get any funny ideas about fucking me again when he comes back. I pretend to sleep. I squeeze my eyes closed and start breathing heavy. Faking it.

  He returns a few minutes later, but he doesn’t join me in bed. I feel a wave of relief. I can’t fuck him again. Ever. He’s too much. Way too much. That hurt so bad last night. It wiped away all the stuff I loved. I will never have sex again, I know it. My vagina is permanently damaged.

  “What the fuck, Ivy?” Nolan asks, annoyed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were on your period? I would’ve put a towel down.”

  “I’m not—” I stop. Because I realize what’s on the bed. Blood. Evidence of my lie.

  But before I can say anything else, someone is pounding on his door.

  “Nolan!” Claudette’s voice booms from outside. �
��Open this fucking door, right now!”

  Chapter Seventeen - Nolan

  “I thought you said your sister was out of town?”

  I just stare at Ivy, ignoring my sister’s tantrum. “What do you mean you’re not on your period? Then why were you bleeding last night?” It’s not a lot of blood, but it’s definitely blood.

  “Nolan,” Ivy says. “I can explain.”

  “Explain what?”

  Claudette is still pounding on the front door to the room. In fact, she might be kicking it.

  “I just…”

  “Wait,” I say, putting the pieces together. “No. It’s not possible. You’re… you were a virgin? Jesus Christ, Ivy! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  She jumps up from the bed as I pull on some shorts. “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” I look around for her clothes, realize she came here in a bathing suit, and then fish through my drawers until I come up with a shorts and t-shirt for her too. “Put these on,” I say, throwing them at her.

  “Why are you mad?”

  I grab my hair to think this through as I pace the room. Claudette is still throwing her fit. “I took your virginity?”

  Ivy pulls the shorts up and then hastily drags the t-shirt over her head. “Why are you mad about it?”

  “Why didn’t you say something? Holy shit. I fucked you hard, Ivy. You can’t tell me that it felt good!”

  “Some of it did.”

  “Some of it?” I just shake my head at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” When she says nothing I get angry. “Ivy Rockwell, I need that fucking answer. Now.”

  “Because you might not have wanted to.”

  “Is this the reason you came here? To trick me into taking your virginity?”

  “You’re the one who invited me here!” she yells. “You came on to me!”

  I need to calm down. I need a deep breath and about ten minutes to think about this, and I can’t fucking do that with my goddamned sister screaming outside.

  “I didn’t trick you, Nolan,” Ivy says.

  “But you didn’t tell me, either. Why not? And don’t say because I might have put a stop to it. That’s fucking lame. It’s my right not to fuck you, isn’t it? So what you did, Ivy, was fucking dishonest. Do you have any idea how bad this looks from my point of view?”

  “Nolan, look—”

  But before Ivy can finish, Claudette comes barging in, having apparently given up hope that I will answer the door and used her master key. “Get away from him, Ivy.”

  “Jesus Christ. I’m not dangerous, Claudette. She doesn’t need your protection. Believe me, she’s got her secrets too.”

  “That’s why I’m here, Nolan. She certainly does have her secrets. Did you know she lied on her résumé?”

  “I did not lie!” Ivy yells.

  “Are you trying to tell me that you actually did graduate Brown with an MBA, Ivy? Because I’ve already checked, honey. You’re as fake as that blonde hair you have.”

  “I don’t dye my hair!”

  “Enough!” I say. “Enough. Now what the fuck is going on here?”

  “That résumé she sent us is a lie!” Claudette yells.

  “I didn’t send you people a résumé! You came knocking on my door!” Ivy’s face is red and she’s breathing hard, clutching the t-shirt at her chest like she needs something to hold onto.

  I took her virginity. I made her give me a blow job. I flipped her over and fucked her hard. I thought she was screaming out of pleasure, but it was fake. It was all a lie.

  I hold absolutely still. And in that moment, everything goes still. Ivy goes still. Claudette goes still. And there are about three seconds of complete silence before I look at Ivy.

  “You lied to me.”

  “Nolan,” she says, taking a step towards me.

  “Stop,” I say. “And answer my question. Did you graduate Brown with an MBA?”

  She shakes her head, her face nothing but a frown.

  I glance at Claudette and find a satisfied look on her face, her arms crossed over her chest, her chin tipped up in smugness, like she’s so very proud that she caught Ivy in this lie. And she doesn’t even know about the other lie yet.

  Two lies. Two. I don’t put up with lies. Not even one lie. So the fact that Ivy Rockwell tricked me into taking her virginity and lied on her résumé… well, I can’t.

  “I think you need to leave, Ivy. It was nice meeting you.”

  Ivy sighs, then nods her head, walks across the bungalow, and out the door.

  I look back at Claudette.

  “I knew there was something weird about her, Nolan. I told her to stay away from you.”

  “Yeah,” I say, angry with her too. “You told her I was dangerous. Just what the fuck, Claudette? Why the hell would you say something like that?”

  “I’m not the bad guy here, Nolan. I told her to stay away from you for your protection. And it’s clear I was right. She was lying to get close to you, don’t you see it?”

  I can see it, that’s the part I hate so much. Ivy wanted me for something, but she didn’t want me.

  She wanted to tell her friends that she tricked the infamous Mr. Romantic into taking her virginity. She wanted me to believe she was something she’s not. She played with me, from the moment she stepped off the jet, right up until the moment she left my room.

  I fucked her.

  I can’t even think about what it felt like for her last night. I can’t even think about how she will probably twist this story. I can’t even think about seeing my face on the news again.

  I don’t fuck virgins for a reason. I don’t want to be careful and I don’t want to be someone’s trophy. I don’t want to be a story that gets told over and over.

  “You slept with her,” Claudette says. “Didn’t you?”

  I nod, but I don’t look at her. I just go back to my bed and start ripping off the sheets before Claudette—

  “Is that blood?”

  Fuck.

  “Nolan, please tell me you didn’t get rough with her. We don’t need any more shame brought on our family name because of you.”

  “Of course not,” I snarl. And I didn’t. It was definitely rough by virgin standards, but I’m not someone who likes sexual blood play. “And fuck you for even thinking that.”

  “Then why are you changing the sheets? Why is there blood—Oh, good God. She wasn’t a virgin. Was she?”

  “Yup,” I say. “She was. But she isn’t now.”

  “I cannot believe that sneaky little bitch.”

  I sigh. Because I can’t either. I never saw it coming. I saw exactly what she wanted me to see. An innocent college grad looking for her first big opportunity.

  Well, she got more out of this than I did, that’s for sure. So even if she’s not the business-school prodigy I thought she was, she’s damn cunning. She got me.

  “I’m calling the pilot right now,” Claudette says. “She’s out of here. Xavier,” Claudette says into her phone. “I need the jet fueled and ready to take Miss Rockwell back to Rhode Island immediately.”

  “That’s probably the best idea,” I say, balling up the sheets and tossing them into the corner for the maids to take care of. I sit back down on the mattress and hang my head in my hands, scrubbing them up and down my face for a few seconds.

  I’m disappointed.

  I’m really fucking disappointed. How could I have been so blind? How could I not have noticed the way she was writhing when I flipped her over and started fucking her from behind? How could I not have seen this coming?

  How could Mr. Corporate make such a huge mistake?

  I reach for my phone on the bedside table and thumb through my contacts until I find his face. Claudette is still talking, her words coming out in a rush that I need to ignore. I can’t.

  I press Corporate’s contact. But it goes to voicemail, even when I try his office. Not even his assistant is answering his calls today. It’s Saturday. A
nd she said he had a full schedule of meetings today.

  It’s not unusual for him to work weekends. He does whatever it takes to headhunt the perfect corporate executive. Meets them wherever they are. Travels all over the world.

  And maybe it’s not so weird that he doesn’t pick up? How would I know? I’ve barely talked to him over the years. I’m only talking to him now because Perfect and I are still sorta close and he recommended I ask Corporate for help in finding a manager.

  I end that call and tuck my phone in my shorts pocket.

  “I’m outta here,” I say, dialing the front desk on the hotel phone. “Get my car ready, Denise.” I hang up and look at Claudette. “I’m going back to San Diego for the rest of the weekend. You can hold things down?”

  Claudette stops rambling on about Ivy Rockwell, and she nods. “Of course, Nol. Of course. I’ll take care of everything. Don’t worry. I’m sorry you got hurt by this. You know I just want to protect you, right?”

  “I know,” I say as I pull a shirt on and slip my feet into some old Chucks I’ve had since college.

  We walk out of the bungalow together, make our way into the main building, and then say goodbye in the lobby.

  My little silver Porsche Carrera is already waiting and I can’t get in fast enough. I tip the valet and slide behind the wheel, eager to forget about this day before it even properly starts. It’s only nine AM.

  I shift into gear and speed down the resort driveway, the tall palm trees I paid almost half a million dollars to ship and plant blurring by as I pass.

  Why? Why did Ivy do this? How did I misread her so badly? Was it Claudette? Did she somehow taint my instincts? Was I just being stupid? Horny? I’ve been out here for two weeks. No girls, no clubs to run, no fun.

  But Ivy has to have an explanation.

  Doesn’t she?

  Chapter Eighteen - Ivy

  I am already packed since I barely brought anything. So all I have to do is slip my shoes on and grab my carry-on bag.

  I guess you blew it, Ivy.

  I guess I did.