Mr. Romantic: A Mister Standalone (The Mister Series Book 2) Page 16

  Just as he says the word ass, his fingers are there. Pushing inside me, filling me up. It hurts, but then… it feels good. It feels so fucking good my head spins and the climax is there. Building up, and up, and up until… I am out of control. I am moaning, and screaming, and begging him to never, ever stop this moment.

  He’s laughing as he pulls out and comes on my breasts. I force my eyes open just as the warm gush of semen streams out. And I watch him pump the tip of his thick hard cock as he scoots up my body and places it in my mouth.

  I suck him. I lick him and seal my lips around his head as he continues to pump his hips for a few more seconds before letting out a long breath and falling off to the side.

  His arms wrap me up, positioning me on my side and pulling my back into his chest. “Holy fuck,” he says, breathing heavy from the exertion.

  I feel like I will never get enough air in my lungs. My whole body shuts down as I gasp for air, and understanding, and stillness.

  But then I just give in and enjoy it. I meld against him. His heart is beating as fast as mine. I can feel it against my back. His hand comes up to my breast, but he doesn’t squeeze. He places it flat. Like he’s searching for the beat of my heart too. So we can feel each other in this moment. Feel the excitement we created and the aftermath of calm.

  “I could get used to this, Miss Rockwell. I could do this every night.”

  I push away all my hesitation from earlier. All the fear, and the talk, and the negotiations.

  And I just enjoy it as we fall asleep, wrapped tightly around each other.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven - Nolan

  A buzzing phone wakes me and I sit up in bed, wondering what time it is. Ivy is still asleep, her face awash in yellow-orange light from the setting sun that makes her glow.

  I get up and look around for my shorts and find them in the bathroom. The buzzing has stopped but another buzz tells me there’s a voicemail. I pull the phone out of my pocket, tab it, recognizing Claudette’s number.

  “Nolan,” her message says. “Where is that girl? Did you take her home? Where is she? This is bad news. I need to talk to you now. Now, Nolan. I’m not joking.”

  I end the message and go back into the bedroom. Ivy didn’t wake up so I go out into the hallway, walk along the catwalk that overlooks the living room, and hop down the stairs two at a time.

  I grab a water from the fridge and I’m just about to call Claudette back when the doorbell rings. When I get to the foyer I can see Claudette through the glass doors, standing on the step, hands on hips, looking very pissed off.

  I open it and say, “Jesus Christ, Claudette. I was just going to call you. No need—”

  “Is she here?” Claudette cuts me off.

  “Yeah, why?”

  Claudette pushes past me, ignoring my question. “Where?”

  “Upstairs. And keep your fucking voice down, she’s sleeping.”

  Claudette shoots daggers at me with her eyes. “You fucked her.”

  “What the fuck do you want? And why the hell did you follow me here?”

  “I need to tell you something. But I don’t want her to hear. Let’s go into the kitchen.”

  She doesn’t give me a chance to object or agree, just walks off to the kitchen. I follow, helpless to derail her when she’s in a mood like this.

  The kitchen is open to the living room, so it only offers a little bit of privacy. “What?” I ask her.

  “What do you know about this girl? Ivy Rockwell? How did we get her résumé?”

  “Corporate sent it. Why?” My sister is agitated. Which is not uncommon. She’s about as high-strung as those horses down on the racetrack. Her hair is blonde, but not naturally. And it’s short and has a soft curl that that makes it look bouncy. How the two of us are related is beyond me. My hair is dark, my eyes green. And even though she dyes her hair, it’s not really dark, so the blonde looks good on her. Her eyes are blue though. My mother’s eyes, I suppose, though they are more gray than blue.

  “Well, he’s fucking with you then.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you know who Ivy Rockwell’s father is?”

  “Some pastor up in New England. Why?”

  “Because he’s a little bit more than that, Nolan. He was on the board at Brown.”

  “So?” I’m not following. And my sister likes to make her points in dramatic ways that I have no patience for. “Just tell me what the fuck is going on.”

  “He was on the board when you were expelled, Nolan.”

  “Hmm. Is that weird?”

  “Don’t you think it’s weird?” Her eyes are wide in surprise. “I mean this girl shows up practically uninvited, with a fake résumé, and now we find out her father was on the board when you were kicked out?”

  The five of us weren’t technically expelled. We were ‘asked to leave’ by the administration with the understanding we could return if we were found not guilty. None of us thought it would take two years to clear things up. And by that time, college was nothing but a dead end in the rearview mirror.

  “Did you forget Amy, Nolan? The girl who tried to sue you six months ago?”

  “Shit.” Amy was a manager at one of my clubs. She and I had a similar affair. Not the fantasy stuff. We never got that far. But the whole, I’ll fuck you before I hire you thing. We did fuck. And then I hired her and fired her all in the span of a few months. She was totally incompetent. We didn’t do anything while she was actually working for me, but we did before. And after. Which is why she tried to claim sexual harassment.

  But Match did some digging for me and found out she was an outspoken advocate for the girl who accused us of rape. Some blogger who wrote the most vile things about us online. I don’t know what Match said to her, but the sexual harassment threat disappeared a lot more quietly than it appeared, and I never heard from her again.

  “I think this Ivy girl is in on it.”

  “In on what?”

  “Trying to take you down. You know I was convinced that you were the reason the whole thing blew up.”

  I was the reason. But I never told anyone. Match came and called his friend. And then we were told to shut the fuck up and not say a word, not even to each other.

  So she doesn’t know what I did that night. No one does. Just me and that girl. And she’s dead.

  I sigh and lean against the counter. “For what purpose though? I don’t get it.”

  “Trying to milk us for money, Nolan. How stupid are you?”

  I squint my eyes at my sister. “Don’t call me stupid. I don’t need a college degree to understand your paranoid reasoning, Claudette. I’ve gotten to know Ivy. She’s not like that.”

  “You’ve gotten to know her? In twenty-four hours?”

  “It’s more like thirty-six. And yeah. I think I know her better than you.”

  “She’s trying to trap you. And by the way, Travis confessed that you made him call me and lie about another girl saying she was pregnant. I hope you’re using protection with this one. Or I’ll bet a thousand dollars she ends up pregnant with your child and sues you for support.”

  “I always use protection,” I huff. But it isn’t true. Ivy and I fucked last night with no protection. I pulled out today. Besides, Ivy was the one who tried to warn me she wasn’t on birth control. I was the one who did it anyway. “That girl wasn’t pregnant. And Ivy wouldn’t do something like that. She’s a nice girl.” Far too nice for me, and not because I don’t want her. I do. She’s just a little out of my league.

  “She needs to leave. You need to stop seeing her.”

  “No,” I say. “No. I like her. And as long as she keeps accepting my invitations, I’m not gonna kick her aside.”

  And… she likes the way I fuck. That’s not easy to come by. She’s in for the fantasy, I know it. It’s only a matter of time before we set that shit up. And holy fuck—I cannot wait.

  “You’re going to get hurt, Nolan. I mean it. There’s something fishy about her. Something’
s off.”

  “There’s something off about you too, Claudette.” She recoils and puts her hand over her heart like I offended her. “But you don’t see me kicking you to the curb like trash.”

  “I’m just saying—”

  But my sister’s words are cut off by my buzzing phone in my hand. I look down and smile. “Look, it’s Corporate.” I tab the accept button and say, “Wassup, asshole? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you since yesterday morning.”

  “Yeah, I just got home, man. Sorry about that. Some emergency meeting with a big hush, hush contract. Fuckers are trying to drive me crazy. Now what do ya need?”

  “You know that girl you sent?”

  “Which girl, Nolan? I’ve got like a hundred clients right now.”

  “Ivy Rockwell? New England? Just graduated from Brown?”

  “No, don’t recall. And why the fuck would I send you a recent college grad?” He practically snorts. “What kind of amateur do you think I am?”

  “Wait,” I say.

  “What?” Claudette says. “What’s he saying?”

  “You didn’t send her? Are you sure? Ivy Rockwell? Her résumé said she got her MBA while she was still doing undergrad?”

  “Yeah, right!” Corporate laughs. “Brown would never give up the extra years of tuition money. I’ve never heard of Ivy Rocks-her-face, Nolan. Is this what you wanted to talk to me about? Because I thought it was gonna be about that little deal we’re cooking up for Match.”

  “That’s a no, by the way. I’m not in on that. That girl looks wild. You know Oliver, he’d never go for that. But anyway, fuck that shit. I need to know how the hell Ivy Rockwell got her résumé on my desk and how the hell the jet was sent to pick her up, if you didn’t schedule it.”

  “I didn’t schedule it. And you know what? I’m kinda pissed about that. I needed the fucking jet today and I got a sorry, not sorry message from scheduling saying you’ve got it tied up in San Diego. What the fuck is wrong with you? You don’t schedule the jet for a forty-five-minute ride. Do you have any idea how much that costs? No probably not. That silver spoon is so deep down your throat—”

  “Would you shut up for a minute?” I say. “This is serious. I have Ivy Rockwell here. In my fucking Del Mar house. Claudette says her résumé was fake and her father was a Brown board member, just like that last bitch who weaseled her way into my life.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, brother. I never sent her. Can I have the jet now? I’ve got scheduling on the other line. That’s the real reason I called. I need to take a trip and I can’t fly commercial.”

  “Yeah, sure—”

  “Thanks, man. Good luck with the girl. But if I were you, I’d get her the fuck out of there before you’re behind bars again.”

  Corporate hangs up on me and I’m left standing there trying to figure this all out.

  “What did he say?” Claudette asks.

  “He says he didn’t send her. Has no clue who she is.”

  “I told you, Nolan. I fucking told you! She’s up to something. I don’t know what her game is, but she’s not going to win. Get rid of her.”

  And then Claudette walks out of the kitchen and a few seconds later the front door slams.

  I follow, but stop in the living room trying to wrap my head around what just happened. If Corporate didn’t send Ivy, then who did?

  “So…” Ivy says from above.

  I look up and find her on the catwalk. Fully dressed in her shorts and t-shirt. Correction, my shorts and t-shirt. The ones I gave her this morning.

  She walks to the stairs and descends slowly, her hand sliding down the banister as she walks. She’s dragging her little carry-on case behind her. “I take it the honeymoon is over.”

  “How did you get to my resort, Ivy?”

  “Your jet.”

  “How the fuck did you get on the jet?”

  “An invitation. Hand-delivered. I heard everything you guys said. I heard your bitchy sister say that stuff about me. And you know what?”

  She’s mad. Very mad.

  “What?”

  “I’m going to solve all your problems and just go.”

  “I just said Corporate could take the jet. So I can’t—”

  “I don’t need your jet,” she seethes. “I’ve already called an Uber to pick me up and I’ll buy a plane ticket when I get to the airport. I’m not trying to get pregnant with your baby, Nolan. How stupid does a girl have to be to get pregnant with Mr. Romantic’s baby? I’m not interested in your money, or your fancy house, or that jet, or your job.” She practically spits the words out. “And I’m especially not interested in that fantasy of yours.”

  When she gets to the bottom of the stairs she snaps the handle up on her little carry-on suitcase, hikes her purse over her shoulder, and says, “Good day, sir,” as she walks out my front door.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight - Ivy

  “Just take a deep breath,” Nora says. “And tell me what happened.”

  What happened was I got in that Uber car and hauled myself all the way down the coast to the San Diego airport where I arrived after the last flight of the day and had to spend the night on the concourse because the Motel 6 was all booked up and I didn’t have an extra two hundred and twenty dollars for the Hilton after I paid for my one-way ticket home.

  And the worst part was that all I kept thinking about was the jet and how comfortable it was to sleep in that bed and order drinks at a bar with a real bartender.

  Stupid jet.

  “Ivy,” Nora says, shaking me by the shoulder. “Why are you crying?”

  What am I supposed to say? Nolan Delaney took my virginity, played some kinky artist game with me, and then asked me to participate in a fantasy rape scene? Oh, and by the way, I didn’t get the job. Even though I had really great ideas! Really, really great ideas!

  “Ivy?” Nora says again. “Do you need a cup of tea?”

  “Yes,” I sniffle. “I’m damaged, Nora. I swear to God.”

  “What happened? Was he rude?”

  “Tea?” I squeak. I want the tea, but what I really need right now is not to have to explain myself.

  “OK. Just sit here and calm down. I’ll be right back.”

  We live in a townhouse, so the kitchen is on the second floor and the bedrooms are on floors one and three. I have the bottom, since this is technically Nora’s place and I only pay rent. She has the master bedroom with the rooftop terrace.

  Nora runs up the stairs to the kitchen to get my tea started and I sit on my bed, still wearing Nolan Delaney’s clothes, and… and… I can’t even say it…

  But I can smell him. His manly scent is all over these clothes. All over my body. And I know that makes me a freak, but I can smell him and it just makes me want to cry harder.

  Calm down, calm down. Nora is going to come downstairs with my tea and start demanding details. And I’m not telling her anything. No one will ever know about this weekend and horrible….

  I stop crying.

  I take deep breaths and try to think of something else.

  Like that stupid Mr. Corporate. Nolan followed me out of the house, saying, “We’ll figure it out,” and, “I don’t think you did anything wrong.” But then stupid Claudette came back and called me a lying whore from the comfort of her ugly Mercedes. And that I was only after Nolan’s money. And that I probably wasn’t on birth control.

  I’ll probably get pregnant from the one time he came inside me and then she will be proven right!

  I want to die.

  And then Nolan said, “Shut up, Claudette! Go home!”

  But she said, “No. I’m not letting you make more embarrassing mistakes and this tramp is…” Well, I don’t remember. By that time, I was walking down the hill, in what I thought was the direction of the main road. But it wasn’t and then the Uber driver charged me extra because I wasn’t at the right address.

  And Nolan and I had a big fight in the middle of the street and people turne
d on their lights and the cops came!

  I can’t believe this.

  So I just got in the Uber car and said, “Drive!” And he said, “Where, lady?” And then I had to calm down and be all rational and explain. “The airport,” and, “Could you please hurry?”

  It was all very dramatic.

  I sigh, feeling a little better now that I ran it all through my head. I’m still not telling Nora. I can’t tell her what happened this weekend. She will want all the details about losing my virginity and what he did, and what I did, and how it was. And that will lead to the next day and the posing nude for him, and his offer.

  That fucking offer.

  And the worst part is… I can totally picture that yellow dress in my head.

  “I’m sick.”

  “Oh, honey,” Nora says from my bedroom door, my tea in hand. “I’m sorry. Is that why you’re crying? Did you get the shits while you were there? Did you drink that water they have? It does that sometimes.”

  “I think that happens in Mexico,” I whine. “But yes,” I have to say something to account for how upset I am. “Yes, I totally got the shits and I had to borrow these clothes!”

  I cry again. Wail into my pillow. Because I’d rather pretend I shit my pants in front of a hot guy instead of what really happened.

  “I need to go home and see my parents,” I say. “I need to decompress.”

  “Decompress from what?” Nora asks.

  And I really do need to tell her something. So I opt for half the truth. “I didn’t get the job.”

  “Oh, Ivy,” she says “I’m sorry, honey. But you knew that, right? You knew you weren’t going to get the job.”

  “I know, but it’s worse. They said they never asked me to come. And they had a copy of my résumé that wasn’t mine. That’s why I got invited in the first place. It was just some big old mistake!”

  “Well, that’s weird. How do they explain that?”

  “They didn’t. They just sent me home.”

  “Hmmm,” Nora says.

  “So I’m going to go home for a few days and cry about it.” I sniffle. Then wipe my hand across my face.