Mr. Romantic: A Mister Standalone (The Mister Series Book 2) Page 20

  I lean back in my chair and nod. “You could. But I don’t think you will.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t turned on by the thought of my fantasy, Ivy. Because my fantasy is now your fantasy. I’m sure you have never thought about a fantasy like this before I made my offer. But I’m equally sure that you can’t stop thinking about it now.”

  “I might still say stop, Nolan.”

  “Understood.”

  She picks at her food for a few minutes, silent, just enjoying the taste and the atmosphere. I force myself to eat as well, but only because I know I’ll need it just as much as she will. And when the server comes asking about dessert, we both smile and stare at each other across the table.

  Because she’s in.

  Deep.

  “We’ve already got plans for dessert,” I say. “The check is fine.”

  “You never said where we were going,” Ivy says once we on the highway heading south.

  “No, I never did.”

  “Is… is the fantasy starting now?” She sounds nervous.

  “Have you said no to my advances yet?” I ask, taking my eyes off the road for a second before returning them to the lines of the highway.

  “No.”

  “Then it hasn’t started. This is still the date, Ivy. So relax. Enjoy it. Do you like my car?”

  “Um.” Ivy takes a look around her, like she’s just now noticing things. “You have a thing for fast cars.”

  “I do. I like this one. It’s a rental, but I have one just like it in San Diego.”

  “You have a lot of money, I take it. And by a lot, I mean, God money.”

  I almost laugh. “Yeah. You’re just figuring that out?”

  “I don’t know. I saw the house and the resort. But you have a lot more than most. I don’t think about money much. Beyond needing it for things. And I really did want that job.” She grabs her little envelope purse that I sent her with the dress and shoes, and pulls out her iPad. “I have a presentation—”

  My laugh stops her cold.

  “What?”

  “You came here tonight, knowing what we’re going to be doing, with a presentation?”

  “I have graphs, Nolan. I have good ideas. And solid projections.”

  I place my hand over hers to stop her from opening the cover of the iPad. “Put it away.”

  “But I want you to know what my ideas are.”

  I can tell by the tone in her voice it’s true, so I make my voice soft. “You’ll still have time to impress me afterward.”

  “No,” she says quickly. “You said once we fucked then there’s no possibility of me being hired by you.”

  “Well, nothing is set in stone.”

  “Except the word stop,” she says in a small voice.

  “That goes without saying.”

  “I’m just making sure.”

  “Do you want to stop before we start? You can, you know. I’ll take you home.”

  “I just want to know where we’re going.”

  “You’re going to see right now. So be patient.”

  “We’re at the airport?” Her voice actually quivers. “Why are we at the airport?”

  “Why do people usually go to an airport?”

  “You’re taking me somewhere?”

  “I thought that was understood?”

  “But… but you never said anything about getting on a plane for this.”

  I just smile.

  “Nolan?”

  “Ivy.” I turn onto the access road and follow it around to the helipad. “Relax. We’re going to Martha’s Vineyard. I’m taking you on my helicopter.”

  “You have a helicopter? Here? How the hell do you have that here when you live two thousand miles away?”

  My phone buzzes in my pants and I reach in and check the screen, then tab accept. “Talk to me.”

  “I’m here,” Mysterious says. “Where are you?”

  “Can this wait until…” I check the dash clock and calculate how much time I’ll need with Ivy. I don’t want to rush it, so I say, “Early AM? I got you a ride. Be at the helipad in Middletown and I’ll send it back for you.”

  “It’s your money, Delaney. Not mine. So if you want to finish whatever it is you’re doing while I charge you by the half hour, be my guest.”

  “Your way with words makes me miss you, Pax. Makes me wonder why the fuck I haven’t talked to you in years.”

  But the call ends.

  “Who was that?” Ivy asks again. “Someone else is coming?”

  “We’ll be done by then. I won’t let him come until we’re done.”

  “So he’s going to see me there? Nolan—”

  “Ivy,” I say in a low growl. “Shut. Up.”

  She’s stunned silent. Which was the whole point of starting the fantasy early.

  “Paxton Vance does not give one fuck about you, take my word on that. So whether he sees you there or not, he won’t care. He’s coming with information I need. But if you think I’m not in control of this night, say stop now and I’ll put your ass in a cab and send you home.”

  When I look over at Ivy her mouth is hanging open like she’s about to say something. But then she closes it.

  “Good girl,” I mutter, pulling the car up to the helipad. “Now keep your mouth shut until I tell you to open it for my cock.”

  I don’t look at her this time. Just exit the car and slam the door. Waving to the crew, who wave back. I walk around to Ivy’s side, open her door, grab her arm, and yank her out.

  Still, she says nothing.

  I almost sigh, that’s how fucking spectacular this night is going to be if she plays along. I look back at the crew, who have all disappeared, just as I ordered them to, and drag her over to the helicopter, out of their sight, even if they do disobey orders

  Ivy stumbles once, then twice, but I don’t turn back, just pull the door open and point. “Get the fuck in and keep quiet. If you scream, no one will hear. But I will, and it will really piss me off.”

  Ivy is conflicted. Her chest is rising and falling so fast, I think she might pass out.

  “Ivy,” I bark, leaning down into her ear as I grab her hair and yank. I slip a hand between her legs and begin to rub small circles over her clit through her panties. “You’re lucky you didn’t wear a bra. That makes me happy. But your resistance doesn’t. So get the fuck in the helicopter and I won’t hurt you.”

  She stares at her feet for a moment and then, in the smallest voice I could possibly imagine, she says, “No.”

  I push her face first onto the helicopter seat, holding her head down as I pull her dress up to give me a good look at her ass. I smack it. Hard.

  Ivy gasps, then tries to get up, but my hand pushes down harder on the side of her head as my other hand gets busy between her legs. “You can’t wait to come, can you, Ivy? You dirty fucking whore. Do you want me to make you come right here? In the middle of the airport? Or do you want to get in like a good girl?”

  She’s panting now. Her breathing is seriously disturbing. “I’ll get in,” she says.

  I ease up on her head, pull her dress down, and point to the seat. She climbs in, which is not easy in those stiletto shoes I sent her in the fantasy box. But she manages and before she can even look at me, I grab the handcuffs hanging on the door and fasten them to her wrists. There’s a long chain attached to them, with a clip on the other end, which I secure under the seat, pulling it tight, so she has to lean over.

  Then I close her door and walk over to my side, get in, and power up the engine. “I hope you don’t get motion-sick, Miss Rockwell. Because if you do”—I look at her and find her wide eyes filled with fear—“I’ll make you lick it up before you get out.”

  The rotors above pick up speed and then the deafening roar of the blades fills the cockpit, making any more talking useless.

  Good. I’m glad.

  She needs this time to get herself together. Because as soon as w
e get out on Martha’s Vineyard, she will have a choice to make.

  Stop.

  Or keep going.

  Chapter Thirty-Six - Ivy

  I feel like I might hyperventilate so I concentrate on taking in long draws of air to calm my racing heart.

  Why are you doing this?

  What if this is real and not a fantasy?

  What if he hurts me?

  All these questions run through my mind as we take off, nothing but the rhythmic sound of the rotors to fill my head and drown out my concerns.

  I can stop it at any time.

  But can I really? Will he really stop? I can’t know unless I use the safe word. And if I use the safe word and he does stop, then we can never try again. The trust will be broken and I will forever be certain that he will stop. And isn’t the whole point of the fantasy to feel like he won’t stop? To let him overpower me, to make me give in, to struggle, be taken, and love every minute of it?

  If we finish what we started and come out the other end smiling will it be worth it?

  Yes, I decide. Yes. Because like it or not, I’m thoroughly turned on. I want him to do this. I want him to do it the way he promised. I want to feel safe, even when I don’t feel safe. I want him to prove to me that he’s not what people think and I want to submit to his fantasy because it’s my fantasy too.

  Martha’s Vineyard comes much too quick. My body is just starting to come to terms with what I’m doing when the helicopter descends, wobbles a bit, and then touches down. Nolan doesn’t turn it off, instead he reaches between my legs, uncuffs me, and pulls me up to a sitting position.

  “Don’t speak to the man out on the helipad, do you understand me?”

  His eyes are darting back and forth between mine. I think he’s nervous too and that makes me feel a little better.

  I nod and say, “I won’t.”

  His smile is very small, almost undetectable in the dim lights of the cockpit. But it’s there. “OK,” he says, still staring at me. “Stay put and I’ll help you out. We don’t want this guy to get any funny ideas about what he might be witnessing, right?” He pulls my hair when he says right.

  I swallow hard and nod. “Understood.”

  Nolan gets out, speaks to the man standing just off to my left, and points off in the distance. That phone conversation was about sending the helicopter back for his friend. They must be discussing it.

  And then the other pilot nods and they walk towards the helicopter together. Nolan comes to my side and offers me his hand. I accept it and step down as his hand immediately wraps around my waist and firmly grabs my hip.

  He leans into my ear and hisses, “Don’t scream or struggle or I’ll make you pay when we get inside.”

  I nod again, remain silent, and stare at the house lit up before us. It’s… massive. I have seen Nora’s family mansion and this makes her place look like a playhouse. We are in the back, a large pool directly in front of us, surrounded by high hedges and gardens. It’s something out of a magazine, the luxury almost too much to be real.

  A fantasy, I realize.

  “Where are we?” I ask once the helicopter has left and the whomp, whomp, whomp of the blades is fading away. My gaze wanders to the second floor where the windows and balcony are lit up with candles.

  Nolan reaches up for my hair, pulling it so hard my head falls back. “Family compound, Ivy. We are miles from the nearest house. No one will hear you when you scream.”

  “I thought you wanted me to be quiet?”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  Now what? What do I do now? I have to decide one way or another. I can change my mind later, but I’d rather not let it go too far if I’m not comfortable.

  We walk up to the pool before I can decide and he places his hands on my shoulders and pushes, signaling that I should get on my knees. I hesitate and his hand comes down hard on my ass, making it sting.

  Not hard enough to make me cry out. But just hard enough to make me want more.

  I feel the flood of warmth between my legs and take deep breaths again.

  Am I more disturbed about what he’s going to do? Or how it might make me feel?

  “Ivy,” he growls. “Get on your fucking knees before I lose my patience.”

  He’s playing a part, Ivy. He’s playing a part.

  Does he want me to play the part back?

  Duh.

  I hang my head a little to try to hide my smile. Because yes, this is the whole point of the fantasy. We play the parts perfectly and it all feels real. If I let him do everything he wants, that’s not a rape fantasy. That’s just submission.

  He doesn’t want submission, I realize. He wants a struggle. A fight. He wants me to resist him so he can overpower me.

  I try to run but he grabs my upper arm and twists it behind my back. “Try that again and I’ll make you suck my cock so hard—”

  I try again, writhing and ducking as he reaches for me. I get a few paces this time, but Nolan tackles me onto the soft lawn. We land together with a thump, his body pressing down on mine, my face turning sideways to be able to breathe. His mouth is in my ear. “I’m going to make you pay for that.”

  He lifts up his body and flips me over so I have to look at him.

  The anger on his face makes me gasp. “You fucking bitch,” he growls as his hands wrap my wrists together. I look down at the rope—yellow, soft, doubled-braided—and recognize it. Once my wrists are bound he stand up, yanks me to my feet by my hair, and pushes me so I have to walk forward. I stop at the pool’s edge, but he pushes me again and I fall over the side and into the water. I am unable to swim for the surface because of my bound hands. I struggle, then panic, as I sink. But I realize that my feet can touch the bottom. I have one shoe left, the other floating by as I stand, trying to maintain my balance as the waves of the pool splash into my face when I break through the water.

  I gasp for air. My lungs feel like they can’t get enough, my throat burning with the effort.

  Nolan is standing over me on the side of the pool. I see his leather shoes first, then lift my head up and take in his legs in the perfectly tailored suit. I stop at the yellow silk tie and remind myself what this is.

  A fantasy.

  “Walk,” he commands. He’s pointing to the other end of the pool where steps lead the way out of the water.

  My head and neck are exposed to the cool sea air, but the rest of my body is under the heated water.

  “How deep is it?” I ask, eyeing the middle of the pool that I must cross.

  “It doesn’t matter, Ivy. You’re going to walk or I’ll let you freeze to death out here all night long. I’ll tie you to the steps and let you freeze.”

  I turn away from him, but in that moment he’s kneeling down and he’s got a hold of my hair again. “Don’t fuck with me, bitch,” he says. “I’m deadly serious.”

  I pull away and reach for his leg, trying to pull him in with me. He swings his hand, barely missing my head with a closed fist, and I panic.

  He said no punching!

  I struggle again, make him lose his grip, and then scoot away to the center of the pool where it suddenly becomes deep and I go under. I kick my other shoe off and tread water, my tied hands in front of me, desperately trying to paddle.

  “Do what you’re told, Ivy, and you’ll make it through this night. Wander off the path I’ve set for you and bad things will happen.”

  Is that a warning?

  I spit out some water and struggle my way across the pool until I’m on the opposite side of him, but my feet can touch again.

  “Walk to the end of the pool and get out,” Nolan barks, his shout echoing off the walls of the monstrous mansion.

  I keep my eyes on him as I walk. He follows me on the other side, step for step. And when I get to the end of the pool safely I climb the steps. The cold air hits me immediately, making my nipples peak and the tight silky dress cling to my body. He’s waiting for me, just a few paces off, when I exit, dragg
ing water with me that pools at my feet as I stand on the cold concrete.

  I begin to shiver uncontrollably and Nolan smiles. “You’re as pretty as a picture, Miss Rockwell.”

  The first picture, I realize. I’m the image in the first picture he drew. Standing in the drenched dress, nipples pressing against the fabric, everything clinging and wet.

  He walks towards me, reaching between my legs to rub my clit in small, slow circles. I press against his chest, wanting to be warm so badly. Want to hate the way this makes me feel so badly.

  But it all feels… good.

  “Are you cold?” he croons in my ear.

  I nod. The only heat I feel is between my legs. But then his lips come up to mine, just a flutter of warmth. I almost lunge for him, that’s how bad I want more contact. I want his heat, and his kiss, and his mouth. I want his arms around me, shielding me from the frigid night air. His palm is suddenly on my throat, his thumb pressing on my chin, so even if I wanted to pull away, I can’t.

  I don’t want to pull away.

  “I’m going to take off the dress and make it worse.”

  I practically convulse with his words, that’s how much my body is trembling. He peels the single shoulder strap down my arm until my breasts are exposed, the air hitting my nipples and making them bunch up into hard pebbles.

  Nolan continues, his warm hands pulling the fabric down my body until my hips are exposed. And then he drops to one knee and brings the garment to the ground as his hands reach up to my ass and he buries his face in my pussy. He licks my panties, the panties he told me to wear, and then he fists them with both hands and rips them apart.

  A squeal of fright escapes through my chattering teeth, but his hands are there again, his warm hands that feel like fire against my freezing skin.

  When he stands up and leans into my neck, his soft breath caresses me into a lull. I press against him again, desperate for his arms to wrap me up. Desperate for his touch. “We forgot to laugh,” I say, when his mouth kisses mine.

  “What?” he asks.

  “We broke the scene when you peeled off the dress, remember?”