Mr. Romantic: A Mister Standalone (The Mister Series Book 2) Page 22

  But my outburst only lasts a second and then he’s got his silk tie wrapped around my face, painfully tight against the corners of my mouth.

  Nolan cocks his head the way he does when he’s amused, as he ties the knot at the side of my head.

  “That’s the point,” he says, grinning like a madman.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine - Nolan

  I’ve got her right where she needs to be. Confused. Conflicted. And terrified.

  She mumbles something from behind her gag, that sounds like, “Nolan,” but I just shake my head and tsk my tongue. “I gave you a chance to be good, Ivy. I trusted you, and you ran. Now you have to trust me. It’s out of your control. This whole night has spiraled out of your control. You need to accept that and give in.”

  She starts crying. Real tears. I watch her fingers for her signal as her fists tighten then open, splayed against my chest, trying to push me off her. But I stay right where I am and wait for her to calm down.

  Why am I doing this? Why the fuck am I doing this to her? Especially her. Ivy Rockwell, Jesus fucking Christ. Why do I need this?

  “Are you going to be good?” I ask.

  “No,” comes out pretty clear from behind her gag.

  My crooked grin makes her eyes widen. Her breathing is labored and her legs are kicking up. Harmlessly, but she’s still trying. I lean down and kiss her ear, whispering, “I like it when you fight. So keep fighting. It only makes me harder.”

  She stills. Staring into my eyes. “Nolan—”

  “Shhh,” I say. “I can’t understand you with the gag.”

  A tear runs down her cheek and I know she’s very close to saying her safe word. But she’s not there yet. “Do you think…” I say, pausing for a moment to let the silence speak. “Do you think that word will help you now, Ivy? Do you really think I’ll stop if you cross your fingers?” My yellow silk tie is wet from her saliva and her gasp sends drool down her chin. “I won’t, Ivy. We’re here, in this together now. You’re mine, just like I said. You’re mine and you’re not going to put a stop to anything. I don’t want your legs tied, I want them open and thrashing when I take you. But you’re being bad. So here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to untie your feet and you’re going to lie here and let me fuck you. And when I tell you to, you’re gonna come all over my dick. Do you understand me?”

  Ivy’s eyes are wide and filled with fear. I’m still waiting for her to try the safe word. Waiting for her to cross her fingers.

  But she doesn’t do either of those things. She simply nods her head.

  “Good girl,” I say, scooting down the bed to her feet. I untie the rope from the post, leaving it on her ankle. She watches me like I am her whole universe when I slip my shirt off and pump my dick through my open zipper. I move to her other foot and untie that one from the post too.

  I expect a fight, but she remains still. Like she’s too scared to move.

  “I’m a little disappointed you’re giving in already.”

  She mumbles something through her gag and even though it’s hard to hear, I know what she said. Fantasy. It’s a fantasy.

  “It’s not a fantasy, Ivy. This is one hundred percent real. And you’re going to be so turned on, you’re gonna come back for more when I let you go home. You’re gonna think about this night with your fingers in your pussy. You’re gonna get off to this night, over and over, and over again.”

  Ivy shakes her head no.

  “No?” I ask, positioning myself between her legs, and then crawl my way up the bed with her body underneath me. My cock dragging along her stomach, aching to be inside her. “Let’s see about that.”

  I drag the gag down her chin and she immediately starts crying and gasping for air. I don’t give her time to regroup, just grab a fistful of hair and shove my cock towards her mouth. “If you bite me, Ivy. I’ll bite you back.”

  She’s frowning.

  “Do you understand?”

  “I’m never going to give you the satisfaction you’re looking for.”

  “You have no idea what I’m looking for, Miss Rockwell. So just open your mouth and suck my cock the way you did last weekend.”

  She hesitates. I wait for it. And just when I know for sure she’s gonna try that safe word out, she opens her mouth.

  I lean down and kiss her mouth, saying, “You’re a quick learner,” as she cries. I pull back and ease my hips forward until the tip of my cock is on her tongue. Her wrists are still tied together, and they press against my thigh, but she doesn’t try to punch me, even though I practically asked her to a few minutes ago.

  “Open wider, Ivy. My cock won’t fit and I wasn’t joking about that bite threat. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll take my cock like a champ.”

  She gags as soon as my dick presses against her soft palate, but I rise up and scoot her whole body forward so her head is hanging off the side of the bed. Her throat opens up and it’s so fucking beautiful, I get up and stand facing her hanging head, and shove my cock inside her warm mouth.

  Her tied hands are immediately pushing, pressing on my lower stomach, desperate to make me step back. I watch her fingers carefully, but she is either too busy dealing with being choked by my cock, or she likes it.

  I pump a few times and then lean over her body and play with her pussy. Ivy gasps for air during this reprieve, and then she moans.

  “I told you,” I say. “I told you you’d like it. You won’t be able to help yourself, Ivy.”

  I push another finger inside her, pumping her with the same rhythm she’s sucking me. I want to eat her out so bad, but that comes later. So I push my hips into her head instead. Her hands reach for my balls. I have a moment of worry that she will grab those fuckers and never let go, but she doesn’t. She cups them between her palms. Gently.

  Yes. Finally.

  I pull my cock out of her mouth and my fingers out of her pussy at the same time. The little moan tells me all I need to know. She’s ready. I bend down and kiss her upside-down mouth, my tongue sweeping over hers. She kisses me back, her fingertips gripping my hair.

  “You like it, don’t you?”

  She doesn’t answer.

  But she doesn’t have to. I am back on the bed, pushing her legs open, my giant cock positioned and ready when she opens her eyes and stares into mine.

  “What?” I lean down, her breasts pressing against my chest, and take her head in my hands as my cock slips inside her. “What?” I ask again. She’s so fucking wet, there is no groan of pain. Just her back bucking up, her heavy panting coming out loud, and then her eyes close again.

  I begin moving inside her. Slowly. And each movement she makes matches mine. Her knees come up to my shoulders, giving me even more access. She whimpers as I push deeper, her fisted hands pressing on my chest, but only because I know she can’t help it.

  Her head falls back over the side of the bed again, exposing her throat. Her lips press together like she wants to say, “Mmmmm,” but her mind is blown and sounds do not exist.

  I kiss her as I fuck her. I mumble everything she needs to hear in her mouth.

  “Fuck yes,” I say, unable to take my eyes off her face. I pump my hips hard, making her little mouth open, a squeal escaping into my mouth. “You like it, don’t you?”

  “Mmm,” she says this time.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Fuck yeah, you like it hard, Ivy? You want me to pound my dick into you until you come?”

  Her mouth opens but no words come out. I thrust and slip a finger inside. She sucks on it for a moment, but the intensity of what the other parts of me are doing make it impossible for her to keep it up.

  So I just kiss her as we fuck. Over and over and over. Until I know she’s so close, all I have to do is talk her into it.

  “You dirty whore,” I whisper. She moans back in response. “You sweet, filthy, dirty slut. Goddamn it, Ivy. Come or I swear to God, I’ll keep you here forever. I’ll never stop until you come.”

  Her whole body seize
s up. Perfectly still. I thrust so hard, her hands come up and almost knock me out. I grab her hair and pump my hips. Her nearly helpless hands, not so helpless anymore as she digs her nails into my shoulder. All I can see is her reluctant passion and her exposed throat as she arches her body and explodes.

  I switch gears, slowing down so she can moan out her release. I kiss her mouth so I can capture those sounds, just keep kissing her mouth until she stills. And then I pull out and come all over her tits.

  We lie there, sucking in air like we’ve never tasted anything as good as oxygen. Spent, and tired, and satisfied. I flop back on the bed, tugging her body into me. She tucks her bound hands into my chest when I swing a leg over her thigh and hold her down. Mine. She’s fucking mine and this seals the deal.

  I stare out the window as her breathing evens out. The blackness out there, just like the blackness in here. And then Ivy sighs and presses her head into my neck, ready for sleep.

  “How many times?” I ask.

  “What?” she mumbles.

  “How many times did you think I’d really rape you tonight?”

  “Not now—”

  “Answer me,” I urge softly. “I want to know if you thought this was real or not. I want to know how deep that trust went. I want to know if you thought I’d really do that.”

  “Nolan—” she whimpers, opening her eyes.

  I sweep her sweat-soaked hair aside and tuck it behind her ear. Her make-up is smeared all over her face. Dried saliva on the line of her jaw. There’s a red blotch where I slapped her that last time. “Tell me, Ivy. I need to know.”

  And I do need to know. Because I can’t… I can’t be with someone who thinks I’d really hurt them. I can’t outrun this reputation. I can’t outrun the past. What that fucking girl turned me into. I can’t go back, I can’t change it, I can’t even change me. Because there’s nothing to change.

  “There’s nothing to change, Ivy.”

  She squints her eyes at me. She has no idea what I’m talking about.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong,” I say. I don’t even know where this is coming from. It just pisses me off so bad. “I drew something. People draw things. People make slasher movies and never get accused of the shit they said I did. People write books, and poems, and songs and never get accused of being the fictional person in their art. But I did. Why?”

  Ivy’s bound hands come up to my cheeks. She spreads her hands apart as far as she can and places her palms on either side of my jaw. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” I ask. My voice is loud enough to echo off the high ceilings. “For letting that lying bitch change my whole life? For all the fucked-up things they said about me? Still say about me? I sat in that interrogation room, Ivy. For hours. And I had to listen to them say the vilest things about me. My lawyers were there, so they heard it too. And I couldn’t say a word. Not one word. Just shut the fuck up, Nolan. That’s all I kept telling myself in that room. Every time I turned on the TV there I was. The police weren’t allowed to release the details of the evidence. The judge blocked it after my lawyers filed a motion for a gag order. But they hinted, Ivy. They hinted that I was one sick motherfucker.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ivy says again. “I knew you would stop if I told you to. I had just the right amount of fear and uncertainty—”

  “I am one sick motherfucker.” I shake my head and roll off of her.

  I’m crossing the room, reaching for the lock on the door when Ivy says, “Don’t walk away, Nolan. Don’t walk out, not now.”

  “Do you know why I do this?” I say, not even able to look at her.

  “Tell me,” Ivy says.

  “No,” I say, turning to look at her in the bed. “I’m asking you to tell me why. Why the fuck do I do this?”

  She sits up on the bed and swings her legs over the side. Her hands are still bound. Her wrists are red and raw from the yellow rope. “Fuck,” I say, walking back to her and reaching for them. I begin unwinding the yellow rope, trying my best not to look her in the eyes.

  “I agreed to it.”

  “Why?” I ask, looking at her. “Why the fuck did you agree to it?”

  “It was exciting.”

  I can’t breathe.

  “But that’s not why you do it, is it?”

  I can only shrug. “I don’t know. I really don’t. I don’t know why, after all that shit that happened to me, why the fuck I’d be fixated on this stupid fucking fantasy.”

  “Maybe you’re just trying to prove something to yourself, Nolan. Prove that you’d never have done something like that.”

  “It was just a drawing. A spur-of-the-moment drawing. Would I like to do a gang bang one day?” I laugh. “Maybe back then. Maybe that’s just something twenty-year-old guys think about? We think a lot of fucked-up shit when we’re twenty. But no. I didn’t really want to do it. It was just… a fantasy. A drawing. And the next thing I know I’m on TV. I’m being pulled in for interrogation. And my friends are looking at me like I’m guilty. And I’m looking at them like they’re guilty. And I still don’t fucking know, Ivy. What the fuck they did to her that night that made her lie about me.”

  “Maybe she lied about all of you?”

  “But why?”

  “I don’t know, Nolan.” Ivy is pouting her lips at me. Sad. I’ve made her sad.

  “Do you have any idea how badly she fucked me up? She ruined my fucking life. And you know what?”

  Ivy stands up and put her arms around my waist, pushing herself into my chest. Her body is chilled and I reach for a robe on a nearby chair. The robe I was going to wrap her in once the play was over. I place it over her shoulders and Ivy presses her cheek into my hot skin.

  “What?” she asks. “Tell me.”

  “I hate myself for bringing you here. For asking you to do this with me. I fucking hate myself. Every time I find something good, I break it. And now look, I did this to you and I hate myself for it. That stupid lying bitch did this to me. She turned me into this fucked-up piece of shit. She made me become Mr. Romantic. Why? Why did I let her ruin my life?”

  “Your life is pretty good, Nolan,” Ivy says. “Even if she did ruin it for a little while, you got back up and made something of yourself.”

  “A club owner?” I laugh. “Really? This is all I’ve got to look forward to? I don’t need the money, Ivy. I’ve got money. I’ve got family houses, like this one. More than I need. It’s not about the money. Do you know what I was going to school for?”

  Ivy tips her head up and looks at me. “Was it art?”

  I laugh. “I guess it’s obvious at this point.”

  “And your father?”

  “He wanted me to be an artist. He was so pissed off when I didn’t go back. He was so pissed off when I went into business. He cut me out of the will, stopped talking to me. Hoping his grudge would convince me to go back.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “Obviously.”

  “And you regret it, don’t you? Is that why you bought that land in the desert? To make something beautiful out of the ugliness? I mean, I haven’t seen your clubs, and I’m sure they’re nice. But a resort implies a very different level of clientele. And talk about a challenge. Borrego Springs is not a guaranteed win, is it?”

  “I don’t know, really. I’m just…” I look down at Ivy. God, she is so pretty. And sweet. “I’m just looking for something good. The land was cheap. No one wanted it. And I could relate to that, you know? I could relate to the feeling of being… discarded. I don’t want to spend my life thinking about stocking the bar with alcohol, or DJ’s, or all the other shit that goes with running clubs. I want more, Ivy. It might be wrong to want more, but there it is. I want more. I want this resort to work. I need this fucking resort to work.”

  Chapter Forty - Ivy

  God, he is so broken right now. I don’t like it. I hate it, in fact. He is a good person. “I was a little scared, Nolan. But every time I got to that point, you were there with something r
eassuring. The pretty picture stuff. The laugh. Kissing me behind the knee. I knew it was a fantasy. Even when I didn’t. I trusted you to just be… so goddamned good at what you do that I let myself believe. I believed in you, Mr. Romantic.”

  Nolan shakes his head, but I get a small smile.

  “And,” I say, “you’re in luck. Because I told you earlier. I have a great plan for Hundred Palms Resort. I’m here to save you from certain doom.”

  “Is that right?” He smiles bigger this time.

  “Yes. I have my presentation all geared up and ready—aww, I think I left my purse in your car.” I get a small laugh out of him for that remark and it lifts my spirits. I can’t stand to see him this way. I never once thought about how his past might affect the way he acts now. Not really. I made lots of assumptions. Made lots of accusations, in fact. But it never even entered my mind that he’d be repressing pent-up anger and sadness over what he lost that night. Not just his life, but his sense of self.

  “Want me to fly back and get it?” Nolan asks.

  “Are we done here tonight?”

  “Do you want to be done?”

  “Um, no. I can see there’s something going on in the bathroom, Mr. Romantic. I want whatever all that is for.”

  Nolan takes my hand and leads me towards the bathroom. There’s soft flickering light making shadows on the walls, and when we enter, the sight takes my breath away.

  “You did this?”

  “Do you like it?”

  I love it. The entire room is filled with candles. And there’s a balcony on the far end, also filled with candles. This is what I saw from outside on the helipad.

  “I made that pilot come in here and set it all up before he met us out in back. He was pretty pissed about it.”

  “Are we taking a bath?”

  Nolan walks over to the tub and checks the water. It’s still steaming. There are pink rose petals floating on top of the water and scattered in between are small ivy leaves.

  “God, you really are romantic.”