Mr. Romantic: A Mister Standalone (The Mister Series Book 2) (32 page)

And then I ease up and go soft.

My lips barely touch hers. She parts for me and breathes heavy into my mouth for a moment. I kiss her again, my hand tightening on her throat. But I let go of her hair and she stays in place. Perfectly posed, eyes looking straight into mine as I play with her pussy again.

“I know you want me, Ivy. No matter how many times you say no.”

“I don’t,” she says. And then she spits on my face.

I grab her hair and yank her head back, and then I spit right into her open mouth. She closes it, struggles to push me backwards, but I lean forward and cover her cold body with mine.

She stops suddenly. Her freezing and trembling body holds absolutely still.

“Are you cold?”

“Yes,” she says. “I’m c-c-cold,” she stutters. “Let me put clothes on, please, Nolan. Let me get warm.”

“There’s only one way you’ll get warm tonight, Ivy. And you’re going to have to work for it. Now spread your legs so I can fuck your ass.”

She looks back at me with a horrified face. And shakes her head. “No. Please. No. I don’t want to. I swear to God, I don’t want to, Nolan. Please don’t—”

I smack her ass so hard, she wails. “Hold still,” I yell. “Or it will hurt and I won’t let you blame me for your mistakes. Hold
still
.
”

She obeys, her limbs still trembling from the cold and her adrenaline. I reach down to her knees and spread her legs open, then push her face down onto the hardwood floors. “Keep it right here, Ivy. Press your face into the floor and don’t move or this won’t go easy. It’s up to you. Let me do it right and you’ll enjoy it. But make me fuck up—” I yank her head back by her hair again, and press my mouth to hers to whisper, “And it will be all your fault.”

I let go of her hair and she lets her head fall down to her chest, then rests it back on the floor.

“Such a good, good girl.” I step down two steps until my face is even with her wide legs and then I lower myself to her spread-open pussy.

The first lick is delicious. She tastes sweet and ready. And the way she begins to moan as I lick and suck has me tugging on my cock.

I lick her asshole while pushing my finger inside at the same time. She moves forward, trying to escape the pain.

“Shh,” I say. “Keep still.” I reach into my pants pocket and pull out a small tube of lube, uncapping it with my teeth.

She moans as I squirt it on her puckered ass, and then leave it on the stairs, uncapped.

My fingers slip around her open legs, pushing in and out of her ass, in small strokes. When she keeps still I push it all the way in.

Her whole body bucks back, almost setting me off-balance.

“Quiet,” I whisper. “Be still, Ivy,” I say softly. More softly than I should. But I want my cock inside her. I want to feel her ass squeeze me when she comes. I want to hear her moan when she realizes it feels good. It feels spectacular, and she wants me to keep going.

I stick two fingers inside her pussy, pumping harder and harder as her bound hands, thrust forward and resting on the hard floor, open and close into fists as she desperately reaches for something to hold onto.

My cock is in her ass and she’s screaming before she can think too hard about it. I grab her tits as her back crashes into my chest, her arms wild as she tries to elbow me in the ribs. She can’t reach, not with her hands tied. I know this, so I ignore it, and go back to making her feel good.

Fingers on her clit. My teeth biting her earlobe as I hold her close. She’s crying and even though I shouldn’t love that… I love that.

“Be still. The hard part is over. Now just bend over, Ivy. Rest your head on the floor, and let me make you come.”

“I’m not going to come. You’re a sick, sick monster, Nolan Delaney. I won’t, I won’t I won’t…”

She
’
s still muttering it.
I won’t, I won’t, I won’t
over and over again, but the words lose their meaning when she goes limp and I pump in and out, very, very slowly.

I play with her clit the entire time. And her protests turn into something else. Turn into moans, into grunts, into begging.

“Does it feel good now?” I ask.

“No,” she says through her moan.

And then there’s this moment when we both laugh. I bite my lip to make it stop and I’m grateful that she can’t see my smile.

“There,” she says.

“There what?” I ask, continuing to pleasure her in every way I can think of.

“The laugh we missed from earlier,” she says.

“Don’t get your hopes up, whore,” I growl, thrusting hard and smacking her on the ass. “You have no idea what’s coming next.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight - Ivy

OK. I’m convinced. I heard him laugh. This really is just a fantasy. We’re playing, I like it. And even though he took me by surprise with the anal, I like that too. It did hurt, I won’t lie. But it feels so good now.

His hips slap against my ass, the sound enough to pull me back into the moment. I was afraid, I admit it. But that laugh puts me at ease like no words ever will.

Nolan yanks on my hair, making me look at him as he fucks me from behind. “There should be only one thing on your mind, Ivy. How this will end.”

Is that code? Didn’t he say the ending is the best part?

“And not the ending you’re expecting,” he clarifies. Just like he’s reading my mind. “You think you deserve the hearts and flowers, Ivy? You think I’m going to fuck you like this and then… what? Just say,
Kidding
?”

His hand is gripping my left hip tightly one moment, and the next… a crack sounds off in the room and my face is stinging from his slap.

I can’t breathe.

“You have one job right now, Miss Rockwell.
One
. Be in this moment with me or I’ll drag you into it.
”
He reaches down to grab my throat, his thumb and fingers gripping either side of my jaw so hard, I cry out. “Do you understand me?”

I nod.

He spits in my face, rubs it over my lips, and then slaps me. “Talk, bitch!”

“Yes,” I say, trying not to cry. Telling myself over and over again
, It’s a fantasy. It’s a fantasy. I’m going to love the end. I will love how it ends
. “Yes,” I manage, just as he’s about to slap me again. “Yes. I understand.”

He lets go of my face and the hard pumping slows. He eases in and out several times before leaning over my back and resting his chest on me. We are skin on skin. His breathing isn’t nearly as labored as mine.

Every part of my body is shaking but I’m no longer cold. My legs tremble from exertion. My arms can’t even hold me up anymore, and when he rests more of his weight against me, I just collapse on the floor.

He fucks me in the ass so slow, I want to close my eyes and forget this fantasy. Just enjoy it. Enjoy everything about what he’s doing.

“You’ve been bad, Ivy. You laughed at me. So I’m not going to let you come. But I will let you decide what I should do next. What is the one thing you’re probably hoping I
won’t
do?”

I can think of many things I’ve seen in porn that have disgusted me, but before I can articulate them, his fingers find their way into my mouth, forcing it open. “Should I choke you with my hand before I choke you with my cock?”

I shake my head, the gag reflex taking over. I can’t stop it, and a pool of saliva drools out of my mouth as he pinches my nose closed. I gag again. And while I’m busy recovering and figuring out how to breathe with a hand in my mouth, he stands up, his cock slipping out of my ass as he pulls me with him, an arm hooked under mine, and walks us down a long hallway.

There are so many doors up here I can’t make sense of them. The mansion from the outside looked massive, but from the inside it looks like a puzzle. A maze. A place to get lost and never come back. Is that why he brought me here? So I will give in to him and lose myself?

We stop at the end of the hall, near another set of stairs that go both up and down, and he twists the handle and opens the door.

There are candles everywhere. In every corner they are alight, atop tall pillars, atop the pretty white mantel over the fireplace—even in the chandelier.

Nolan pushes me forward, making me trip and fall to my knees onto a soft sheepskin rug. He slams the door closed and then I hear the tell-tale click of it being locked from the inside. “Just in case you get any funny ideas about leaving early tonight, Ivy.”

My heart races. Why does he have to say these things? Just when I’m certain this is nothing but the fantasy we discussed, I get this. Either deliberate attempts to keep me frightened or a promise that things are about to go very wrong.

I might be the only one here living the fantasy tonight. He could be totally serious about what he doing.

No
, I say in my head. No. He laughed. I heard it.

He
’
s mocking you, Ivy. Tell him to stop. Now! Before it goes too far and you can’t even press charges because you agreed to it!

No. No, he can’t be that man. Nolan cannot be that man that everyone says he is.

You haven’t even known this man a week, Ivy Rockwell. You’re as stupid as he is sick
.

“Do you like the candles?”

I look up at him as he looms over me. He
’
s slowly unbuttoning his shirt. My wrists are burning from the rope. It’s soft, but it’s rubbing and they are red and will be inflamed tomorrow.

You’re not going to live until tomorrow
.

“Yes,” I say.

“Well, that’s just about the only romantic thing I’ve planned for you tonight. The rest can go easy or hard. Depending on how you like it. Do you like it hard, Ivy?”

“Jesus Christ,” I say. “How am I supposed to answer that, Nolan?”

“Truthfully,” he says, extending his hand. I take it, gripping it in both of mine, the rope sliding along my skin, the friction making the burning sensation even worse.

“I’ll tell you,” I say, squaring my shoulders. “I’ll tell you if you untie me. I don
’
t want to be tied anymore.”

“You’re not the one in control tonight, remember? I am. I get to tell you what to do, not the other way around. And if you hate the rope, you can bet I’m gonna leave you tied up even longer now.”

He grabs me by both arms and hauls me over to the bed, throwing me down on the soft down comforter face first. Then his hips have me pinned, but I buck my body at just the right time, in just the right way, and he falls to the side. I get a foot up and kick him in the chest, giving me even more space. And then I’m off the bed, running towards the open bathroom door. If I can just get in there and lock it. If I can just—

He grabs my ankle and I go down hard onto the rug. And then he’s dragging me by my foot as I kick and yell and—
panic
.

The word is there. My tongue is pressing against my teeth, that
sssss
sound even coming from my mouth, but then he goes still.

I stop. I don’t say it, I just go still and wait. I’m sobbing, tears are running down my face. I’m breathing so hard I can’t stop the hyperventilation this time.

His next touch is soft. Just one moment of softness. A single fingertip slides up my calf and stops in the dent of my knee. Then his lips are there. Reminding me of what this is.

I won
’
t say it. I won
’
t.

He grabs my foot and drags me back to the bed the instant he realizes I gave in again. “I’m going to tie your legs open for that little stunt, Miss Rockwell. And then I’m going to fuck you sore.”

I don’t know what to do at this point. Cry? What good is crying? Tell him no? That will only make him try harder. Let him do what he wants? That feels like defeat.

Tell him to stop?

That feels like a mistake.

The yellow rope is around my ankles before I even reach that conclusion. He ties one leg to the footboard, then pulls my other one open, looking at my pussy as he walks to the other bedpost.