Mr. Romantic (Mister, #2)

She’s so out of her league with me. I know that. She’s inexperienced in almost every way. And I’ve got all the experiences she craves.

And since she doesn’t try to stop me again, I push my shorts down and fist my cock. She stares at my hand as I pump. And it occurs to me, she hasn’t gotten a proper look at my body either.

“Do you like it?” I ask, reaching for her hand. Releasing my hand and replacing it with hers. “Do you like how big it is?”

I never take my eyes off her. She swallows hard and all I can think about is how it felt to be in her mouth last night. The way her muscles moved against my dick when she swallowed. I wish she was facing me when I unloaded my come in her mouth. I wish I could see the way it must’ve dripped out when I took her by surprise.

Ivy nods her head yes to my question and that’s all the permission I need. I take her hand and lead her into the shower, pushing her under the water, and then pushing her some more, so she has to bring her hands up and place them on the wall if she doesn’t want to crash into the marble.

I press my body against her back, my dick so hard it slips between her ass cheeks, and now it’s my turn to moan. “Do you remember asking me to fuck you in the ass last night, Ivy?”

“I take it back.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. “I’m not gonna, you silly anal virgin. I just wanted to remind you how horny you were. So turned on, you almost begged me for it.”

“I couldn’t help it, I was scared.”

Awww. I actually feel bad. “I can make it up to you.”

“I’m sore, Nolan. I don’t think I can.”

“I’ll be careful this time,” I whisper in her ear. “I promise.”

She hesitates as I wait. “Tell your secret first. I want to know why they call you Mr. Romantic.”

“You know that will change things, right?”

“Why?”

I start kissing her neck, my lips pressing against her soft skin, my teeth unable to stop the small nibbles. “Because it actually is romantic,” I say. “The name isn’t ironic, Ivy. They call me Mr. Romantic because I was doing something very romantic back in college.”

“What?” She turns her head, and I take the opportunity to kiss her on the lips. She opens for me and all I want is to put my cock back inside her. Inside her pussy. Between her lips. But I settle for my tongue. For now.

“I…” I want to laugh. Because it’s ridiculous. “I had a thing for drawing girls while I fucked them. And you know what?”

“What?” she whispers into my mouth. “Tell me what.”

“They liked it. They thought it was romantic. I was good at it. And it got around school that I liked to do this. And that’s why they call me Mr. Romantic.”

She pulls back and turns around. I let her because I want to look at her tits again. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” I say. “I swear.” I squeeze both nipples at the same time and she closes her eyes. “But there’s more to it than that. Everything has a catch, Ivy. When you stepped into this house there was a catch.”

“You want to fuck me.”

“Hell, yes. And I’m going to.”

“What if I say no?”

“You won’t. Now listen to the catch, OK? Because this is what makes all the difference. The catch was…” I can’t believe I’m talking about this again. It’s not good. I should shut the fuck up.

“What?” Ivy asks. “Tell me. Tell me what it was.”

“The catch is that I like to do things to them during sex. Rough things. And so after I pose them in just the right way, and after I draw most of it, I add those rough things to the drawing and ask them if they’ve ever done it before. Ask them if they’d like to try it.”

“What kind of things?” She’s afraid. I can tell. Her eyes are wide and she’s breathing faster.

“Choking, for one.”

She gulps air as my palm rests on her neck. Her eyes flutter as my thumb presses against her jugular vein.

“So I dangle the bait and see if they bite. Does it turn them on to see the drawing? Or do they walk out?”

“How many walked out?”

I lean into her ear and whisper, “Only one.”

I take my hand off her throat and she opens her eyes. “Why do you do it?”

“It turns me on. You wouldn’t understand. You’ve never really been with a guy.”

“I was with you. Last night.”

I shrug and step back. “I was holding back. Plus I don’t do it much these days.”

“You still draw?”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

“I can’t. I burn them afterward. I don’t keep the pictures.”

“Then draw me. And prove it.”

“I will, Ivy. If that’s what you want. But I like to fuck hard afterward and you need it soft.”

“I don’t believe you. I think you’re lying. I think you’re the one responsible for my fake résumé. I think you brought me here.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. But it was you. I know it.”

“Then why are you here?”

She has no answer for that.

“I know why you’re here, Ivy.”

“Why?” She straightens her shoulders like she’s trying to be brave. Like I’m scaring the shit out of her and she’s forcing herself to remain calm.

“You told me. You want me to fuck you. So let me. Let me fuck you again and this time, you won’t cry afterward.”

Her eyes narrow. “You knew I was crying?”

“No. But I’ve thought about it. I’ve run the whole thing back in my mind and I get it. I hurt you. And it wasn’t my intention. I just like to fuck a certain way. And if I had known you were a virgin, well…” I laugh.

“You wouldn’t have touched me.”

“I would not have touched you. I can’t risk another girl misunderstanding my intentions and accusing me of rape again, now can I?”

“You did rape her, didn’t you?”

“I did not.”

“She thought you did, though. Didn’t she?”

“She didn’t, Ivy. I swear. It was nothing like that.”

“Then tell me what it was like.”

“No.”

“Then why should I trust you?”

“I never really asked you to trust me, Ivy. I just wanted to fuck you.”