Mr. Romantic (Mister, #2)

Oh, Jesus. What am I doing?

He doesn’t wait for my answer. I feel pressure and a painful sensation. I cannot keep up and I just know he’s tired of waiting for me. He’s just going to take what he wants until I stop him.

I bend my head forward, my ass pressing against him. He takes that as encouragement, pressing back, pushing his finger inside my ass a little more as another one keeps pumping my pussy. But I just need this damn wall to hold me up.

“Come, Ivy. Give in, feel this the way it was meant to be felt, and come all over my fingers. And the second you do that, I’ll give all the control back to you.”

Do I want control?

“You like it,” he whispers into my neck. “You want more.” He pumps his hand harder. And then harder still. More and more and more and all I can think about is more.

I want more fingers, I want more licking, more kissing, more of his hard cock. I want him to make me do these things. Force me, so I don’t have to take responsibility. I want to put him in my mouth and suck him until he comes down my throat. I want to taste that salty liquid. I want him to kiss me after and put his fingers in my—

“Oh!” I grunt. My release comes gushing out in waves of heat and pleasure. And even though I’m wet everywhere from the water, and the shower, and the desire, I am even wetter when I’m done.

“You’re such a good girl,” Nolan croons in my ear.

I slump down, but his strong arms catch me, turning my body and pulling me into his chest. He holds me up now, not the wall. And he walks backwards and takes a seat on the stone bench in the corner.

“Sit on my lap, Ivy.”

My eyes are tightly closed as I position myself in his lap. One knee on either side of his thighs. I’m instantly turned on just from the positioning. His arms encircle me as I rest my head on his shoulder, feeling utterly exhausted.

“Now it’s my turn,” Nolan says, petting my hair as he talks. “I want you to fuck me, Ivy. When you’re ready. As fast or as slow as you want. As long as my cock is inside you, I’m happy. And when we’re done, I’ll show you what you need to see in order to trust me.”

The only thing I can concentrate on is breathing.

He lets me do this.

But eventually my heart rate slows and my body relaxes. His fingers begin playing with my ass again. Pushing in and out, just the slightest bit. Sometimes slipping up towards my pussy and sliding inside. Just enough. Just enough to make me want him all over again.

I ease my body up and finally look at him.

There’s no charming grin now. No charisma to hide behind. No self-assurance in those eyes.

Just want.

I want the same thing, Nolan Delaney. I want the very same thing.

I reach down between my legs and grab his hard cock, pumping him a few times to get a feel for it. And then I sit up a little higher and position him under my entrance, moving it back and forth the way he did last night.

And then I sit. Slowly, slowly, slowly… sit.

That stretching feeling is back. That feeling of being filled up from the inside out. It still hurts but not as bad. It still scares me, but I know what it leads to.

I place my forearms on his shoulders, my fingertips threading up the back of his head and into his hair, and look him in the eyes. He looks back, his attention only on me. Silent.

My hips begin to move. Just a little rocking motion, back and forth. I’m wet for him again. Or maybe I’m still wet from the way he made me come?

It makes everything easier. His hard cock slips in a little deeper with each thrust. I watch him for something. Some kind of reaction. But he’s still and silent until… until that moment when I know he is fully inside me.

And then he closes his eyes and leans his head back.

He enjoys it.

His hips begin to move with mine. His arms wrap me up in a tight embrace. He fists my hair and I grab his back as we move faster, faster, faster.

His breathing becomes heavy. He is the one out of control. His moans fill the shower when he stands up, presses my back against the wall, and begins to fuck the shit out of me.

“Ivy,” he says, over and over. “Come, Ivy. I want to feel your pussy clamp down on my cock.”

The wall is cold but his body is warm. So very warm. I cling to him as his hands hold me up by my ass. I wrap my legs around his hips, begging him to pound me hard.

“Come, Ivy,” he says. “You’re driving me mad. Come.”

I bite down on his shoulder to stop the scream.

And obey.





Chapter Twenty-Three - Nolan




I sit back down on the bench and Ivy rests her head on my shoulder, both of us breathing hard, our hearts hammering against one another as we calm down.

“I told you I wasn’t on birth control, Nolan.”

Shit. “Sorry, Ivy. I forgot. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“It only takes once,” she mumbles.

“I can go get you a morning-after pill.”

Her head comes up from my shoulder and I get the most disgusted look from a post-coital girl. Ever. “What?” I laugh.

“I don’t need an abortion pill, Nolan.”

Right. Pastor’s daughter. I put my hands up and shrug. “Fine. It’s your call.”

She gets up off my lap with a sigh and stands underneath the water, reaching for the soap.

I get up and take it from her, then place the bar against her breasts and start rubbing her in small circles. “I’m sorry,” I say as the lather begins to build. “I just got caught up in the moment.”

“It’s my fault, so never mind.”

“Well, lack of condom buzzkill aside”—I lean down into her ear and whisper—“that was fun. Did you like it better this time?”

“Yes.” She hesitates, like she’s not sure if she wants to be mad at me or not, then gives in and smiles. “That felt amazing.”

I wash Ivy’s arms and belly and she squeezes some shampoo onto her the top of her head and lathers up her hair. “My turn now, right?” she asks.

I play dumb. “Turn for what? I got you off.”