Mr. Romantic (Mister, #2)

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.