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

by JA Huss

  “It’s… OK.”

  “OK? You look like you might come any second.”

  “Why does my dress look weird?”

  “It’s wet. I made you walk into the pool and then step out. You’re soaking wet.”

  “Why would I walk into the pool, Nolan?”

  “Because I asked you to. And I told you how hard it would make me to see your dress clinging to your body like it is in the picture. Every part of your body outlined by the wet dress. Your nipples hard and peaked. Your mind spinning with anticipation.”

  She bites her lip. “Keep going.”

  I toss that drawing aside.

  “OK,” she says. “What the hell is this?”

  “Me, slapping your face. See the spot on your cheek? You have fair skin, Ivy. It won’t take much to make it red. Your ass will be the same color.”

  She shakes her head. “Nope.”

  “Just wait,” I say. “It gets better.”

  The next picture is me holding her face again, like the first, only this time I’m pushing my thumb inside her mouth. Her eyes are looking up at me. You can’t see me in this one either, it’s only her. My point of view.

  “I’m crying, Nolan. This is sick.”

  “Your pussy is throbbing, Ivy. Take my word on that. Throbbing. Because my fingers are inside you, pushing inside you. Strumming your clit in those tiny circles you like. If I had more time, I’d have drawn you sucking my thumb like it was my cock. I’d have showed you how turned on you were just thinking about what comes next. You want me to fuck you so bad right now, you’re begging.”

  “I’m not. And I don’t.”

  But her voice is weak. And not with fear. “Just keep an open mind. We’re not going to do any of this tonight. You’re not wearing the dress.”

  She inhales deeply as she looks at me.

  “Keep going?” I ask.

  She shrugs.

  I smile. Because I know she’s turned on.

  “This one skips ahead.” She’s on her knees now, mouth open, my cock in her mouth. Her makeup is smeared so bad, it hides the mark the slaps are leaving. “What do you think I skipped, Ivy? Tell me, so when this date happens, I know what you want.”

  Ivy is silent for a long time.

  She stares at the drawing, studies it. Either thinking about what I asked her, or trying to plan her escape tonight.

  “My dress is gone,” she finally says.

  “I had to peel it off you because it was wet. We laughed about that and broke the scene.”

  “Scene?” she asks.

  “The… fantasy. It’s called a scene, but it’s private. I’d never want you to do this in front of anyone. For me and you it will always be private.”

  “What’s next?”

  I move on to the next picture, which makes Ivy gasp.

  I’ve got her pushed down on the bed, face first. My hand flat against her hair, her cheek pressed so tight into the covers, most of it can’t be seen. “Fucking, of course. My way, which is hard, like I told you.”

  “You want to hurt me?”

  “No,” I say, more sharply than I should. “I want to play out this scene with you. It doesn’t define me, Ivy. Or our relationship. It’s just a fantasy.”

  “Why would I agree to this? Why on earth would I ever agree to this?”

  “Because it turns you on.” I reach between her legs and finger her pussy. “You’re wet just thinking about it. Don’t lie, Ivy. You can say no and still admit it turns you on.”

  “Can I say no?”

  “Of course.” I’m still playing with her, my fingertip doing a little swirl against her clit that makes her close her eyes for a second. “It’s OK to like it. It’s playing. It’s sexual fun, that’s all. I don’t do this every day. No one I’ve ever talked to does this every day. It’s an understanding. It’s set up ahead of time so everyone knows the rules.”

  “What are the rules?” she asks. “What exactly are you asking me to participate in?”

  “Fantasy…” I hesitate. Unable to make myself say it out loud.

  “Fantasy what?”

  “Rape.”

  She goes stiff and silent.

  “Fantasy being the important word here, Ivy. You’re going to agree to it. So it’s not rape. You’re going to agree ahead of time. We’re going to have rules, and boundaries, and limits. And when this happens, we’re going to do it exactly how I’ve planned it. That’s why I need to know what you want me to do in between the pages. Fill in the blanks, so to speak.”

  She shakes her head. “You’re sick.”

  “And yet you’re still turned on.” I play with her a little more. “Get up and walk out if you’re not interested. But I’m not done with the story yet.”

  She remains silent. Just staring at the drawing as I continue to stimulate her.

  “Should I continue? And don’t just nod, Ivy. Say something. Make a decision.”

  “Fine,” she whispers. “I want to see how it ends.”

  “Oh.” I laugh. “We’re not at the end yet.” The next picture is me on top of her. My cock halfway inside her pussy. My silk tie in her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Hands tied together in front of her, just the way they are now.

  “I’m crying again?”

  “You’re coming all over my cock, Ivy. Those are not crying tears. You’re begging me to keep going.”

  She takes the picture and throws it aside. “What’s this?”

  “This is after.” She’s sleeping, a half smile on her face with her unbound hands tucked between her legs. I’m behind her, spooning her, but propped up on one elbow so I can tuck a stray hair behind her ear. “We’re happy,” I say. “We planned it all perfectly and it was fantastic. The best sex we’ve ever had. And in the next moment I kiss your head and lie down, pulling you close so I can fall asleep with you.”

  Silence. I want her to say something. Anything. But she stays silent, just looking at the final drawing.

  Finally, just as I’m about to go crazy waiting, she says, “Where did you learn to draw like this?”

  “Self-taught. I might’ve missed my calling. But there’s no money in art, so I own clubs.”

  “How many girls have you done this with?”

  “Ten, maybe. Fifteen?”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “Ivy,” I say sternly. “Do you really want to play a game like this with an amateur? I haven’t done it in years. A long time. Because I can’t trust people. But I want to trust you.”

  “Why?” She laughs. “Do you know that the whole time I’ve been sitting here I’ve been thinking how to escape? I’ve pictured you killing me, throwing my body over the side of a boat, never to be heard of again. I’ve made an escape plan. I’ve had whole conversations in my head of what I will tell my father when this gets out. I’ve—”

  “But you’re still here.” I play with her clit again and a whole new wave of wetness coats my finger. “You’re still here because it turns you on.”

  “I’m still here because I’m as sick as you.”

  “Ivy,” I say, leaning forward to whisper in her ear. “It’s just a fantasy.”

  “If we’re not doing it tonight”—she looks up at me—“then why am I here?”

  “To negotiate. That’s why I like you, Ivy. You said that yesterday. You’re a negotiator. If there’s something off limits in these pictures, then say so and we’ll negotiate it.”

  “I think I’m here because I’m inexperienced. I think you want to take advantage of me. I think I’m an easy target.”

  “You’re smart to think that. It’s all true. But that’s not why I like you, Ivy. I want you. You. Not because you’re innocent, but because you’re smart. You’ll be able to tell the difference between the fantasy and the reality. That’s why you’re here.”

  She’s silent.

  “And I want to fuck you. Not like this,” I say, tossing the last drawing aside. “Just a good, old fashioned, semi-vanilla, hard fuck.”


  Chapter Twenty-Six - Ivy

  Semi-vanilla, hard fuck. What the hell does that even mean? I’m so out of my league. So, so, so out of my league. Nora was right, guys like Nolan are not for me. He’s way too much.

  “Nolan—”

  “Ivy.” He’s got his hand under my waist, lowering me down the bed, positioning himself over the top of me, his knees on either side of my hips. “Just enjoy it.”

  But I don’t know which part of this I’m supposed to enjoy. Having my hands tied? Being a nude model for his sick fantasies? Or the fact that he will be fucking me again, no matter what?

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  “Yes,” I say, closing my eyes to keep him out.

  He leans down and kisses me on the lips. It’s so soft and so tender. “Ivy.”

  “What?” I can barely speak. I have no idea what’s happening.

  “If you don’t like the terms then renegotiate.”

  I open my eyes and look at him. His face is hovering less than an inch from mine.

  “It’s fluid, Ivy. Changes can be made at any time. Any time. You can say yes and then say no. You can say no and then say yes.” He smiles. Because Nolan Delaney wants me to stop saying no and start saying yes. “We can stop right now and go to the races. They started without us. We can go the club and have a nice dinner. We can walk on the beach if you want. Buy ice cream cones and stop at a bar and get a drink.”

  I picture this alternate reality afternoon in my head. Putting our clothes back on and going over to the track. That would be exciting. I’ve never been to Del Mar. We’d make bets and cheer. Talk about work. Maybe I’ll tell him my plan for the Hundred Palms Resort. After the races we’ll watch the sunset and hold hands. And come back here and all the awkwardness would be back.

  We’d be thinking about this moment when I said no.

  He’d be wondering if I’ll always say no or if this was a one-time rejection.

  I’ll make an excuse and a car will come or he’ll drive me himself. Take me to the airport where I will get on his jet, or some jet, or book my own ticket. We’ll say goodbye. Maybe pretend we’ll stay friends on Facebook. And I’ll never see him again.

  It’s what I want, right? Escape?

  But the word renegotiate changes things. I’m pretty sure what he likes to do in the bedroom is way over my head. And I’m pretty sure he wasn’t kidding when he drew the red mark on my face from his slap. Why would he kid about that?

  But he’s asking me to give him limits.

  So… Not a rapist.

  “I don’t think I’ll like the slap.”

  “No?” he asks. “You’ve never tried it, obviously. Would you like me to explain it? Why some girls like it?”

  I nod. Because I just don’t understand.

  Off in the distance I hear a bugle. Nolan turns his head and looks out the window where down below people are living their lives, wholly unaware of what is happening up in this bedroom, high above them on the hill.

  “You know when you’re watching a horse race?” he says, looking back down at me. “And they’re coming down the home stretch. Each horse jockeying for position, going all out for the final furlong, just trying get to the finish line first. People are fucking screaming. The bettors who think they’re going to win a trifecta, or the owners who are hoping for a little bit of money to keep their stable going, or the claimers who want to buy that winner and change their luck.

  “But the horses are excited too, Ivy. And the jockey has a crop in his hand. He’s reaching back to smack his horse on the ass or wave it in front of his face, give him one more reason to try harder. Driving him home. They don’t use the crop in the beginning of the race. It’s only a signal, Ivy. A way to harness the excitement the horse feels, his energy—or lack thereof at this point in the race. A way to focus the horse on the win.”

  He stops talking as I picture this in my head.

  “That smack on the ass—or the face—is only a signal, Ivy. To focus you on the sex and the way we’re going to come together. That’s all. The winning horse could give a fuck about that spanking he’s getting at the end. He doesn’t even feel it. He’s so pumped up on adrenaline, that smack is the last thing on his mind. And when I’m fucking you, Ivy, and I reach down and smack your face, you’ll only feel what you want to feel. If you’re scared, I did it wrong. If you’re not turned on, then I did it wrong. If you don’t want me to do it again later, then I did it wrong. Do you understand me?”

  I nod, unable to speak.

  “Do you want me to untie you?” he asks. “Or would you like to renegotiate? Because I really do want to fuck you right now. And if you want to fuck me too but have limits you need to make clear, then now is the time to do that.”

  “I don’t want to be hit. Not right now.”

  Nolan smiles and a small laugh escapes. “I’m not going to hit you right now, Ivy. Don’t be crazy.”

  “You’re the one who’s crazy,” I say. “And don’t laugh at me. I have no idea what’s happening.”

  “You should trust me.”

  “Why? You just asked if you could rape me.”

  His head is shaking no. “That’s not what I asked you. I asked if you’d like to participate in a fantasy with me.”

  “You fantasize about rape?” I cannot believe he’s saying this shit.

  “No,” he says. “No. You’re not listening. I want to feel the struggle but have permission at the same time, Ivy. It’s really not that uncommon. And it should feel good for both of us, or I’m doing it wrong. It’s not something you do on the fly. It’s something that’s set up. I told you that.”

  “I just don’t know.”

  “Then tell me to untie you and let’s just go to dinner. How hard is that? Just say it and it’s done.”

  But I’m silent. Because I don’t want it to be done. I want more of him. I’m just not sure how much more. Or in what way.

  “Can I touch you?” he asks. “Like this?” His fingertips start caressing small circles around my nipple. His touch is so light and gentle I close my eyes, feeling exhausted at the pleasure of that small caress. “You need to answer me, Ivy. Or I’ll stop and make this final decision for both of us.”

  “Yes,” I say. “Yes, you can touch me.”

  He pinches my nipple so hard, I squeak. But in the next instant, that soft swirling of his fingertip is back.

  “It’s a give and take, Ivy. Everything we do from here on out is a give and take. You give, I take. I give, you take. That’s how you come to terms. You understand this. You’re a businesswoman. You know that negotiation is an art. Just like those pictures I just drew. It’s all part of the negotiations. I’ve laid out the contract and the next step is for you to agree to the terms or ask for something else.”

  “I just don’t know what I want.”

  “I know you want this, Ivy.” His fingers lightly trace the length of my ribcage, round the bone of my hip, and slip back between my legs.

  I have to squeeze my eyes closed, that’s how good it feels.

  “You like that?”

  “Yes,” I say. “I do.”

  “Can I keep going?”

  I should say no. But I don’t. “Yes,” comes out and in that instant I realize what I’m doing. I’m giving in to his request. It’s not happening tonight, but that’s what my yes means. I’m going to do this. I’m going to let him do all those things he put in the drawings.

  His finger pushes inside me and my back arches just as his lips cover my nipple and begin to suck. He nibbles, then bites. I suck in air through my teeth just as his mouth claims mine.

  We kiss. His tongue pushing into me, his lips soft, then hard. He bites my lip, bites my tongue, and then he’s soft again. Caressing me, and whispering things like, “You’ll love it, Ivy. Or we won’t do it,” between the nips and the tender touches.

  This isn’t even kissing. Not even close. He’s making love to my mouth with his words, and his promises, and his control.

 
His finger pumps me hard, then harder, making my knees draw up towards my chest. One strong hand pushes them down, then opens them up wide, so he can position himself on top of me.

  His hard cock is between my legs, both hands in my hair, fisting and pulling until I open my eyes and see him smile.

  “Are you ready to try something new?”

  I nod and say, “Yes,” because I know he won’t keep going unless I am explicit in my consent. And I don’t want him to stop. Not yet. I can say no. He said I’m allowed to say no at any time. “Yes,” I say again as he watches me.

  He enters me. I’m so wet and ready for him, there is none of the painful friction of yesterday. He fills me up easily, pushing inside me so far, I gasp.

  But his mouth is back on my mouth. Telling me all the things I need to hear. “You’ll love it,” he says. “I’m going to make you come so hard, you’ll scream.”

  I’m whispering, “Yes,” over and over again as his rhythm picks up. His hips pressing against me, my bound hands trapped between us, pushing him back.

  “I love that, Ivy. I love that your hands are tied. That you feel helpless. Just remember,” he says, leaning down into my ear. “You can tell me no.”

  “I’m saying yes.”

  One hand goes to my throat, pressing against my windpipe. My eyes fly open to watch his face as he watches mine. The pressure increases and I struggle a little. My hands fisted up, tied together, pushing him back, and back. But he presses on. Kissing me still. He never stops kissing me as he thrusts harder, and harder, and harder.

  I am screaming in his mouth. He is biting my lip and then my neck. The pressure on my throat eases and I take in a long breath of air, just as it increases again.

  He pounds me. My legs are unable to stay still. They come up to my chest, only giving him better access. He moans into my scream and the choking continues, pressing as I squirm and writhe.

  “Come,” Nolan says between the light touches of his lips on mine. “Come, Ivy. I need you to come first or everything will be ruined. I’ll ruin you if you don’t come. And I can’t ruin you. I haven’t even fucked you in the ass yet.”