Mr. Romantic: A Mister Standalone (The Mister Series Book 2) (31 page)

Martha’s Vineyard comes much too quick. My body is just starting to come to terms with what I’m doing when the helicopter descends, wobbles a bit, and then touches down. Nolan doesn’t turn it off, instead he reaches between my legs, uncuffs me, and pulls me up to a sitting position.

“Don’t speak to the man out on the helipad, do you understand me?”

His eyes are darting back and forth between mine. I think he’s nervous too and that makes me feel a little better.

I nod and say, “I won’t.”

His smile is very small, almost undetectable in the dim lights of the cockpit. But it’s there. “OK,” he says, still staring at me. “Stay put and I’ll help you out. We don’t want this guy to get any funny ideas about what he might be witnessing, right?” He pulls my hair when he says
right
.

I swallow hard and nod. “Understood.”

Nolan gets out, speaks to the man standing just off to my left, and points off in the distance. That phone conversation was about sending the helicopter back for his friend. They must be discussing it.

And then the other pilot nods and they walk towards the helicopter together. Nolan comes to my side and offers me his hand. I accept it and step down as his hand immediately wraps around my waist and firmly grabs my hip.

He leans into my ear and hisses, “Don’t scream or struggle or I’ll make you pay when we get inside.”

I nod again, remain silent, and stare at the house lit up before us. It’s… massive. I have seen Nora’s family mansion and this makes her place look like a playhouse. We are in the back, a large pool directly in front of us, surrounded by high hedges and gardens. It’s something out of a magazine, the luxury almost too much to be real.

A fantasy, I realize.

“Where are we?” I ask once the helicopter has left and the
whomp, whomp, whomp
of the blades is fading away. My gaze wanders to the second floor where the windows and balcony are lit up with candles.

Nolan reaches up for my hair, pulling it so hard my head falls back. “Family compound, Ivy. We are miles from the nearest house. No one will hear you when you scream.”

“I thought you wanted me to be quiet?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Now what? What do I do now? I have to decide one way or another. I can change my mind later, but I’d rather not let it go too far if I’m not comfortable.

We walk up to the pool before I can decide and he places his hands on my shoulders and pushes, signaling that I should get on my knees. I hesitate and his hand comes down hard on my ass, making it sting.

Not hard enough to make me cry out. But just hard enough to make me want more.

I feel the flood of warmth between my legs and take deep breaths again.

Am I more disturbed about what he’s going to do? Or how it might make me feel?

“Ivy,” he growls. “Get on your fucking knees before I lose my patience.”

He’s playing a part, Ivy. He’s playing a part
.

Does he want me to play the part back?

Duh.

I hang my head a little to try to hide my smile. Because yes, this is the whole point of the fantasy. We play the parts perfectly and it all feels real. If I let him do everything he wants, that’s not a rape fantasy. That’s just submission.

He doesn’t want submission, I realize. He wants a struggle. A fight. He wants me to resist him so he can overpower me.

I try to run but he grabs my upper arm and twists it behind my back. “Try that again and I’ll make you suck my cock so hard—”

I try again, writhing and ducking as he reaches for me. I get a few paces this time, but Nolan tackles me onto the soft lawn. We land together with a thump, his body pressing down on mine, my face turning sideways to be able to breathe. His mouth is in my ear. “I’m going to make you pay for that.”

He lifts up his body and flips me over so I have to look at him.

The anger on his face makes me gasp. “You fucking bitch,” he growls as his hands wrap my wrists together. I look down at the rope—yellow, soft, doubled-braided—and recognize it. Once my wrists are bound he stand up, yanks me to my feet by my hair, and pushes me so I have to walk forward. I stop at the pool
’
s edge, but he pushes me again and I fall over the side and into the water. I am unable to swim for the surface because of my bound hands. I struggle, then panic, as I sink. But I realize that my feet can touch the bottom. I have one shoe left, the other floating by as I stand, trying to maintain my balance as the waves of the pool splash into my face when I break through the water.

I gasp for air. My lungs feel like they can’t get enough, my throat burning with the effort.

Nolan is standing over me on the side of the pool. I see his leather shoes first, then lift my head up and take in his legs in the perfectly tailored suit. I stop at the yellow silk tie and remind myself what this is.

A fantasy.

“Walk,” he commands. He’s pointing to the other end of the pool where steps lead the way out of the water.

My head and neck are exposed to the cool sea air, but the rest of my body is under the heated water.

“How deep is it?” I ask, eyeing the middle of the pool that I must cross.

“It doesn’t matter, Ivy. You’re going to walk or I’ll let you freeze to death out here all night long. I’ll tie you to the steps and let you freeze.”

I turn away from him, but in that moment he’s kneeling down and he
’
s got a hold of my hair again. “Don’t fuck with me, bitch,” he says. “I’m deadly serious.”

I pull away and reach for his leg, trying to pull him in with me. He swings his hand, barely missing my head with a closed fist, and I panic.

He said no punching!

I struggle again, make him lose his grip, and then scoot away to the center of the pool where it suddenly becomes deep and I go under. I kick my other shoe off and tread water, my tied hands in front of me, desperately trying to paddle.

“Do what you’re told, Ivy, and you’ll make it through this night. Wander off the path I’ve set for you and bad things will happen.”

Is that a warning?

I spit out some water and struggle my way across the pool until I’m on the opposite side of him, but my feet can touch again.

“Walk to the end of the pool and get out,” Nolan barks, his shout echoing off the walls of the monstrous mansion.

I keep my eyes on him as I walk. He follows me on the other side, step for step. And when I get to the end of the pool safely I climb the steps. The cold air hits me immediately, making my nipples peak and the tight silky dress cling to my body. He’s waiting for me, just a few paces off, when I exit, dragging water with me that pools at my feet as I stand on the cold concrete.

I begin to shiver uncontrollably and Nolan smiles. “You’re as pretty as a picture, Miss Rockwell.”

The first picture, I realize. I’m the image in the first picture he drew. Standing in the drenched dress, nipples pressing against the fabric, everything clinging and wet.

He walks towards me, reaching between my legs to rub my clit in small, slow circles. I press against his chest, wanting to be warm so badly. Want to hate the way this makes me feel so badly.

But it all feels…
good
.

“Are you cold?” he croons in my ear.

I nod. The only heat I feel is between my legs. But then his lips come up to mine, just a flutter of warmth. I almost lunge for him, that’s how bad I want more contact. I want his heat, and his kiss, and his mouth. I want his arms around me, shielding me from the frigid night air. His palm is suddenly on my throat, his thumb pressing on my chin, so even if I wanted to pull away, I can’t.

I don’t want to pull away.

“I’m going to take off the dress and make it worse.”

I practically convulse with his words, that’s how much my body is trembling. He peels the single shoulder strap down my arm until my breasts are exposed, the air hitting my nipples and making them bunch up into hard pebbles.

Nolan continues, his warm hands pulling the fabric down my body until my hips are exposed. And then he drops to one knee and brings the garment to the ground as his hands reach up to my ass and he buries his face in my pussy. He licks my panties, the panties he told me to wear, and then he fists them with both hands and rips them apart.

A squeal of fright escapes through my chattering teeth, but his hands are there again, his warm hands that feel like fire against my freezing skin.

When he stands up and leans into my neck, his soft breath caresses me into a lull. I press against him again, desperate for his arms to wrap me up. Desperate for his touch. “We forgot to laugh,” I say, when his mouth kisses mine.

“What?” he asks.

“We broke the scene when you peeled off the dress, remember?”

“It’s not a scene, you stupid cunt.”

I hiccup a sob as I begin to cry, the cold and the name-calling too much. His hands come up to my head and press. This time, it’s soft. Nolan looks me in the eyes, his dancing, mine frightened. And he says, “Pretty as a picture. Your tears are as pretty as a picture. And I will take you this night the way I planned. Kicking and screaming. Your nails digging into my flesh as you fight me off. Your pussy throbbing the entire time.”

What does that mean?
I want to scream it. Is he playing with me? Or is he serious?

But before I can ask, Nolan takes off his suit coat and places it over my shoulders. I sob harder from the relief. The way this one simple act can make everything better.

“Let’s go,” he says. “Your mouth has a date with my cock.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven - Nolan

She whimpers as I drag her into the house. It’s almost dark in here, but not quite. Just enough light to see what’s necessary. Not nearly enough light to expose us. I push her towards the stairs and say, “Climb, Ivy,” when she hesitates. “Climb or I’ll drag you up the stairs by your hair and that’s not nearly as fun as watching your ass in front of me.”

I’m preparing myself for her eventual stop. I imagine what it will take to get her to say that word. How far I will have to push her. How much she will be willing to endure to get to that point.

And, of course, what I’ll do after she says it.

“Bend over,” I say, when she’s a few steps shy of the top.

Ivy stops climbing, but she doesn’t bend over.

I whip the jacket off her shoulders and throw it over the banister. Her head turns to watch it fall to the ground thirty feet below.

“You’re going next, Ivy, if you don
’
t bend the fuck over.”

A squeal escapes her chattering teeth, but she leans forward, places her bound hands on the top step, and then presses her head to the floor next to them.

“Your pussy looks delicious,” I say, rubbing her ass with my palm. I stick a finger inside her as another plays with her clit. “I’m going to make you come right now. Before we even get started. Because I want to know how much you love it.”

She draws in a deep breath and in the same moment my hand slaps down on her ass cheek so hard, it echoes off the high ceilings.

“Ow,” she sobs.

I rub her ass, feeling the heat my hand created radiating over her skin. And then I play with her again. Softly this time.

She looks over her shoulder as I unzip my pants. “Nolan—”

“Quiet,” I whisper. She’s crying, as she should be.

“Nolan, please st—”

I wait for it. She almost says it. And then she looks back at me again, like it was a mistake. I smile and slap her ass again, making her sob quietly as I pull my cock and balls through my open zipper.

“You’re a filthy whore, aren’t you? You want to pretend like you hate this, Ivy? You want to pretend you didn’t come to my resort to be fucked hard? That you didn’t want to open your legs for me the minute you realized who I was?” I grab her hair and pull her head back so I can look down at her eyes. Her back is arched, her eye makeup streaked down her cheeks.

I kiss her mouth and she resists, but my other hand leaves her pussy and wraps around her throat. I feel her swallow. I imagine my dick in there in a few minutes. The way I will force her muscles to tighten around my head, how I will choke her with my come.