Page 56 of Mr. Romantic (Mister 2)

The problem is… I don’t want to do any of that. The problem is… I want to do everything he just commanded. The problem is I feel powerless and powerful in the same instant.

I can walk out or I can make him do things to me that most people only dream about. I can stand firm and go home wanting or I can give in and go home satisfied. I can learn his secret or I can remain ignorant.

I turn around. I stretch my arms up, my breasts rising with the motion, and place my palms flat on the cold marble tile.

And I open my legs.

Nolan bends down and I get nervous. I look over my shoulder and I’m sure I’m going to pass out from the fear coursing through my veins, and the steam I have to inhale, and the heat that surrounds my body.

Nolan places both of his hands flat on my ass cheeks, spreading them apart. His tongue darts in and licks. Not my asshole, not my pussy, but somewhere in between. “That,” Nolan says, “is a beautiful fucking sight.”

He caresses my opening with his tongue and stands back up. I have to rest my head against the tile too. It’s spinning out of control. I’m spinning out of control.

“Don’t worry,” he says, pushing his chest against my back, one leg pressing between mine so he can stimulate me. “I won’t fuck you.”

“What?”

“You can control that, Ivy. See how generous and fair I’m being? Hmmm?” He nips my earlobe and I suck in a breath. “We can do that your way. But I’m going to make you earn that drawing.”

“You want me to suck your dick again?”

“Well, sure. But not now.”

His hand fists my breast, squeezing it so tight I let out a squeak from the pain. And then he eases up and his fingertips glide down to my waist, over the curve of my hip, and reach between my legs.

He strokes me in small circles. Tiny, tiny, tiny circles when all I want is something big to be right there.

“More,” I say. “I want more.”

“More what, Ivy?”

“Press harder,” I hear myself say. “Push them inside me.” Goddammit. Why am I letting him make me do this?

He’s not making you do anything, Ivy. You want this.

And I do.

My wish is granted. He strums my clit faster and faster and I start moaning. My moans echo off the walls, and the ceiling, and inside my brain. All I hear is my own pleasure when the strumming stops and he slips a finger inside me.

“You want to know what it feels like to have a cock in your ass, Ivy?”

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.