Page 53 of Mr. Romantic (Mister 2)

I laugh. I can’t help it. “I’m not gonna, you silly anal virgin. I just wanted to remind you how horny you were. So turned on, you almost begged me for it.”

“I couldn’t help it, I was scared.”

Awww. I actually feel bad. “I can make it up to you.”

“I’m sore, Nolan. I don’t think I can.”

“I’ll be careful this time,” I whisper in her ear. “I promise.”

She hesitates as I wait. “Tell your secret first. I want to know why they call you Mr. Romantic.”

“You know that will change things, right?”

“Why?”

I start kissing her neck, my lips pressing against her soft skin, my teeth unable to stop the small nibbles. “Because it actually is romantic,” I say. “The name isn’t ironic, Ivy. They call me Mr. Romantic because I was doing something very romantic back in college.”

“What?” She turns her head, and I take the opportunity to kiss her on the lips. She opens for me and all I want is to put my cock back inside her. Inside her pussy. Between her lips. But I settle for my tongue. For now.

“I…” I want to laugh. Because it’s ridiculous. “I had a thing for drawing girls while I fucked them. And you know what?”

“What?” she whispers into my mouth. “Tell me what.”

“They liked it. They thought it was romantic. I was good at it. And it got around school that I liked to do this. And that’s why they call me Mr. Romantic.”

She pulls back and turns around. I let her because I want to look at her tits again. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” I say. “I swear.” I squeeze both nipples at the same time and she closes her eyes. “But there’s more to it than that. Everything has a catch, Ivy. When you stepped into this house there was a catch.”

“You want to fuck me.”

“Hell, yes. And I’m going to.”

“What if I say no?”

“You won’t. Now listen to the catch, OK? Because this is what makes all the difference. The catch was…” I can’t believe I’m talking about this again. It’s not good. I should shut the fuck up.

“What?” Ivy asks. “Tell me. Tell me what it was.”

“The catch is that I like to do things to them during sex. Rough things. And so after I pose them in just the right way, and after I draw most of it, I add those rough things to the drawing and ask them if they’ve ever done it before. Ask them if they’d like to try it.”

“What kind of things?” She’s afraid. I can tell. Her eyes are wide and she’s breathing faster.

“Choking, for one.”

She gulps air as my palm rests on her neck. Her eyes flutter as my thumb presses against her jugular vein.

“So I dangle the bait and see if they bite. Does it turn them on to see the drawing? Or do they walk out?”

“How many walked out?”

I lean into her ear and whisper, “Only one.”

I take my hand off her throat and she opens her eyes. “Why do you do it?”

“It turns me on. You wouldn’t understand. You’ve never really been with a guy.”

“I was with you. Last night.”