Page 30 of Right Next Door (Stone Family #3)

Nicole

F or the last two nights, Ian’s talked me through an orgasm on the phone, voicing when and how to touch myself until I’ve teetered on the edge, and then the awful man has told me to, “Hold it. Yes, good girl. Not yet, not until I say…”

Only after I started begging and keening did he order in his raspy voice, “Come, baby. Come for me.”

And if this is what Pavlov’s dogs felt like, I understand why they drooled. We’re only a few days into this training, and already, I crave to hear those five words in his deep rumble.

As much as he says he loves control, I love it too. The more Ian controls me sexually, the more I learn about myself and how to control my own life.

I learn what I like, to speak up for myself, and—most importantly—not to feel bad about any of it.

I am finally learning how not to give a fuck.

Clearly, other people are noticing.

Aunt Sue smiles at me from her backyard in Maine on our video call. A few years ago, she and an old high school classmate reconnected online. One thing led to another, and she is now married to the owner of the biggest recreational fishing company in Maine.

“It sounds like everything is going well for you,” she says after I fill her in on the bookstore business. Aunt Sue isn’t involved anymore, but I often still ask her for advice or to be a sounding board for new ideas. “And you look really happy.”

“I am happy.” I adjust my headphones, figuring now is as good a time as any to tell her. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time, and I wanted to talk to you about it.”

She sets her chin in her fist. “Okay.”

“Bryce has been away for a few weeks doing fieldwork.”

She purses her lips, nodding, but keeps quiet, waiting for me to gather my courage and spit it out.

“While he’s been gone, things have sort of crystallized for me.”

“What kinds of things?”

I lick my lips and rip off the Band-Aid. “I don’t love him anymore. I haven’t for a long time.”

She’s not surprised in the least, and while I appreciate how she never jumps into conversation—as some people do, trying to problem-solve—I expected some kind of reaction. I tell her so, and she laughs quietly.

“I’m not really sure what you want me to say, hon. I’ve been front and center for your entire relationship, and I remember very clearly what you were like on the day you married him, so I’m not shocked.”

But I am shocked. “What?”

“You were so calm…” She tips her head side to side as she thinks.

“Maybe calm isn’t the right word. Resigned?

Or… It was like you were there because you were supposed to be, not because you wanted to be.

I remember seeing you in the dressing room with your hands folded in your lap like a schoolgirl.

Like you were waiting to be told what to do next. ”

I don’t know whether to be offended or grateful that she’s so honest.

Looking back, I suppose that’s what it was like. Bryce and I dated, he asked me to marry him, and one foot in front of the other, I did.

I did what I was supposed to do.

But now, I’m doing what I want to do.

“Is there someone else in the picture?” Aunt Sue asks, and I find myself biting back a smile. Answer enough.

I’ve been afraid of other people finding out about Ian and me, but Aunt Sue would never judge me.

“Who is it?”

“It’s, um?—”

“Ian Stone?” she guesses, and my jaw drops.

She merely waves away my surprise. “The two of you always did have…something. That man could scare away people with one look, but when you were around, he was different. Went from a bear to a cub. And you…” She laughs to herself.

“The number of times I caught you watching him. I always knew you liked him.”

Hearing her outside perspective makes me feel better, braver about my decision.

On-screen, she shrugs. “Maybe you more than like him.”

Do I?

Do I love Ian?

Is it even possible to come to love someone in a few weeks?

“Are you okay?” She frowns at me. “Why do you suddenly look upset? I didn’t mean to insinuate anything. If you’re?—”

“I’m not upset.” I blink a few times to clear my blurry vision. “I’m happy, really.”

“But…?”

I sniff. “I’m scared.”

“I understand. It takes a lot of courage to go after what you want, especially when what you want is not set in stone. Do you know what you’re going to do?”

I shake my head. “I need to talk to Bryce when he returns home, but I haven’t thought much beyond I know I don’t want to be with him anymore.”

“I’m sure it’ll be hard, and you’ll have uncomfortable conversations, but I’m proud of you for making your decision. A lot of people settle for less because they’re afraid to admit they want more.”

Knowing my aunt understands and is in my corner gives me the boost I need to face another one of my fears. After we hang up, I tell my worker that I’m going on a break, head out of Chapter and Verse, and stride right next door to Stone Ink.

I don’t care who sees me.

Because soon, I’ll be here as often as I want to be. Might as well start now.

Jasper’s at the check-in desk today, leaned back in a chair, a well-worn paperback in hand. He lifts his gaze from the page to offer me a jut of his chin.

“Hey. How’s it going?”

“Good. I’m here to?—”

“Dad,” he calls over his shoulder. “Nicole’s here.”

I’m not sure what it means that he knows I’m here to see Ian, but I can’t even begin to make an excuse or explain it away because I don’t even know what it all means.

That I very possibly haven’t hidden my growing feelings for Ian as well as I thought.

Jasper merely raises a brow at me, so much like his father, then turns back to his book.

When Ian appears a moment later, I’m flustered and still stuttering. He wraps his hand around my neck, and while he doesn’t kiss me, he does lean down so close I can feel the scratch of his beard. “Did you eat lunch?”

When he might as well have asked, “Are your panties soaked?”

And, yes. The answer is yes.

“Mm-hmm.” When I comprehend he’s waiting for more of an answer, I ignore the feel of his fingertips squeezing my neck and fumble for one. “I had a salad. It was good. Then I talked to my aunt. It was a good talk.”

“ Good .” He grins because he knows exactly what he’s doing then walks me back through the shop. It’s not very busy, with Cash the only other one working. He offers a quick and quiet greeting as he continues tattooing.

“I only have twenty minutes until my next appointment,” Ian says as he rushes me upstairs. As soon as the door is closed behind us, he takes my head in his hands and kisses me like he hasn’t seen me in ages.

Like he’s stealing my oxygen.

Like he’s claiming me as his.

“We don’t have time to play.” His lips skate over the pulse point in my neck. “But I’ve been dreaming about your mouth all day.”

With his hand still in my hair, he unbuckles his belt and undoes his jeans with the other, pushing them down his thighs. He reaches past me to the couch and grabs a pillow to throw on the floor. “On your knees, baby.”

“Oh, so you get all the fun today,” I say as cheekily as possible, even though my mouth waters at the idea of finally tasting him. I haven’t been allowed to touch him yet, and I have no idea how he’s lasted this long, giving me orgasm after orgasm while not wanting me to return the favor.

At least until now.

And I am more than happy to do so.

I sink to the floor and tilt my head back to stare up at him. He lightly cups the back of my head. “What did you talk about with your aunt?”

“Mostly the business and how she’s started playing pickleball.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice is steady and even. “Anything else?”

Mine sounds like a leaf shaking in the wind. Especially when he tugs his boxer briefs down, revealing his erection, long and thick. “I told her that all these weeks have helped me figure out what I want.”

“What do you want, baby?”

“You.”

His dark eyes flare with something I can’t comprehend at the moment.

Not when his fingers grip my hair deliciously tight, and he drags the tip of his shaft to my chin.

“We’re both going to get off today. I’m going to tell you how I like it, and you’re going to pet your pretty little pussy. But you’re not going to come, right?”

“Not until you tell me.”

“Good girl. Now wrap your hand around my cock.”

I curl the fingers of my left hand around his girth, amazed by the bead of moisture forming at the tiny slit. I want to lick it, but I don’t dare. Not until he tells me.

When I raise my eyes again, I find his hard eyes focused on my hand.

I assume I haven’t done anything wrong. I did what he told me to, but his jaw is working beneath his beard. He’s mad. Or, at the very least, annoyed.

That’s when I see what it is.

The only pieces of jewelry I’m wearing on my left hand.

My wedding bands.

I open my mouth to explain that I have no attachment to them anymore. They’re only on my finger as a habit. It means nothing. In fact, I’m ready to take them off for good.

But he doesn’t let me get that far. He thrusts his hips forward and shoves his cock into my mouth.

I gag, and he backs off, his features at war. One second appearing apologetic and the next frustrated. I think I see jealousy in his gaze, followed immediately by lust.

“Use your hand and mouth,” he instructs. “Take it as far back as you can. I don’t care if you’re sloppy.” When I do as he says, breathing out of my nose but still gagging a little, he nods. “In fact, I like it that way.”

I find a rhythm that works, alternating between working him with my hand and mouth. When I lean back to catch my breath, a line of spit keeps us connected, and he wipes it away, thumbing my swollen lips. “Now get yourself off. I want you rubbing your clit hard and fast.”

I pull the hem of my shirt out from the elastic waistband of my loose, floral-print shorts. Of course I’m not wearing a dress today, making everything so much more difficult. Adrenaline has my blood rushing in my ears, my hands shaking in my haste to please him and get myself off.

Ian, though, is in complete control. Not one hair out of place. His breath steady and even as he praises me. Instructs me.

Brings me swiftly to the edge of orgasm without even touching me. Besides where his hands hold my head, he’s getting me off getting him off.

“You want to come, don’t you? Not yet. Wait,” he orders with a soft voice, almost cooing at me. “Wait, baby. Not yet.”

I whimper around his length, my fingers flying over my clit. I’m soaked and hot and need to come. I drag my mouth off him, stroking my fist up and down. “Can I please come?”

He shakes his head, even though I can see his muscles tensing, feel the heat wafting off him. “Not yet. And don’t stop sucking my cock. Hard , Nicole. Do it.”

I slide him back into my mouth, sucking hard and pulling fast. As fast as I’m circling my fingers over my clit.

“Don’t you fucking come yet,” he grits out, yanking on my hair at the scalp.

I whine and suck him to the back of my throat, my mouth full and watering, jaw aching. I’m about ready to ask him again when he finally says, “Come, baby. Come for me.”

I go from being soaked to being completely drenched, my fingers covered in my wetness, as he comes in my mouth.

It’s sensory overload—his salty taste, his hoarse voice, and the echo of my orgasm crashing around inside.

It ripples through me, head fuzzy and vision blurry.

My heart tumbling in my chest with the knowledge that, yes, I think I do love him.

But I don’t have time to contemplate this new revelation because Ian hauls me up to standing, his pants already zipped, before sticking my fingers in his mouth, licking them clean. Then he’s kissing me, our flavors mixing on each other’s lips and tongues.

And, still, I feel outside of myself.

It isn’t until the door flies open a mere five feet from us that I’m forced out of my orgasm haze.

“What the hell?” Ian shouts, startled at the commotion that is his son.

Jay’s eyes widen, obviously bemused to find us here.

“What are you doing?” Ian pushes me behind him.

The younger Stone’s eyes float between his father and me, interested and full of mischief. “I’m hungry.”

“There’s food in the break room,” Ian says, but Jay shakes his head.

“No, there’s not.”

“You ate all of it?”

“I’m a growing boy.” He grins. “What are you two doing up here?”

“ I live here,” Ian growls, like only an irritated dad could.

His middle son nods and crosses his arms, entertained by all of this. “And the two of you are up here…”

“Taking a break,” Ian fills in.

Jay’s smile grows another inch, and I already don’t like whatever is going to come out of his mouth next. He shifts over a few inches and theatrically brings his hands to his chest like he might break out in a rousing rendition of “Tomorrow” from Annie . “Are you my new mommy?”

I cover my blazing cheeks with my hands, hoping he can’t tell how mortified I am.

For his part, Ian pulls his son into a headlock.

“Don’t be a jackass.” Then he ruffles Jay’s hair and tells him he can make himself a sandwich.

“But,” he says, reaching for my hand at the same time as he raises a stern finger toward Jay, “don’t try to embarrass Nicole again.

Or you’re gonna be a lot hungrier after I put new locks on the door. ”

Jay attempts to swallow his smile. It doesn’t work. But he does salute his dad and wave to me. “I’m just giving you shit, Nic. Tell me to fuck off anytime, okay?”

I shrug, take a breath, and say, “Fuck off, Jay.”

Father and son both crack up, and I realize it’s been a long time since I’ve felt like I’ve had any family besides Aunt Sue in my corner. But these guys? The whole of the Stone family, I think I might belong with them.

If only they’ll have me.