Page 41 of Right Next Door (Stone Family #3)

He finally stands, his eyes practically black as they trail over the length of me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, brushing his thumbs over my nipples through the thin fabric of my bra.

I gasp, arching into his touch, and a slow, wicked curve twists his lips.

He unhooks my bra, freeing my breasts to his hungry gaze. “You gonna be my good girl?”

I nod, and he raises a brow, pinching my nipple as if to test me. I moan, my knees weak, skin hot, and I reflexively wrap my hands around his wrists, though I’m not sure if it’s to hold him closer or push him away.

He makes a tsking sound. “You think you’re in charge here all of a sudden?” He shakes his head, forcing my hands to my sides. “I don’t know where you got that idea.” He bends and captures my nipple in his mouth. “Keep it up, and you’ll get cuffed.”

If he thought that would deter me, he thought wrong.

Or maybe it’s exactly what he wants me to do. Be his brat.

I move, wrapping my hands around his neck. “Make me come.”

In one smooth motion, he has me in the air so he can toss me on his bed. “You know the rules.”

I do, but I’m tired of waiting, so after pushing my hair back from my face, I tow my underwear off and throw them on the floor by his feet.

He takes his time, pointedly staring at them before lifting his eyes to me once again.

“Oh, you’re really asking for it, huh?” Without taking his gaze off me, he steps toward a small chest and digs out two sets of leather handcuffs.

“Let’s see how much I can make you regret that. ”

I bite into my lip, excitement sending goose bumps up my arms, tingles settling so low in my belly that my inner muscles flutter and contract, desperate to be filled.

“Feet on the bed,” Ian orders, then nudges them wide so he can secure one pair of cuffs around my left ankle and wrist together before doing the same to my right ankle and wrist, keeping my knees bent and me bound in this position.

Then he shows me the brush I bought a few weeks ago, the one he’d tortured me with, training me to orgasm on command.

I immediately groan, remembering the feeling of the bristles on my most intimate flesh.

“So fucking pretty,” he says, hovering over me at the edge of the bed, lazily drifting the brush over me, down my cheeks, across my collarbone, teasing my nipples, and skimming it down my stomach. “Let’s review the rules and see if you can follow them. What are you supposed to do in order to come?”

“Ask.”

“Mm-hmm.” He swipes the brush along the length of my sex. “And when can you come?”

“When you tell me.”

“Good girl,” he praises, then holds his palm up to calm me. Maybe I look as feral as I feel. “And when I ask what color you’re on, you need to be honest. If you’re good, you say…?”

“Green,” I answer with an eye roll, earning a hard tweak of my nipple that makes me squeak in protest.

“If you need me to slow down…?”

“Yellow.”

“And stop…?”

“Red.”

He nods and drifts the brush back and forth across my clit, revealed because of how he has me positioned, unable to close my legs. I’m completely open and at his mercy. “You should also use it on your own if you ever need to stop or slow down. We can’t have fun if you’re not honest with me.”

When I nod, he deliberately presses the brush down harder on me, changing the friction. A test. So I tell him, “Green.”

He smiles down at me in satisfaction. “Look at my little brat. She loves being so submissive.” He hums, enjoying how he can torment me. “I’m going to have this pussy begging for me. Weeping for my cock.”

I squirm, trying to angle my hips away from the godforsaken brush, so good yet too soft and not near enough. “Please.”

“I like when you beg, but you don’t really want it yet, do you? When you really want it is when you’ll give me the magic words.”

Back and forth.

Up and down.

Stroking.

Brushing.

Slowly taking me higher and higher.

I’m panting and writhing, my nipples so tight they’re painful, my arousal dripping out of me. At least, that’s what it feels like when I clench around nothing but air.

“Fuck me!”

He shakes his head. “No. Not yet.”

I try to kick out of the cuffs. Of course, it doesn’t do anything but make Ian heave a sigh. Then he sets the brush down on my stomach. “You want it? Go ahead. Try to use it. Get off with it if you want it so bad.”

I clench my jaw. “You…are…”

“What?” He bends over me, nipping at my lips as he curls his fingers around the handle of the brush once again, his knuckles skating over my pelvic bone, so close to where I need him. “What am I?”

“The worst,” I whine, but he only sucks on the skin of my throat.

“You love it. Tell me you love it.” He goes back to brushing over my clit, sending me nearly to the ceiling, my overly sensitized nerves unable to take much more.

“I love it. I love you!” I arch my back. “Please, please let me come. Can I come?”

“That’s my good girl.” He slides his thick index finger into me. “You want to come?”

I whimper and nod, my words lost to the feel of a second finger entering me, stroking me. Spots fill my vision as I cry out.

“Not yet, Nicole. Don’t come yet.”

He’s brushing and stroking and brushing and stroking.

“Oh, please,” I rasp, wheezing for air.

“Not yet. Not until I tell you. You need to hold it.”

A third finger.

I think I’m dying.

“You ready to come?”

I squeeze my eyes shut.

I’m on fire.

“Three…”

I shake my head back and forth.

“Two…”

I fist my hands.

“One…”

I grit my teeth, hanging on by a thread.

“Come, baby. Come for me.”

All at once, everything releases. My mind spins, and I let go of the scream I was holding back, giving in to the orgasm. Jumping headfirst into the fire. Breaking up through the ice to fill my lungs. Rolling into the comfort of Ian’s chest.

I don’t know how or when it happened, but he removed the cuffs and took me in his arms, my head tucked up under his chin, his hands roaming over my back. It takes me a minute to come to, shifting around, bringing life back into my limbs.

“I touched the stars,” I rasp, and he chuckles, rolling so I’m on my back, but that’s when I notice the big wet spot under my calf. I lift my head. “Did I…?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

I’m too relaxed to care or be embarrassed. Not like that first time after our dinner date. “I’m not sure I’ve ever come so hard in my life.”

“Sounds like a challenge.” He kisses my ear before levering over me. “What color are you on?”

I blink a few times, taking in this position he’s holding over me, with his hands on either side of my head, his knees on either side of my hips. And suddenly I’m not tired anymore. “Green.”

He leans back and does that super-hot thing men do and strips off his T-shirt with one hand by pulling it from behind his neck. I barely have time to admire his chest because he hops up to remove his jeans and underwear, and then there is too much for me to admire.

His tattoos.

The bulging of his muscles.

The way he swipes his hand over his beard, eyes roving over me as if considering whether to lick the ice cream in the cone or bite right into it.

The breath he lets out when he fists his cock, stroking slowly up and down like he could be content to stare at me while he gets himself off.

But it’s not enough for me.

I spread my legs in silent invitation, and he wastes no time settling between them, but instead of giving me his hard length, he leans to the side to slide his fingers back inside me. “Did you like that? You liked being handcuffed?”

“Yeah. I really liked it.”

“We can do more,” he tells me conversationally, like he isn’t stretching me out, readying me for him. “But now, I’m going to fuck you hard. No more playing.”

“Okay,” I whisper, and he bends to press a tender kiss to my mouth.

“We’ve never talked about condoms, but if it’s all right with you, I don’t want to use them. I’m healthy.”

“Me too,” I manage to say with the building tension in my muscles. “Please. Just do it. Make me come again.”

“You don’t tell me what to do,” he says and pinches my nipple in reprimand.

I gasp. I’m already so close to coming again that he only needs to flick his wrist to make me cry out.

I’m taut as a bowstring and feel like I could snap in half.

As I’m about to tumble over the edge, he pulls back, a wicked grin on his face.

“Not yet, baby.” He positions himself at my entrance.

“I want to feel you come around my cock.”

He pushes into me, a slow, steady slide that fills me completely. I inhale deeply, my nails digging into his shoulders as I adjust to the sensation. He stills, giving me a moment, his eyes locked on mine, this emotional connection now a complete physical one.

I only have enough time to take one more breath before he angles his hips back, pulling out to the tip then plunging back in. He takes my thighs in his hands, pushing them up and back so they bracket my ribs, and he fucks me. Hard .

Each thrust wrenches the air from my lungs and hits so deep, I’m not sure if it’s in pleasure or pain. Either way, I beg for more.

“Yes, fuck,” he grunts, but I don’t hear much more than that, the sounds of our panting breaths and hard slaps of flesh filling my ears. It’s all I can concentrate on. Besides the building pressure inside me.

I’m full and floating above the earth, so high I can’t string together the words I need.

A question.

Something to ask him.

But it’s too late.

I can’t bear it anymore.

“Come, baby,” he says, touching where I’m slick and swollen, sending me to outer space. “Come with me.”

I do. We fall together, our mouths meeting in delirious touches, both of us unable to coordinate our lips to actually kiss each other. All we can do is breathe into each other, scrape his teeth along my chin and brush my lips over his beard.

I’m drowning in sensation, drowning in him, and it isn’t until he flips us so I’m on top of him that I can take a full, deep breath. I shudder as I lie on him, a sweaty, panting mess, my heart beating so hard beneath my rib cage I’m sure he can feel it.

He presses a kiss to my forehead, his arms tightening around me. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I say, tracing the lines of his tattoos with my fingertips. “And I want another tattoo.”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest. “You’re addicted now?”

I lift my head to meet his gaze, a slow smile spreading across my face. “You said I would be.”

He nods, one hand splaying on my back, the other on my thigh. “I’ll mark you whenever and wherever you want me to.”

I press up a few inches so I can touch my chest, tap on the space over my heart. “Let’s start here.”

“Put my initials there,” he says, full of honesty and certainty. “Since your name is already carved on my heart.”