Chapter 26
[Taxi]
Eventually, Cadence intervenes, declaring they are all winners and deserve dessert before dinner for their efforts.
“You all have the potential to be backup dancers one day,” she announces.
“Really?” Dutton, Clay’s son, squeals with hope.
Winnie, Ford’s middle daughter and Dutton’s best friend, rolls her eyes, clearly not interested in being a dancer. “I’m nobody’s backup plan,” she mutters.
“That’s the spirit, girl,” I offer, in spite of myself, and hold up a hand for a high five. She slaps my palm hard, and Stone chuckles when I shake the sting off.
June doesn’t seem to care one way or another if she’s a backup dancer. She’s only six. And Stone scoops her up, blowing raspberries on her belly, before setting her back on the ground and patting her butt to follow the others for a treat.
“I need to get to the grill,” he says, hitching his thumb over his shoulder toward the massive piece used to cook for such a large collection of people.
“Heard you make a mean hamburger,” I remind him of our conversation from our lunch date by the river.
“Got a special one, just for you.” He smiles and turns for the grill, giving me a good view of his backside in worn, ass-hugging jeans.
I hadn’t noticed before, but it suddenly occurs to me he isn’t wearing beige today.
He’s wearing a blue T-shirt. One that says Chicago Anchors across it, but still . . . it’s blue.
And I smile to myself before Genie nudges my arm.
“Still got the hots for him?” Her smile says she’s caught me.
“He’s alright,” I counter, chewing at my lower lip.
Genie snorts. “Not a bad one in the bunch,” she teases. “But Stone really is the best of them.”
I’m beginning to really appreciate that fact.
Feeling guilty that I’ve had a good day away from the hospital, Stone gives me a ride to it later that evening, only to discover Trudy has been awake most of the day and is asleep for the night.
When Stone takes me to Trudy’s, I don’t need to invite him in. He follows me into the living room and then stares at the couch.
“Think Trudy would mind if we slept on her bed. Not in it, just on the top. More space. Better comfort.”
“You complainin’ about snuggling up with me?” I tease, but catch myself, curious if he is wanting a little space. It’s been a great day, but a long one.
And his kiss still lingers on my lips.
“Never,” he counters, not a second to consider his answer. “And I still plan to snuggle you. Just that this couch . . .”
“Is lumpy and old, well-loved but overused,” I finish for him.
Holding out his hand, he tips his head in the direction of Trudy’s room. For half a second, I feel like a girl sneaking into her parents’ bedroom. Not that I ever did such a thing. Wasn’t really into boys back then. I was focused on me. Moving forward with my dreams.
But I’ve been focused only on me for a long time.
And it’s been kind of nice to feel like someone else is looking out for me.
Like Stone.
When we enter Trudy’s room, I say, “Just give me a minute.” Excusing myself to the bathroom, I change into my nightshirt and Trudy’s robe, fixing up my hair in a bonnet.
When I reenter her room, Stone sits on the edge of the bed, one arm perched on his thigh. “My turn?”
I nod, and he takes the bathroom for a moment.
The entire process feels domestic, like something couples might do after years of living together. I’m getting ahead of myself with the thought.
It’s only another night, snuggling up with this man.
But the air around us feels charged after that kiss we shared earlier.
No one mentioned the announcement Zelle made to someone down that hall, but sly grins and laughing eyes said the family knew the truth.
Uncle Stone was kissing Miss Taxi.
As I lay on my back, waiting for his return to Trudy’s room, I tease him when he’s still dressed.
“Gonna sleep fully dressed?”
“Gonna sleep in that robe?”
“I’m cold,” I lie, using the heavy material as a shield. I shouldn’t be shy. I propositioned the man a week ago, yet somehow, I feel self-conscious, anxious about exposing my body to him, despite us kissing again.
Because something tells me if a kiss can knock me off-kilter, sex with Stone Sylver might send me out of this world.
“I’ll adjust the air conditioning,” he says, his brows pinching with concern for my well-being.
I wave. “I don’t want to fiddle with Trudy’s settings.” I’m not here to take over her home.
Stone nods before he slowly tugs his tee over his head, exposing the thick patch of hair on his chest and the trail that leads to his waistband.
Most nights, he’s kept his T-shirt on. Tonight, I get a show of what’s underneath even his tee.
Still no superhero S on his chest, but he still looks like one to me.
Love for his family. Sweet with his nieces. Concern for me.
Pure kryptonite.
Next, he shucks his jeans, exposing snug boxer briefs. I don’t mean to stare, but I can’t help myself. He’s one fine looking man.
He gives me that lopsided grin of his before climbing up the bed and rolling me to my side. My back to his chest. Then we click into position.
His arm around my waist, the other underneath my head. His feet beneath mine.
I close my eyes, but I’ve already seen what he looks like bare-chested. The outline of what lies beneath his boxer briefs. The thickness of his thighs.
“You okay?” he whispers, and I realize I hummed. A signature mm-mm-mm escaped my throat.
“I’m good,” I lie, covering my face with one hand as if that will hide me somehow. He’s at my back and can’t see the flame in my cheeks in the dimness of the room anyway.
Still, I’m warm all over.
His nose tickles my nape, just beneath the bonnet holding up my hair.
I loosen the sash at my waist, needing a little air in the heavy wrap. As I shift, I feel Stone’s hardness against my backside and still.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
I’ve ignored his morning wood every day, considering it biology and not anything else. But I cannot dismiss the firmness wedged against my ass.
Stone slips his hand into the opening of the robe, finding his typical position of palm against my belly, pinning me in place against him.
I fling a portion of the robe aside, needing more cool air on my skin, which suddenly feels like I’m burning up.
Is this a hot flash? Or desire?
When Stone flexes his hand over my belly, my core pulses, and I have my answer.
I cover the back of his hand with mine, holding over him a second, before slowly pressing his palm lower and lower.
I shuffle my legs, causing the robe to open more and my nightshirt to rise up my thighs.
Stone doesn’t resist my lead. He lets me guide his hand until he’s almost where I need him. His palm just covers the slight mound, blocked by the bunching up of my shirt and my boy-cut underwear, when he startles me.
In a move as fast as a superhero, he withdraws his hand and covers mine, flipping our positions, and forcing my fingers lower.
“Is this what you need, baby?” he whispers, his breath warm against my nape.
I hum, arching my back and forcing my backside against him, where the thickness of the robe’s material does nothing to disguise the wedge in his boxer briefs.
“Stone,” I whimper, wanting his hands on me but settling for my own, as he gently forces my hand between my thighs.
Burying my face in the pillow, I own our position. He’s pressing on the back of my hand while my fingers graze the sensitive nub beneath the thin layer of my damp underwear.
“Do what you need, Taxi.” He hums against the side of my neck, running his nose just below my ear. “Don’t hold back.”
With his hand like a cuff on my wrist, he pins my fingers between my thighs, and I swipe over my clit again. The brush causes me to flinch, and my backside bumps against his thickness.
“Stone,” I whisper, needing him in a way I cannot describe and yet touching myself with him not even an inch behind me. While I want his fingers, this feels like so much more.
He releases my wrist and cups the inside of my thigh hard, tugging my legs apart and forcing my leg over the side of his thigh. Wide and exposed, my fingers have a mind of their own. I strum and pluck, and moan into the pillow, arching my back like a naughty kitty cat.
Stone’s hand returns to the back of mine, fingers extended but not touching where I want him most. His entire body is a shadow of mine. He guides my fingers, adding pressure to the backs of them, but doesn’t slip from his position of puppet master, pulling at my strings, winding me tighter.
I hum again, the sound an elongated moan, broken up by choked syllables. Flexing the noise, like I’m stretching out my body, rubbing against his.
“Is this what you want, baby?” His voice vibrates against my neck. “Want me between those sweet thighs?”
Holy shit. If he talks dirty to me, this will be over in seconds.
As my hips roll back, Stone rocks forward, grinding his hefty cock deeper against me. The pressure of his fingers against the back of mine is harder. The tips of my fingers stroke deeper. Our bodies dance in a way that makes me wish there were no layers between us.
When Stone runs that bristly mustache against my tender flesh, I tip my head as best I can, so he’ll continue to tickle me. The rasp is a delicious sensation.
The push and pull between us continues.
“Want those thighs slicked?” he murmurs to my throat. “Want me deep, baby?”
He pauses as I groan at the thought.
“Let me?” he questions.
“Yes, please.”
Then Stone is brushing aside my fingers, swiping my panties to the side, and sliding into me with one thick digit.
“Fuck,” I cry out as I shatter, arching my back and moaning at the sensation.
Slickness covers my thighs as I melt around the thickness of his finger. He adds a second one, and I whimper again at the fullness, the pleasure, the relief.
The leg over his thigh clenches, holding onto him, keeping him close to me as I ride his fingers, swimming in the tide of release. I fear drowning, but know this man will rescue me.
I’m here for you. And he has been in so many ways.
“That’s it, Taxi.” He hisses before he nips at the juncture of my neck and shoulder, and I cry out again, clenching around his fingers, riding the rapids rushing up my center.
Stone thrusts hard against me from behind, and I counter the movement. While I want to remove the robe and any other barrier separating our bodies, I don’t want to snap this dizzying frenzy between us.
Stone continues grinding against me, his fingers deep but his palm still, cupping where I’m wet and sensitive. His lips linger against my throat, pinning him in place against me.
He grunts once, jolts hard, and stills.
“Fuck,” he mutters, clutching tighter at me, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. Like he doesn’t want to ever let me go.
Eventually, he presses a kiss to the side of my throat, pinned there a long moment before pulling back.
Breathing heavily near my ear, he whispers, “That went a little further than I intended.”
I chuckle, considering he just came in his briefs from grinding against me. The idea would be heady if I wasn’t already a bit dazed by what’s happened.
Stone touched me, and I came, reminded that not all orgasms are created equal.
The ones given by him were out of this world.
Biting back my grin, I twist my head, and Stone falls to his back behind me. I further shift to find his forearm draped over his forehead, blinking.
“You okay?” I whisper, glancing down at his boxer briefs, where the waistband is lowered and the angry head, now relieved, peeks over the edge.
Stone lowers the hand on his head to cover where he’s spent. “I did not expect that to happen.”
I glance back at his face; our eyes finally connecting.
“You are a little like kryptonite,” he whispers. “Make me weak in the knees and lose my head.”
I duck my head into his shoulder. “Same, Superman.” He makes my knees tremble and my head foggy.
Thinking things like maybe I could belong here.
In the family, Genie said.
Might be a leap, like over tall buildings, but I won’t mind a little skip.
A chance to test my own powers at staying.
Stone startles me with a sudden twist of his body, gently cuffing my throat, so I lift my head. He kisses me, tender and sweet, and it’s over too quickly, before jackknifing upward.
“I’ll be right back,” he promises, before exiting the bedroom to clean up.
I’ll be right here, I whisper in my head.
Further taking that leap into staying.