11. Nicole #2
I pull up to the roadside biker bar and contemplate turning right around, too far out of my element with all of this, but before I can, someone knocks on my window. I spin my focus to find Ian bent down, face close to my window when he waves. And suddenly, nothing else matters.
Not when he tips his head for me to step out of my car or when I put my hand in his waiting one, and especially not when he wraps his thick arms around me, hugging me tightly as if he knows I need it.
His breath ghosts over my ear when he speaks in a hushed tone.
“Just because you said you want to do this doesn’t mean you can’t back out at any time.
Remember, no is a complete sentence. We only do this because you say so, okay? ”
When I nod, he leans back and places the knuckle of his index finger below my chin, tilting my head up to meet his gaze under the neon light of the bar sign. “Say you understand.”
“I understand.”
“Your consent can be revoked at any time without any repercussions or hard feelings.”
“My consent can be revoked at any time without any repercussions or hard feelings.”
“Good girl.” He places a single kiss on my forehead then takes my hand to lead me into the bar.
It’s dark, smoke-filled, and everything I’d assume a biker bar to be, with big, beefy guys seated on stools, wearing leather cuts and hair past their shoulders.
A few play pool while women look on. A television in the corner plays some baseball game, while an Ozzy Osbourne tune fills in the background.
No one bats an eye at Ian and me. They don’t recognize us, nor I them.
“I assume you’ve been here before,” I guess when I sit next to Ian at the bar.
“Once or twice.”
The bartender sidles up to us as I place my forearms on the bar, only to immediately remove them from the sticky top.
I don’t drink beer, and seeing as that’s all they have, I look to Ian, who orders us each a Miller.
Once they’re set down in front of us, I hesitate.
“You don’t have to drink it,” Ian tells me.
“I ordered so we don’t waste his time while we’re here talking. ”
I nod but try a sip anyway. I don’t hate it, but I don’t like it either. Ian notices and places his hand on my thigh, an inch above my knee, and squeezes. “I’ll get you a water.”
He orders me a water and scoops a bucket of peanuts from a container in the corner, and I have to laugh as he shucks them, tossing them into his mouth. He fits in with this crowd, while I stick out like a sore thumb in my white peasant top and purple skirt.
“I feel kind of silly being here, dressed the way I am,” I confess, and Ian shrugs.
“You look cute.”
I bite back a smile, and he wraps his foot around the leg of my stool, yanking it closer to his.
I let out a yip of surprise, clinging to his bicep, but he merely grunts a barely audible, “That’s better.
” Then he offers me a peanut he’s freed from a shell.
“So, now that no one can overhear us, you’re welcome to tell me why you’re afraid of people seeing us together. ”
I swallow the peanut and accept another from him, pressing it between my thumb and index finger. “Oh, um… I…I have a hard time being the center of attention. I don’t like it.”
“Yeah, but no one would know what you’re doing or what we’re doing.”
“Just in case. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong impression of us if they see us together.”
“You know we’ve been together in public before, right? We’ve talked to each other and sat next to each other. Ran that cleanup together. Been stuck in a refrigerator together.”
That pulls a laugh out of me. “Yeah, but that was different. We weren’t together .”
He hums a sound I can’t interpret as his eyes take a slow journey over my face, studying every part of me like the Cliffs of Moher or Victoria Falls. Like I’m something really special to look at and he’s trying to remember every moment.
Eventually, he offers me another peanut.
“I’m glad you said that, because while we do this, there is no one else.
I know that you’ve agreed to an open relationship with—” He stops himself, angling his face away from me as he cracks a shell.
“You might be in an open marriage, but this…” He turns to me once again, voicing a warning.
“Is not open. I don’t share. If that’s not what you want, I won’t be offended, but we won’t go any further. That is my hard limit.”
I easily agree. I don’t like the idea of him being with anyone outside of me either. “Yes, okay.”
“What are your limits? Besides not being seen together.”
“Bryce and I?—”
Ian’s eyes squint, his shoulders hiking up as if his body is prepared to take a hit, and I briefly wonder why he would be anxious. Insecure, almost. He’s never anything but confident.
Except for this one fleeting moment that is already gone by the time I finish my sentence.
“Agreed that we’d take the summer to figure out what we want. So this,” I say, vaguely motioning between Ian and me, “would only be until he returns from his work trip.”
Ian slants his head toward me. “He’s away?”
I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. “For a month.”
“A month,” he repeats. The shell of a peanut crunches between his fingers, disintegrating into dust, and I’m not sure whether it’s a good or bad thing we only have a few weeks together.
“So, besides the whole…keeping it secret thing, there is also a time limit.”
He doesn’t answer for a long time as he shucks three more peanuts, and I watch as the tension slowly drains from his spine, his shoulders lower, and his chest expands on a deep breath. “Okay. If those are your terms, I accept.”
I smile and lean my elbow on the table, immediately remembering why I didn’t have it there in the first place and brush it off.
His mouth ticks up at my squeamishness. Then he hits me with a question I assumed he’d ask.
“Now that we have that out of the way. What do you want to do? What would you like to try with me?”
I let my attention drift around the bar as I contemplate my answer. “I’m not really sure. I was, well, I did some research last night and?—”
“I like that about you,” he cuts in, and my previously kicked-around ego inflates so much I feel like I might float away if not for his hand on my thigh.
“You are so naturally curious about everything. I really like that.” He holds a peanut out to me, and with my renewed sense of self, I attempt a bold move and incline my head, taking the nut from between his fingers with my teeth.
His eyes spark, nostrils flare, gaze zeroing in on my mouth as I chew, swallow, and lick my lips. He arches a brow, pleased.
“I was doing research, but I got overwhelmed by all the information. I feel like I don’t actually know what I want. Not until it comes up, you know?”
He offers me another peanut that I take from him with my mouth, this time closing my lips around his fingers. While I chew, he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them, and if the lights were on in this place, my skin would be the color of a tomato.
“Let’s start off simple, then,” he suggests. “We’ll ease into it, so you’ll know if and when you’re ready for more.”
I lick my lips, salt lingering on my tongue. “What’s starting off simple?”
“Letting me lead you in ways that have nothing to do with sex.”
“Like what?”
“Like you drinking that entire glass of water before we leave.”
I immediately pick it up to take a few sips.
He pushes the basket of shelled peanuts out of the way and places his arm along the back of my stool as he takes a gulp of his beer. “Tell me about your day.”
I fill him in on all that I did, and he shows sincere interest, asking questions about events I have coming up, and how I decide on what stock to order.
The whole time, he watches as I drink my water like some people watch the stock market.
As if my drinking this water is of great value.
So I ask him about it. “Why do you care about me drinking this water?”
“I know how hard you work.” He plucks at the drawstring of my top, releasing the bow I had tied, allowing the cotton to gape open, displaying the shadow of my cleavage.
“I also know you don’t take very many breaks.
You work from open to close most days and probably don’t drink as much water as you should.
I’d even bet some days you work through lunch. ”
When I don’t argue, he invades my space, his eyes practically black in the dim light. “No more, Nicole. You need to take care of yourself, and I will require proof. Every day. You need to text me pictures to show me you’re drinking water and eating.”
“Okay.” My voice cracks at his stern tone, so I try again. “I will.”
“And if you can do that, then maybe we’ll move on to the fun. But if you don’t, we won’t play.”
“Yes, sir.”
He smiles beneath his beard, his big and tattooed hand hiding it, but I catch it before he wipes it away, and I vow to call him sir as often as it takes to make him smile full-out.
Which is three more times in the hour we sit, talking about nothing in particular: how Aunt Sue is doing in Maine and why Juniper is driving him up a wall lately with her boyfriend and constantly arguing about how she needs to move out of Ian’s apartment.
When we finally leave, Ian guides me through the dimly lit parking lot to my car.
The night air is cool and refreshing after being in the smoky bar, and the neon sign casts a faint glow on his face, highlighting the wave in his hair, the strands a mix of black and gray, tucked behind his ears.
I knot my fingers together. “So, what now?”
“Now,” he says, caging me in with his hands on either side of my shoulders, “we take this one step at a time.”
For a minute, all we do is stare at each other, and I use the time to study him closely, the individual bristles in his beard, the wrinkles around his eyes, the slight bump on his nose, the uneven way he’s breathing.
It’s not until I feel him tremble as he rests his forehead against mine that I appreciate he might feel as out of his element as I do.
Which is strange because he is the one who’s done this before.
He curls his fingers around my neck, keeping me in place, as if he’s afraid I might leave.
Even if I could, I wouldn’t.
His breath is warm on my face, and underneath that addictive scent of cloves that always follows him around, I catch a faint smell of beer and peanuts. It’s strangely comforting.
“You’re in control here, Nicole.”
And I realize I’ve misunderstood the idea of a Dom/sub relationship this whole time. He might be the one in charge, but only because I’ve given him that power. Nothing happens without my say-so. His power can only remain in balance if we both understand that is exactly what it is—a balance.
For possibly the first time in my life, I have the ability to shift it all. It is as empowering as it is scary. To know this man, whom I’ve always thought of as formidable, can be halted with one single word from me.
One of his hands moves up to the back of my head while the other dips down, banding around my waist. He brushes his lips over mine once, twice before finally settling against them.
His tongue sweeps out, seeking entrance, and I grant it willingly as I wrap my arms around his neck.
There is not one inch of space between us, my chest and stomach against his, all his hard-packed muscle like a wall against my breasts.
Each of my breaths is torture, my nipples tightening, blood thickening as it pools between my legs.
When he presses me against my car, I can feel the hard length of him along my hip, sending waves of heat through my body.
But as quickly as the kiss started, it ends. Ian pulls away, his breath coming in ragged pants as he regains control. Me? I’m still somewhere in the atmosphere and murmur a drunken, “Wow.”
He chuckles, low and deliciously rumbly, brushing his thumb against my cheek. “Yeah. Wow.” He clears his throat then steps away from me. “Now, get in your car and drive safely home. Text me when you arrive.”
“I will.”
He leans down to drop a quick kiss to my head, opening the door for me. I sit behind the wheel as he shuts it, waiting while I start it up and pull out of the parking space. In the rearview mirror, I see him watching me until I’m out of sight.
The drive home is a blur, my mind consumed with thoughts of Ian, but as soon as I park, I text him, wanting to please him. Do as he asks.
I’m home.
His response is almost immediate.
Ian
Good. Now get some sleep. Sweet dreams, Nicole.
I’m not so sure they’ll be sweet, but I’m sure I’ll dream.