The Dom Next Door

MM Contemporary Romance
by Jace Wilder

Free with Kindle Unlimited

Pairing: MM

Heat: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ Inferno

Tropes: Neighbors to Lovers, Voyeurism, D/s Dynamic, Praise Kink, Power Exchange, Age Gap, Forced Proximity, Slow Burn, Control/Surrender, Touch Starved, He Falls First

He heard everything through the wall. Then he got invited to experience it.

Evan Calder moved to Chicago to start over. New city. New apartment. No plan beyond silence and a fresh start. But the apartment shares a wall with 7A — and the sounds coming through it are anything but silent.

A voice. Low, controlled, commanding. The kind of voice that doesn’t ask — it instructs. Evan tells himself it’s just thin walls. City living. But he doesn’t put on headphones. He doesn’t move the desk. He sits against the plaster and listens, and his body responds in ways that three years with his ex never produced.

Victor Hale is a security consultant with a military background and fifteen years of practiced dominance. He noticed Evan the day he moved in — the dropped gaze, the flushed neck, the breathing that changed every time they crossed paths. Victor knows what Evan is. Evan doesn’t. Not yet.

When Evan finally knocks on Victor’s door, what starts as curiosity becomes structured exploration. Sessions. Rules. Restraints. The word good spoken at the precise moment that rewires everything Evan thought he knew about himself. And Victor — the man who controls everything — discovers that the one thing he can’t manage is how much Evan makes him feel.

But when Evan learns that the building has been part of Victor’s history before, the trust they’ve built fractures along the fault line of Evan’s deepest fear: Am I unique? Or am I convenient?

THE DOM NEXT DOOR — a high-heat MM romance about a voice through a wall, a man who listened, and the dom who was waiting on the other side.

You’ll love this book if you enjoy:

✅ Neighbors-to-lovers with a voyeurism hook
✅ Experienced dom × inexperienced sub discovery
✅ Praise kink that triggers hands-free orgasms
✅ “Good boy” as a weapon of mass destruction (🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ — graphic, explicit, emotional)
✅ D/s that evolves into love without losing its edge
✅ A dom who kneels exactly once — and it changes everything
✅ HEA guaranteed

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⚠️ Content Warning: This novel contains explicit sexual content (graphic MM scenes including D/s dynamics, restraints, praise kink, edging, sensation play, power exchange, and emotional intensity), strong language, depictions of past emotional neglect in relationships, and themes of dependency and vulnerability. Intended for readers 18+.

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Chapter One

The elevator smelled like someone else’s takeout and regret.

I shifted the last box higher on my hip and jabbed the button for the seventh floor with my elbow. The cardboard dug into my forearm, the flaps held shut with a single strip of packing tape that was already peeling. Inside: a tangle of phone chargers, a half-empty bottle of ibuprofen, three mismatched coffee mugs, and the framed photo of my parents I hadn’t been able to look at since the move but also couldn’t bring myself to leave behind.

The essentials. Everything else was already upstairs, scattered across the apartment in a chaos pattern that Nadia called “organized adjacency” and I called “I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

Seventh floor. End of the hall. Unit 7B.

The apartment was small but clean. Hardwood floors that creaked in exactly one spot near the kitchen. A bay window that faced east, which the listing had called “sun-drenched” and which really meant I’d be waking up at dawn whether I wanted to or not. One bedroom, one bathroom, a living space that did double duty as my office.

But it was mine. First thing that had been just mine in three years.

By nine, I’d eaten a granola bar and half a sleeve of Ritz crackers, which I was counting as dinner. Nadia had texted twice. I sent back a heart and a skull emoji and plugged my phone in on the nightstand.

The bed was just a mattress on a frame, sheets still creased from the packaging. Tonight I just wanted to lie down in the dark and listen to the silence of a place that didn’t have anyone else’s history in it.

I turned off the light and stared at the ceiling.

Silence. For about twenty minutes, silence.

Then I heard it.

Not loud. Not obvious. But the apartment was sealed up and still, and the sound came through the shared wall — the one my desk was against, the one that separated 7B from 7A — with a clarity that surprised me.

A voice. Male. Low and even, with a cadence that didn’t sound like conversation. Just one voice, steady, deliberate, each sentence measured out like it had been weighed before it was spoken.

I lay still and listened.

A second voice. Softer, lower in register. Responding, but not with full sentences. Short answers. One or two words at a time. Something about the cadence of it — the brevity, the obedience of the rhythm — made the hair on my arms stand up.

Then sound. Not voices. Physical sound. A shift of weight, a creak of furniture, something that might have been a sharp intake of breath. My pulse ticked higher. My skin went alert.

The controlled voice came back. Shorter now. Clipped. Not angry — directive. Like someone giving instructions that expected to be followed without repetition.

Then a sound that was unmistakable. A groan — bitten off, muffled, the kind that someone makes when they’re trying to stay quiet and failing. Not pain. The pitch was wrong for pain. It was the sound of someone overwhelmed by something that felt too good to contain.

My mouth went dry.

I should have put in headphones. I should have done literally anything other than lie perfectly still in the dark, heart hammering, straining to catch every sound through six inches of plaster and insulation.

I didn’t move.

The sounds continued. Not chaotic — that was the thing that caught me. There was a structure to it. The controlled voice would speak. A pause would follow. Then the physical response. Like a call and response. Like a rhythm someone had set and someone else was following.

When it stopped, I stared at the ceiling and thought: That’s just neighbors. That’s just city living. Walls are thin, people have sex, you’re an adult, this isn’t a thing.

My hands were shaking.

I pressed my palms flat against the mattress and focused on breathing. But I knew the difference between being startled by a noise and listening to it. I hadn’t been startled. I’d been riveted.

I turned onto my side and faced the wall.

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The Other Side of the Wall — A scene TOO HOT for Amazon

Six months after the epilogue, Victor and Evan’s wall comes down — literally. A renovation that turns into a christening of every room in their newly combined apartment. Power play, body worship, and the filthiest game of “which room next?” ever played. The hottest, most intimate chapter in the series — and it’s yours free.

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