Bound to Surrender (South Jersey Bound Series) (6 page)

“You’re quiet,” he said.

“Just enjoying the day.”

“Good,” he replied. “No second thoughts?”

His body tensed as he spoke. She glanced at him sideways, but couldn’t read his expression.

“No, Bryce,” she murmured. “Definitely not.”

****

The knot in Bryce’s back unwound. He had no clue what was happening between them but, whatever it was, he wanted to keep it going.

Stopping off in the city for some sight-seeing and some toys had been his idea, but being here on the street with his arm around her, well, it made him feel like they were on a date. And he liked the feeling.

This morning, she’d been excited and chatty as she’d played tour guide through the Village. She’d shown him book-lover specials—the corner that once hosted Allen Ginsburg’s favorite bar, Edna St. Vincent Millay’s skinny little house, the Greek revivals where Henry James set
Washington Square
.

Everything Christina did, she infused with passion. As she’d stood in front of the Cherry Lane Theater and recited the opening of Millay’s
Renascence,
he’d had the bizarre urge to ask her to fly to California and meet his damn family.

To take that leap from where they were, well, that was what his students would have called whack. He couldn’t blurt things he wasn’t really ready to say—or her to hear.

Soon, they’d be back doing the one thing that made sense. He’d made reservations at an out-of-the-way hotel off the Jersey Turnpike. On neutral ground, they’d explore each other and then vent the year’s pent-up lust.

Not soon enough.

“Where’s the bag?” she asked.

“Aren’t you a curious creature?” Bryce grinned. “I dropped everything in the trunk. Now, you can wonder all the way to the hotel.” He winked. “Apprehension enhances stimulation.”

Christina pulled her shoulders to her ears and laughed. Bryce had already identified that laugh as ‘I’m nervous but controlling it.’

He loved that about her. She was so aware, so in control, until he got her wishing she was on her back—or her knees or her stomach.

He popped the last of her pretzel in his mouth.

Today, she’d be on all three, and more. He had planned one fine afternoon.

****

By the time they reached the hotel room, Christina figured there wasn’t a sexual topic they hadn’t covered. During the car ride, Bryce had questioned relentlessly, saying his job was to catalog her secret cravings.

For reasons she couldn’t grasp, she found him easy to trust. She’d been as honest as she could when confessing her fantasies. She’d even told him she got wet every time she thought of him dangling his belt and promising her a spanking.

I know
, he’d replied.

She’d never been spanked in her life, and the idea was as strange as it was hot. He asked her if she wanted to try it today...and she could hardly believe she whispered, yes.

Thank goodness he’d been driving and she hadn’t needed to look at him when she’d answered!

She stood with her hands on her hips and knees pressed into the turned-down bed’s mattress. Directly across from her, a mirror reflected back her confusion. Just how did what Bryce had described as a “scene” get started?

He finished putting the fruit and water they’d bought in the mini-fridge. Behind her, he threaded his arms under hers and around her waist. She relaxed, allowing him to pull her against his hard steadiness. Sighing and closing her eyes, she breathed in his scent and forgot, for the moment, the looming spanking.

His thumbs circled under her breasts. Her worries dissolved as her nipples hardened. She opened her eyes and met his in the mirror.

“I thought I was too old for this,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“New things. Giddy anticipation. Fluttery nerves.”

“Apparently not,” he murmured.

With teeth light and lips soft, he nipped her neck’s valley. He covered her breasts with his hands and kneaded. Her nipples sent shocks to her belly.

“My librarian loves a good fuck, and she’s good at it, too.”

She was bright red putty in his hands. Play dough, waiting for his shaping fingers.

He pulled her shirt over her head. He’d told her not to wear a bra or panties. She hadn’t. He didn’t even look up. He returned to nibbling, seemingly enthralled by her shoulder’s curve.

Although his bites made her shiver and his erection pressed into her back, she was suddenly unsure of his desire. Watching her reflection left her self-conscious and nervous.

“This body has been through a lot,” she said.

“It holds you.” His words muffled against her shoulder. “And it’s beautiful.”

“Please,” she said with sarcasm plain.

“You don’t think so?” he asked, looking up.

She rolled her head from side to side as if in slow motion.

He covered her hands with his and stretched her arms wide. He stood behind her, his legs slightly spread as if he were about to spot her on an acrobatic jump.

His body framed hers and his tanned, muscled forearm contrasted with her pale underarm. His heart thudded against her spine.

“Put your hands around my neck,” he said. It was an order, but he kept his voice tender.

After a moment of hesitation, she raised her arms. Her breasts stuck out, begging for attention.

He met her eyes and she couldn’t deny the primal hunger in his fixed, intense gaze. A slow smile spread across her lips. She felt sexy as hell.

“Don’t move and don’t look away.” With just the tips of his fingers, he stroked each of her breasts. “These are perfect tits.”

“I breastfed.”

He lifted a brow. “Are you contradicting me?”

“No, Bryce.”

“Good.” He smoothed one palm down over her stomach. He brushed the depressions above each of her hips. “These indentations totally turn me on.” He raised her skirt and he rubbed her thighs.

On cue, a sticky wetness dampened her crotch as her breath caught against the back of her parched throat.

“This is a body that lives to be loved. Not by a boy―” He slid his hand between her legs, nestled a hot finger exactly where she ached, and flicked his finger directly against her clit.
“―but by a man who can appreciate its exceptional ability to respond.”

She closed her eyes.

“No,” he said, his voice deep and commanding. “I want you to watch yourself grind.”

She opened her eyes and tilted her hips back into his erection.

“Not my dick, Christina,” he said in a fierce whisper. “Ride my hand.”

She froze, biting her lower lip as a flush dusted her body.

“Grind your pussy on my fingers. Make yourself come.”

His sharp command electrified her thighs. When he took that particular tone, there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do. She swayed to the side and rolled her hips forward, riding his hand from the tips of his fingers to the cup of his palm. Her first thrust felt strange and unnatural, but she concentrated on the sweet, tight heaviness building in her clit and kept gyrating.
Slowly at first, then faster, until her body found its dance.

His quick, hot breath tickled her neck as he rolled one nipple between the fingers of his free hand and whispered dirty things into her ear she only half-understood. Realizing that she pleasured herself for him made her even hotter. She could feel her juice seep through the fabric of her panties. Her wetness covered his hand.

She really
could
ride him ‘til she came. She would never again look at herself in the mirror quite the same way.

“Watch
yourself come, Christina,” Bryce repeated. “I want to feel you shiver.”

****

Bryce wanted Christina to see what he saw. She moved with the natural grace of an erotic dancer, only with real pleasure, not practiced. She was not just beautiful, but hot as hell. Her body was formed for pleasure. He’d be damned if he was going to slow the moment, but his cock’s pulse painfully accented each second. Every nerve he possessed screamed to bend her over and fuck her now, but he kept his hand rigid.

He slid a knee between her legs and pressed up as she ground down against his hand. With a full-body shudder, she broke into a long, loud wail. She released, soaking his fingers and thigh. She whimpered, sagging against his shoulder.

He ordered her to spread wide. Pressing his palm on the small of her back, he forced her down until she draped over the bedside.

He unzipped his pants, brushed aside his boxers and rolled on a condom in record time. He didn’t wait to push down his jeans. In one smooth thrust, he buried his aching prick all the way to his balls. He pumped into her lubed, sweetly-hot cunny.

Through blurred eyes, he could see her body reflected in the mirror. She was splayed across the bed, her chin resting on the mattress. Her eyes, full of sex and need, watched him silent and intent as he took her from behind.

He grabbed her hips, forcing her to meet each thrust. She was so smooth…better than a wet dream on a winter’s night. He had to focus or it was going to be too short and—
aw, hell
.

She’d reached back, grazing fingers lightly over the center of his balls.

Her smooth caress along the center of his sack was more than he could take. With the same raw pull he’d felt the first time they fucked, he came, shivering with a guttural yell. The orgasm began in his cock and spreading in fire-bomb waves through every raw nerve.

****

Christina didn’t care that Bryce’s body landed on hers. When he rolled to his back and pulled her with him. She lay limp as a rag doll. Goosebumps covered her arms, and still she wanted more. She missed the full feeling of his dick in her pussy.

Sex.

How could something so common be so good? When she’d been married to Joe, she’d declined as much as she’d acquiesced. Too tired, too stressed, just plain not in the mood—all her excuses had seemed reasonable enough at the time. Now, she wondered what the hell she had been thinking.

Then again, Joe was no Bryce. A good fuck with the right man was utterly essential to life.

“Be right back.”

As he disappeared into the bathroom, she stared at the sprinkler valve against the popcorn ceiling and calmed her breath. Orgasm and all, she had yet to get her fill of him. Would she ever? When his thighs had slapped against her ass, her anticipation for a spanking grew. With a few well-placed whacks, she might well go all night. Just how many condoms had he brought?

He emerged naked, having rid himself of the condom, washed and shed the rest of his clothes. He tossed his jeans and shirt over the chair beside the bed and sank back onto the mattress. She rolled against him, rested her arm across his chest and propped her head up with her hand. She smiled.

“Hi,” he said, brushing her hair away from her face.

“Hi,” she replied. What else was there to say? Why talk when their bodies seemed so much better at communicating? “Worn out?”

“No.” His low laugh rumbled underneath her arm and breast. “I could use a minute, though.”

She melted against his body and shivered with a deep breath.

“You cold?” he asked, concerned.

“A little,” she confessed. “But don’t worry; you’re a god-damned furnace.”

“My librarian has the mouth of a truck driver.” He rubbed his hands up and down her back, creating more warmth with a pleasant sort of friction.

“No kid. No school. I have to get it all out.”

He coughed. “Not the only thing you have to get out, huh?”

She raised her eyebrows and snorted. “Guess not.”

Christina closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek against the heated, smooth skin just below his chest.

“Mmm,” he murmured.

Her cunny tingled at sound of his pleasure. Her cheeks flushed as she recalled the way he’d praised her body, the way he’d trailed his fingers in places she never before longed to be touched. She wanted to explore his body, too.

Gently, very gently, she smoothed her fingertips against the side of his thighs. His body relaxed as he gave himself up to her caress. Bolder now, she crawled to her knees. Pushing her feet toward his head, she undulated, stretching toward his feet. She took one foot in both hands and massaged.

He propped his head against his elbow. “Nice.”

She damn well could have purred.

She’s read about reflexology...the idea that parts of the foot corresponded with parts of the body. What better time to test the theory? She ran her fingers hard under his arch and pleasure
-pain flashed across Bryce’s features. She pressed down against the top of the ball of his foot and he eased back into the pillows. She rubbed against the pale, inner part of his toes.

Service left her with a funny, inverted kind of
power—the power of his full attention.

Happy though he seemed to be, he was quite obviously not aroused...yet. Had it been long enough? Maybe if they were both twenty.