Bound to Surrender (South Jersey Bound Series) Read online

  “Sounds serious,” Jillie said. “You must have been very bad indeed.”

  “Let me guess—you told your ex to go to hell and refused to let Michael go to boarding school?” Lisa suggested.

  Christina shook her head no. In fact, she hadn’t even thought of doing that. Michael seemed happy about the school. Guilt gnawed at her—her son should have been on her mind—not his baseball coach!

  “Not Michael...let’s see then.” Jillian set her chin in her palm and drummed her fingers against her cheek. “You went on a date, didn’t you?”

  “Not...exactly.”

  “Sex!” Lisa yelped. “Oh, my God, Christina had sex!”

  The two men in the booth across from them turned around and Lisa covered her mouth.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled from under her hand.

  “Yes, sex,” Christina said in a whisper. “And now the whole bar knows.”

  “Don’t worry, they’re just jealous,” Lisa said sipping her beer. “How was it?”

  Christina flushed to the roots of her hair. She never minded when Jillie and Lisa discussed sex, but she could never bring herself to speak with the same candor. Or had she been silent due to lack of experience?

  “That good?” Jillie whispered.

  “I didn’t say anything,” Christina said.

  “You didn’t have to. You’re flushing to your roots.” Lisa reached over and teased Christina’s bangs. “So what’s the problem?”

  “The good part is, I can’t think of anything but him and how I want him to do me again.” Christina rubbed her forehead. “The bad part is, he’s a co-worker.”

  “Oh,” said Jillie. “Not good.”

  “I know,” Christina said, resting her head on the booth. “Stupid. But, jeeze, I have wanted this guy for ten straight months. I guess I just wore out. And, I wanted something nice for my birthday.”

  Lisa giggled.

  Christina sat up and narrowed her eyes. “Go ahead, mock me.”

  “Now wait,” Jillian said. “It doesn’t have to be all bad. I mean, you don’t go back to school for a couple of months.”

  “Jil’s right, Chris,” Lisa chimed in. “By that time, either it’ll be long over or you’ll be committed.”

  “I’ll be committed, alright—in an institutional sense.”

  Jillie reached across the table and took Christina’s hand. “School and Michael make your stakes higher. But, aww, hell, you needed a good lay.”

  Christina felt the side of her lip turn up and she blushed. “I know.”

  “Have your fun for once,” Jillie continued. “Remember: we’ll be here to help you work it all out.”

  Christina rubbed the twinge in her lower back. Who was she kidding? She was more than ready to do it again. And again. “If I’m going to go have my fun, I think I need to join your Yoga class, Lisa.”

  Lisa broke into another fit of giggles. “I want to meet this guy.”

  “To summer lovin’.” Jillie lifted her bottle.

  Christina’s heart lightened as she raised her dark porter to her lips. Lisa was right. She was taking this far too seriously. Whatever was coming would be an adventure. And, she was long overdue.

  ****

  Bryce’s gaze kept sliding back to Christina’s ass, even though he was supposed to be keeping a watchful eye on the sex shop’s exit.

  “You are supposed to be on guard duty,” she said under her breath.

  “What?” he asked, eyes wide with feigned innocence. “I am watching. Besides, we aren’t likely to run into any parents or students. That’s why we drove ninety-nine miles to New York City instead of hopping the bridge to Philly, remember?”

  “Not likely, but it is possible,” she quipped.

  She wasn’t truly concerned about getting caught, but the sheer variety of toys made her jumpy. As far as she’d known, vibrators came in popsicle-shaped black. But she’d been wrong. The options were endless. She examined a rubber-studded pink dildo.

  “You don’t need one of those,” Bryce said.

  “Oh, no?” she asked, crossing her arms.

  “No.” Bryce lowered his voice to a register that vibrated in her pussy. “When you come, I want to feel you drench my cock, my fingers or my mouth—not a piece of plastic.”

  Her knees wobbled under her skirt, but she managed a haughty toss of her hair. “You just love to talk dirty, don’t you?”

  “Does the librarian object?”

  She looked him in the eye, but quickly broke into a smile. “Not at all, but as we librarians say…shhh.”

  His quirky grin made her feel all crumbly and warm inside. He claimed her mouth in a quick, but dominant kiss, leaving no doubt about her status. His.

  “If you are worried about getting caught, I’ll finish up here,” he offered. “You can meet me on the corner where we parked the car.”

  She glanced around the shelves. “Okay. But if I leave, what are you going to buy?”

  “Telling you would ruin the anticipation.”

  She pursed her lips and eyed him askance. “Don’t,” she said in a whisper, “even think about nipple clamps.”

  He chuckled low and tapped her ass in a mock spank.

  “Who is in charge here?” he murmured into her ear.

  She tingled all over and closed her eyes. “You.”

  “That’s right.” He rubbed the base of her back. “Clover clamps look far more painful than they are.”

  “I don’t believe you.” She raised her shoulders and shivered. “I’ll meet you by the car. I might stop by the hot dog stand on the corner, though.”

  The clerk had been cheerful and welcoming when they came in, but she avoided his gaze as she slipped out the front door. Three steps up and she was once again bathed in city sun. The skin on her arms instantly warmed. She closed her eyes and turned her face upward. The city felt good—anonymous and free.

  Summer lovin’. She chuckled, remembering Jillie’s toast.

  She waited for a break in the cars and dodged across West 4th Street toward the hot dog stand on the corner of Sixth Ave. In line, she people-watched. Bodies of all types and ages strolled in chattering waves on the wide Avenue sidewalk. Excited, touristy laughter filled the air. In the heady mix of people and warmth and pleasantry, her need for order and predictability melted away.

  Recess. A chance to play.

  She caught a snippet of a conversation. “He did not!” one woman exclaimed to another.

  “Oh, yes, he did,” the other replied, “but mostly because I asked him too.

  “Bull shit. You know he wanted it.”

  “Maybe he did, but all that matters is he was good.”

  Hearing their exchange sparked wild imaginings. Christina thought of several sexual things Bryce would do to her if she asked—and a few she’d be too nervous to mention. They all flashed through her mind as the women’s laughter faded.

  Bryce had a damn skilled tongue.

  She folded her arms so her erect nipples wouldn’t show and smiled as she stepped toward the hot dog vendor.

  “Pretzel, please.”

  The vendor smiled back. “Anything for the pretty lady.”

  “Thanks,” she replied, exchanging two bucks for the snack.

  She stepped aside and Bryce’s now-familiar scent enveloped her.

  “I leave you alone for five minutes,” he whispered into her ear, “and already you’re flirting.”

  “Was not,” she said.

  He slipped his arm around her waist, drew her close and kissed her nose.

  “You are a pretty lady. So what if you want to flirt?”

  Was she? She hadn’t felt pretty...ever. Feeling shy, she offered up her pretzel.

  “Want some?”

  “Is it good?”

  “It’s no Philly pretzel, but it will do.”

  “Thanks,” he said, taking a bite.

  Odd. Sharing food was more intimate than she’d expected. “You can have the rest.”

  “Not Phill
y enough for you?”

  “I guess not,” she replied, looking away.

  “To be honest, I prefer the less bready kind.” He took a deep bite into the pretzel.

  “Sacrilege!” She managed to smile. “Everyone knows Philly has the best pretzels.”

  He put his finger up so he could chew and the funny expression on his face was just enough to make her smile genuine.

  “I’m a California boy, what do I know?”

  He pulled her closer to his side, and his radiant heat soothed the dizzying experience of being tossed between her understanding of him as a friend and colleague and her need for him as a man.

  “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 dir
ty 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.