Bound to Surrender (South Jersey Bound Series)

by Lamont, Tess

  “I’ll surrender, Mr. Walker,” she replied when her breath returned to normal. “If you make me.”

  He frowned. “Mr. Walker is what my students call me,” he said, evading her taunt. “You will call me...”

  For a moment, she hoped he would say something primitive and naughty like master, and she was afraid of melting into a pool of her own wetness.

  Instead, he simply said, “Bryce.”

  His eyes were dark. They were really going to do this...going to a place she’d fantasized about, but never dared speak of.

  “Surrender is given, never taken,” he said, enunciating each word, and a wrinkle furrowed his forehead. “Are you sure this is a game you’re willing to play?” His breath filled his body. “If so, for tonight, you will do as I say.” He drew her fingers to his lips like a Victorian gentleman and kissed the tips of her fingers. “And only as I say.”

  He was crazy. With rivers of anticipation running all over her skin, she didn’t really care.

  She nodded yes.

  “You will answer when I ask a question.” His voice was lower, commanding, assured. He bent to her ear and added, gently, “I love the lilt of your voice.”

  English teachers and alliteration. She didn’t dare smile, though the thought eased her fear.

  They were playing a game. Or not. She wasn’t really sure what was real. Whatever was going on, there was no way in hell she was going to break the mood.

  “Yes, Bryce,” she said in a breathy whisper.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, I will answer when you ask a question.” She sucked in. “And, yes, I want to surrender…to you.”

  Just a hint of a shudder ran the length of his body. This time, she did smile. He stopped stroking and wound his fingers into her hair.

  With his thumb tracing her chin he said, “For tonight, you are mine.”

  Oh, shit. Her insides turned to jelly, one big pool of fucking gelatin. Her eyes flickered back to the carpet as her cheeks flamed. He released her, sat up on his knees and then stood.

  Her naked breasts tingled. She wrapped her arms around her body.

  “Stand,” he ordered.

  Her legs trembled, weak and unreliable. How she managed to get to her feet, she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t stay there long. He lifted her into his arms.

  Well enough, she thought, because she couldn’t have walked, and she was too mortified to look into his eyes just yet. She wanted this, she wanted it bad.

  “My bed’s past the entrance, to the right,” she said.

  She wanted to feel his unyielding weight squeeze her tits and force her body into her mattress. She wanted to buck as he shoved his cock into her. Fuck it all, she wanted very much for him to command her. Then maybe, just maybe, she’d grant him her surrender.

  ...but not before demanding his.

  ****

  Bryce pressed Christina into her pillows. He lowered, dipping down to feast on her sherry cream flesh. As he rolled his tongue against her rust-brown nipple, he thought of the old English vows from the novels he taught. With my body, I thee worship. He closed his lips around her bud and sucked.

  She curled back, offering herself to him, eyes closed.

  Christina, Christina, Christina. He rose, gaze resting on her face. The emotions playing there fascinated. She’d granted him rare trust.

  She twisted her hips in a small arch as if to ask why he stopped. To reassure, he placed his hand on her forehead. He needed to step back from the edge if he meant this to last.

  He admitted to himself he was a bit rusty on the seduction side, not that she seemed to notice. What had he been thinking to promise screaming-perfect sex on the first try? Learning a woman’s triggers took time. Time to discover the meaning of each shade of her skin, time to explore every inch of her body, time for slight tremors to betray her secret sensitivities.

  Not that Christina was too much of a mystery. He’d already found a deeply responsive hollow at her neck’s base. Her nipples were practically alive.

  She sighed—a sound full of nervous, breathy anticipation...and challenge. ‘Yes, I want to surrender,’ his ass.

  Oh, she wanted a little rough sex, but did she truly understand what she had unleashed? Did she know what was inside of him…of her?

  Mine to command.

  His heart beat in his throat as he ran his knuckles down her cheek. Fate. He recalled first seeing her at the ice cream shop. Hubris, more like. He hadn’t meant to push the control game this far. Not yet, anyway.

  Maybe it was all the long months of repressed desire or, more likely, her all-too-accurate challenge about surrender. It really didn’t matter, did it? He was here now, and he sure as hell better follow through.

  They were toying with TNT, but he’d never backed away from a challenge. The fight was part of the allure. Beyond the fight, beyond today’s game, Christina was something truly special.

  For a year, he’d watched her in action. She commanded the respect of staff and students alike, yet she remained soft and connected when with her son. Her wickedly sarcastic sense of humor hid her vulnerability, her responsive sensuality.

  When she granted a man her surrender, she’d submit her fiery heart and soul in complete devotion, and expect to be rewarded with his skill and attentive dedication.

  He had sought such a partner for years—tigress to the world, but lamb to his lion.

  So, what came next? He traced a slow line up the center of her body.

  Her surrender or mine.

  He unbuttoned his shirt, hungry to slide his skin against hers.

  Both.

  ****

  Christina watched as Bryce pulled off his shirt like wrapping paper. Damn, he was one gorgeous present.

  He stretched his shirt and twirled. She frowned.

  “Improvisation,” he said with a lop-sided grin.

  “Hey, I—”

  He silenced her with his mouth. Protest slipped from her consciousness.

  He wound his shirt around her wrists and yanked her hands back against her headboard, wringing out sparks of pain. As he secured her hands, she lost interest in focusing on her pain—far more intriguing was the naked vulnerability of her breasts.

  She’d never seen her nipples so dark and erect. If they tempted his lips, however, he was determined to steer clear. He centered his attention on the flesh beneath her ear, nibbling until she existed in a pure pool of sensation. She coiled her body and silently pled for him to drink.

  He placed both hands around her waist and trailed small kisses from her breasts to her neck, all the while sliding himself against her soft curves. Her body sagged with a moan.

  His thighs locked her legs and he feasted at leisure with no apparent intention of rushing to the main course.

  Christina writhed.

  “You will stay still,” he commanded. “Is that clear, little librarian?”

  Clear? The only thing clear was his determination to drive her completely insane. He’d coaxed her to the edge of reason and she needed release; she’d go mad without it. She’d say yes to just about anything.

  “Yes, Bryce,” she breathed.

  He stepped away from the bed and drew his belt from his jeans. He let the leather dangle, watching. Apprehension convulsed in her flesh. She flushed, aware of her ass in a way she’d never been before. Did she really want him to? Shit...did he really mean to?”

  “Not today, I think,” he said. “But I recognize your sparkle. Have you ever been spanked, Christina?”

  “No, Bryce,” she whispered.

  “Is your throat dry, but cunt dripping?”

  Moistness dampened her thighs. She nodded.

  “Say it, Christina.”

  “Yes, Bryce. Seeing you with a belt in your hand makes my throat dry and my cunt drip.”

  He smiled. “We’ll explore those needs…when you are ready.”

  When, Bryce had said. When, not if. Today was a one-time thing, wasn’t it?

  He stepped
out of his jeans and boxers. His dick jutted up and out of a tangle of dark hair. She’d never been particularly impressed with cock, but, as he unwrapped a condom, she couldn’t take her eyes off his. A tight and tingling feeling skittered over her thighs as she watched him hold his base. The latex stretched, sheathing his smooth, veined skin.

  Any moment now and... Her hips jerked reflexively.

  He frowned. “I said no movement.”

  She froze and cast her eyes down. Her submissive response felt completely natural.

  He placed a knee on her bed and the mattress sagged under his weight.

  “So eager...so willing...I knew...” he said.

  Contradicting him would serve no point. If her nipples weren’t proof enough, her slit was soaked. Was she really tied to her bed with Mr. Walker’s shirt? Was she really enjoying it? Hell, yes.

  He slid off her pink lace briefs, leaving her skirt wrinkled around her waist. She didn’t care.

  “Spread.”

  She thrust her head back into her pillows and inched her legs apart until cool air tickled the dripping, twitching skin of her cunt.

  “Very good.”

  All she could hear was rustling fabric and the sound of her gasps as they punctuated the quick, jagged beating of her heart. He lowered his mouth. His hot breath tantalized as he circled her clit with his tongue. Every instinct told her to thrash and moan, but she held herself still as the pressure mounted. His tongue slipped in rhythmic lines, tracing every fold, nearing but never touching the one spot that would give her release. Her thighs shook and the tremble spread outward until her legs were beyond her control.

  “Please...I can’t, I can’t...”

  Bryce inserted a finger in her pussy and raised his face.

  “You will,” he insisted.

  He grabbed her nipple between his teeth. Christina whimpered as his breath slithered across the lower curve of her breast. With the precision of an expert, he sucked and licked her protruding nub.

  He removed his finger from her slick heat and, with her juices still dripping, he traced her lips. Without thinking she licked, then bit his finger. The half-smile disappeared from his face.

  “I want to fuck you, Christina.”

  “Do it then, dammit!”

  Bryce’s smile returned. “I said no talking unless I ask a question. That’s your second infraction. Just for that, you’ll have to wait a little longer.”

  Jerk.

  He wedged his knees beneath her legs. Christina felt trussed. Her arms were tied above her, head pressed into the pillows, and legs inelegantly draped open across his thighs.

  “I’ll take whatever I want, whenever I want,” he murmured.

  Past the rise and fall of her chest, she saw him press his cock against her folds. Maddeningly, he paused with his eyes closed. Her skin enveloped his dick, but he was not yet where she needed him to be.

  Not yet inside.

  The seconds twisted and stretched—tight and painful as the shirt wrapped around her wrists. Silence thickened anticipation as every sense remained tuned and waiting for his command.

  “Arch.”

  She pushed her ass into the air.

  “Not high enough,” he said.

  She pressed up.

  “Higher,” he barked.

  Her neck strained and her eyes prickled with tears. She tried, but…

  “Holy crap, Bryce...I can’t!” Raw panic seeped into her voice. “I know I’m not supposed to speak but—”

  “Shh,” he soothed. With one hand, he grabbed her ass. “Shh, it’s all right, I’ve got you.”

  She relaxed and gave her body over to his guidance. With his free hand, he guided each of her legs to his shoulders.

  “Good girl,” he murmured.

  A sheen of sweat cooled her skin and she shivered with bliss.

  With his prick, he circled her opening until just the tip of his cock squeezed inside. Then, he eased, agonizingly gradual, into her wetness. His gaze fixed on his dick as it disappeared into her body. She was bent, swiveled and spread, yet all she could feel was the stretching of her hot sheath as she took the massive length of his erection.

  “I love the look of my cock in your pussy,” he panted.

  The walls of her vadge constricted. Damn, she loved his voice.

  “Move with me, pet.”

  She pressed her head into her pillow and pushed forward to meet each thrust, finally finding balance and pace. On top, he massaged her clit. Underneath, his grip held her steady, while he pressed a knuckle against the slippery lower part of her opening, just above her anus. The uncontrollable quiver returned. Her knees shook against his shoulders.

  His surrender? Hers? She didn’t give a fuck, she was about to come harder than she ever had in her life.

  She heard nothing, smelled nothing, tasted nothing. Only heat and fullness remained—desire and the messy, wet friction where their bodies joined. Bryce’s careful, conscious thrusts nudged Christina through the darkness. He pulsed inside of her: not just in and out, but up and down. She existed only in that place: she was sex and sex alone.

  “Come now, Christina!”

  The spiral of nerves tightened in her cunt until the threads of her separate existence frayed. Her limbs shuddered, slaying the last of her reserve as the tension in her pussy finally cracked, spreading out in every direction. She screamed through a dark, hollow tunnel.

  Aftershocks pulsed through her inner muscles. Dimly, she felt Bryce tremor.

  “Fuck, yes,” he yelled.

  He shook and groaned and dug his fingers into her sides. He may have cried her name. She couldn’t tell. Caught in the tangle of limbs, all she could remember to do was breathe.

  When he eased out, she twisted to her side, remaining limp. She concentrated on his comforting, grounding hand against her forehead as he unbound her wrists.

  He rubbed her hands, urging the blood back into her fingers. She drew her legs against her abdomen and looked away. She thought she should say something, but he’d stolen her voice.

  ****

  Christina curled into a ball and a shiver of fear slithered through Bryce’s arms. Had he gone too far? He’d taken command, but now his heady sense of power dissipated.

  Her hair criss-crossed her white pillowcase in frantic patterns as the setting sun filtered through her lace curtains, drawing shadows of roses across the skin of her back. Bryce’s muscles remained frozen as her shoulders rose and fell with each deep, even breath.

  She wasn’t angry; she was sleeping.

  He breathed a sigh of relief and smiled.

  I want a man who’ll fuck me until I’m screaming into the pillow.

  Masculine triumph swelled his chest. Quite the screamer she was, too—uninhibited, throaty, with jaw dropped in shock and pleasure. Her thighs had quivered against his pecs as she’d clenched around his cock.

  Careful not to disturb her rest, he rolled to his side and wrapped the spent condom in a tissue and tossed the wad into the trash. He stretched out beside her, and, with his eyes, he traced the shadows on her skin.

  She rolled onto her back, satisfaction painted across her tension-free face and over her swollen, red lips.

  He shook his head at his own audacity: you’ll get your fucking, I swear. That was a bit much, but she had gone along with everything he gave. Yes, Bryce.

  If he wasn’t so spent, he could have gotten hard again just thinking about how, at his command, her body undulated like a wave in the ocean. He brushed a tendril of damp hair from her forehead. Something in the vulnerable twist of her arm against her flushed cheek stole his sense of elation. He felt—what?

  He withdrew his hand and rolled over, sinking into her other pillow.

  He’d played games of domination with other women, but they had always been just that—games. Staged scenes—role plays that flirted with primal, base urges but stayed in the bedroom. He kept the truth locked so deep within, sometimes he even forgot. But his wolf-heart slept uneasily.
<
br />   He could not deny he was an alpha seeking his mate.

  He longed for a woman who could hunt on her own, but purr beneath him when he staked his claim. He’d nearly given up on the search, having decided long ago such a woman did not exist.

  He frowned at the curled body beside him. But she does.

  The moment her muscles sagged and her body convulsed in ecstasy, he felt her total surrender. He rolled toward her side and pulled her against his stomach, curling his body around hers.

  He’d conquered, but he lost something in the process. When her pulses drew his orgasm, he felt like her body yanked his come from somewhere within his spine and he had the mindless, crazy urge to tell her she’d be his forever.

  It was the moment, only the moment. He reassured himself as he slipped into sleep.

  If not, it could cost them both everything.

  ****

  Christina followed her friends Lisa and Jillian to an open bar booth. The windowless, divey pub’s atmosphere matched her murky mood.

  “Malone’s, huh?” Lisa bounced on the booth’s bench. “I hope this means the conversation is gonna get good.”

  Christina bit the side of her lip. “You don’t mind coming to a bar do you?”

  “Nah,” Jillian said. “I could use a beer.”

  “You could use a beer!” Lisa cried. “Try prepping for a wedding.”

  Christina pushed aside thoughts of Bryce and focused on her friend. “How are things going? Ben’s not getting cold feet, is he?”

  Lisa’s lips lifted into a cat-with-cream smirk. “Hell, no.”

  “Phew!” Jillie chimed in. “We’d ‘ave had to kill him.”

  “Things are good.” Lisa nodded. “Very good, in fact. Ben and I are closer than ever.” She hesitated and looked at Jillie. “You could say Ben was bound to be mine.”

  Christina watched Jillie press her hand across her lips, and decided she’d missed some sort of joke. She ignored the twinge she felt at being left out.

  “Anyway, you chose the place, hon,” Jillie pointed out. “Got something on your mind you want to share?”

  Christina took a deep breath. “I did a bad thing.”

  “Ooh, it’s about time,” Lisa said.

  “Don’t,” Christina scowled, “joke.”