My second erotic short, Bound to Surrender is released today!
The inspiration was a late night IM conversation about what sex means to men vs. women. This sexy story of a flirtation that leads to bondage, dominance, submission and, ultimately, love my answer to the questions raised in that conversation.
Can d/s and real love coexist? My hero, Bryce and his heroine, Christina think so....
Because her son Michael is spending the summer with his father, Christina finds herself alone on her birthday and decides to cheer herself up with an ice cream cone. Who should stroll in behind her but the hot coach she's been lusting after all year long...
“I hear the vanilla here is very good, but if I were you, I’d be a bit more adventurous.”
With a bolt of awareness, Christina recognized Bryce Walker’s throaty baritone. His voice sent chills up her legs. When she glanced sideways, the muscles behind her knees weakened further.
Eyes like his should be illegal.
Her reaction to him was the exact reason that she’d avoided the man for months. She could not control her body’s response to him, no matter how hard she tried. Damn hormones. Every time she got within ten feet of him, a shiver started somewhere behind her lower ribs and slithered down, pulsing in her sex and forcing her to seek release—either by self-distraction or, more frequently, in the privacy of her bedroom with the help of her vibrator.
Bryce was not a man to be trifled with, however, and she’d had her fill of overbearing males, thank-you-very-much.
His rakish smile stopped just beneath his sunglasses. I’d be more adventurous. Christina had no doubt of the double-entendre of his suggestion, but she couldn’t act offended. Her body drummed the truth. She wanted nothing more than to pick up what he was putting down.
“Hello, Mr. Walker,” she said, in her best librarian-voice. “Thanks for the advice, but I wasn’t considering the vanilla.” She lifted an eyebrow. Their eyes locked and the pulse in Christina’s sex began.
The bells clanged as another customer entered the shop. She turned back to the server.
“I’ll go with the maple walnut,” she said, correcting her posture and straightening her skirt.
“Cup or cone?” the teenage clerk droned.
Bryce stood way too close. His heat radiated through her blouse, contrasting with the cool sensation of the counter against her belly. Christina suppressed the urge to giggle.
“Cone, please,” she replied in clipped tones, but on impulse she added, “and you know what else I want? I want Jimmies.”
The clerk nodded, not bothering to glance up before preparing her order.
“Feeling reckless?” Bryce asked, cocking his deliciously masculine head to one side.
She shook her head no. “Indulgent, more like. It’s my birthday.” Why did I tell him that?
“In that case,” Bryce turned and spoke to the clerk, “I’ll pay for the lady, and add a single cone of vanilla to the order.”
The clerk nodded, handing Christina her cone. She thought of refusing Bryce’s offer, but decided against it. To tell the truth, his gesture made her feel ridiculously pleased, even giddy. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had bought her ice cream.
“Hey, I thought you said to try other flavors…” she laughed. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a vanilla man.”
“Oh, I’ve tried other flavors,” he replied. “Once I know what I like, though, I stick with it.”
Christina swallowed. “Mr. Walker, you really don’t have to pay for me,” she forced herself to say.
“But I want to,” Bryce purred, taking his own cone and handing the clerk cash. “Besides, it’s your birthday.”
Bryce held out his arm toward one of the shop’s small tables. He placed a warm hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the table. Then, he slid in across from her and leaned forward.
“Happy birthday, Ms. Welch,” he said, his voice low. “Do you have a wish for me to grant?”
Bryce’s eyes held her, testing her and challenging her to respond. She swallowed a lick of ice cream. The cold sensation slid into her belly as she tried to remember the reasons why she’d held this man at bay. Bryce was strong, virile, and clearly interested. Why had it seemed so necessary to keep him at arm’s length?
Work. Michael. Oh yes, and the uncontrollable flame he stoked in her pussy.
Just as she was about to slow it down, her mind rebelled. Too much denial, it screamed, too much restraint. What harm could a little flirtation cause? She practically salivated with the need to take what he offered.
“A wish, Ms. Welch?” Bryce prompted.
“Mr. Walker,” she asked as her throat dried, “are you flirting with me?”