Bound to Surrender (South Jersey Bound Series) by Tess Lamont Page B

on his haunches as he drew her face up from the sheet. His face was flushed, his eyes dark and wide.
    “Good girl.”
    She’d never been as attracted to a man as she was right then.
    He wasn’t done, she could see it in the color of his skin, feel it in the urgency of his touch. And there was, of course, the matter of his rock-hard dick. She waited for direction with her pulse beating in her throat.
    “Now, we balance your burn.” He dangled a beaded chain. What appeared to be rubber-covered tweezers adorned each end.
    No.
    She glanced down at her pebbled nipples and a chilling sensation tripped down her arms. The security of her safe word dangled alongside of the chain.
    “Do you trust me?” he asked.
    She could refuse, she knew. “Yes, sir.”
    She did trust him. He’d shown thought for her safety at every stage of play. But, her nipples were so sensitive and those tweezers looked pretty damn unforgiving.
    She started to quake and closed her eyes.
    “Tell me your thoughts—all of them.”
    She swallowed. “I can’t handle nipple pain, sir.”
    He dipped down, taking one nipple between his teeth. His gentle sucking made her moan. Lightly, he bit. Electric shocks of pain shot through her core like an internal shiver. He released. The after-burn left her licking her lips.
    “Very good,” he said. “Still afraid?”
    Letting him clamp her nipples while her hands were bound required deeper trust than she had granted. Could she offer up her fear and depend on him to lead her through the mire of trembling incoherence?
    Her shoulders ached from her binds, but as she sat up on her knees, she rolled them back anyway. She made her decision. She was ready.
    “No, sir. I am not afraid.”
    She sucked in and held her breath as Bryce secured a hard, dark nipple in a tweezer and pushed up the tiny ring. Pinching tightness plucked strings of pain that reverberated through her center. Hurt, yes, but not as intense as she’d expected.
    When he’d clamped both nipples, Bryce sat back on his heels, satisfied. Determined to please Bryce and conquer her fear, she played with sensation. She closed her eyes and deepened her breath. Deep tissue pinch in her nipples was mirrored by a clenching fullness between her legs.
    The chain swung between her breasts as he came to his knees. Her gaze dropped to his cock. Damn. Her ass throbbed, her nipples stung and still she wanted to wrap her tongue around his prick and suck.
    “Pink tape and nipple chains work on you,” he said.
    “All the rage this season.” She took a breath. “Sir.”
    He drew her up by her shoulders so she rested on her knees. When he stood, his erection pulsed at lip-level.
    “Next on the menu: me. ”
    Yes, dear . She tried to wrap her lips around his cock but he stopped her.
    “Oops,” he said. “Almost forgot.”
    He hooked the chain over his erection. Where the hell did he come up with that? She gasped as her tits strained upward, pulled by the chain.
    “Take as much of me as you can. I don’t care if you drool.”
    Christina didn’t think; she sucked. Using the present-moment awareness she’d discovered , she took his length to the back of her mouth, expecting to gag. She didn’t. She opened her throat and relaxed her tongue, enjoying his salty taste.
    He gripped her hair and guided her head, making her feel like a creature made for his pleasure.
    Her nipples wrenched upward as she took him to her throat, sending shards of cut-glass pain stinging through her tits. She gyrated—deep, deliberate. Agony in her nipples alternated with torment at her jaw, but only Bryce’s voice could make her stop.
    She was dizzy with the sweet -musk scent of him and relished the feeling of his hand clutching her hair. Hot and horny and determined, she slid her tongue up and down, memorizing his curves, his ridges, his most sensitive areas.
    His balls practically disappeared into his body. “Enough.”
    Pushing her supine, he removed the clamps.
    Fuck . The searing