Bound to Ignite (South Jersey Bound Series) Read Free Page A

about sensation .
    Her cunny’s ache intensified. Earlier, she’d tried to ease her desire with a shower head. Although the pulsing warm water of the massage function brought her to shivering orgasm, her frustration had quickly returned. She just couldn’t seem to come enough. Strange—usually it took a while for her to ramp back up after an orgasm. However, she’d had two this evening and she wasn’t even close to satisfied.
    She walked toward the door, swinging her flip-flops and swaying. Her cotton sundress swirled around her. With nothing but a pair of light pink panties beneath, every movement felt sensual, womanly.
    Once on the porch, she rang the bell and waited with a small, seductive smile playing across her lips.
    As he approached the door, she could see him silhouetted through the curtain, and wondered what he’d be wearing. They were shielded from the neighbors by the scrubby pines, so it was possible he’d be naked. Her heart beat a little faster.
    He opened up the door: jeans and a linen button-down shirt. Not naked, but nice. At least he’d rolled up his sleeves. She was a sucker for a rippling forearm.
    “Wine?” he asked in greeting.
    She grinned. “Yes, thank you.” As she followed him into his kitchen, she murmured, “Your driveway is warm.”
    He stopped and pivoted. His eyes were smiling as he noticed her bare feet.
    “You walked barefoot across the gravel?”
    “Yup,” she answered.
    “Impressive pain tolerance,” he chuckled.
    She laughed too, but she felt a blush creep up her neck.
    He seemed taller than she remembered. Was that possible? No, of course it wasn’t. He was about to take possession of her body and everything about him radiated masculine power and confidence, making him loom large.
    She slid onto a stool by his kitchen bar. His forearm flexed as he poured her drink. Her heart pattered like a hard August rain. She couldn’t believe she was so nervous. This was Eric! Still, as he sauntered toward her and handed her a glass, her body trembled with a delicious mix of fear and excitement. He looked every inch a man in charge.
    She took a sip of her wine: cold, wet, and welcome.
    “Aren’t you going to have a drink, too?” she asked.
    “No, I need―” He puckered his lips, and then smiled. “―to concentrate. But I thought some wine might help you relax.”
    She snorted. “Got Vodka?”
    He laughed low. “I don’t want you to get too relaxed…” He re-corked the wine and bent, sliding it into his fridge.
    Nice ass. “This is a little strange,” she coughed.
    He rounded the counter and stood behind her. His stomach heated the small of her back as he gripped her shoulders and massaged. The strong iron of his fingers eased her tension with deep, precise circles.
    “Of course it’s strange, Jil. You’re still on board though, right?”
    She caught one of his hands, rubbed his fingers against her cheek and then guided his palm back to her shoulder.
    “Absolutely.”
    “Good.”
    The wine—and Eric’s hands—warmed. He molded her muscles and, little by little, she sank backward against his chest until her only thoughts were of his body and where his hands might go next.
    “Better?” he asked.
    She closed her eyes and rolled her head against his heartbeat.
    “Ummm,” was all she could manage.
    ****
    Eric admired his view. Jillian hadn’t worn a bra, and, from this angle, her soft breasts peeked from her dress, teasing. She was hotter than she’d ever been—and he’d been lusting after her for years.
    She had spent all week using any excuse to touch him. He’d suspected she was building to something and had even hoped to night would end with some long-overdue action. But he couldn’t have guessed what she had planned. She’d thrown one hell of a curve ball.
    When she’d told him she wanted to be spanked, some primitive, archaic urge within him uncoiled, shocking the shit out of him, like his eyes had finally focused, and Jillian was all he could