Bound and Determined

by Sierra Cartwright

  “I’ll be looking forward to your next beating.”

  “You’re the only one,” she lied.

  Tenderly he smoothed back errant strands of her hair. “You’re so much more than I expected.”

  His opinion of her didn’t matter…or at least that’s what she told herself.

  “I see why a man would be willing to risk his life to fall in love with an O’Malley. Come to bed, Sinead.”

  He snagged her wrist and drew her towards him. She thought he might kiss her. She was disappointed when he didn’t. “You can sleep on the settee.”

  “That’s one lesson well learned now, lass. I always sleep in the bed. Fuss and fight all you want, but I’ll never give up a bed. I’d prefer you sleep in the bed with me, but I’ll ring for an extra blanket it you’re preferring the sofa.”

  She was short, but the settee didn’t look all that comfortable to her, either.

  “I’ll thank you to stay on the far side of the bed.”

  “I’m sure you would.” He grabbed her robe from the floor and tossed it over the back of a nearby chair.

  “I’d like to sleep in that.”

  “You’ll sleep nude to dissuade you from dashing out the door.”

  Did he think of everything?

  He left on his own clothes and climbed onto the bed. He lay next to her. “Rest. You can fight me later,” he said. “And I’m certain you will.”

  Without allowing her the luxury of arguing, he held her. He had one arm around her waist; he pressed the other just above her pubic bone. In this position, her buttocks were nestled against the firmness of his pelvis.

  The flight might be over for now, but the fight would begin anew as soon as she had the energy. She’d not allow the Quinn diabhal to have power over her body or her mind. Nor would she be his bride.

  But a naughty, naughty part of her wondered if he was as good with his dick as he was with his fingers.

  Telling herself she’d never find out, that thoughts like that were dangerous and led nowhere, she tried to wriggle away from him, even by just a few centimetres, but he was relentless in this just like everything else. Without saying anything, he simply held her even tighter.

  Chapter Four

  For the first time, Jack thought that perhaps máthair Chríona knew exactly what she was doing by inviting an O’Malley into their ancestral home. Well, not exactly inviting, he mentally amended. It wasn’t as if Catherine had suggested they have Sinead to tea. Máthair Chríona was all but asking Sinead to be the home’s mistress.

  Catherine was convinced that they had the chance to end the bitter feud once and for all. By marrying Sinead and having babies with her, eight hundred years of angst could be laid to rest.

  Until now, he hadn’t been convinced.

  He didn’t believe in curses and Banshees any more than Sinead did. He would have never taken time out of his business and followed her but for one thing: seeing his máthair Chríona happy.

  When Catherine had found a comb with the O’Malley family crest on it, she’d seen it as a sign. Why else would something from the O’Malley clan appear in her very own bedroom?

  After nearly a millennium of fighting, of kidnappings, of stealing, of sabotage, Catherine was convinced it was her obligation to put an end to the curse. If she had to manipulate and cajole her grandchild, so be it. She had the chance to leave a legacy, and by hell, she was going to do it.

  When he’d protested that there was no such thing as a curse, she’d put her hands on her arthritic hips and glared at him as if he were once again a naughty child in short pants. “Perhaps not, my boy. But are you gonna deny that there’s bad blood between the O’Malleys and the Quinns?”

  He’d shaken his head.

  “Or that our family started it?”

  Again, he’d shaken his head.

  “Then it’s fitting that we should end it.” She’d dropped her voice then. “Then that’s that. You and I, my boy. We’re the only ones who can. That makes it our obligation.”

  His entire life, obligation had been drilled into him. It was the reason he’d got an education, the reason he always returned to the lands. The Quinn legacy was in his hands, and he’d heard that from the time he’d been in the cradle.

  “So what’s the harm in marrying the lass? You’re over thirty, now. It’s high time you help shape the future.”

  Máthair Chríona was right about a number of things. He was in his thirties, and it was high time he married.

  This was no longer the middle ages and he wasn’t required to produce an heir. Even if he had no children, the home would go to a cousin…but the nearest relation wasn’t a man he particularly liked. And if he stepped outside tradition and left the estate to another cousin, the legal battles would keep the home’s future tied up in court.

  Máthair Chríona, until now, had been tolerant enough to leave him to his own devices, especially the last few years since Maeve. Since Maeve’s betrayal, he’d enjoyed his bachelorhood. He’d dated plenty of beautiful women. And he’d engaged in consensual BDSM with many.

  Despite máthair Chríona’s patience and hope, he’d found no one else he wanted to marry. His grandmother had recently been insisting that Maeve had broken his heart. He didn’t believe in broken hearts any more than he believed in leprechauns. The fact was, none of the women he’d been with in the past few years had held his attention long enough to even consider asking his grandmother to open the family vault so he could select a ring for a bride-to-be.

  Still and all, burying an axe, making máthair Chríona happy and settling down all in one move was smart and strategic. There was only one flaw in the plan. Sinead herself.

  The petite and athletic woman was filled from the tips of her toes to the top of her lovely head with vim and vinegar.

  She clawed and scratched, but she had a submissive side, of that he was sure. Putting up with her shenanigans would make the times she purred all the more spectacular.

  Jack grinned as he felt her slowly, slowly, relax against him.

  The wench fought her own responses as much as she fought him. The dossier hadn’t prepared him for the reality.

  His máthair Chríona’s men had even interviewed people familiar with Sinead, but even that didn’t tell the whole story.

  She was passionate and wild. A hellcat. But when his mouth was on her hot little mound, she purred like a kitten.

  Behind his jeans, his cock throbbed. He wanted his dick in her, wanted to fill her pussy and pound into her.

  Then he wanted to fill her arse, stretching that tight hole for his penetration.

  No matter what passed her appealingly sweet lips, Sinead liked things the way he did, over the edge, as untamed as the land they both called home.

  Honestly it hadn’t been his idea to marry her. And even if he’d been forced to write up a list of eligible and appealing women, her name wouldn’t have been on the list. Still, if he had to be burdened with one, especially an O’Malley, it might as well be her. There were many advantages financially, despite the fact her family was struggling. The O’Malley lands adjoined his and he had the resources to turn around her family’s fortunes.

  He didn’t fool himself, though. She’d be a challenge from beginning to end.

  He looked forward to taming her.

  And if she kept up with the mouthiness, he’d gag her.

  Shite. That idea nearly made him ejaculate without even touching his cock.

  The zip of his jeans chafed. Teach him to leave off his boxers now, wouldn’t it?

  He felt more than saw the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she drifted off to sleep.

  He lifted an imaginary pint. She wouldn’t admit it, but this round had gone to him.

  As soon as he was convinced she was completely asleep, he got out of bed and picked up the silver comb. Indeed, it was her family’s crest on the back. He placed it inside his jacket pocket, along with the one his máthair Chríona had found.

  He exchanged text m
essages with his pilot, making sure the woman was prepped for an early-morning departure. After that, still feeling restless, probably from the denial of an orgasm his body craved, he climbed back into bed.

  It took all his resolve, and turning down the room’s temperature several degrees, to keep his clothes on. Through the years, and by many people, he’d been called arrogant. The truth was, he was. But he decided he wanted to see her on her knees, sucking his cock, making it hard and wet, before he claimed her.

  That decision hadn’t stopped his shaft from standing to attention the entire damn night, however.

  Although dawn approached, she still slept soundly, and he let her. He’d kept her covered, kept her warm, kept her close.

  He wasn’t a fool.

  He knew he’d pushed her sexual boundaries last night.

  His grandmother’s people had interviewed several of her former boyfriends. One idiot had called her frigid. And indeed, the barkeep had said her nickname was the Titanic.

  The man she’d nearly been engaged to, Donal, had come closest to uncovering the truth. When he’d been interviewed, he’d politely mentioned she had some unusual tastes that he’d done his best to put a stop to. He’d stopped short of using the word ‘perversion’. But obviously his tight-arsed opinions had something of an impact on her.

  Since then, she’d obviously kept her passion on a tight leash. Maybe it scared her. Or maybe she’d never been with anyone man enough to bring it out in her.

  Because of her interest in BDSM, he could see her being bored by most men, by most of her sexual experiences. But Jack Quinn wasn’t most men and he had tastes she’d never even dreamt of. She might consider herself kinky, but she had no idea.

  Most of all, she didn’t scare him, despite her quick tongue. In fact, he found that one of her more endearing qualities.

  She might not realise it, but he’d been there for her last night after her first ever spanking. He wasn’t sure how she would react She could have felt panic, guilt, or maybe she’d have a unique reaction. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she had been angry.

  She’d slept hard, though.

  At one point, right before the heater had kicked on, she’d shivered. He’d tucked the blankets around her shoulders.

  In sleep, her defences had been down. She’d snuggled against him. Her hand had curled into the material of his shirt. She’d never do that if she were awake.

  He murmured soothing words, encouraging her to rest.

  Within seconds, she’d settled again.

  The lovely Sinead was going to be the perfect submissive. She distrusted him now, but she’d learn, eventually, to rely on him.

  Finally knowing they risked running late for their flight, he reached over and switched on a lamp.

  “You’re a beast. “Turn off that light.”

  “We’ve a plane to catch.”

  “Are you still about that nonsense?”

  In answer, he moved quickly. In moments, he had her naked body pinned beneath his. “Oh, aye, I’m still about that nonsense.” He grabbed her arms and pinned her wrists above her head. “Or I can keep you here all day and fuck you until you can’t stand.”

  “I thought you were going to be a gentleman.”

  “A gentleman? Compared to what’s driving me right now, I am being a gentleman. And you should be grateful.”

  Her mouth opened just a little. He was more than tempted to kiss her deeply. She looked so very lovely with her eyes still hooded from sleep, her hair mussed around her face. It’d been a long time since he’d woken in bed beside a woman. And the idea of waking next to her appealed on so many levels. “Now you’ve got two choices. You can get dressed and I can get you a cup of tea—”

  “Stuff it. I don’t drink tea.”

  “What are you, uncivilised?”

  “Too uncivilised for the likes of you. So you can feel free to turn your back anytime, and I’ll just slip out the door. Might save yourself from harm.”

  Nay. Now he’d found her, he wouldn’t be letting her go. “Then I’ll just have to see about some coffee,” he offered.

  “Cream and sugar.” She licked her upper lip. “And a pastry.”

  “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “Chocolate something.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I was rather hoping you’d select the second option that I never had the chance to make.” He moved against her suggestively. Despite her protests, she’d spread her legs a bit. Even through his jeans, he felt the heat that radiated from her body.

  “I’ll stick with the coffee and the pastry. Option number two probably has something to do with your body being naked, seeing as how you’ve woken up with a hard-on, and really, I have no desire to have any part of you inside me.”

  Her comment might have deflated his ego, but it had absolutely no effect on his morning erection. In fact, her challenging words served to raise his libido a couple of notches. “I think you liked your spanking. I think you secretly want another.”

  “I think I want coffee and a pastry, a chocolate pastry, else I’m going back to sleep. You can be a bully at a more civilised time. Like noon.” She yawned.

  “Not a morning person, then?”

  “For you, not a morning, mid-morning, noon, afternoon, evening, and especially not a night person. Now get off me, you big lug, and get my coffee.”

  “Lucky I’m not bleeding from all the wounds your words inflict.” Round three to the lass from Westport.

  “You have no idea how lucky.” She glared at him.

  No wonder she frightened the men who wanted to bed her.

  He rolled off her, but before leaving her, he flipped her over.

  She squealed, all girl. “What the hell are you about?”

  “Seeing how red your arse is from last night’s spanking.”

  She reached back to cover her buttocks, but he imprisoned both her wrists.

  “You could have taken quite a bit more.” Her skin was barely pink in a couple of places. “I’ll give you another hiding later, one that’ll last longer.” Just having her in this position made his cock massively, ragingly hard.

  Before he forgot himself and kept the plane waiting all day, he nipped her right buttock then released her, delighting in her gasp.

  He grabbed the phone and punched the button for the front desk. He requested a toothbrush for himself, coffee for both of them, a pastry for her, and he added they’d be leaving in about half an hour and would need a taxi.

  Keeping her body angled away from him, as if that could lessen his ardour, she wrapped herself in her robe.

  “Leave that bathroom door open a crack,” he called out when she slipped from the bed and headed across the room, “else I’ll take it off the hinges. And yes, I would.”

  Her response was earthy, and a four-letter word, no matter the language.

  Still, she was a smart woman and she was learning. She left the door open a crack.

  While she freshened up, a bit difficult he imagined as she’d already gathered up her toiletries, he grabbed toothpaste and a hairbrush from her bag, before organising her clothing so the bag would actually zip shut. Seemed the woman was a disaster at taking care of her stuff.

  Moments later housekeeping arrived with his toothbrush. She promised the coffee would arrive shortly, and they’d deliver it in to-go cups.

  Her eyes widened at the sight of the tip he gave her. ‘Twas worth every penny if it made Sinead happy.

  Sinead might think him an ogre, but he waited for her to finish up. It wasn’t until after he heard the toilet flush that he pushed opened the door.

  He stopped short and stared, entranced. His woman was taking a bidet.

  Her back to him, she was crouched over the water’s spray, her labia spread, her hips angled forward. If he didn’t miss his guess, she was halfway to an orgasm, one he hadn’t given her permission to take. They’d certainly be discussing that later. For now, he just wanted to see her get off.

  “What the hell
do you think you’re doing barging in here?” she demanded, looking over her shoulder. Her voice cracked and her face turned red, from her jaw to her cheeks.

  “We need to be accustomed to sharing personal space, and I need to freshen up before we go to the airport.” He continued into the room, rubbing the shadow on his jaw. “I could do with a shave, but it can wait until we’re on the plane. Carry on with what you’re doing.”

  “I…” She dropped her right hand to the knob to shut off the water then reached for a towel. “Christ on a stick, Quinn.”

  He squirted toothpaste on the toothbrush, as if catching her on the brink of an orgasm was an everyday occurrence. In the mirror, he looked at her.

  “I was just cleaning up.”

  “Don’t let me stop you.” He made a mental note to have a bidet installed in every bathroom he owned.

  “I—”

  “I’ll tolerate no shyness between us,” he said. He splashed water on his hair and face. His kingdom for a razor. “Your choice, Sinead. You started down this path. Turn that water back on and continue to masturbate, or I’ll turn it on for you. And if I do, I’ll make sure you’re not only clean, but that you have multiple orgasms.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’d…” She stumbled for words. “You’d…”

  “In fact, that’s a marvellous idea.” He dried his hands on a towel.

  “Oh, no you don’t, you scoundrel.”

  “Your choice, a rún.”

  My dear? He was calling her my dear? He had nerve. She gritted her teeth. “Fine. I’ll do it myself.”

  “More’s the pity.”

  He dropped the towel and regarded her.

  Her eyes were wide and her cheeks were still red. She appeared both embarrassed and aroused by his earthy demand.