Bound and Determined

by Sierra Cartwright

  As he waited with infinite patience, she turned the water back on and adjusted the temperature before closing her eyes and rocking her hips. She held her labia apart with one hand, and she slid the index finger of her right hand across her clit.

  The water’s spray and her positioning made it impossible for him to see as clearly as he wanted. But watching her reaction was enough for him.

  As the orgasm built, her head tipped back, and her fiery blonde hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back.

  She moved her finger faster and faster and her hips all but gyrated.

  He couldn’t help himself.

  He moved in closer and stood behind her. He reached around her to cup her breasts. As her breaths became desperate gulps for air, he flicked his thumbs across her nipples, making the nubs even harder.

  “Jack!”

  “Aye.” Damn but his cock was hard as a mountain. He hoped that when he finally fucked her he’d last longer than a teenager.

  “I’m there,” she said.

  She was asking permission, he realised. Shite. He could ejaculate without even touching his dick at this point. “Come for me, Sinead.”

  Her vulva was reddened from the heat, and she jerked against the spray. He couldn’t be more delighted with her. His worst nightmare wasn’t a woman like Sinead. His worst nightmare was a woman who was cold, unresponsive, even frightened. But this defiant she-devil? He looked forward to the challenge of conquering her.

  She screamed out.

  Like he knew, she wasn’t one for polite little orgasms. They were drawn from deep inside her. And they turned him on.

  She seemed to lose her balance, and he was there, releasing her breasts and holding her around the waist to steady her.

  Instead of shoving him away, she grabbed on, her fingers digging into his forearms. She dragged breaths through her partially opened mouth rather than her nose.

  If he had his way, he’d keep her fulfilled all the time. She was a sexy, sexy woman.

  She blinked, as if returning to herself. “That was…” She trailed off. Then she tried again, “hot.”

  “A rún, you’ve no idea how hot you are.” Or how fecking much he wanted her. Holding her with only one hand, he reached for a towel. “Allow me.”

  He turned off the bidet then he patted her between the legs, drying the water.

  There was a knock on the door, followed by a cheery, “Room service!”

  “That’ll be your coffee.”

  “And a pastry?”

  “I value my life.”

  She took the towel from him. “I’ll just finish up in here.”

  He paid the woman and gave her a generous tip. Not only were the coffees in go-cups, but an assortment of pastries had been placed in a paper bag.

  “Your taxi should be here momentarily, sir.”

  Sinead came out of the bathroom, and as the other woman closed the door behind her, Sinead dropped the robe and reached for the knickers he’d laid out.

  It was as if, momentarily, they had a normal relationship, not one of snarling and gnashing of teeth.

  She shimmied into her thong, and the only thing he was thinking was how to get her back out of it.

  She fastened her bra in place then pulled on her jeans and another T-shirt while he shamelessly watched. This one had a graphic of a hair dryer and a saucy message to accompany it: This blows.

  He might have thought she’d bought it intentionally.

  “Is that coffee for me, or are you holding it hostage?”

  “Cream,” he said. “And sugar.” He splashed a huge dollop of cream in the cup and stirred in several packets of sugar.

  “If that one’s mine, it needs to be sweeter.”

  “Jaysus, woman. Your teeth’ll rot.”

  “Good. Maybe it’ll keep you from trying to kiss me.”

  “No chance. You’ll have your mouth full of my dick every chance I get.” He carried her coffee to her. “You can join me in the bathroom while I brush my teeth.”

  “You’ve lost your senses.”

  “I’m taking no chances with you, Sinead. I don’t trust you for a moment.”

  “If I promise not to dash out the door?”

  “Into the bathroom with you.”

  She scowled, but she accepted the coffee. She didn’t say thanks—she just wordlessly preceded him into the small room. “I’ll tell you right now, if you decide you want to use the bidet, I’m so out of here, even if I have to jump out the window.”

  “Oh, my cock needs a good wash, but it’ll be your mouth doing it.”

  She choked on her coffee. He gave her a good pat on the back that nearly lifted her off her feet. While she fought for breath, he brushed his teeth.

  “I’ll not make you stay in here while I use the facilities. But this much is clear, Sinead. If you’re not sitting on the bed when I come out, I will tie you to the bloody seat on the aircraft.” He levelled a gaze at her. “Clear?”

  “You’re a bastard enough to do it.”

  “Believe it.”

  When he returned to her, she was sitting on the edge of the bed eating a pastry. He wasn’t sure whether or not he liked her behaving. “Did you save me one?”

  She grinned and popped the last bite into her mouth. “No.”

  “You ate them all?”

  She licked her fingers. “They were delicious. I hope you’re not too hungry.”

  His stomach gave an on-cue groan of protest.

  “And if you don’t hurry, I’ll have your coffee, as well.”

  The phone rang. “That’ll be the taxi.”

  She stood and shoved her feet into a pair of sandals.

  “Over my shoulder?” he asked. “Or will you walk like a good girl?”

  “Good girl? Good girl?” Her mouth opened like a fish out of water.

  He’d caught her off guard, maybe even pissed her off a bit. He extended the handle on her bag and started towards the door, grabbing his coffee from the table on the way.

  He opened the door for her. “You need to know, Sinead, it’s always your choice. I’ll treat you with the respect and trust you earn. But I do rather enjoy you being over my shoulder with my hand on your arse. You might spill your coffee, though.”

  She tossed her hair like royalty and breezed past him to punch the elevator call button. She moved all the way to the back of the car, as far away from him as possible. In a move that was sexy as hell but something she hadn’t done intentionally, she propped her gorgeously shaped buttocks against the brass rail.

  The illusion that they’d been a couple had been just that—an illusion.

  * * * *

  Jack was a master of understatement.

  He didn’t own a plane; he owned a jet. The plane was more than transportation, it was home and office and pub rolled into a luxurious package.

  She sank into a ridiculously soft oversized seat. It was more like an armchair than a standard airline seat. It didn’t hurt her backside, still a bit tender from his late night spanking—despite the fact he said her derriere wasn’t red. It might not look abused to him, but it felt a bit that way to her.

  She wasn’t really sure what she thought of the spanking. Being over his knee, his powerful hand falling on her exposed arse, had been more of a turn-on than she’d imagined, and she’d had high expectations from her first spanking. Still, she was annoyed. Why did he, of all people, have to be the man who finally gave her what she wanted?

  “The seat reclines.” Jack stowed her baggage in a small closet that had plenty of shelving. “A footrest will pop up as you go backwards. Much better for circulation.”

  She noticed there were no overhead bins on this plane, presumably so that someone as tall as Jack could stand comfortably.

  “Something to drink, Ms O’Malley?”

  She looked up as a middle-aged man approached them. He was a very good-looking gentleman, with a shock of silver hair and a quick smile. He wore an apron over his button-down shirt and navy-coloure
d slacks. “I’m Aonghus, and I’ll be taking care of you during the flight.”

  Another surprise. She expected Jack to employ young, sexy females. But a man…? She wished Jack weren’t so complex, wished she could pigeonhole him and dismiss him as being shallow. “Coffee?” she asked hopefully.

  “Use half a container of creamer,” Jack said as he shut the closet door. “And a full bag of sugar.”

  She scowled at him.

  “A bit of coffee with your cream?” the man asked.

  She smiled at the attendant.

  Jack took a seat next to her. “I’d pay good money to see a smile like that directed at me.”

  “You’ll be waiting a while.”

  She’d never travelled like this. In all her travel with the band, she’d never even had an upgrade to first class. She was accustomed to the least expensive seat on a plane, and it seemed she was most often miserably shoved into a centre seat, especially on transatlantic flights.

  Because she could, she stretched out her legs.

  “A pastry, ma’am?” the attendant asked, returning with her steaming cup of coffee. “We’ll have breakfast available as soon as we’re airborne, but in case you need something to hold you over…?”

  “We have croissants, I believe,” Jack said, raising a questioning brow in the man’s direction.

  “Chocolate and plain,” the attendant confirmed.

  Chocolate? She wouldn’t be dancing much in the upcoming days until she was back in Ireland and could get away from Jack by fair means or foul, and she’d already had several pastries. Really, she shouldn’t. But what the hell? She needed energy to deal with Quinn, and if breakfast had protein, it would cancel out the effects of the carbohydrate overload. Or that’s what she told herself. “You’ve talked me into it.”

  “Chocolate,” Jack told the man.

  The attendant smiled at her.

  “And I’ll have a bloody Mary.”

  She could easily get accustomed to this, she realised. Being treated like a princess suited her.

  Too bad there was no prince in the picture, only a very rich toad.

  Despite the fact she’d already had more than enough sugar, she accepted the porcelain plate with a pastry the size of a small country. Some people travelled with real silverware and china?

  She picked up the croissant and bit into it. Almost-liquid chocolate oozed into her mouth. Oh yes. Not only was the pastry gorgeous, rich, buttery and flaky, but it had been warmed. She could definitely get used to being treated like this.

  The captain came out of the cockpit to greet them.

  She wiped her fingers on a serviette while Jack stood to greet the woman.

  Wasn’t the man a study in interesting contrasts? A black woman piloted the craft, a hunky man waited on them. From what she knew of Jack, he was fairly traditional, but the first people she met stood that stereotype on its head. That he wanted to spank her and fuck her wasn’t a shock, but his other choices were.

  Sinead put the plate on a table and shook the pilot’s hand.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms O’Malley,” the pilot said. “You’ve led us on quite a merry chase across the States.” While still retaining her professionalism, the woman smiled at her, as if in solidarity. “I’ve seen airports I didn’t know existed.”

  “She’s a wily one,” Jack agreed.

  “I look forward to being of service to you in the future.”

  Sinead narrowed her eyes at Jack. Just what the hell had he told his people about her?

  “I hope you and Mr Quinn have an enjoyable flight. Do let us know what we can do to make you comfortable.”

  As if being treated like royalty wasn’t enough?

  Once the flight attendant notified them it was safe to be up and about, Jack excused himself.

  She flipped through a magazine and looked out the window. She’d been kidnapped. Well and truly.

  Every part of her chafed at the indignity. Her entire life she’d made her own decisions, and her family, God bless them, had encouraged her independence. Now to have a man dictating to her… Shite.

  He returned a few minutes later. She looked up with a scowl.

  “Such a beautiful face, with such an unpleasant expression.”

  Standing in front of her, he reached out and captured her hair in one unyielding fist. He held her tight, but not unpleasantly so.

  “Let’s see what we can do to see your mouth partially open, your lips swollen from my kiss.”

  “No…”

  “There are far better uses for your mouth than to deny me.”

  His hand still in her hair, he moved towards her.

  Damn.

  He stopped just centimetres from her face.

  He smelt crisp, of spice. He’d obviously freshened up, and his jaw was freshly shaven.

  He’d donned a clean shirt and a khaki pair of slacks. He looked corporate and masculine and in charge. Her blood slowly heated and her mouth parted a bit. She had trouble drawing a deep breath. She cursed her own feminine reaction. She’d never had a man drag this kind of response from her before. Up until now sex had been fine, all right, even enjoyable. But this man kept her on simmer all the time.

  “Open your mouth,” he ordered.

  “No.”

  “Open your mouth to me, Sinead.”

  He stared at her intently. She read determination in steel blue eyes and the set of his angular jaw. He tightened his grip on her hair and pulled her head back slightly. She resisted the impulse to touch his face. Her fingers seemed to itch with the need to feel his smooth skin.

  He licked the exposed column of her throat.

  Dampness flooded her thong.

  Damn him.

  Slowly he started over. He kissed his way up the side of throat.

  By the time he nipped her chin, she’d willingly opened her mouth.

  He thrust his tongue in her mouth. God. She was lost. He tasted of mint and man. He ran his tongue across her teeth, a gesture more intimate than any man had ever been with her.

  His kiss went on endlessly, tasting, encouraging, demanding, simulating the intensity of his sex act.

  By the time he ended it, she realised she’d curled her hand into his shirt, as if hanging on for dear life.

  She’d arched her back, silently asking for more.

  “You’ll beg me for this.”

  Terrified he might be right, she didn’t respond.

  His inflight phone rang.

  She blinked as he released her hair slowly, behaving like he had all the time in the world. He traced her bottom lip with his thumb. “It’s swollen. As it should always be.”

  While he took his seat and answered the call, she knit her hands together to stop them from trembling.

  He talked on the phone, powered up his notebook computer and moved a table into position to spread out a pile of papers. He ignored her. That annoyed her as much, if not more, than his constant attention and demands.

  Jaysus. Was she fickle?

  The flight attendant had been nowhere around while Jack accosted her, but now that they were settled, the man refreshed Jack’s Bloody Mary and brought her a cola in a proper glass. Sugar and caffeine in one handy package.

  Jack’s fingers seemed to move nonstop over the computer keyboard. She glanced over to see that he had a web browser open. “E-mail? You’re looking at e-mail?”

  “Wi-Fi,” he explained.

  “Have you thought of everything?”

  He turned in his seat and looked at her. “I’m thinking about little save having your sweet cunt.”

  She blushed and sucked her cola through her straw.

  What was it about him that could turn her insides molten with only a few words?

  “I’ve a conference call,” he told her, reaching for the phone. “Shouldn’t take more than half an hour. I’ll try not to disturb you.”

  She nodded

  She’d always seen him as the hated enemy, if not a devil, then maybe a grotesque
stone gargoyle, but never as a real person with an empire to run. Truthfully it didn’t endear him to her.

  She and her family worked hard, and they’d had to make compromises along the way. Their lands were now shared with anyone who booked into one of the cottages, and she worked diligently to keep those places rented. She and her cousins were the handymen, the marketing department, the reservations department, gardeners and the cleaning crew when needed while Jack Quinn commanded his parts of the world from the Earth’s atmosphere with fresh coffee at his disposal.

  She put on a set of headphones he provided and reclined her seat slightly. Even the sound from the in-flight television and addition of the headphones weren’t enough to drown out the deepness of his voice.

  She flipped through all the channels and there was an obscene number of choices. When nothing intrigued her, she started over again. She had a difficult time focussing on anything except her emotions. She generally read or slept or composed music while flying. But her thoughts were turbulent, and she was having trouble clearing her mind.

  Since the devastatingly handsome and determined Jack Quinn had shown up at the pub last night, her life had been turned on its axis. If he had his way, it would be a permanent state. And what in the hell was she supposed to do about it?

  She debated calling home and letting them know she was on her way back from America. But what would she say? That the Quinn had kidnapped her? Wouldn’t that go over well with their bad blood. And they’d certainly not endorse a marriage if they knew the truth of it.

  If she said she cut her tour short because she was worried about the comb, her mother would scoff. Her cousins would be supportive. But damn it, they needed the money.

  If Jack were telling the truth, that she wouldn’t have any financial worries if they were married, where did that leave her?

  She’d be a whore to a man whose family she hated. Some choice.

  Amazingly fast, they landed in New York. The flight attendant told them there would be a layover, hopefully of less than two hours while they refuelled and refreshed the cabin.

  She and Jack were warmly welcomed at his private club where they were plied with more food and alcohol.

  Everyone travelling was dressed posh, and she was beginning to regret her choice in T-shirt. Still, Jack didn’t order her to change. Of course, if he had, she probably would have dug in her heels.