Bound and Determined by Sierra Cartwright Page A

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