Bound and Determined Read Online Free Page A

hand, he’d be pleased and life would be grand if she could spend a wee bit longer perfecting her Yorkshire pudding recipe.
    Since then, there’d been an occasional one-night stand. The one man she’d explored BDSM with had been the only one who came close to giving her the kind of climax she wanted.
    She’d told Quinn the truth of it earlier. She rarely had sex. She’d learned that one-night stands were emotionally draining. She hated the morning-after awkwardness. Over the past few years, she’d dated a few men, but rarely for longer than a couple of weeks. Her travel schedule and familial obligations made relationships even more complicated. She’d taken to wearing cheeky T-shirts as armour. Still, some men initially thought the printed sayings were a joke.
    They weren’t. For the right man they were an invitation.
    If he could see past the wording, see what she really wanted…
    She wanted a man who was persistent enough to crack her reserve, see the flaws beneath and not let it matter while she experienced the crazy carnival of lust.
    Dreamer.
    That’s what her mother, as practical as Sinead herself, would have said.
    Sinead had responsibilities and obligations, a family business to preserve. She had to be focussed, she reminded herself. Practical. None of that ridiculous man nonsense for her.
    The bathtub finally full, she turned off the tap and sank into the depths. She rested her head on the tub’s rim, letting the water cover her up to her neck.
    And from where she was lying in the tub, she had a perfect view of the bidet.
    With a sigh, she closed her eyes to block out the sight.
    And she saw images of him , the obnoxious, overbearing, handsome Quinn.
    Damn it; damn him.
    She hated him, and yet she was mortifyingly aroused.
    After a second sigh, she opened her eyes again.
    What could it hurt?
    If she had an orgasm, maybe she could stop thinking about him, stop thinking about sex, stop thinking about being across his knee while he flipped up her skirt and yanked down her knickers.
    Yielding to the tempo of need drumming inside her, she climbed from the bath and turned on the bidet’s tap. She dried off with a towel as the water warmed.
    She checked the temperature, knowing she liked it warm. She made an adjustment then rechecked the heat before dropping the towel.
    She moved into position over the water’s hot stream. It felt good, but she spread her labia so she could get more pressure on her clit. She rocked her hips slowly, trying to find the pace that would take her over the top.
    The water on her pussy felt sublime.
    But she couldn’t quite get there…
    In her mind, she heard his voice, steel wrapped in velvet, as he threatened to give her a good hiding.
    Those words shouldn’t have excited her or thrilled her, but they had.
    His eyes had darkened and there’d been a determined set to his jaw. Despite her bravado, she had no doubt he was man enough for her.
    And if that hadn’t turned her inside out, the smile when he’d worked his way onto the stage would have. He was clearly a man accustomed to women giving him anything he wanted.
    She was determined not to be one of them.
    But with his dark good looks and cool determination—crikey, he’d been a step behind her for six thousand miles without giving up—Jack wasn’t like any other man she’d ever met. It was the kind of resolve that turned her on even as it annoyed the hell out of her.
    The image of his eyes, lightning-intense and striking, made her weak. With a soft sigh, she held her labia apart with one hand, fingered the small nub of her clit and tilted her hips forward a little more. The warm water caressed her like a man would. Like he would?
    And truthfully was that what she wanted?
    Or did she want something more?
    When she masturbated, she had fantasies of being tied up, of being helpless as an orgasm was wrung from her.
    She told herself that it didn’t matter if Jack Quinn were the man to give her what she craved. She’d never