She nodded against the bedspread.

"Keep your body in position. Bear down. Try to relax."

"Yes," she whispered. Really, for all her fuss, the plug wasn't that big. And it was lovely. She'd seen pictures online of big thick silicone ones. They weren't beautiful, like this one. And others were longer, which she knew would be considerably more uncomfortable when she tried to sit.

She promised herself she'd stay in position. Having his finger up her hole hadn't been as bad as she feared. In fact, she had found the experience added to her sexual pleasure.

But as the unyielding firmness pressed against her tightest space, she pitched her hips forward.

"Steady yourself," he encouraged her.

She had expected his displeasure, but his soft words encouraged her to just lie there.

"Back into position, sub."

When she didn't return to his ordered position, he released his grip on her and delivered a smart smack to her buttock.

"I gave you a command."

Her eyes filled with tears, she spread her knees apart, arched her back and put her head on the bedspread.

"Reach back," he told her. "I've decided I want you more involved. I want you holding your buttocks apart for me."

She could safe word out. And for a moment, she was tempted. But really, she told herself, wasn't the experience worth it? She'd read stories where the Dom had insisted his sub wear a plug and she'd wondered what that felt like.

Slowly and reluctantly, she reached back and spread her cheeks.

"Makes me want to shove my cock in there."

"You'd tear me apart."

He laughed. "Shall we see?"

That threat made her decide not to protest the plug. At this point, she was a bit unsure of him. Would he really try that? Now? "Please, Sir, put the plug in my arse." Anything to avoid the other.

"Lord, woman, you're perfect."

And he wasn't focussed on that big dick of his going up there.

He gently eased the tip of the plug in and pulled it back out several times.

"Aye, that's a good sub."

Each time, it went a bit deeper, and the stupid plug got a bit thicker.

"Keep breathing, Sinead. Work with me."

She felt the bigger part of the plug forcing that tight muscle apart.

He pushed firmly. With a barely audible pop, the plug sank home.

She gasped.

"Give it a few seconds. The worst is over."

The hilt of the plug was surprisingly small, and her sphincter muscle snuggled around it to hold the metal in place.

Within a few seconds, the pain went away almost entirely. Getting the plug in was a challenge, but now that it was there, it wasn't all that terrible.

"You look beautiful with your arsehole stuffed full just for me."

She shuddered. The feeling was alien, completely different from having his finger slide in and out during the heat of intercourse. This was a relentless reminder that she was obeying his orders, that he'd declared himself the Dom and she his sub...and that she'd followed along happily.

He went into the small bathroom just off to the side of the bedroom. All the comforts, she realised.

When he returned, he had a damp flannel. Like she was coming to expect, he cleaned her then patted her dry with a second towel.

There was something soothing about this routine. It made her feel cared for.

"You did well," he told her gently, turning her so that she lay on her back looking up at him.

His approval did strange things to her emotionally. It shouldn't matter at all. But it did. It made the spanks a badge of honour, it made the nasty plug tolerable.

"You pleased me."

She wondered, just for a moment, what things might be like if he weren't a Quinn. What if he were simply a man from back home? What if her family wouldn't be shocked and appalled if she brought him home?

"I'll look forward to the rest of the trip knowing you're wearing my plug."

"I'm not sure I want to sit on the damn thing."

He grinned.

He suddenly looked younger, boyishly cheeky. He'd see her discomfort and enjoy it because she suffered for him.

"You should have a look in the mirror," he told her. "Bend over, spread your legs, and have a look at how sexy it is. See yourself as I see you."

He helped her from the bed and he held onto her as she maneuverer into position.

The pretty pink crystals sparkled in the overhead light. He was right. It looked pretty and feminine. Even if it felt like a beast.

"Beautiful," he told her. "Absolutely beautiful."

As he watched, arms folded across his chest, she got dressed again.

They returned to their seats.

"Something to drink?" Aonghus asked.

She felt a bit embarrassed, wondering if the man realised what they'd been about. But Aonghus behaved as if Jack and his female guest disappearing to the back of the aircraft were a common enough occurrence.

Maybe it was.

That thought made her scowl.

"Scotch," Jack said. "Neat."

What did she really know about the man who'd just claimed her? Mayhap he had a woman with him on every flight.

Now that they were in their seats, the thrill of the orgasm wore off and her sanity returned. What was she doing, being perfectly responsive to a Quinn, behaving with wanton abandon, wearing his plug and asking for more? Had she lost her mind? "Red wine, if you have it." Maybe it would help take the edge off and she could doze. She needed to be rested and have her wits about her as soon as they made it to Ireland.

Chapter Six.

Sinead O'Malley had been worth the wait. He could have taken her in her Denver hotel room. But her orgasms and his enforced wait had made it all the better.

Her repeated rejections had only served to whet his appetite. And now, knowing how she responded sensually to his dominating commands had hooked him. He looked forward to guiding her down the path to total surrender. And wouldn't it be glorious when she wriggled her arse and begged for his lash?

He pulled the sports utility vehicle to a stop in front of the iron gates. He lowered the window and punched in the numeric code for admittance. From his spot behind the steering wheel, he glanced over at her.

She was leaned up against the passenger window, as far away from him as the SUV's interior allowed.

She'd pulled away from him mentally, emotionally, physically after the scene in the jet. As soon as he had her alone, they could address it. "Welcome home."

"To Ireland, aye," she allowed, looking at him. "But Quinn Manor is your home. Not mine. Never mine. And you'll do well to remember that."

"Does everything have to be a fight, a rn? Everything?"

The gates swung wide, and he drove through. The vehicle's headlamps illuminated the trees and flowers. He'd left the window down so he could inhale the fresh, crisp air, so different than the cities he'd been in recently.

There was something about returning home that always soothed his battered soul, no matter how short a time he'd been gone.

He followed the curved driveway around and braked to a stop in front of the stone steps, steps that had been in place since Columbus discovered the Americas.

The house hadn't stood quite as long. Family legend had it that the original structure had been destroyed in some clan fighting in the early sixteenth century. The Quinns, known for their resilience, had rebuilt.

In the darkest hours before dawn, he cut the vehicle's engine and turned off the headlamps.

He opened his door, then climbed out of the car. He drank in the richness and the dampness of the night air. His roots ran deep. He came around to her side of the vehicle. "There's no place I'd rather be. "I hope, in time, you'll feel the same."

Liam, who was at least one hundred years old, or so it seemed, welcomed them, with lights blazing.

"Back to bed with you," Jack said to the man who was more friend than servant. "No need for you to have been disturbed."

"Your grandmother would've skinned me alive if I hadn't met you. I'm terrified of the woman, Sir. She told me Mistress Sinead was to be warmly welcomed no matter the time of day or night."

He grinned. He knew a story when he heard one. Aye, his grandmother wanted Sinead to feel welcomed, but she would have never threatened Liam. She was as fond of the man as she was her grandson. Truth was, Liam was as nosy as the day was long. Having had first glimpse of Sinead, he'd be popular amongst the other gossiping employees. "Right then. Liam, I'd like you to meet Sinead O'Malley. Sinead, the man who keeps the estate, even the family, running, Liam Doyle."

The man's bushy grey eyebrows drew together to form a thick, single line. "My pleasure."

He bowed so deeply that Jack wondered how the man would ever stand up straight again.

"A pleasure to meet you, Liam. For the short time until I return to my own family, I appreciate your hospitality."

Had Jack actually thought any part of this would be easy?

She turned to him and smiled. Smiled. Her entire face lit up, especially when she defied him.

He trailed his hand down her spine. As she stood there frozen, he continued lower. He grabbed a handful of her right butt cheek through her jeans and squeezed tightly in silent warning.

She gasped and stood up a bit straighter.

"Trouble, Sir?" Liam asked.

"Indeed no."

Sinead, to her credit, dealt with her own bag rather than allow Liam to handle it. Jack appreciated her thoughtfulness. Perhaps he'd reward her for it later.

"Upstairs with you," Jack ordered.

"Nice to know you," she said to Liam as the man showed them inside and closed the massive wooden door behind them.

Jack took her bag from her.

"I can manage," she protested.

"Aye. That you can. But when you're with me, I'll thank you to let me be the man."

"Even if you have your own luggage to deal with?"

"Even then," he agreed.

"Good night, Sir. Welcome to Quinn Manor, ma'am," Liam threw the bolt home.

As they headed up the stairs, she said to Jack, "Servants? In this day and age? Aren't you the lord of the manor?"

Good thing her words weren't arrows. "And now your lord and Master."

She stopped on the stairs and turned to look at him.

"I've noticed that you tend to be much more willing and compliant when you're naked," he said. "I may keep you that way, sub."

Liam coughed discreetly.