Chapter One

Ciska

C yberCo Airline private hangar, John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York...

"It blows my mind that I allowed you to talk me into this." Ciska Farlow's feet stubbornly planted themselves on the tarmac and refused to cooperate any further. "I'm not into all this BDSM mumbo jumbo shit. I'm a plain Jane when it comes to sexual needs and desires. Slam, bam, thank you ma'am, is more my style. No whips, clamps, or whatever else is the flavor of the day. That... club scares the shit out of me." She pointed at the plane as she stared wide-eyed at the black monstrosity of an Airbus, all sleek lines and enhanced with a golden thread weaved across the side of the plane to bloom into a gold tiger's eye on the rudder wing. It screamed luxury and money... not to mention oozing with darkness and danger. "CDS GoldenEye II," she read the decorative cursive words on the side of the cockpit. "You weren't kidding when you told me about this plane."

"This Airbus is the one thing I'll never joke about," said Willow Carter, aka Wicked Witch Bitch— well, that was until she changed her name back to her original birth name once she embraced her new future with her fiancé, Max DuPont, thereby burying the haunted memories of her past. "Especially since I was inducted very... ehm... proficiently when I stowed away on it."

"Stowed away? From what Max said, you—"

"Yeah, let's not rehash old history, shall we? Suffice it to say that my loving fiancé and I have a difference of opinion over the definition of stowaway versus trespasser."

"Well, a thesaurus would—"

"Zip it, Ciska." Willow gestured toward the plane. The imposing figure of the owner of the CDS, aka Club Decadent Skies, now filled the doorway of the plane. "We better get going. Max is very pedantic about taking off on time."

"I'm confused." Ciska's forehead furrowed as she finally got her legs to respond and trotted beside Willow toward the plane, simultaneously cursing the stiletto heels her bestie made her wear. "I thought you said GoldenEye II is supposed to be that asshat Crowthorne's club?"

"Indeed, but since Max is the primary owner of the... let's call it franchise, he will attend all inaugural flights and officially hand the reins over to whoever is the co-owner of said Airbus during the opening ceremony onboard." Willow squeezed her arm as they ascended the stairs. "Breathe, Ciska. Don't forget what I told you. If you decide to participate tonight, you are the one in charge. Don't forget that. All you need to do is to remember your safeword, and poof, it all ends."

"Of course... just poof , and it's wiped from my memory, too. What are you? Aladdin?"

Willow's tinkling laugh had an auspicious effect on the man waiting at the top of the stairs. His usual stern expression gave way to a tender smile and an expression of love, care, and a glint of danger that Ciska could only ascertain meant he had some devious scene planned for her friend. Of course, Willow was more than a friend; she was also Ciska's boss and owner of W. Carter Investigations Inc. in Tampa, Florida.

Lord, how lucky can a girl get? To have such a gorgeous hunk be all gaga over you, that even hearing your laughter has such a propitious effect on him. A man who has no qualms about showing the world how much he loves you.

Ciska would never admit to anyone just how lonely she was. Emotionally lonely, to be more specific. Her life hadn't been easy— anything but. She had made mistakes by the buckets. Paid for them, too. Yep, I might be an IT guru, but when I was young, stupidity ruled. On a constant high from being classed as the best and sharpest young hacker around, she became addicted to the top dog spot. In the process, she lost all common sense. Took every high-paying job that came her way and stopped questioning the morality of some of the work she did or the people who paid for it... until it was too late.

Resolutely, she shook off the dour thoughts as they reached Max.

"Well, I guess I'm chopped liver," she muttered as Max took Willow in his arms and gave her— what Willow had described in detail— a Dom kiss. It was evident that, at that moment, the world around the two people ceased to exist. Ciska was stumped at the profound effect watching the hot, sexy caress had on her. She'd looked at people kissing numerous times in her lifetime, and other than, "Aww, isn't that nice," she had never felt the explosion of pure, raw lust that suddenly ignited inside her and set her loins throbbing.

Freaking hell, how would it feel to be kissed like that?

"I'd be happy to demonstrate, Blondie."

Before Ciska married the guttural, deep voice with the alpha-hole, Jax Crowthorne, she was yanked over the threshold, narrowly skidding past the embracing couple straight into his rock-hard chest.

"Oomph!" She was still gasping for breath at unexpectedly connecting with a wall of muscle when suddenly, her lungs stopped working altogether... the moment his lips took possession of hers.

Possession... not kissing. Her mind went blank, apart from those three words milling over and over through her brain. This must be what Willow had meant about a Dom kiss. His lips possessed, demanded, controlled, and took what he wanted. There was no kissing involved. It was a.. a... Hell if I know, but shitting bats, this is... oh!

When Jax's tongue pried her lips open and easily slipped inside her mouth, Ciska forgot that she hated city slickers... of which asshat Crowthorne was a shining example. He lived large and made no secret of being a hotshot billionaire who loved to play the field. It was the one thing she refused to be— another notch on any Casanova's bedpost.

"Breathe, Blondie," he whispered in her ear as he pulled away to softly kiss and nibble her exposed throat. "No," his voice dipped low, trumping dark and dangerous through her mind as she attempted to step back. "Don't move."

A war of emotions and lust raged inside Ciska as she opened her eyes to stare at him. For once, no sharp retort jumped to her lips as her body froze and immediately responded to his order. What the effing hell? How the devil did this man manage to affect her this much? Turn her into a driveling, euphoric-aroused state with a mere kiss while he seemed to be completely unaffected.

Well, it seems you need a thesaurus, too, if you define that kiss as mere.

Shut up , she sneered at the taunting of her inner voice. It was already a struggle to waft off the confusion riding her hollow. She didn't need her own mind to side with the asshole.

"Oh!" she wheezed as he nudged her hips flush against his. I guess he's not totally unaffected. The hard ridge of his arousal dug with unapologetic confidence high up against her stomach. Since she was almost as tall as him, they stood hip to hip. Holy shit! Does that mean his... Mamma Mia... that's the size of his dick I'm feeling?

The rough rumble escaping his chest caused a fresh spark of lust to detonate deep inside her core.

No! She berated her ovaries. Behave. This is the alpha-hole I warned you about. We do not get excited and all liquidly over this man. Not ever!

"Yes, little Blondie," he growled against her lips. "That's my cock, and it's not even standing at full attention."

Ciska's lips rounded in a voiceless "Oh," as the vision of his words wreaked havoc in her mind. Get a grip. Since when do you go all weak from the feel of a man's hard dick? It's nothing other than a tool to ease your lust, Ciska Farlow. Remember that!

Of course, that was easier said than done, especially since Jax Crowthorne was the complete opposite of the kind of men she usually dated. A confident, assertive woman, she was used to being in charge— in her life, work, and in bed. She chose the men she slept with, knowing she'd be able to control every sexual move they made.

I suggest you don't try that one with this stud, girl.

No shit, Sherlock! But I'll be damned if I fall over with my legs spread. Big asshat Crowthorne is about to learn he's not the king of seduction.

"Enough, Crowthorne," she snapped, her chin tilted royally as Jax took a step closer. His imposing figure loomed over her, and although she was tall, he stood well over six feet tall. Ciska's eyes involuntarily traced the contours of his rippling muscles, evident even beneath his clothing, yet not to the point of appearing like a bodybuilder. His tousled, lion-like hair kissed his shirt's collar, framing a face that seemed sculpted by a master artist— perfectly aligned features, a straight nose, full, oh-so-kissable lips, and a clean-cut jaw that looked like it could cut glass.

For her own survival, she needed to keep him at a distance, especially since he seemed to have the uncanny knack of reading her mind— now that was unsettling. He was too much for her— too attractive, too sexy, and way too dominating.

"I'm not your plaything for the night. I am a free agent and will come and go as I please. Best you remember that." Her words hung in the air between them that suddenly crackled with tension, or was it electric chemistry? Ciska wasn't sure she could separate the two anymore. Dragging in a deep breath, she fought to keep her breathing steady.

"If you think you're going to run around loose inside the club, think again. Looking like you do, you'll be snatched up within seconds by an unattached Dom, ass up, and fucked into Kingdom Come until we land." He pinched her chin between his fingers to ensure her eyes were locked on him. The glow in his chocolate-colored gaze was dark and dangerous— a perfect accompaniment for his tight jaw. "And that's not gonna happen. For the balance of this flight, you belong to me as my submissive." A Cheshire grin split open his tenebrous expression. "Signed, sealed, and delivered by yourself when you submitted your visitor's agreement."

"Like hell. I would never have signed..." Her voice drifted off. But she did. Willow had been hounding her nonstop to join them on the maiden flight of the GoldenEye II Airbus, which was also the opening night of NY Club Decadent Skies, until she had thrown up her hands in surrender. By the expression on Willow's face, she hadn't been aware of such a stipulation, either. Ciska had signed the agreement after briefly skimming the three-page contract. If you'd seen one non-disclosure agreement, you'd seen them all, had been her thought at the time.

"Forgot to read the fine print, Blondie?" Jax's expression was one of pure pleasure.

"You really should have read the full contract, Ciska," Max reprimanded her sternly. "We take the confidentiality and protocols on board the plane and of the club very seriously. No visiting person will be approved unless they are under the control of a Dom or Domme, not even a guest of one of the owners. Jax was very kind to volunteer to take you under his wing since I am already committed to my own sub."

Kind? Like hell. That Janus-faced twinkle in this devil's eyes says he has other plans. Well, here comes your reality check, Mr. Casanova. With narrowed eyes, she turned to face the grinning marauder.

"Listen here, asshole, you might have to keep an eye on me, but if you think you're going to order me around, I've got news for you." She stabbed a stiff finger against her chest. "I'm not a submissive. Never have been and never will be. I'm here only as an observer. Take that , Mr. Crowthorne." With her hands on her hips and toe-tapping a rhythm of victory on the carpet, she snickered, "Or do you need a thesaurus?"

"Hmm, no, I'm good." He stalked closer, crowding her against the wall. "What I do need, however, is another hot Blondie kiss."

"My name isn't Blondie, it's—"

"Nanja. Yeah, I remember." His voice was soaked in warm humor, but what tickled her ovaries to attention was the ripple of promised seduction cascading through every syllable.

Once again, the alpha-hole managed to stump a spitting response from her. Then, it didn't matter since his warm lips caught hers in another kiss that made the world tilt around her.

It felt as if hundreds of butterflies raced around in her stomach as his lips brushed over hers in a teasing caress. Her senses reeled under the passionate attack. It was confusing. She wasn't the kind of woman to become all mushy in a man's arms, yet here she was— unable to resist the demand of the passionate and sensual strokes of his tongue that elicited a fervent response from her. The reason why she was angry or where she was ceased to matter at that moment.

"Ah, little Nanja, you're like a siren to my testosterone." A myriad of thrills chased each other down her spine as he sucked on her earlobe.

Ciska was on the verge of exploding. Unbeknown to her, she was locked in a mental bondage that he exerted effortlessly over her. Sensations, desperation, and lust welled so high inside her, she struggled to breathe.

When he stepped back, her legs were like rubber and her insides tied into knots that even a seasoned sailor wouldn't be able to undo. His eyes darkened in warning as he tapped her under the chin.

"From this moment, you will call me Master J. Don't forget, Nanja, because it will give me the utmost pleasure to introduce you to my lifestyle with a proper punishment by spanking your naked ass."

By the time Ciska found her voice, the door of the plane was closed, and Max had nudged them to the front of the plane to get seated for takeoff.

Well, I never, she huffed when she snapped the safety belt in place. Who does he think he is threatening to spank me?

Quite... Why then, I wonder, are you trembling and your breath wheezing from your chest?

I don't like flying.

Since when?

Oh, just shut up!