Unleashed: Volume 2 (Unleashed #2)

by Callie Harper

  What stung the most was that he described me to a T. I dreamed big, but what did I have to show for it? Nothing.

  “You’re not dragging my baby into that,” Harlan continued, disgust dripping from his every word. “I’ll tell you what you’re gonna to do. You’re gonna pack up and leave. Now.”

  I looked at the floor. I had no one to blame but myself for getting sucker-punched like this. This was my own damn fault. This was how dreams died, not with a bang but with downcast eyes and a quick nod of acceptance.

  “One hour. You’re gone.”

  Harlan left the building, door open for my swift exit.

  I packed my things into a big, old duffel bag. It took me all of 15 minutes. Flipping down the light switch, I left.

  I didn’t think about Kara. I couldn’t. I hated this, hated Harlan, hated who I was. But I knew leaving was the best thing for her. It was the right thing to do. I was doing her a favor in the long run. Even if it hurt like hell.

  What was I going to do, drag her along for a dark, nasty ride? I’d snuff the light right out of her eyes. I knew myself. I wasn’t good at this boyfriend shit. I didn’t have the beginning of a clue how to do it. I wouldn’t fuck up Kara by trying and failing with her. I’d break her heart in the end anyway, better to do it now before she got in too deep. It wasn’t like she was in love with me. She was getting her kicks, her walk on the wild side like Harlan said. Better to end things now before they had a chance to get real messy.

  No note, no good-bye, I started up my truck. Like the dog I knew I was deep down, I snuck out in the middle of the night.

  Now

  Smashing fist after fist into the bag, my body dripped with sweat. I’d run on the treadmill, lifted weights, but nothing satisfied like a good punching bag. I pounded again and again, relentless.

  I’d lost control earlier that night. For the third time over the past 24 hours I found myself rutting into Kara like a desperate, worked-up kid. Like if I didn’t plunge into her, claiming her deep and hard, I’d die.

  Where was the dom? The Master of Discipline? Kara made me lose my cool. She brought me to my knees. I wasn’t myself and I didn’t like it

  I pummeled the bag, losing myself in the exertion. The discipline of working out suited me well. Life required constant vigilance in all aspects. Mentally, I was always prepared for a fight. Physically, I honed my body, keeping it hard and ready to attack. I loved that surge of going at it full-throttle, all the howling, clawing demons inside of me finally given their shot to grind myself into sweat and exhaustion. I needed that tonight. Back at my apartment, I’d been going out of my skull. Two workouts in one day, same as Friday. What the fuck was Kara doing to me?

  Playing a game with a sub had never been so difficult, so challenging. I always knew how to get close without going over the brink. I never had difficulty with losing control of myself. But with Kara I’d been overcome. I’d grabbed onto her hips, dug my hands into her flesh and plunged my huge, hard cock deep into her dripping wet pussy over and over. Even as I’d stuffed her, she’d screamed for more. It made me hard again just thinking about it.

  I hadn’t even been doing any hardcore BDSM with Kara. I’d gone with the oldest cliché in the book, dressing her up as a French maid. I’d had her use a feather duster while I’d spanked her a little. No nipple clamps making her pant and squirm. No vibrating eggs shoved up her pussy while I played and forced her to stay quiet. No big butt plugs worked into her tight, virginal ass. The type of scene we’d acted out, it was plain vanilla. It should have been boring, a little starter play to get her used to the idea of serving me, show her how turned on she could get by giving over control.

  Instead, I’d been so fucking turned on that I’d lost it. I’d rutted into her like an animal. Me, who never had a hard time keeping myself restrained. And afterwards, while she took a nice, long bath in my master suite, I’d needed to leave my own apartment. While she relaxed in the Jacuzzi tub, I beat my tortured body into a pulp.

  “Fuck,” I exhaled. A pleasure game of power had never been so challenging. I’d never had to exercise so much restraint. Being in control always turned me on. I liked having the upper hand. But a woman’s submission had never had so much power over me, never made me lose my own control.

  This was dangerous. More dangerous than I’d thought. I’d spent a long time torturing her, stroking her, bringing her close enough to drive her crazy. In the process, I’d driven myself completely crazy.

  I’d forgotten completely about how earlier that day I’d told her I wanted her to model the clothes she bought. I’d planned to sit and watch her strut around, show me everything, then strip. Now I knew I’d never have the patience to sit through that kind of torture. Even though not long ago I’d come in her so hard I’d seen stars, it wasn’t enough. I needed more.

  And now she was in my bathtub. Naked and wet, her breasts rising out of the suds, her skin rosy and pink. I’d had no choice but to leave. I couldn’t start following her around like a lost puppy, getting into the bath with her because I couldn’t stand not to.

  This was supposed to be torturing her, not me. I was supposed to be the master, the experienced one, the one pulling all the strings. Not the one pawing at the door ready to beg.

  “Time to pack it in, champ,” a guy called out, pointing to the clock. Usually they turned out the lights around nine o’clock on a Sunday. It was going on 11. They’d kept the place open for me, but quitting time had to come at some point.

  I grabbed my bag and nodded my thanks. Then I headed out sweaty into the night air. Back in the penthouse, I showered in the guest bathroom, avoiding Kara. Then I fixed myself a drink.

  I didn’t like this feeling, like I needed a drink to settle me down. I watched it around alcohol. I enjoyed it, drank it, but I didn’t like relying on it. I didn’t think much of people who needed substances to help them function. It came too close for comfort, brought up too many memories from when I was a kid. I’d made a promise to myself early on, I’d never be like my mother. To this day, I kept it clean, never did drugs, only drank coffee on the odd day I woke up groggy. I enjoyed a drink as much as the next guy, but I always capped it at two or three. I mastered what went into my body, not the other way around.

  I took a sip and paced over to the windows. Every surface in my penthouse screamed of Kara. Flowers burst out from cold granite countertops. Homey pillows corrupted the hard lines and planes of my expensive leather furniture. Give her another day or two here and she’d probably add posters of kittens and a bunch figurines. I could picture an angel holding a sign “Home is Where the Heart Is.” Maybe she’d needlepoint a square she could frame and hang in the entryway announcing “Home Sweet Home.”

  I’d seen a needlepoint yesterday, in my property manager Brett’s house in Bozeman. With a baby on the way, his wife had clearly started nesting, filling their home with cozy touches. She even had a few frames lying on the table, set up and ready to go to display baby photos after the big arrival.

  Kara was just like her. That was the kind of life she belonged in. Six years later, she hadn’t changed at all. Sweet, kind, thoughtful, she’d been a virgin for God’s sake. She should be with someone like her, eager to build exactly the kind of happy home she wanted.

  I pictured the cabin I owned in Bozeman. It was nothing like Brett and his wife’s. It was an investment, a place I typically lent out to various business partners. I found that staying at my houses gave people a sense that they knew me. As if my properties reflected who I really was. But my cabin had the same ‘homey yet rugged’ effect of all of the property’s main buildings, with a Native American print blanket here, a couple of antique snow shoes there. I had an army of interior designers and decorators on my payroll and they did their jobs well.

  But my houses didn’t feel like homes to me. A frown tugged at my mouth. I didn’t like the feeling that my impeccably-designed properties were somehow lacking. Leave it to Kara to make me aware of what was missing. She woke me
up to the ache, the emptiness, the part of me left unfulfilled.

  I swore and sipped my drink. Thoughts like that were bullshit. There was nothing in life money couldn’t buy. Look, it had bought me Kara Brooks.

  But then why did I feel like the closer I got to her, the less I had her? The tighter I grasped my fingers, the more it felt like she slipped through. And the more I craved clutching her to me.

  Running my hand through my hair, I exhaled in frustration. It was only one o’clock in the morning and sleep sure didn’t seem like an option. It was going to be a long night. How could I fall asleep with Kara lying next door in my bed? Maybe she’d have a leg kicked out of the covers, exposing a hint of her impossibly soft, smooth skin. I could head in there, begin at her toes and slowly travel up, caressing, massaging, making her body respond to me before she fully awoke, her eyes fluttering, her lips parted. She’d look at me glazed with lust, awakening aroused and needy, just how I wanted her.

  Striding over to my bedroom, I threw open the door. She lay there on my bed like some sort of storybook princess, sleeping so pink and perfect. She gave a slight sigh with her next exhale, the gentle play of a smile flickering across her full, generous mouth. Her eyelids stayed closed in slumber, her long, dark lashes forming perfect arches against her pale skin.

  I looked down on her, hard as a goddamned pistol, the demon hovering over the angel. I could feel her lush curves draped all over my body, her pussy squeezed tight around my shaft. I brought a hand down to my steel length and cursed.

  This woman was like an infection coursing through me, cooking my brain and body in a raging fever. My prick throbbed. Solid and at the ready, I knew I could take care of myself, jerk myself off and come hard in sixty seconds. Hell, this horny I probably could do it a few times over. My balls ached and I needed the release.

  But I knew it wouldn’t help, not really. It would feel all right for a second, a blinding flash when my mind went blank. But then everything would return to me, the hunger, the unquenched thirst, maybe even stronger than before. My cock needed one thing and one thing only and she was asleep in my bed. My hand would only end up making me more frustrated in the end.

  Still she slept, unaware of the inferno racing through my blood. Too comfortable in my bed. Trusting the monster.

  I swore under my breath. I walked out of the room again, closed the door and paced. What the hell had I gotten myself into? Why was I playing with this kind of fire?

  I hadn’t felt this messed up, not in a long time. Not since six years ago. Nothing had changed. Kara might be 24 now, but she was still the same girl. Hot as shit but with hearts and rainbows dancing around her head. Unicorns and fairies and all that Hollywood movie bullshit.

  I’d fallen for her hard back then, with all the idiocy of youth. I could still remember how Kara used to make me feel, like I was a king, like the world was my oyster. I’d been 21 and street smart and tough-talking. But inside, that was a different story. She’d fulfilled my fantasies in more ways than one. And I’d let myself start blending the two, allowed myself to enter into the dream of what it would be like with Kara, really be like if she were my woman. I’d felt such blinding happiness that night she’d come down in my cabin, when I’d thought I was so close to calling her my own.

  Nothing turned you into a sucker quicker than that. I’d let my guard down and Harlan had sucker punched me good. It had all crumbled like dust, blown away quick and fast and left no trace.

  I should have learned my lesson, but Kara did something to me, messed up my brain. Made me start thinking about things I shouldn’t. Yearning for the types of things I never thought about in day-to-day. Home, family. What would it be like to have it all? That was a myth, especially for a man like me. When you tried to reach for that apple, that’s when all hell broke loose. Better to be satisfied with what you had than torturing yourself over what you never would.

  Now the world actually was my oyster. Richer than I’d ever dreamed and now Kara had walked back into my life and agreed to give herself to me for a week. I had everything I’d ever yearned for. I should be licking my chops, satisfied as a rich man at a lavish Christmas dinner. But here I was all worked up, unable to sleep, forced out of my apartment, torqued up and pacing, all over some girl? Any second now, I could feel it, I would start dreaming of her and me. I’d start smiling and humming.

  I’d hated Harlan at the time. But he was right. He’d been back then, and he was right now. I wasn’t the man for her.

  Even now that I had the money, I wasn’t the full package. I was a broken man. I’d never be the picket fence dad fussing over the BBQ with the neighbors and their kids over for Sunday after church. I didn’t play that way. And the way I actually played, real down dirty and nasty? Kara might pretend, but she didn’t play that way either. We were still living in different worlds, her and me. Kara belonged married and tucked away in a snug little cabin, wrapped in sweetness and love, expecting a new baby to make three. And here I was spanking the fuck out of her and planning to do more, much more.

  Six years ago I’d done the right thing. I’d cut things off, left her without hope and without a trace. It had been hard. It had torn me up, if I had to be honest about it. But what had got me through was I knew it was the best thing for her.

  There was no getting around it, ending it would be the best thing for her this time around, too. I didn’t want to give her up. I wanted to keep her with me, hold her tight. But even now I could tell one week wouldn’t be enough. I was a possessive madman and I’d drag this thing out, beat it into the ground until she was dying to get away from me. I’d ruin her, dragging her into my dark world of submission and domination for pleasure.

  And then I knew what would happen. Inevitably, our differences would surface. I’d get frustrated. She’d get hurt. We were cut from different cloths and she might want to make a quilt out of it all, but it wouldn’t work. It would end, slowly, painfully, with massive damage and wreckage. This time around the crash-and-burn would be of epic proportions.

  But there was no way it would work between us, not the way she’d want. I wasn’t the Christmas sweater, baseball in the backyard with our kids type of guy. I’d never known my father. My junkie of a mother had passed away two years ago. An overdose, no one there to help her, she’d died alone. I had no brothers or sisters, at least that I knew of. I literally had no family and no experience of it, either. You didn’t grow up like I did and then just flip a switch. You learned things over time, commitment, responsibility, intimacy, the sacrifices parents made to create a stable, loving home. Or you learned the opposite. Once you’d seen all the darkness life could bring, I didn’t see any way over into the light. I simply wasn’t capable of it. I’d gone through the last 27 years a lone wolf. I’d go through however many more stretched out in front of me the exact same way.

  Playing games with Kara was too fucking dangerous. I didn’t play with fire. I did controlled burns, when I could see the exact path it would take and knew precisely how and when I could put it out. You had to know when to let the beast out of the cage. I wouldn’t do it anymore, not with Kara. My hard, aching cock? I’d find someone wet, willing and ready to take care of all of my needs. Someone who’d walk away the next morning and I wouldn’t give her a second thought.

  I would end this now, terminating our agreement. I would write Kara a check and leave it out on the kitchen island. Later in the morning, by the time she woke up I’d already be out at the office. She’d take her money and run.

  Because Kara was only sticking around for my money, anyway. If I didn’t have that, she wouldn’t be here. I’d be a forgotten memory, some ranch hand who got her off one summer.

  I was used to women wanting me for my money. It made things simple. They liked the money first and foremost, and they liked my power inside and outside the bedroom. It was enough to keep a steady stream of them coming, literally and figuratively. Somehow with Kara, though, the thought twisted in my guts. It made me feel scooped out a
nd hollow.

  Since when did I care about shit like that? My innermost thoughts and feelings? Fuck that. Too much depth dragged you down. Shallow was just fine for me.

  The solution was always there, you just had to have the balls to find it. And stick to it once you had. We weren’t going to New York tomorrow. I was ending this bargain.

  Six years ago I’d done the right thing. Now, I’d do it again. It would be hard, but I could do it. Hell, people cut off their own limbs and lived to tell the tale. Life was pain.

  I’d end this arrangement. I’d give her the money she needed, no strings attached. It had to end with Kara. Because that girl was kryptonite.

  THE END

  Thank you so much for reading Unleashed: Hot Alpha Romance, Volume 2! I hope you loved it, and stay tuned for the next installment of the story! In New York City Declan and Kara take this arrangement to a whole new level of hotness…

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  Keep reading for a sneak peek at the next book in the Declan and Kara story, Unleashed: Hot Alpha Romance, Volume 3. Both volume 3 and the final volume 4 of Unleashed: Hot Alpha Romance are available now for sale or for preorder here. Unleashed: Hot Alpha Romance, Volume 3 will be released February 1st.

  Unleashed:

  Hot Alpha Romance, Volume 3

  New York City. The city that never sleeps. Especially when you’re there as part of a no-holds-barred bargain to serve your master.

  Declan

  I have her now, right where I want her. Mine, for the week in New York. The ultimate city to play in and the one I’d always wanted to play with.

  And now I have the money to give her everything, VIP at the hottest spots in town, waited on hand and foot at the poshest restaurants and spas, lavishing her with jewelry and a custom-made gown for a gala at the Met. I want to surround her with every luxury.