“You sewed a button on my shirt?” I strode toward her, closing the space between us. “Why?”
“You were missing one.” She looked up at me, nervous and shy. “I’ve done it for Bill, too. And my daddy. I can sew a button on your shirt.” She stood, defiant and gorgeous in her white sundress, insisting on her right to mend my clothes.
I stood there like an idiot. I didn’t think anyone had ever sewn a button for me before. It shouldn’t matter but it did. My mouth felt dry.
That was the problem with Kara. I wanted to shrug her off, or even look down on her, dismiss her as a spoiled brat. But then she’d go and do this kind of shit. It shook me up, shifted the ground right underneath my feet.
This close, I could smell her, a clean strawberry scent. Her hair gleamed, smooth, shiny and thick. I breathed her in like some pathetic teenage jerk.
“I thought about bringing the shirt down to your cabin, but—”
“No!” That snapped me right out of it. “Don’t come to my cabin.” That was the last thing I needed, her knocking softly on my door late at night.
She looked down at the floor. Damn, were her eyes filling with tears?
“Listen, Kara.” I exhaled and took off my cowboy hat, rubbing my hand along my forehead and through my hair. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She beamed and glowed. The way she looked up at me, it was like she saw me as her hero or something. Me. Fucked-up, beat-down me.
Lust, that I was used to with girls. They liked what I had to offer. But this kind of bright shine in Kara’s eyes? It was a whole new level.
“What are you doing hanging around a barn? You should be out.” With people her own age. And her boyfriend.
I hated her boyfriend. Bryce or some tool name. The kid was the high school quarterback, son of the sleezeball mayor. The few times I’d seen him around town, he’d given me the eye, like he was a tough guy and he was on to me. I’d love to square off with him sometime, just him and me. I knew it would take one punch, just one, and he’d be lying flat on the ground bawling for his mommy. The boy was as tough as a newborn kitten.
“Yeah, I guess.” She looked down. None of the bounciness I’d come to expect from the resident cheerleader.
“You’re not going out? It’s Friday night.”
“I don’t know.” She seemed reluctant and bit that plump lip of hers, hesitant. Then she looked up, all wide-eyed and innocent. “What are you doing tonight?”
Shit, she wasn’t fishing around to hang out with me, was she? This had gone too far. Her father would probably fire me just for talking to her alone in the barn. Plus, I didn’t do schoolgirl crushes. She needed to stick with the teen heartthrob posters I was sure she had up in her room. And her quarterback boyfriend.
“You should go out with Bryce.” I all but patted her on the head and sent her out the door, class dismissed.
She winced again. You’d think with what an asshole I was she’d steer clear of me. “I don’t know, maybe.”
“Seems like if he’s your boyfriend, you should hang out with him.”
She shrugged and looked deflated. I hated that. I didn’t want to hurt her. That’s why I needed to push her away. Standing there in the barn, the last ray of sunlight streamed down into her golden hair. What would it feel like to wrap my hands in that honey goodness? I bet her skin was as soft as silk. She didn’t weigh so much, I could pick her right up in my arms. Better yet, I could pull her down into my lap and spend a long while like that together.
I cleared my throat and turned away. “Have a good night, princess.”
“Thanks, Declan.” She left, disappointed. Good. She needed to be.
§
That night I didn’t stay long at the bar. A girl I’d hung out with a few times was there, raring to go. She liked to fuck. It wouldn’t be me tonight, though. I wasn’t feeling it. A whole host of other guys would be more than happy to oblige, I was sure.
“What’s the matter, sexy?” She stood next to my barstool. My eyes roamed the bar until she took matters into her own hands, literally, and reached right between my legs. She was one subtle, classy chick. “I bet I know what to do to take your mind off of things.”
“Yeah, maybe later.” I finished my beer and slid off the seat.
“Asshole,” she muttered, heading over to the dartboard.
“You got that right,” I agreed. At least someone knew me for what I really was.
Driving back in my truck, I couldn’t find anything on the radio other than sad-sack love songs. What was wrong with people that they wanted to wallow in that shit? My personal philosophy on life was Move On. You spent too much time dwelling it would eat you up.
I barely ever thought about the past. I was too busy moving forward into the future. What, was I supposed to cry myself to sleep every night on account of never having a daddy? Yeah, my so-called father had split before I was born. And my mom was a junkie. Real happy family. The kind you put on a Christmas card and mailed all over town.
I didn’t even know where my mother was at these days. I knew I’d hear from her again once she needed money. As if I had any.
Every now and then I wondered about my father. I didn’t know a thing about him, not even his name. My mother refused to talk about him. Sometimes she’d hint at not even knowing for sure who he was, like she’d been at some crazy orgy or something. But that struck me as a lie. Every now and then, she’d say something, usually when she was pissed off. If I was being stubborn, she’d shake her head and say, “Just like your father.” Didn’t sound like an orgy to me.
Did she even know how to track him down? The couple of times I’d asked she’d changed the subject real quick. I’d wondered, of course, when I’d had to go into foster care. She’d fallen asleep with a cigarette and burned an abandoned building to the goddamn ground. No one had gotten hurt, but it had come to light that her parenting skills might not be all that sharp. But it didn’t matter, anyway. I wasn’t about to chase after him. He’d left me, never wanted anything to do with me.
In my experience, it never paid off to show any weakness. You toughened up or you got fucked over. Nights like these, driving late in the dark with too much time on my hands, I found myself thinking about things. I didn’t like it when that happened.
Sometimes I’d remember Shelly. We’d only lived together for about six months in one of the many foster homes I’d bounced through. Shelly had been real small for her age, at eight or nine she’d looked about six. All she’d done all day long was watch this goddamned DVD. She had a machine that played it and she’d watch it start to finish, over and over, Beauty and the Beast. She loved that shit. “Be Our Guest!” she’d sing along.
I looked out for her the best I could, but there was only so much I could do. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I’d left in a hurry. When you got arrested and thrown in juvie they didn’t exactly give you time to say fond farewells. I’d never looked her up since, though. Deep down, I was a coward.
Maybe I should have stayed at the bar, had a few more beers. Headed out to my truck with a girl or even two. My mind was restless tonight.
I pulled into the ranch. Up in the big house, no light shown from Kara’s bedroom. She must have taken my advice and gone out with her boyfriend. They were probably out with all their high school buddies toasting marshmallows and eating s’mores. Either that or the two of them were out steaming up the back seat of some car. I didn’t like the thought of that at all.
I’d go watch some porn. That would do the trick, take my mind off things.
Down to my briefs in the comfort of my one-room cabin, I popped open a beer and settled onto the couch. I watched the first thing that came on: two girls playing with each other’s big, fake titties. Stupid, but it would serve.
I reached my hand down my briefs and drew out my cock, already hard and ready. Hand wrapped around the shaft, I started to move, slow, building up the heat and friction.
I wondered if Kara had ever had someo
ne play with her tits. Sure, someone had probably felt her up, but I doubted she’d ever really been with someone who knew what he was doing. She was an innocent, but she was 18 going on 19 as I’d heard her mention more than once. Not exactly a kid.
My cock swelled, thick in my grasp. My breathing grew heavy. I lost my focus on the screen and instead retreated into my memory of Kara, her sun-kissed skin, her plump lips so full and inviting, her curves so lush in those little sundresses she wore. Sometimes her strap would fall down her shoulder, all temptation, the ribbon calling out to you to pull it, unwrap the present, discover what lay underneath. What would she be like, if I had her to myself? One of those nights she wandered down to the barn, what if? What if I gave her what she wanted, more than that, held her there in the dark, taught her what it felt like to really be touched by a man, to have a man’s mouth on her ripe breasts, down on her slick, needy pussy while she cried out for more.
I came, hard and fast. And I felt like a beast right after. What was wrong with me that I couldn’t be out fucking some bar skank? Or even getting off on a couple of porn stars? No, I had to fixate on the one I couldn’t have, the princess up on the hill. And I’d come harder fantasizing about her than I usually did actually fucking someone else. That wasn’t good.
I cleaned up in the shower. Maybe I’d see about wrapping up here early. I could talk to Harlan about heading out mid-summer. It might be a better idea to move on somewhere else. I wasn’t going to be a ranch hand forever, I knew that much. This fall I had something set up at another ranch that was turning itself into a resort. That intrigued me. I wanted to learn about it, see what they did and how they did it. I could see a future in that.
But that job didn’t start until October. I didn’t have enough money saved up to get me from now to then. Plus I didn’t want to leave, not really. I just needed to keep it in my pants, that was all.
I was a dark, fucked-up beast. And Kara lived in a world of rainbows and unicorns. It was like that movie Shelly used to watch, I realized with an ironic laugh. Beauty and the Beast. Only in that story the beast had turned into a prince at the end.
I was no prince. But I could keep my hands off her, keep her safe from me. I had self-discipline and then some. I wasn’t going to be the one to drag her down into my dark cave. No matter how badly I wanted to.
Now
“Here’s the key to your room.” In the lobby of the Stanyon, I handed the card to her. She took it, still looking dazed, her lips bee-stung, her hair thick and somewhat tousled. Women paid a fortune to makeup artists and hair stylists for that effect. Kara had it because I’d pulled her into a stockroom and given her the best orgasm of her life. I liked the look on her. I planned to see it a lot over the upcoming week.
“You’re going to stay here tonight. Alone. I want to give you time to think things through.”
“Here?” she asked, looking around the high-end hotel.
“I own it. You’ve got a suite in the northwest corner with a good view.” Right underneath my penthouse suite. I wanted to keep her close.
“You own this, too?” she murmured, taking in the high-ceilinged, newly remodeled features. We’d put in Carrera marble at the check-in desk, an expensive detail where it could make a valuable first impression. I loved seeing her impressed, knowing all this lavish beauty was mine to offer her. My cock swelled as her eyes grew wide. I liked her seeing my power. She hadn’t seen anything yet.
“I’ll have some things sent up to your room, anything you might need. And is there something you’d like from your car? I’ll send a valet.”
“My bag, I guess. I’m parked a couple of blocks away.”
“Why would you do that?” In my experience, a woman in the kind of heels she had on wanted to be rolled up directly to the entrance, then helped out of the car and steered in the right direction until she could sit.
Kara shrugged.
“Let me have someone park it for you in the hotel lot.” I held out my palm. She dug into her clutch purse and pulled out a set of keys so old they’d practically rusted away.
“Don’t tell me.”
She giggled and I knew it was true.
“You’re still driving Bessie?” How could she still be hauling around that old hunk of junk? It had been on its last legs six years ago. I’d put in a new carburetor for her, figuring the truck had a few thousand miles left in it, tops.
“Don’t knock Bessie,” she warned me.
I waved over a valet from the front entrance, gave him the keys and Kara told him where she’d parked. I’d have to get her something more reliable. That truck wasn’t safe.
I put my number into her cell phone and handed it back to her.
“You’ve got a lot to think about.” I led her over to the bank of elevators. Tilting up her chin, I gazed into her gorgeous blue eyes. “You need to consider the arrangement I’m offering, Kara. If you agree to give me a week, I want you to surrender completely. Nothing held back.”
I felt her shiver, her body responding to the idea. As I ran a hand through her hair, she leaned in to my touch, nearly swooning. Aroused again, her nipples pressed against the fabric of her dress. I bit back a groan.
“So responsive, my Kara.” I traced a finger along her jaw, then up to her mouth. Her lips parted slightly.
With great effort, I pulled away. “You know the terms. I’ll accept nothing less.”
I pressed the button for her floor. “I’ll get in touch tomorrow for your answer.” I gave her the tamest kiss I could manage, along her smooth forehead. As soon as the elevator doors closed, I wanted her in my arms again.
I turned my back on that adolescent nonsense. I knew how to play my cards, wait for the right moment. Or the right week. It would all begin soon.
iPhone out, I called my PA, Angie. I knew I could ask one of my hotel employees to put together a hospitality basket for Kara and they’d do it well, but I wanted over-the-top. Angie knew how to do that.
I was fortunate that I’d found Angie early on, and that I knew how to judge character. She hadn’t had prior experience as a PA so she was willing to start at a rock-bottom salary when that’s all I could afford. What she did have was ten years of experience as a single mom juggling three kids and two part-time jobs as a bookkeeper and a waitress. I knew I’d found someone who could multi-task and execute. Now her oldest was off in college, paid for by Obsidian Investments, and Angie drove a BMW.
“VIP guest at the Stanyon, room 1940,” I began as soon as she picked up. I didn’t have to waste any words with Angie, that’s another reason I liked her. She took direction and ran with it. “There’s a young woman here for the night. She needs the works.”
“Cashmere pajamas,” she said, and I knew her well enough to understand that she wasn’t even talking to me. She was speaking out loud because she had already started making a to-do list. “I’ll have it all sent over within the hour.”
“Let me know when it’s delivered.”
“Done.” Angie used my favorite word in the English language and got off the phone. I loved that she didn’t waste time discussing the details or even telling me how she managed to pull things off. She was probably already on the phone again right now with a personal shopper in Billings’ one high-end department store. It wasn’t yet 9 o’clock. They’d still be open. And for a client like me, the store would make it happen. I liked having money.
I stepped out into the warm evening air, a Friday night in June. I had the woman of my dreams up in my hotel, probably about to sink into a hot bath. With any luck she’d slip a few fingers down into the steamy water and touch herself, reliving the scene in the stockroom. I could still feel her ass firm in my grasp, her quivering and moans of need, the way she’d begged for release.
Damn, I needed that, too.
Restraint. I was the king of it. Even if it nearly killed me, I was going to give Kara time to think this over. I wanted her to struggle with it, wrestle with her conscience, have time to think about what a good gir
l would do. And then choose to do the opposite. I knew her well enough to know if she didn’t want this, she’d turn it down. There was no money in the world that would coerce her to give herself to someone if she didn’t want to.
The money was simply a premise, something she could use as an excuse to do what she wanted. I knew her intimately. I knew what made her tick, what she craved, perhaps even more than she knew herself. I couldn’t wait to unleash it in her. But only after she begged for it.
A young guy, probably right out of high school, brought my SUV around. “Mr. Hunt, sir.” He held the door open for me. It had been cleaned, though I hadn’t had it scheduled. “I gave it a wash,” he explained. “You had mud on the fenders.”
He was right. I had been out on a muddy road visiting one of my properties a few hours outside Billings. I checked the name on his tag. I liked to remember the ones who showed initiative.
“Good work, Sam.” I gave him a $20. It hadn’t been that long ago when a $20 could make or break my weekend. Now I liked to share what I could.
I headed out into the night without a definite plan. But I knew I wouldn’t be heading up to my penthouse, not any time soon at least, so close to Kara yet not close enough. I needed to bide my time. A good distraction would make it that much easier.
Like the club I enjoyed when I was in town. It had nothing like the buffet of offerings or the lush opulence of clubs I frequented in New York. But BDSM was BDSM no matter where you did it, and this club usually knew how to put on a good show.
Located on the outskirts of town, the building had no exterior sign. A valet even parked your car off premises if you desired. The governor couldn’t have his constituents knowing he wielded a flogger for pleasure.
I didn’t particularly care what people thought of me, but you never knew who might want to turn up dirt when. Discretion seemed a smart choice. I pulled up into a dark alleyway. A man all in black emerged. I could see him quickly check my plates in his phone. Then he hopped to it, opening my door and taking another $20 from me with a crisp, “Good evening, sir.”
Unleashed: Volume 1 (Unleashed #1) Page 9
