We’d barely said a word to each other in the intervening weeks other than a cursory “hello.” And even that was only when he was with the other guys. Even then he wouldn’t really say a full hello, just an infuriating nod underneath the big cowboy hat he always wore. Damn it, I wished the strong silent type didn’t have so much sex appeal.
In a sane universe, I wouldn’t have enjoyed getting spanked. I wouldn’t still be thinking about it, about Declan all the time. I would be out with my perfectly normal, perfectly boring high school boyfriend doing something dumb I found perfectly engrossing.
But this was not a sane universe. Everything had tipped on its axis since Declan had arrived in my life. The only thing left to do was cling on and try to find new footing on this entirely new surface.
And bake banana bread.
Checking on it, I found it was already time to take it out. I set it down on a hot pad and took out the cooling rack. Taking a butter knife, I nestled it gently between the edge of the bread and the pan. It felt loose enough. Small things, routines, calmed me. Baking bread. I did it well, I’d done it for years. I could still do it now.
And now maybe I’d bring a loaf down to Declan? I’d seen his truck parked outside of his cabin. Unusual for a Saturday night, he almost always went out. But tonight he’d stayed home. Like me.
Before I could stop my train of thought, I ran to my room and changed clothes. I didn’t want to overdo it, so I just grabbed a t-shirt and short shorts. As if I could wear anything that would make me not look ridiculously obvious and lamely hopeful, knocking on his door on a Saturday night.
But obsession was a powerful force and it clearly had me in its grip. It was Saturday night, hot and sticky in late June, and I had to see him. Maybe he’d have his shirt off? Dear God, I might not make it. I’d have a heart attack. What an incredible way to go.
At the last minute, I made a thermos of lemonade, too. So dumb, like I was asking him to go on a church picnic. I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop my feet from walking out the door.
My heart just about beat out of my chest as I made my way in the darkness down to his cabin. Daddy was out tonight playing poker with some neighbors. The light was on in Declan’s cabin. His truck was still parked there outside. Would we finally have a moment alone, just the two of us?
I heard the moaning a few feet away from his front door. It was a woman and she was really enjoying herself.
“Oh yeah!” she yelled, breathy.
I didn’t hear anything after that. Maybe he was watching TV?
I noticed that the door was ajar. I guessed that was why I could hear things so loud and clear. I inched toward the doorway, the light peeking through. Should I knock?
Without thinking, I put my hand to the door and pushed. It opened slowly, silently, and I saw what was making all that noise.
Declan sat on the couch, shirtless as I’d imagined. He didn’t have his pants on either. He had his eyes closed, his head tilted back as a woman kneeled between his legs and took his cock into her mouth.
“That’s it.” He groaned in pleasure, bringing a hand to the back of her head.
She made a deep purring noise, running her hands up and down his thighs as she sucked. “Mmm.” She enjoyed herself as she took him in deep.
I stood, frozen to the spot, banana bread in one hand, thermos of lemonade tucked under my arm. My jaw must have dropped to the floor. But I didn’t move.
Eyes closed, Declan leaned back with his throat stretched out and a dusting of stubble across his strong jaw. His shoulders were so broad, so defined, his chest a pure wall of muscle. He looked like raw, potent power with his thick thighs spread. A groan came out of his throat.
He cupped the back of the other girl’s head and pushed her down on his hard cock. All male domination, in a deep, throaty voice he told her, “Suck it.” The girl moaned, loving every second of it.
A shudder traveled up through my body. My core tightened and heat pooled deep within, my pussy starting to throb. I’d never seen anything so dirty, so erotic.
Hand on her head, so controlling, he said, “Yes, like that.”
I knew I should turn and run but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move a muscle. I could see his pulse throbbing in his neck, could see his outstretched hand fisting in the couch pillow. His thighs corded with muscle, tense. Her head bobbed up and down, working for him.
I bit my lip and looked up. He was looking straight at me. Frozen, caught, I couldn’t move. His eyes devoured me, scorching me with an intensity I’d never seen before.
“I’m going to come,” he growled, looking straight at me. I couldn’t stop a soft moan from escaping my lips as he threw his head back and groaned while his cock exploded come into the other girl’s mouth.
Then I ran. Holding my ridiculous banana bread and my church picnic thermos of lemonade, I ran as fast as my 18-year-old legs could carry me all the way back to my house up on the hill. I pounded up the porch, slammed the front door behind me and though we never did, I locked it tight. Throwing my undelivered gifts to the floor, I ran up the stairs and down the hall to my bedroom.
But then what did I do? Did I bury my head in my hands and cry like a good girl, promising myself that I was done for good with Declan? Did I learn my lesson?
No. I brought my fevered hands down to my wet, throbbing pussy and discovered my own needs. I’d never seen anything like that.
My fingers worked my slick clit. I wanted to kneel between his legs. I wanted to take his cock full in my mouth, have his hand fisted in my hair and forcing me down on him. I moaned, my fingers moving faster. I wanted him to tilt his head back and call out my name. I wanted his hot come shooting down my throat.
It was the last thought that put me over the edge, sending wave after crashing wave of orgasm shuddering though my sweat-soaked body. I wanted him, I needed him. I hated him.
Now
“Go stand behind the couch,” he ordered, his dark eyes intense and unreadable. He stood in the corner of his penthouse, the cool and collected businessman in his dress shirt and crisp jeans. All of Billings lay below him through the windows on one side. I stood on the other, half-naked and awaiting his commands.
“What?” My head felt foggy, flooded with desire so intense it didn’t leave room for much else. He’d told me it was time to begin my training. What did he mean? Why did I want to find out?
“Over to the back of the couch. Put your hands under your ass and sit on them.”
“Declan?” I bit my lip. Even as his words, his demeanor and his dominance made my sex throb, I couldn’t fully shake the reluctance out of my head. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t how people behaved.
Pointing to the couch, he repeated, “Your hands. Under your ass. Now.”
Shaking, my body took over and I walked to the couch. I turned to face him. Then I placed my hands behind me, palm-down on the back of the couch. And I sat on them. The leather felt cool and unyielding. My skirt rode up so high I could feel it against my upper thighs and even the base of my bottom. With my hands secured behind me, I sat like he told me to with my shoulders back and my back arched.
I felt exposed, trapped, and slippery hot with need. I had to be a twisted, sick woman to love this, but I did. And he knew it.
There was nothing I could do to hide my arousal, my breasts straining toward him, begging for his attention. I squirmed and panted and he could see how desperate he made me.
He approached me, striding slowly, his massive strength tightly controlled. He clenched his jaw.
In a low voice, he asked, “Did it turn you on, flirting with those men in the bar tonight?” He reached out a finger, slow and deliberate, making a circle first around one nipple, then around the next. I whimpered, panting under his touch.
I couldn’t help it. I had to touch him. I brought a hand out from behind me and reached up, grabbing his huge shoulder and raking my nails across his muscles.
He pulled away, a stern look on his face and an index finge
r up in admonishment. “No.”
Surprised, I looked up into his eyes, my hand feeling so empty.
“You need to do as I say, Kara.”
He’d told me to put my hands under my ass. I bit my lip. He wanted me to obey his orders. I wanted him to touch me. Reluctantly, I brought my hand back under my bottom like he’d told me.
“Good girl,” he praised me. “You’re mine for the week. You need to learn how to behave. I’m in control here, do you understand?”
His voice coated me thick and dark like velvet and I wondered if the sound of it alone could make me come. I nodded, but couldn’t think to speak with his hands back on my body, slowly caressing my waist, up again at my breasts, brushing, circling, squeezing, coaxing. With the slightest, briefest whisper, his fingers grazed my nipple.
“Oh!” I cried out, unable to stop myself. I felt so vulnerable and exposed, unable to move my hands under his commands.
Suddenly, he reached out and tweaked my nipple, hard. I gasped, then moaned as he brought his mouth down to it, sucking it, then circling it with his tongue. All still through the barrier of the bra. I’d never hated a bra more.
“You didn’t answer me, Kara.” His breath hot against the wet fabric, he asked, “Did it turn you on, flirting with those men in the bar?”
“Declan…” I panted as he took his thumbs to my breasts, teasing me again, tracing them lightly, outlining their swell. I felt agitated, embarrassed to be called out for doing exactly what I had been doing. I had been flirting, enjoying the male attention.
“I saw you strutting around,” he continued. “Working it.”
“No!” I gasped, ashamed. But I had been, thrusting out my tits, swaying my ass, using my body to turn them on. Especially when I knew Declan was watching.
“No? You weren’t being a tease, Kara?” He brought his hot mouth down again and bit me, lightly on the soft mound of my breast, harder, his teeth on my nipple.
I cried out, twisting on my hands, arching into him, shocked and confused and desperately wanting more. I had been teasing. And I’d wanted him to catch me doing it, to see that I was sexy and desirable. But I felt guilty about being caught. Good girls weren’t supposed to do that.
He drew back and surveyed me, cupping my breasts lovingly. “I’ve always loved your tits, Kara. So sensitive. So responsive.”
I was vaguely aware of him taking one hand away, the sound of ice clinking against a glass. I assumed he was taking a drink.
He brought an ice cube directly onto my erect nipple. So cold, it made me gasp and straighten up, my eyes wide now in surprise. He smiled, not pulling away at all, and began to trace a path around my breast with the ice cube. I still wore the bra, but it didn’t offer much coverage. He plastered the lace to my trembling skin with the cold, dripping ice.
He reached down with his free hand to my inner thigh. I parted my legs without being asked. Declan gave a low, appreciative murmur. “That’s good, Kara. Open for me.”
I moaned in response, parting my legs more. He stroked my inner thigh and brought the cube in slow circles around my nipple, making me think about how much I needed direct contact. I tilted my head back, wantonly pressing my breast up into the ice, seeking more sensation. I wanted to reach out, pull him toward me, but I kept my hands pinned where I’d been told.
“I like how much I can see with this bra.” The wet lace pressed against my curves, my nipples stiff and aching. He licked his lips. “But it has to go. Take it off. Take everything off for me, Kara.”
He took a step back to watch. I instantly longed for his touch, felt bereft without it. Standing, breathless, I brought my shaking hands to the bottom of my shirt. I could see the outline of his huge, hard cock straining against his jeans. A soft moan escaped me and I licked my parted lips.
“Take it off,” he growled, growing impatient. Complying, I unclasped the bra and dropped it to the ground, my breasts springing free for him to see. I kicked off my boots. Slipping my thumbs inside the waistband of my skirt, I looked up at him, suddenly shy.
“Now,” he commanded. I slipped my skirt down my curves, stepping out of it to stand absolutely naked. Slowly, biting my lip, I revealed myself completely, my shaved-bare pussy juicy wet and on full display.
Declan watched me intently, then reached a hand to his lower abdomen and undid the top button of his jeans. I couldn’t take my eyes off that spot, where I could see the outline of his giant shaft almost free now, straining. I could see the tip of it, pushing out against his briefs, reaching the top of his waistband. I wanted to reach out and touch it so badly.
“Hands back where I told you.” His voice came out in a harsh hiss.
“Yes,” I responded, putting my hands back under my ass. I could feel my slit now, pressing against my fingers. I wished I could have more room to touch myself. With so much pressure building up inside me, I felt crazy, clenched and quivering for release.
He stepped closer, inches away again without touching me. I shook as he surveyed my naked breasts, shivering as he brought just a few fingers up to lightly brush my stomach, tantalizing me.
“I think you liked being a cock tease tonight.”
“Declan!” I gasped.
“I saw you showing off these tits. But they’re mine.” As if unable to stop himself any longer, he bent with a growl. Bringing his mouth down onto one of my breasts, his hand claimed the other. “Mine.” He licked and sucked. Then he bit me, sharp but light, marking me as his own. I moaned and twisted underneath his heat.
“Yes, Declan.” I never wanted him to stop.
With a wicked gleam in his eyes, he stopped and looked up at me. He brought a hand behind my head and grasped my ponytail. With a tug, he raised my face so I’d meet his gaze head-on. “Did you show off your tits tonight, Kara? Tell me.”
“Yes, Declan,” I confessed, squirming and slick on my hands, ashamed.
“You wanted those men to look at you. To get hard.”
I twisted, still keeping my hands under my ass. “Yes,” I gasped, guilty and so, so wet.
“You got them hard, you little cock tease,” he grit out between his teeth. “But you belong to me.”
With a swift, strong movement, he flipped me. “Lean over the couch.” My arms against the back of the couch, I leaned down into the cushions, baring my ass and my soaking pussy for him.
“Spread for me,” he commanded. I opened my legs, squirming with embarrassment. I knew he could see everything, how much I wanted him, drenched with need.
Suddenly, I felt something cold and unyielding against my sex. I gasped and tried to twist away. Declan’s palm cracked down hard on my ass cheek.
“You stay right where I tell you,” he barked. I moaned in response, sure I was dripping now.
He took an ice cube in his thick fingers, and brought it back again against the lips of my pussy. “You need to learn some discipline.”
He rubbed against me, teasingly bringing the ice cube near, then over my clit. The smooth, cold sensation brought me close to orgasm and I started tensing, panting, my hands clutching the couch pillows.
Fisting my ponytail, Declan bent over and barked in my ear. “Don’t come until I tell you. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Declan, yes.” Breathless, I could hear myself speak rather than consciously forming the words. My body had taken over completely, in his hands, under his control.
I could hear his hand dipping again into his drink, the ice cubes clinking against the glass. I could feel myself shaking with anticipation and need, a drop of liquid slowly traveling down my inner thigh. I didn’t know if it was my juices, the melted ice or both.
Then, cold, hard ice pressed against my hot, soft slit. I had to bite down on my bottom lip, wincing from pain and pleasure. In the intensity of the sensation, it took everything I had not to let go into a blistering orgasm.
“Stay still,” he warned me. I hadn’t even realized I was bucking against him, desperately trying to get more into my pussy, more ice,
more of him. Once I restrained myself, holding still, he slid one, then two fingers inside me, stroking slowly and deliberately. The ice cube he kept circling around my clit, the cold pressure driving me senseless, wild.
“Did it make you wet? Teasing those men?”
“No, Declan.” I didn’t want to admit it. But it had, especially with him watching me. Slap, I felt a hard, sharp whack on my exposed, bare ass. I cried out, a shudder of pain and pleasure rippling through me.
“Tell me the truth.” His fingers were back, this time two fingers fucked my pussy. But with the other hand, he moved. He drew his finger up to circle my asshole, light, sensual, not penetrating, just touching. He dipped down to gather some of my slick juice, then brought it up to my other opening. I tensed. No one had ever touched me there. He continued, finger fucking my pussy while circling my asshole, slowly, so slowly. I panted, frightened, wanting, afraid, desperately needing.
“Naughty girl,” he said. I moaned, shaking. “Did it make you wet?” he repeated, pushing his fingers deep into my pussy, then slowly drawing them out.
“Declan!” I screamed. “Yes! When you watched me! Yes!”
His fingers stilled. “You saw me watching you?”
“Yes,” I whimpered.
“And you liked that?”
“Yes, Declan, yes,” I panted, incoherent. “Please!”
He bent over me, growling hot in my ear, “Now you come!”
He thrust his fingers deep into my sex. At the same time he pressed his large thumb against the entrance of my virgin hole. Not inside, but with the pressure on my clit, the feel of his thick fingers up inside me, I realized I might want more. I might want him to do more than tease my ass.
With a scream of wild abandon, my orgasm hit me and I bucked against him, shuddering, surrendering to the intensity. Wave after wave, throb after throb of release numbed my mind as I nearly blacked out. Fingers clutching the leather, mouth open, I let out an incoherent stream of pleasure. “Yes! Declan! Ah!”
Unleashed: Declan & Kara (Unleashed #1-4; Beg for It #1) Page 17
