Unleashed: Declan & Kara (Unleashed #1-4; Beg for It #1)

by Callie Harper

  6 a.m. Time to hit the gym. I grabbed my bag from the closet. Sleeping beauty didn’t move a muscle. After pounding it out for two hours, sweat dripping off of every pore, every muscle in my body screaming out, I returned to my penthouse. She was still asleep.

  She lay perfect in my bed, her long golden hair splayed out across the pillows, her pink, full lips slightly parted, the ultimate Disney princess awaiting her prince to kiss her awake. Only I was the beast who didn’t become a prince. I stayed lurking in the darkness, fucked her senseless for a week, then turned her out again into the cold, harsh forest.

  I stepped out of the room. What was going on? Was I having some sort of problem with my conscience? Was that guilt rising up inside of me? I didn’t do that.

  That was the fun of being the guy in the black hat in the classic Western. You didn’t worry about all that right and wrong crap. You grabbed what you wanted, drank booze, screwed lots of women, piled up whatever money you could get your hands on and didn’t worry about the rest of it. You knew it didn’t matter because either way it was all going to end the same. You were going to die bleeding out in a gutter somewhere one day. The only person crying over you would be whatever girl you happened to currently be paying for her services. She’d miss the money.

  That’s all this was with Kara, anyway. I shook off the rest of it. I hadn’t come that far in life being a worrier. I went after what I wanted and I got it, simple as that. Right now I wanted Kara Brooks. I wanted her so bad my teeth hurt. So, I was going to have her, every way I could come up with and then some. For one week.

  Because I didn’t do more than that. More simply wasn’t an option. If she was a more-than-a-week type of girl, that was her problem. She knew enough about me to know I wasn’t playing around. I didn’t actually have a ring under the pillow, about to shout “surprise!” and release the doves with a marriage proposal. She wasn’t 18 anymore, the child circled by the wolf. She was 24, a full-grown woman, walking into this with her eyes open.

  But the question remained—if I could have any woman I wanted, why would I mess with the one who could mess with me? Kara was the one woman who’d ever gotten under my skin. And she’d been a goddamned virgin. I should avoid her like the fucking plague.

  I took a shower, hot water pounding over my strained muscles. Clean and dry, I dressed in fresh laundered sweatpants and a crisp, white t-shirt. And I got my head screwed on right.

  This was a transaction, nothing more. Kara was just like the rest of them. She was into me for the money, like every other girl. I was a cold, calculating bastard and I knew how the world worked. Kara needed something and I had it. I wanted something that she had. That’s how bargains went down.

  So what that Kara made it feel different? It didn’t matter that she still smelled of honeysuckle and strawberries and her smile lit me up. Six years later she made me feel like a 21-year-old kid again, tough on the outside, but yearning and hopeful within. I hated that shit. It was a waste of time and it was weak. And it was 100% on me if I fell for that roses and rainbows shit.

  I needed to keep this clean. Simple. Clear-cut. I was taking a girl with me on a business trip to New York. We were going to have a week of hot, nasty BDSM sex. I’d get the rush of training a neophyte, a woman with a body for sin and the mind of an innocent, bringing out the sub within her responding to my dom. And then I’d say goodbye.

  My bedroom door stood open. I walked back in.

  Kara still reclined against a mountain of pillows, her hair framing her face in a mess of golden wisps and tendrils. Her bare shoulders peeked out at the top of the covers, hinting at the creamy paradise below.

  With a yawn, she turned to me, her eyes fluttering open. “Morning.” She gave me a slow grin, looking as content as a cat in a patch of sun.

  “If you can still call it that,” I had to tease.

  Her eyes widened. “What time is it?”

  “Don’t worry about it, there’s no reason to be up early.”

  “But you’re up and I never sleep in,” she protested, still sleepy. “Except for yesterday.” I loved the flush that stole across her face. I wondered if she was thinking about how well she slept after the orgasms I’d given her. I grinned with pride.

  Back in the living room I called room service and ordered most of the menu. I didn’t know what she liked and I was starving. Then I made some coffee. Carrying two mugs into the bedroom, I told myself it wasn’t strange that I still remembered how she took her coffee six years later.

  “Thanks.” She gave me a shy and grateful smile, taking a sip.

  Breakfast arrived. That had to be one of the best perks of being the owner, you never had to wait for a thing. I took the large tray myself and carried it back into the bedroom. No pimply teenage delivery boy got to check out Kara. She was mine, all mine.

  “Ooh!” She sat up a bit, the down comforter still up and keeping her maddeningly modest, covering far too much. I’d have to do something about that. She surveyed her options: waffles, eggs, bacon, sausages, scones and fresh fruit. I set it all down on a low table by the window.

  “That looks amazing.”

  “What do you want?”

  “All of it.”

  “Atta girl.” I took a plate and fixed her a sampler.

  She took it from me, hesitantly. “Are you sure I should eat on the bed? What if I stain the comforter?” She gestured at the expanse of pure, snow-white fluff.

  I shrugged. “Not a problem. I don’t clean it.”

  She took that in, clearly not accustomed to a life in which others cleaned things for you. I’d gotten used to that pretty quick. I made myself a plate and sat on the side of the bed as we ate. She obviously liked bacon. I smiled at her and she giggled a bit, acknowledging how she was relishing her food.

  “I always say, never trust a person who doesn’t like bacon.” She shrugged.

  “So true,” I agreed.

  Finally placing her plate to the side after doing some excellent work, she took her coffee mug into her hands and settled back onto the pillows. She looked comfortable. Too comfortable.

  “We have some things to discuss,” I told her.

  She tensed, instantly looking nervous.

  “The terms of our agreement.” Wide-eyed, she waited. “We fly to New York tomorrow. There’s a gala at the Met I’ll take you to Saturday night. Then Sunday, we’ll fly home and I’ll pay off all of your debts.”

  Leaning forward, I looked into her eyes. “Do you understand what I mean when I say you’ll serve me for the week?”

  She shivered slightly, nibbling on her lower lip. I should have done more of this last night. It wasn’t like me to overlook the fine points of a contract. She got me too fired up and I didn’t like that. I’d regain control, starting now.

  “This week, I give the orders,” I explained. “You follow them. No questions asked. You’ll serve me in every way.”

  She sat up straighter in the bed. That comforter still over-performed.

  “You’re going to be my sub, Kara. Do you understand what that means? I’ll be your master, controlling you, teaching you. That means you’ll need to trust me completely.”

  “Declan, I…” she hesitated.

  “That means no more secrets. You should have told me you were a virgin.”

  “I’m sorry,” she began, looking down and starting to nibble nervously on her thumb. “I should have but—”

  “It’s all right,” I waved off her apologies. What mattered was the future. “This week you need to open up completely to me. You’ll need my guidance. You have to reveal everything to me. That’s how this works.”

  “I don’t know if…” She hesitated, biting her plump lip, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “I’m not sure that I can… do everything you ask.”

  “Why not?” I remained level and cool, letting her speak.

  “Because…” She tilted her hands and eyes upwards. “I don’t even know what sort of stuff you’re into. Are you going to
make me sign a contract or something?”

  I smiled. “Has someone been reading 50 Shades of Gray?”

  She blushed, embarrassed. “Maybe.”

  Giving her a dead serious look, I asked, “Would you like to see my Room of Pain?” She froze. I couldn’t help but slip into a grin.

  “You’re joking, right?” She smiled but still sounded hesitant.

  “Yes, I’m joking. I mean, I have an Iron Maiden in the closet, but that’s only if you’re bad.” I couldn’t let this go yet. She was too fun to tease.

  “What’s an Iron Maiden?”

  “Forget about it. Kara, I’m not into inflicting pain.”

  She looked at me, dubious. I was the one who tortured her nipples and gave her a stern spanking last night, after all. My cock stirred at the memory.

  “Not much pain,” I modified my response, giving her a wicked smile.

  “I just want to know what you’re into.” She sounded nervous, but also curious and maybe a little eager. I liked that.

  “Let me show you.” I brought a hand to her arm and began to stroke her forearm, caressing the sensitive, smooth skin on the inside.

  “But what—?”

  “I know what I like. I have a good idea what you’ll like.”

  “But I just—?”

  “You don’t get to ask,” I instructed her. “I’m in control.”

  She looked at me, eyes wider, lips parted.

  “If at any point you want to stop,” I continued. “You can. Contract null and void.”

  “On both sides,” she added. Thinking about the money.

  I nodded. I fought the urge to tell her that of course I’d pay off everything anyway. I’d do that for her right now, even if she picked up and walked right out the door. The money wasn’t an issue. But I wanted the week and I knew she wouldn’t give it to me without the right incentive. She’d fly away like a frightened bird. She needed a reason to accept this. Her family’s ranch, that seemed like a good one. Even though deep down I knew she’d said yes because she wanted it. She couldn’t admit it to herself yet, though. I’d make sure she screamed it before the week was out.

  Nervous, she picked up a strawberry and began to nibble it absentmindedly. A ripe, full one. She toyed with it in her mouth. I watched, transfixed, her lips, her tongue, her teeth. I leaned closer and she froze, realizing what she was doing and the reaction it was provoking. Our eyes met and I could see it, the switch flip on in her as well. So hot, so quick between us. Always there, a live current of electricity.

  She paused. Then, instead of putting the strawberry down, she made it more deliberate. Slowly, she brought her tongue out to flick the tip of the strawberry, taste it, then lick it. Eyes on me, she drew the strawberry into her mouth, sucking on it as she slowly pulled it out. I watched as her perfect lips formed an O around that ripe, round berry, saw her pout and lick, slow and deliberate.

  I could think of nothing but her doing that to my cock. It sprang to urgent attention, pressing against the cotton of my sweatpants. The elastic waist hung low on this pair and I saw her eyes flick over to it, saw the fingers on her free hand knead the comforter. I could almost feel her reach over, pull my waistband down, and bring her lush, wet mouth down over my hard, straining shaft.

  “Push the covers down,” I ordered. “Let me see your tits.” Her eyes widened just how I liked. I could read surprise in them mixed with a flood of desire.

  Slowly, infuriatingly slowly, she put the strawberry down on the plate and then sat back on the bed, taller and straighter now. The creamy blanket still covered most of her breasts. Nervous, she brought both hands to the bedding and paused for a moment. Then she pushed it down around her waist, removing her protection. Bared to the morning light, her breasts were two perfect mounds, almost too large for her frame yet all the more sexy because of it. Girls paid for breasts like hers, but there was nothing like the real thing. There was nothing like Kara.

  “Lie down.” She worked her way down to recline on the bed. I walked over to the closet and pulled out a pair of restraints. Black silk, they fit tight on the wrists while still feeling soft and slippery against the skin. They were a good starter pair.

  “Bring your hands up above your head.” Her eyes widened as she watched me walk back to the bed, black silk trailing from my hands.

  “What—?”

  “You asked what I liked. Now I’m going to show you. No more questions, Kara. Obey.” My voice bit out, harsh. She needed to learn the rules of the arrangement. I needed to see if she’d like them as much as I thought she would. She paused again, hesitant, glancing at the handcuffs, then down at her naked breasts. That’s right, I wanted her to think it through. Be fully aware of her vulnerability. Then give it to me. I said nothing, letting her work it out, my cock straining against my pants. I loved seeing her struggle.

  Then submit. She brought her wrists up above her head. She looked up at me, biting her lip, but trusting. The sight of her lying there, choosing to give herself to me, stoked my fires like nothing else.

  I grasped her wrists and fastened them securely but lightly to the bedpost. Her arms were pulled above her, but not uncomfortably. I wanted her to feel fastened but not in pain.

  “See, that doesn’t hurt.” I stroked my fingers down her arms, along her side. Her ribcage rose and fell, her breathing starting to come in pants. Her nipples stood out, dark pink and pebbled. She liked it.

  “I like seeing you like this.” I kept my voice cool, in control. “I can do what I want with you.”

  “I’m nervous.” She looked up at me, her arms drawn above her head, arching into my touch.

  “Good. It heightens your sensations. Close your eyes.”

  She looked at me, hesitant. Then closed them. I could keep her like this, let her choose to keep them closed. There would be something satisfying about it, her constant choice to do my bidding. Sometime I’d have her do that. This morning, though, I was going to use a blindfold. She’d asked me what I liked.

  I selected one from my closet. She fidgeted on the bed, wondering what I was up to, what I was going to do next.

  Rock hard as I approached her with the blindfold, I knew I’d very much enjoy the sight of her in it. Her ripe lips open and panting under the black silk, the sounds of surprise and desire I’d coax from her. I leaned over, lifting her head in my hands.

  “I’m going to blindfold you.”

  Her eyes flew open and she strained against the restraints at the bedposts. Her breasts stood out more as she stretched. I couldn’t wait to play with them at my leisure. Because that’s what this morning was going to be about, teasing, light play. I wanted to go slowly with her, take my time, exercise restraint and see what made her tick. I wanted to learn her secrets. Then exploit them to the fullest.

  “Trust me, Kara.” Slowly, she closed her eyes again. I wrapped the cool silk around her, fastening it just tight enough at the back of her head. “How’s that?”

  OK.” Her breathing came fast. I could tell this was all new to her. Tense, nervous, she didn’t know what to do or what to expect. Her inexperience made it even more arousing. I took my time, letting the anticipation build.

  In one stroke, I pulled back all of the covers and threw them to the floor. She gasped and lay there completely bare for my exploration and enjoyment. I watched her twist her legs, bring a foot to her ankle then down again. Her thighs clenched together over her sex.

  I sat next to her again and began to stroke her inner thigh. She opened for me on instinct, so naturally submissive in her responses. Oh, Kara. On the lips of her bare, beautiful pussy I could see honey forming for me. Under my inspection, completely exposed, she writhed lightly. I hissed as I watched her arousal building, her sex starting to glisten.

  “Are you thinking of what I might do to you, Kara?” I asked in a low voice, stroking her inner thighs. I didn’t touch her petals, not yet. She moaned in response. “Sometimes it’s fun not to know, isn’t it, Kara?” I brought my hands up to her
smooth stomach, tracing her curves, up over her hips.

  Bending over her so she could feel the tickle of my breath on her thighs, I asked, “Are you starting to throb, Kara? Are you starting to ache?” She gasped, her thighs parting more. I fought the urge to plunge my tongue deep into her, feasting and drinking her in relentlessly as she came again and again.

  Instead, I brought a hand to the swell of one of her breasts, slowly, softly caressing it. I flicked my thumb lightly over her nipple and smiled with satisfaction as it stiffened even more. I grabbed the peak with a sudden pinch, twisting it between my finger and thumb.

  She cried out with a twinge of pain. Yet, at the same time, she pushed her breast into my hand, needy and wanting more.

  “I like how you respond to me, Kara.” I caressed her with my voice, back to stroking now. “With your eyes closed, you feel more. All of your senses are tuned in to the touch. The feel.” I took her nipple into my mouth, sucking, swirling my tongue around the pebbled point. Then I removed the heat of my mouth and blew lightly on the wet tip. She inhaled sharply, her nipples dark pink and pointed with need.

  Over on the tray of breakfast food, I saw a small stainless steel pitcher half-full with maple syrup. Seemed a shame to waste perfectly good syrup like that.

  I started with a few dribbles along her stomach.

  “Ooh!” she exclaimed, wiggling.

  “Lie still.” I brought a strong hand to her shoulder, steadying her, and she stilled at my touch. Slowly, I brought my tongue down to her flat, soft expanse of skin, licking the syrup up as if I were licking her juices, not letting a single drop get away from me, savoring all of it. She moaned as if she were picturing the exact same thing.

  Next, I dribbled some syrup on her hip. I flicked my tongue lightly along her curves. She melted under my tongue, hot and urgent, moving her hips toward me and offering herself up with small, moaning pants.

  “Stay still, now,” I admonished. She whimpered and tried to lie still as I dribbled a circle of syrup around her belly button. Making sure not to touch any other part of her body, I leaned over, flicking my tongue along her lower stomach.