Pulling open another panel, I found where he kept his reserve of jeans, dark and pressed like the serious investment banker cousins of the dusty faded old things he used to wear. Damn, but he made both look good. I didn’t know which I preferred, the ones so old and soft they all but melted into the form of his hard body. With one button open they looked about ready to fall off of him, and boy did you hope they would. The dark ones, though, coupled with a dress shirt like I’d seen him in the past couple of days, those worked, too. Rough against my bare ass as he’d held me against him, pulling my head back as I’d writhed up against his hardness. I liked how he dressed it up but still kept the jeans. I wondered if he did that during his frequent out-of-state travel. You could take the man out of Montana, but you couldn’t take the Montana out of the man.
Over in the corner, I noticed a white wicker laundry hamper. It only had a few things in it. I guessed he had a regular laundry service. For a second, that struck me as somewhat sad. He never had anyone who cared about him take care of his things, treat a stain and tsk over him having been so careless, fold his t-shirts and place them in a drawer for him so they’d be there when he needed them for his early start the next morning. Sure, sometimes I felt overwhelmed with the amount of housework each day required, but there was something about laundry. I almost enjoyed the process, taking in the old and making it fresh and new. Now that my dad was gone, I missed the funniest things, like pairing and balling up his socks.
I felt a pinprick of hot tears in my throat. What was I doing here? This was a huge mistake. I had to be crazy making myself entirely vulnerable to the one man who could squash me like a bug. I had to be completely insane.
A smart woman would walk away. It had taken me so long to recover from Declan the first time around. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like a second time. If you played with fire once and got burned, well, you had the world’s sympathy. If you stuck your hand right back into the flames again, you had only yourself to blame. But the flames felt so good.
Hand on my belly, I took a deep, steadying breath. This was OK. Things were going to be OK. What I needed most right now was sleep, enveloping, renewing sleep. I knew from experience, nothing coaxed along sadness and panic like exhaustion. After some good rest, I always awakened with a sense of promise.
And tomorrow I would be heading to New York City. I’d flown over Dallas, but the biggest city I’d ever walked around was Boise, population not quite reaching a quarter of a million. That still seemed like a lot to me, with a 20-story skyscraper and plenty of hustle and bustle. But how many millions of people lived in New York City? I’d soon find out.
Pulling a black t-shirt and a pair of boxers out of his laundry hamper, I decided they were the best things I could find. I certainly wasn’t going to sleep in one of his suits. Yes, it was weird raiding his laundry basket, but as I hung up my towel and slipped into his clothes I had to admit, they had their benefits. They smelled like him.
Sliding into the soft sheets, pulling up the comforter, I let his scent envelop me. I sighed deeply. Nested on an assortment of down pillows, I fell fast asleep.
CHAPTER 7
Declan
Then
Lathering myself in the shower, I took my time. Usually I was a dunk-and-dash kind of guy, not the type to linger and luxuriate. But tonight was different. Tonight I’d had Kara Brooks down in my cabin and I’d made her come, full and sweet, on my fingers.
I couldn’t believe how wet she’d been, the feel of her slick heat on my hand. I didn’t muffle her cry with a kiss. I wanted to drink in every second of it, memorize every movement of her face, every cry and scream. I’d never seen anything better, my innocent angel, hot and horny and wanting me, coming all over my fingers. She was what I wanted more than anything else.
I’d been the first man to do that to her. I couldn’t believe it. Even though my gut twisted up and my hands balled into fists whenever I tortured myself with thoughts of Kara with Bruce, I’d wondered how far they’d gone. But apparently she’d declined the invitation I was sure he’d extended many times to round those bases. She’d said no to him. Yes to me. And now Bruce was an ex. I liked the sound of that.
I couldn’t wait to touch her again. Tonight in a few hours she’d meet me in the barn. She got me so hard so fast. But I’d take it slow with her, give her all the time in the world. I’d treat her right, show her how good it could be together, how I could be a real man for her. Even though sliding deep into her would feel so good.
I brought my hand down to my thick cock, palming it. I knew it would only take a few strokes. I’d been hard for so long, straining and ready. But I’d held back, tethering myself, keeping myself in check. I’d stroked her, watching as she closed her eyes, parted her lips and kneaded her fingers into the couch pillows. I’d held back even though her silken heat on my fingers, the shudders of her orgasm, had practically gotten me there myself.
Now, in the steam, I stroked my hard length. Eyes closed, I remembered how she felt. I wanted to hear those needy pants again, hear her moan my name. I wanted to suck on those breasts, cup them and lick and bite her right where she was most sensitive. I wanted between her thighs again, stroking her slippery folds, bringing my mouth down to her to taste, lapping and licking up her sweet juices. Working my thick cock, my balls tightening with come, I thought about how someday, someday soon, I would sink so deep into her hot, tight pussy. With a groan, I came, heavy and full.
I panted as my heartbeat slowed, my breathing regulated. I’d wait for her. She deserved it. I’d grit my teeth and use all my restraint, go slow and make it good for her.
After her orgasm, sitting on the couch with her draped over me, her cheek against my bare chest, it had hit me, hard. That was what it was supposed to feel like with a girl. With your woman. It was supposed to click together, everything snap into focus. You didn’t have to try. It just worked. I didn’t do snuggling and cuddling, but I could have stayed there like that with Kara all night.
She’d been the one to get up and go. I loved that about her too, though, she took good care of her dad. She had a big heart. I just hoped it was big enough to take a chance on me. Because I was going to ask her to.
I wanted her to come with me. I didn’t want to leave her behind. As manager of buildings and grounds I’d have my own place at this next ranch and she could stay there with me. I didn’t have it all planned out—hell, even this morning I hadn’t been thinking about asking her to come with me—but suddenly I knew we’d figure it out. Together. Because now I knew I had to have her.
And somehow I felt like she would say yes. Smiling like an idiot, I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. I felt light and buoyant, like soda bubbles fizzed right up through me. I guessed this was what people called happy. I felt like a king. I could do anything. This girl, this amazing, kind, gorgeous girl, wanted me. I had no idea why. She clearly had bad taste in men. But I’d take it. I’d accept her mistake with open arms.
I toweled off next to my bed. I was smiling and humming. Until I stopped. Someone was in my cabin. Over by the couch, a thin curl of smoke rose up in the darkness. Harlan. Our eyes met.
I didn’t jump or flinch, I never did. But it rattled me to my core. He must have seen Kara leaving my cabin. Maybe he’d missed her for dinner and been watching. He probably saw her leaving my place with her dress rumpled and her hair in a tangle. Steeling myself, I put down the towel and pulled on my jeans.
“Couldn’t keep it in your pants, huh?” Harlan’s voice bit into the shadows. His words hit me like a punch but I didn’t move. I just stood there, cursing myself. This was what happened when you let your guard down. You’d think by now I would have known. Some dumbasses just can’t learn.
“You come to my ranch,” he continued, coiled up tight like a snake. “I take a chance. I hire you, give you this place to sleep in. Give you free reign. I trust you. And you fuck my daughter.”
“I didn’t—” I began to form a protest, defend
myself, defend Kara.
“Shut your mouth, boy.” Harlan kept sitting there, cool in the dark, smoke curling up over his head. I’d seen enough angry men to know, quiet rage was the most violent kind. A man yelling with a broken bottle in an alleyway? You could distract him easy and gain the upper hand. A man sitting in the dark, his eyes fixed on you while he told you real slow and thought-out how you were a low, worthless dog? You needed to watch that shit, intent, so you could learn the next move before things exploded.
“You’re here humming like you’re on a goddamned game show.” He spat on the wooden floor planks. “What do you think, my little girl’s your new slut?” I crossed my arms against my chest. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of answering that question.
“Oh, now, don’t tell me?” His voice got a hard curl to it, his lips twisted in a sneer. “You’re sweet on her? That’s rich. And wait.” He smacked his hand down on his jeans like he was about to tell a good one. “Don’t tell me you think she likes you?”
I stood there meeting his stare. I had my pants on but I’d never felt more naked. He scrutinized me like I was a cockroach in his kitchen.
“That’s it, isn’t it? You think my Kara likes you. Let me tell you, you’re a new flavor all right. But have you heard of the flavor of the month? She’s not going to end up with a dog like you.”
“You don’t know what she wants.” I hated my words the second they left my mouth. I sounded like an angry kid fighting in a schoolyard. Swift, fierce rage pumped through my veins. But his words took root inside of me.
He let out that dry chuckle. “You think she’d want you? She’s just slumming it. You’re not good enough for her. Not by a long shot.”
“She can be the judge of that.” I talked tough. But I didn’t feel it.
“You’ll never be good enough for her,” he continued, certain and sure. “This was her walk on the wild side. But I’m going to see to it that she ends up with someone who can provide for her. Someone who’s going to be a good husband. Raise a family with her.”
I opened my mouth to respond but nothing came out. All it took with a house of cards was one gust of wind. With me, all it took were Harlan’s words.
“You telling me you’re ready to settle down and be a husband and provider to this girl? A father to her children? Because that’s what she deserves. That’s the kind of girl she is. That’s who I’ve raised.”
I hated him, but more than that I hated myself. He was right. I knew he was. She deserved more. It was what I’d been telling myself all along. But then I’d gone and let myself go soft, start dreaming. When people saw you a certain way long enough it started to rub off. Kara saw me as her romantic hero. Those luminous eyes, that lustrous hair, so soft and precious, she’d make anyone want to be her knight in shining armor.
But I couldn’t blame her, she didn’t know any better. I did. I never should have let myself get caught up in all this. I should have kept my head screwed on right. If not for myself, than for her.
“What do you have, a hundred bucks under your mattress?” Harlan asked. “You going to give her a nice home, Declan? Treat her real good?” He laughed, cold and harsh. “You’re a drifter. You’ve never put down roots. You drift around from town to town, take up odd jobs here and there. Spend every last dime on booze and women.”
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.”
Unleashed: Declan & Kara (Unleashed #1-4; Beg for It #1) Page 28
