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

by Callie Harper

  Only I wasn’t looking. My attention was focused elsewhere, and she was getting frustrated. I could tell in the way she shifted her weight, the way her palms rubbed her thighs then stopped. She didn’t know what to do with herself.

  I stood up and fixed myself a glass of water, adding several cubes of ice. Without looking at her, I sat back down and returned to my work. I picked up my water glass and took a sip. Then I casually brought it over to her breast and pressed the icy glass against her stiff nipple. So sensitive and exposed, she gasped and cried out.

  I brought the glass back down to the work surface again and returned my hands to the laptop. I could hear her panting, feel her eyes flitting over to the bulge pressing against my jeans. I was hard as a rock. Good, I wanted her to keep looking over, see what I had in store for her. Make her wait and feel how I controlled her.

  Impatience finally winning out, she reached out her hand and placed her fingers right at my crotch. I turned to her and she could tell from the look in my eyes, she shouldn’t have done it. She withdrew her hand. Too late. She’d disobeyed orders.

  I stood up and withdrew a long, black band from a bag overhead.

  “Stand up,” I commanded, firm. She stood, shaking. “Turn around.” Once she had her back facing me, I pulled her wrists behind her and tied them together, tight.

  “Naughty girl,” I reprimanded her, pulling her back hard against me, her ass up against my engorged cock. “So dirty, Kara.” I trailed my fingers down her flat stomach to the top of her panties. She gasped, her tits thrust out, the black nipple clamps doing their work. “Naughty girls get their hands tied. So they can take their punishment.”

  She moaned as my hands roamed the heated silk of her flesh, displayed for my enjoyment, her hands pinned behind her back. Then I walked over to the table and grabbed a chair. I placed it before me. “Sit.”

  She did as I instructed, perching on the edge. I sat back down, picked up my laptop and continued to do some work. Squirming, panting, shifting her weight, she stayed on the chair completely bare except for heels, panties and nipple clamps.

  Finally, I’d had enough. I put my computer to the side and folded up the work surface. Then I settled back against the sofa and watched her sitting there, so perfect, so bound and constrained and awaiting release.

  “Kara,” I caressed her with my voice. “I like seeing you wear nipple clamps for me.” She licked her lips. “Come here and sit on my lap.”

  She complied instantly, as if she’d been waiting eagerly for me to say it. I wrapped a hand around her small waist and stroked my fingers along her milky, soft skin. As I circled her breasts, both of us looked down at the black clasps around her hard tips.

  “Kara,” I murmured. “Is your punishment making you wet?” She didn’t answer, ducking her head to the side as if to avoid my question.

  I chuckled. “Oh, Kara, do you think you can play coy with me?” With a strong hand, I held her hip fastened against me. Then I trailed a finger down her stomach, down her panties, until I reached the center right between her thighs. I hissed through my teeth as I discovered the silk soaked through, molded against her pussy. Pulling the fabric to the side, I ran my fingers along her slick folds. She quaked against me, sighing and ready.

  I brought my fingers back up in front of her face, glistening from her own arousal. “Do you see how wet you are? From my punishment?” She moaned, mortified and turned on, shaking in my arms. “Naughty girl. You like your punishment, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, her arousal overwhelming her embarrassment.

  “I’m going to tighten them, Kara.” I brought my hands up to her breasts, palming them, lifting them up and out. “Can you take that for me, Kara? Tighter?”

  “Ooh, yes.” I could practically feel the rush of juice forming between her legs, the pouring, pounding heat. She held her breath as I tightened the clamps yet again.

  “Kneel,” I commanded. Shaking, flushed, hands tied behind her back, tits thrust out, she knelt down between my open thighs.

  I stood, undid my fly and stepped out of my jeans and briefs. She gasped as my erect shaft sprang free, her gaze heavy-lidded with thick desire. I sat back down on the couch in front of her and took my huge cock in my hand. She looked up at me with wide, adoring eyes, worshipping me. How I loved that look, loved how she was always wet for me. I stroked myself, watching her there displayed for me, bound and clamped. She arched toward me and whimpered.

  “I think it’s time I taught you how to suck my cock, Kara. Would you like that?”

  “Yes,” she moaned.

  “Yes, I think you would. I like the idea of you sucking me on my private plane. And I think I want your hands free to do it right.” I leaned down and unfastened her ties.

  Looking up at me, tentative, excited, she brought a hand to my inner thigh, then up to circle her fingers around my bulging, hard prick. I tensed under the contact and made a low groan of pleasure. She inched closer, positioning herself directly between my legs, growing bolder now as she brought both hands to my member. One hand at the base, she used the other up at the tip, her fingers gently caressing my head. She looked at my cock in admiration, as if amazed to see its swollen length up close, its intimidating size. She licked her lips and parted them.

  I watched her with heavy eyelids, almost feeling as if I were dreaming. I’d thought about this so often, spent so many nights fantasizing about Kara’s mouth hot and wet, sucking my rock-hard cock.

  Her first, tentative kiss nearly sent me over the edge. Fluttery soft, she brought her mouth to me to explore, to adore. She flicked her tongue out over my head, then finally took me partially into her eager, slick mouth.

  “Kara,” I exhaled and leaned back, eyes closed to the building sensations. This was what I wanted. This was what I needed. She took more of me into her mouth, sucking, swirling her tongue along my rigid length, moving her lips along me as she withdrew then took me in again. The heady mix of her inexperience and desire drove me wild. I knew I’d said I’d teach her, but every second of what she was doing was perfection, using her mouth to taste and lick and suck. She took her time, licking along my length, using a tongue and finger to trace a vein, then back to the tip to swirl around the head and take me back into her wet depths.

  When the pressure building in my cock, in my balls, grew to a deep ache, I took over. I brought a hand to the back of her head and began to guide her. I brought her head down hard, then up again for a moment, then down again to take in the whole length of my giant cock.

  Eyes wide, she worked hard to take me all in, but I was huge. It took a lot of effort to suck in every inch of me. My eyes glazed, panting, I watched her, my erection solid, wide and glistening.

  “Suck it,” I commanded and she did as she was told, squeezing my length in the wet heat of her mouth and throat. I dug my fingers into her ponytail, rough with need as I forced her down onto me. Her erect, clamped nipples grazed my inner thigh, her high heels stuck out as she knelt between my legs.

  I could feel myself getting close, the tension building, my shaft growing to a giant length in Kara’s mouth. Slick, sucking hard, she worked me as I guided her, taking me in full, deep, worshipping my cock.

  She looked up at me, her gorgeous blue eyes half-closed in pleasure as she sucked hard and brought me into her. I locked eyes with her.

  “I’m going to come,” I groaned. Then I exploded so hard I nearly blacked out, thrusting down her throat, pumping all of my seed deep into her, my hand fisted tight into her ponytail.

  “Kara,” I called out, torn up by the sight of her taking me all in, sucking every last drop, swallowing my entire load. I collapsed back onto the sofa, panting, shocked with the intensity of it. Kara slowly drew back her mouth, then licked my tip, savoring her last taste.

  “Fuck,” I panted. I pulled her onto my lap and wrapped both large arms around her, encircling her tight against my chest. My heart pounded and she nestled into me. I breathed her in, inhaling her scent
, the softness of her hair, the feel of her so right, so lush and pliant against my hardness. I brought my fingers down to her glistening sex.

  “Did that make you wet, my Kara?” She nodded against my chest, her hand against me. I could feel my erection, still pulsing. Damn, I was still hard, even after that mind-blowing blow job. I still throbbed with desire for her. How did she do that to me?

  She became aware of me as well, glancing down, her plump lips parted slightly. Those lips that had taken me in, wrapped glistening around my length, sucking me, worshiping me. I brought my mouth to hers in a demanding, possessive kiss, my tongue caressing her, stoking her fires. She leaned in to me, tilting her head up and bringing her palms to my rock hard chest. With trembling, urgent fingers, she began fumbling with the top button of my shirt.

  With a growl, I leaned back a few inches and pulled my shirt up over my head. Her eyes widened at the sight of my muscled, tattooed chest. I wanted to give her time, let her explore every inch of me, but not just now. Now I needed to bury my cock deep inside her wet, waiting pussy. Bringing a hand to her knees, I tore her panties away and she gasped.

  “I need to be inside you.” Grasping both of her hips in my large hands, I positioned her over me. I ground her down hard and full onto my huge, erect cock. Her sex dripped, taking me in deep as I filled her. She screamed and collapsed against me, grinding down with need even in her surprise. I held on tight to her hips, thrusting deep into her wetness, stretching her pussy so tight and hot around me.

  Wanton and wild, Kara began to move, bucking against me, following my rhythm and matching it with her own. I brought my hands to her ass, grabbing on to her cheeks as she started to ride me. She drew up, palms against my solid chest. She rocked and moaned with my thrusts.

  “Ride me,” I commanded. “I want to see you wild.” She moaned and began moving faster. Grinding harder against me, she took every steel inch of me into her wet, slippery depths, again and again. Her eyes closed and her tits bounced as she worked, a glistening sheen of sweat forming over her naked body.

  “That’s it,” I murmured. I didn’t think I’d ever seen anything better as she moved with abandon, needy and crazed with lust. I fucked her hard, and she braced herself against my chest, arching her back and angling her pussy down around me. She grunted, taking as much of me as she gave of herself, needing this every bit as much as I did, slick and fast and dirty.

  “Yes,” she cried out. Moaning, grinding on me, I could feel her desire mounting, feel her tensing around me.

  I reached out and suddenly freed a nipple from its restraint. As the blood rushed back in, flooding her with sensation, she screamed and I took her into my mouth, my wet heat kissing, sucking and lapping at her. I freed the other, bucking into her, fingers hard into her ass cheeks as I sucked her sensitive nipple into my mouth.

  She was so close, shuddering and quaking against me, around me. I growled in her ear, “Come for me.” Instantly, she shattered, undone, screaming as an orgasm ripped through her body. Shuddering, her pussy throbbed and squeezed around my cock. It brought me to the brink and I came deep inside of her, thrust after thrust shooting my come deep inside and filling her completely.

  Panting, sweaty, Kara collapsed against my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, hands up along her back. She buried her face in the crook of my neck, nestling into me, naked and wonton and satisfied. I couldn’t imagine anything better.

  CHAPTER 3

  Kara

  “What’s frisée?” I whispered to Declan, looking up from a large, linen menu.

  “Rich people’s lettuce,” he whispered back, conspiratorial.

  “How about endive?”

  He nodded. “Escarole, arugula, radicchio. It’s all salad.”

  I cracked up. He’d taken me to a rooftop garden restaurant on the Upper East Side for brunch, our first day in New York City. Wisteria and lavender, crystal and china, this place was right out of a storybook. Without Declan, I would have felt like a servant snuck into the master’s quarters, about to be kicked out at any moment for using the wrong fork. With Declan, it felt like we were both in on the same joke and I loved every second of it.

  Last night when we’d arrived late I’d been blown away. New York City. So far it hadn’t disappointed a bit. The hotel Declan had us staying in was so over-the-top it ought to be arrested for trying to impersonate Buckingham Palace. We’d rolled up in our limo to manicured shrubs in ornate planters and a lit awning with what looked like a royal crest emblazoned upon it. One man in a red jacket with golden epaulets and matching cap had rushed to open the door. Another hustled to the trunk to begin removing our luggage while yet another stood at the ready should I need assistance exiting the vehicle.

  The entryway stairs were covered in red carpet. The elegant foyer had 50-foot high ceilings with marble and gold inlay and a crystal chandelier the size of a blue ribbon cow at the county fair. Declan had stayed as cool as James Bond at a casino table. We weren’t just tourists, we were VIP guests. He’d done some business with the owners. He’d led me up past more golden cherubs than I could count into a hotel suite with 10-foot tall windows and plush red velvet drapes framing a breathtaking view of New York City at night.

  The view from the rooftop restaurant was incredible, too. The greenery of Central Park was framed by an impossibly packed, high wall of buildings. We enjoyed our brunch—a light salad for me, something seasonal and sustainably-raised for him which basically ended up being bacon and eggs. He entertained me talking about everything we could see in the city, 5th Avenue, Soho and Times Square which apparently was all cleaned up, not that I had much with which to compare it.

  “Now, you have to play it cool, Kara,” Declan whispered from across the table. Then he nodded his head slightly to the left. “Nine o’clock.”

  I looked over and saw a woman in a gigantic picture hat and sunglasses. You couldn’t see much of her face. She looked slender and pale next to an eager older man.

  “Star of that new hit Netflix series,” he informed me.

  “How do you know?”

  Declan shrugged. “There are always celebrities around here. But in New York, you can’t look, can’t react. It’s all got to be on the down low.”

  The patrons seated around me were like no people I’d ever seen before. The women seriously looked like large heads on top of skeletons. I’d never been that self-conscious about my body, not overweight seemed good enough. These women made me look like an overfed farm animal. But in my world, most of them wouldn’t even pass inspection with their bones sticking out like that. None of them looked like they’d make it through the winter.

  “Do these women eat anything?” I whispered again, using the giant menu to partially hide my lips.

  “I think it’s mostly frisée,” Declan agreed. “And gin and tonics.”

  Next to me, I couldn’t stop glancing at a woman with perfectly clear, smooth skin, her blonde hair in a bun without a strand out of place. Both her skin and her hair were pulled up and back, tight. On a Tuesday morning in June she wore a midnight black wool Chanel suit, nylons and pumps. She might both weigh and be 95. I tried not to gawk, but I’d never seen anything like her.

  “I think you’re safe,” Declan whispered over to me, seeing my fascination. “She only drinks virgin’s blood. And we know you’re not that.”

  I would have balled up my napkin and thrown it at him, but I guessed this was the kind of place that didn’t cotton to that kind of juvenile behavior. I scrunched up my nose at him instead.

  Looking around, I had to admit that I felt a moment of doubt. I definitely hadn’t gotten the color memo. “I should have bought more black clothes,” I murmured.

  Declan dismissed my worry with a big hand. “Just be yourself.”

  I laughed, easy for him to say, Mr. Big now with his real estate empire. I was still just a rancher from Montana.

  “I’m serious,” Declan continued. “Here’s the secret: never let them make you feel less-than. You’
re not. In fact, they want what you have.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Open air. Free range. There’s nothing like the feel up on a Montana ranch.”

  “I didn’t know you still felt that way.”

  “Of course I do. It’s in my bones. I’ve just figured out how to sell it.”

  Our moment, smiling at each other, recognizing our common ground, was interrupted by a long, blood-red manicured fingernail trailing along Declan’s shoulder.

  “Declan!” A woman slunk up to his side. The way she said his name made it sound intimate, just the two of them. She bent down and air-kissed him on each cheek. My mouth popped open in surprise. And, OK, jealousy.

  “Courtney.” Declan acknowledged her, cool as always.

  “I’m so glad to see you here. It’s been forever. I’ve been so bored.” She emphasized random words when she spoke, so dramatic. Who was she to him?

  “I’d like you to meet Kara Brooks.” Declan gestured to me. “She’s visiting from Montana.”

  “Montana!” Her heavily-tweezed eyebrows shot up and she looked at me like I had a contagious disease.

  “Hi, there.” I waved feebly, instantly transported back to the seventh grade lunchroom, tray in my hand, unsure where to sit.

  “Listen, we have to talk about Saturday.” She turned her attention back on Declan. “It’s a disaster. The caterer quit last week. I’ve been scrambling.”

  I narrowed my eyes. That woman wouldn’t know scrambling if it came up and hit her over the head with a baseball bat. She was wearing some sort of strapless one-piece black silk thing, fitted at the top and floating into wide-legged pants at the bottom, plus elaborately strapped, heeled sandals. I’d be willing to bet she’d never done a scrap of hard work in her whole life.