I was getting good at dismissing texts. I’d gotten one earlier that day while I’d been walking around Times Square. It didn’t seem possible that my old life—my real life—could find me right in the middle of all that chaos. But somehow Lymon Culpepper, the Toad Man, had managed it. Right as I’d been eating an ice cream cone and watching a Peruvian pan pipe band, I’d gotten his text:
You have to give me an answer
It felt like a cold hand had come up from behind and gripped me around the neck. I’d shuddered. I didn’t want to think about it. I still had some time before the clock struck midnight. And who knew, this whole crazy Cinderella story might work out. If Cinderella agreed to a week of sex in exchange for money. Less of a feel-good family favorite story, that. But, anyway, no time to dwell on the details, instead I texted back:
In a few days
I wanted this man off my back, out of my life. Another text from him popped up, ugly as sin:
You don’t have any other options
I could cry, I knew that. I could sit right down on a bench and bawl my eyes out. It might feel good to do it. Lord knows, I’d cried plenty over the past year. Or two. But I just plain refused to accept the Toad Man’s ultimatum as my reality. He didn’t get to tell me what I had to do. So, instead, I’d put the phone back in my purse and put the message right out of my head.
Before me in the master suite, the humungous bed had an orchid and fine chocolates displayed on a golden pillow. A small note explained that it was courtesy of the late-afternoon turn-down service. When once-a-day maid service simply wouldn’t do.
I saw Declan had laid out a black dress for me, draped across a satin settee at the base of the bed. Next to the throw pillows, I noted with a smile, in a soft brocade, varying shades of taupe and ivory. The hotel Declan owned in Billings had a sleek, modern feel, but this place positively dripped with old world style. I could picture a classic film star like Grace Kelly seated there in a long silk gown. She’d be smoking a cigarette back before anyone knew they were bad for you, probably from an elegant holder made from endangered elephant tusks.
“I’m so bored,” Grace would exhale, lounging on the couch.
But I wasn’t. I knew this was very likely my one and only trip to New York City, and I meant to enjoy myself.
Glass half full or empty, it was my choice. I could dwell on it all ending on Sunday. Or I could put on the gorgeous dress before me, pair it with stilettos and head out into the night. When you put it like that, the choice became simple.
§
“Mmm.” Declan nuzzled my hair, his arm wrapped around me in the back of the limo. “You smell good.”
Laughing, I leaned into him as the car delivered us from restaurant to theater. “What did the waiter call those orangey chocolate things again?”
He put on an affected accent. “Saffron-orange truffles enrobed with chocolate ganache.”
“Enrobed. That’s my favorite part.” I loved it, almost as much as the way Declan’s chest rumbled when he talked.
“You couldn’t charge $20 for chocolate orange balls.”
“That doesn’t sound right at all.” I smiled as he caressed my shoulder and breathed into me once again. “Wait, they weren’t really $20, were they?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He didn’t answer my question.
“Well, I hope they weren’t. But I have to admit, that might have been the best meal I’ve ever had.”
“Glad you liked it.”
The elaborate centerpiece in the middle of the restaurant with giant lit glass vases exploding with white roses and calla lilies, the 30 foot-high ceilings, the 15 different wait staff tending to our needs from sweeping crumbs off the linen tablecloth to refreshing our water glasses after every sip. It wasn’t just that I’d never seen anything like it. I’d never even imagined anything like it. The fresh flowers dotted along the appetizer plate, something called an amuse-bouche between courses. Courses. Every male patron wore a jacket, every woman looked ready to step into a photo shoot.
“I don’t know what I like better,” I mused. “All the glam of the restaurant. Or all the crazy of Times Square.”
“That’s the fun of New York,” Declan agreed. “You don’t have to choose. You’ve got it all.”
“What do you like best?”
“I like it all when I’m with you.” As the limo coasted through the dark city streets, I melted into his chest. Who knew Declan would ever say something so sweet? And here, in the shadows of the car, I felt it was true.
Declan’s phone rang. After looking at the number and cursing, he apologized. “I have to take this call.” Arm up and off, he leaned toward the door and began discussing the logistics of something or other.
I hugged myself in the darkness of the car. Lights flashed by outside, buildings, people, as we headed up to a Broadway show. I could tell Declan was discussing something about the black tie gala at the Met Saturday night. I bet there’d be ice sculptures of swans and heaping vats of caviar. Would I like caviar? I knew I’d like messing with Dot, my boss at the diner, once I got back to work. I could tell her I’d developed a taste for caviar and thought we should put it on the menu. Tough old bird, Martha probably wouldn’t even crack a smile. She’d probably hand me a plate of tater tots, Montana caviar.
“Angie can answer all this.” Declan huffed, sounding frustrated. “It’s all on the website.” He listened some more, then relented. “All right, read it to me.”
He nodded into the phone, then said, “No, ages five to eighteen. We used to start at eight, but we dropped it to five.” I couldn’t help but listen in and wonder what he was talking about.
“Five centers now,” he spoke again. “We just opened a fifth.” He nodded, listening some more. “That’s right, and holiday donations. Mention that, it’s our biggest drive.”
A few more curt ‘yups’ and ‘that’s rights’ and he ended the call.
“Finalizing the program for Saturday,” he explained. “They wanted my green light.”
“What centers? And donations?”
“It’s the charity I started. For foster kids.” He explained it all to me, his arm back around me tight. He’d started a foundation that funded lots of supports for school-age foster kids, including five centers that hosted everything from afterschool activities, to flu shots and well check-ups, to holiday parties.
I could hear in his voice it meant a lot to him, to give back to those who had so little. I remembered he’d spent some time in foster care. My heart swelled at the thought of his generosity, this tough, hard man who’d seen so much. I remembered the scars I’d seen on him, on his lower stomach and others along his back. The way he closed down when the subject of his past ever came up. He’d been through a lot, that much I was sure of, and now he was helping others. Tears welled in my throat.
There was still so much that I didn’t know about him, but I wanted to know it all. We’d been so intimate the past few days, but he always held himself tightly in reserve. When we were together it was as passionate and intense as an explosion of dynamite, but I also wanted the long, slow burn of lazy hours. I wanted to lie in bed and talk about everything and anything, from silly little things we’d heard on the radio to the deepest secrets we’d never told another soul. And I wanted endless days to touch and explore, kiss every scar, love each inch of his tattooed, muscled body.
“Courtney’s been a big supporter,” he continued, breaking me right out of my reverie. “She’s pulled all of this together. I don’t know what I would do without her.”
“Courtney? From the restaurant yesterday morning?” With the blood red nails that she trailed down his shoulder?
“Yes. Without her, my foundation wouldn’t be in on the fundraiser Saturday night. She’s amazing.”
Funny how my gooey emotions dried up quick. Such was the magic of Courtney with her tweezed eyebrows and silk pantsuit. I grit my teeth. He sounded so enamored of her and her lovely, charitable help.
Dec
lan held my hand as we stepped up into the magnificent theater, and he held my hand as we sat together in the red velvet seats. He wrapped his arm around my waist as we headed back into the limo afterwards and on the way back to our hotel, he nuzzled my hair all over again.
I did enjoy the show, I really did. I’d never seen such dancing and singing live, in-person, and I couldn’t imagine all the talent on and off the stage required to create that kind of spectacle. But jealousy had wound its serpent’s tail up and around my heart. I couldn’t stop thinking about Courtney, the one who belonged in this high-end world. The one who could pull strings and use her connections to help Declan out. Courtney who’d looked at me like I’d crawled out from underneath a rock. And, compared to her, I basically had. She’d probably been to schools I’d never heard of, traveled to places I’d never read about, was on a first name basis with people so important they’d never even crossed my radar.
I shouldn’t let her get to me.
She got to me.
“Did you like the show?” Declan asked, clearly picking up on my stiffness.
“Yes! Yes, I did!” My tight smile looked stupid, I knew. I’d never been able to fake a single thing, not for a second in my life. So freaking annoying.
“I thought you’d like a big musical,” Declan continued. “But maybe you’re more of a gritty drama kind of a girl.” I knew he was teasing me—we both knew gritty drama wasn’t exactly my sweet spot—but I couldn’t let go.
My phone blipped with a text. Automatically, I pulled it out to see:
Wanna hang out 2nite?
Ah, romance. Bruce always had had a way with words. I rolled my eyes and put the phone away. But not before Declan had seen.
“Bruce?” he asked, his voice and his body tense.
“It’s nothing.” I waved the air in front of me as if shooing away a gnat.
“Bruce Miller? From high school?”
“He’s divorced now and back in town—”
“And you’re hanging out with him again.” Off went his arm from around my shoulders.
“Declan.” I turned to him. “I’ve seen him, like, twice since he’s been back.”
“Oh yeah? You’ve gone out twice?” He looked at me, cold and calm with disturbing detachment. I squirmed in my seat. This was heading downhill, fast, but it didn’t have to go there. Bruce meant nothing to me, absolutely nothing.
“No, we haven’t been out. He’s come around the Chat ‘n’ Chew. Oh, and then one other time at the ranch.”
The limo pulled up in front of our hotel. Declan stepped out and headed to the entrance without offering me his hand. I followed, half-rolling my eyes at his jealous flare-up, half-desperate to make sure he understood. Bruce didn’t matter to me at all, not in the least.
Up in the elevator, down the hallway, into the hotel room, Declan didn’t say a word. I sputtered along, cajoling him, offering explanations, but it was like his mind was on auto-pilot. His jaw was set and nothing I said or did got through to him or took him off course.
He strode directly into the master bedroom. I followed him, nervous, silly things tripping off my tongue. I didn’t know what I was saying but I wanted him to turn to me, put his arms around me again, kiss me and tell me he understood, he cared.
Instead, he ripped off his tie and flung his jacket onto the bureau. Rolling up his sleeves, he finally turned to me, locking me with a steely glare.
“It’s time I began your training. You’re not taking this week seriously. Now you’re going to see what kind of a master I am.”
“What?” I didn’t know what he was saying, what he meant. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach and I caught my breath, frightened, excited.
“Now you are going to do exactly what I say,” he told me with complete authority. “I am going to train your ass for my pleasure. Now strip.”
I gasped. What did he mean, train my ass? I remembered yesterday in the dressmaker’s shop, his two fingers deep in my forbidden hole. I felt so embarrassed that I’d let him do that. No one had ever touched me there before. I’d come so hard from him finger-fucking my ass. How was he going to train me?
Scared, unsure, but driven on, I slipped out of my dress and lay it on the dresser. I didn’t want to take the time to hang it up. I knew he wouldn’t want me to and, honestly, I felt too eager under his hot, watchful gaze. I didn’t know what he was going to do to me, but my body was already shaking with need for it.
Removing my bra, I stepped out of my panties, then my heels. Declan stood a few feet away from me, his arms crossed against his massive chest, darkly watching my every move.
Quivering, I stood before him completely naked.
“Kneel.” He ordered, pointing down to the plush carpet before him.
A week ago, if you’d told me I would strip naked and kneel at the feet of a man at his command, I would have told you to go to hell. But at Declan’s order, I did what I was told, a rosy flush stealing over my face, body and chest. I could feel arousal bloom deep inside of me.
He walked around, surveying me as I knelt there, naked, hands by my sides.
“I need to train you because by the end of this week you’re going to take every inch of my cock up your ass,” he explained, cold and clear. My pussy clenched and I swayed slightly in response. “I’m going to fuck your ass hard. So you need to work up to it.” He stood before me now and I could see his cock pushing against his pants, the hard, long bulge a reminder of his immense size. I honestly couldn’t imagine taking him all in my ass. It would hurt so much. I couldn’t do it.
He watched me and I could tell he could see the panic in my eyes. It made him smile.
“You should be nervous,” he agreed. “I’m going to stretch you and you are going to be very tight.” His words should have made me want to run from the room. Instead, my nipples tightened, their pebbled, pink buds betraying my arousal to him. I wanted him to stretch my ass, and he knew it.
“Yes.” He reached out two fingers to a nipple, teasing it lightly between his fingers. Tilting my head back, I leaned into his touch. “I know what you need, Kara.” My lips parted in a moan. I needed him.
He withdrew his fingers. Striding over to the master bedroom closet, he reached up to a shelf and took out a black leather case.
“I bought something for you, Kara. Now it’s time to show you.”
I knelt there, riveted, watching as he snapped open the case and took out two large, black rubber objects. They were each longer than his hand, one wider than the other, smooth and shiny.
“Do you know what these are?” he asked, standing them up on the bureau.
“No,” I answered honestly.
“I didn’t think you would.” He sounded pleased at my innocence. “They are butt plugs. I’m going to shove them up your ass. Tonight this one.” He pointed to the smaller of the two. “Tomorrow this one.” He picked up the larger plug and held it in front of my shocked face. My jaw dropped in surprise. Butt plugs? That sounded so shockingly vulgar, that black rubber thing impossibly huge. I couldn’t take that up my ass!
“Declan.” I shook my head, shrinking away. “I can’t—!”
“Kara.” He cupped my chin in his hand, tilting my face up to him. I could feel the warmth of his palm and instinctively leaned toward him again, wanting more. My face came close to his erection, right near the hard length of him pressing against his pants.
“You can stop me, you know,” he said, quietly, surely. “You may tell me to stop and this is all over.” He looked into my eyes. I looked back up and didn’t say a word. “Or,” he continued, “you may choose to take your punishment. You can show me how much you want this. And you can please me very much.” His thumb caressed my chin, lightly brushed against my lips and I moaned, my eyes fluttering closed. The slightest touch from him incited a riot within me.
“Good,” he whispered and my pussy throbbed in response. Oh how I wanted to please him.
His voice harsh again, he continued, “Now I’m going to bl
indfold you, tie you up and start your training.”
My eyes flew open. Blindfold? He’d done it once before and I’d liked it, I had, but it was such a loss of control. And to be tied up and blindfolded at the same time?
He brought a black silk band between his two hands and pulled it taut with a snap. I jumped as if he’d hit me.
“This will not hurt,” he reassured me. But there was an implication in his statement. This wouldn’t, but other things he was about to do would. I stayed still as he tied the silk blindfold across my eyes and behind my head, secure but not too tight. He brought his thumb again to my lips, caressing, and I parted them in response.
“I like seeing you like this,” he murmured. “Do you remember why you wear the blindfold?” he asked. My mind blank, I shook my head no. “To heighten your senses,” he said, bringing just one finger down my throat and along the bone of my clavicle. I shivered at his touch, wondering where he would go next. “Without seeing, you feel more.” He dipped down, slightly, tracing the curve of my breast, and I moaned.
“Now bend down on all fours. I’ll guide you.” I did as I was told, bending down. He grasped my wrists and pulled them together, then guided me onto my elbows. “That’s it,” he praised, “ass up.” I arched my back up for him, naked on the plush rug as he tied my wrists together.
“You’re tied to the foot of the bed, Kara,” he explained. I pulled lightly at my restraints and felt he was right, I couldn’t move my wrists. A flood of nervousness traveled the length of my body. I couldn’t see, couldn’t get away. What was he going to do to me?
He brought his hand down to the curve of my naked bottom, slow, gentle, sweet, caressing my flesh. Sighing, I pressed into his touch. It felt so good. He stroked my cheeks, all the while angling me up, tilting my hips and spreading my knees slightly further apart to give him full access.
“So wet already, Kara,” he said approvingly, bringing two fingers to the outer edges of my pussy lips. I purred for him, wanting him to see how much I loved this, how much my body belonged to him. He brought two fingers flat up along my dripping slit. “I’m going to use your lube up in your ass,” he explained.
Unleashed #3 Page 8
