Unleashed: Volume 4 (Unleashed #4)

by Callie Harper

  At least for me. I didn’t know how she felt about forever. And it was too soon to ask. I needed to give her time before I asked her if she’d spend the rest of her life with me, letting me do everything in my power to care and provide for her. For now, I’d just hold her close, knowing it might not last.

  §

  Monday morning, I was sitting in the kitchen listening to messages on my phone. My lawyer Stephen had called. There was something urgent to discuss. There was always something urgent to a lawyer. I owned upwards of 35 different properties across the U.S. Not a day went by without something urgent to discuss.

  As I was calling him back, Kara walked in wearing nothing but a silky robe, slightly open. Just getting a glass of water, no big deal. I knew something that got big the second I saw her. Hot damn, the unconscious sexiness of that woman leaning against the door of the refrigerator. I needed to stand in front of the fridge to cool off, too.

  She drew her long locks up into a messy ponytail, exposing the nape of her neck. She surveyed the contents, oblivious to me, contemplating whether she’d like a bite to eat. I knew what I’d like to bite and eat. With her arm up, the silk of the robe crept its way up her thighs. I could see a sliver of her long, slender leg, her soft, smooth skin. The robe parted in a V down her chest, revealing the start of her generous cleavage. I shifted in my seat, my huge shaft pressing against my jeans.

  I tried to look away. I really did. Kara didn’t need me pawing at her. She needed someone to make her feel safe. Restraint, I needed to hold back. She needed reassurance. Not all men were monsters. I’d done so much wrong in my life, now it was time to do the right thing.

  I’d talk to my lawyer Stephen, not grope Kara. I’d just have to do it in a different room where I couldn’t see her luscious curves. I knew I’d still be thinking about them, though.

  CHAPTER 8

  Kara

  I’d tried to seduce him and I’d failed. He had barely touched me at all this past week. OK, for a lot of it I’d been sleeping. And there’d been some crying, too, and some sitting and staring out the window. I’d been through a trauma. I wasn’t trying to pretend it didn’t happen.

  But, come on, now. Didn’t Declan feel it? There was such a current of electricity flowing between us, a live crackling wire of chemical attraction. Sharing this romantic cabin with him, a retreat in the woods, every time I saw him he about took my breath away. As he stood and looked out the window, he was the view for me. His shirt hanging open over his bare, muscular chest, those tattoos licking and dancing along his skin, a touch of stubble along his rugged jaw. I practically needed to travel around the house with a fan so I didn’t jump him.

  I’d always felt that way around Declan, of course. But now it was so much worse after I knew exactly how good he could make me feel. He could take me higher than I’d ever imagined I could get, and I needed more of it. Now.

  But he was treating me like a broken vase. I’d had a crime committed against me, but I wasn’t a crime scene, myself. I didn’t have a Caution Police Line Do Not Cross tape blocking me off. But it was like he didn’t want to touch me anymore. Rationally, I knew what was most likely going on with him. He was holding back, thinking I needed time on my own to heal.

  But I had to admit, I felt worried. The road with Declan all these years hadn’t exactly been smooth. It had always been fraught with doubt and confusion and some of that seeped in once again. We’d had that moment together, that amazing night when we’d fallen into each other’s arms and declared our love for each other strong and true. But then all hell had broken loose. And he’d barely touched me since. A small voice in my head whispered, “What if he’s lost interest? What if he’s only here with you out of a sense of guilt and obligation?”

  I stood in the kitchen, sipping a glass of water. Just me, alone, in my slinky silk robe that I’d purposely left slightly open. I’d thought it was a sure thing, flashing him a few inches of upper thigh, a peek of cleavage, the nape of my neck. But he’d left the room. Out the window, a lush green summer morning bloomed in full effulgence. A small, brown bird twittered on a branch, its song loud and proud despite its modest appearance. I smiled and tipped my glass at him, saluting his spirit.

  That was the way to live life, singing loudly on a branch in the sunshine. I felt determined to do that, myself. True, what Lymon had threatened to do to me was awful. Sitting tied in that chair had felt like waking up from a nightmare and finding out it was actually real. Yes, I still had moments where I would recall, unbidden, how Lymon had leered at me, or uttered such menacing threats. I’d see a knife in the kitchen and flinch. Post-traumatic stress. I understood that was a natural part of recovery.

  But Declan had rescued me, hadn’t he? He’d arrived just in time, stopping them before they had the chance to do the horrible things they’d said they would. Declan had taken a knife in the back for me, felled the dragons and carried me out in his strong, loving arms.

  If I walked around now cowering and quaking, letting shadows and creaks in the house scare me, I knew that meant letting Lymon and the goon win. If they succeeded in making me fearful, I’d never really escape. I wasn’t going to let them do that to me.

  The real me, the happy, effervescent woman who enjoyed life and couldn’t wait to find out what was next? I remained untouched and whole. The honest truth was that I was enjoying the hell out of my days with Declan. We’d been staying at the cabin in the resort for a week now and I’d never experienced such lazy, total decadence. In all my life I’d never just done nothing. Sleeping and sleeping some more. Hitting the hot tub. Walking in the woods. Enjoying all of Declan’s kind ministrations, the cups of tea and blankets he brought me even though it was the middle of summer, so sweet, as if keeping me warm would help chase away the lingering pain.

  I was starting to realize that I was just fine. I was more than fine. I was truly, deeply, madly head-over-heels in love.

  Sometimes I thought he felt exactly the same way. He’d declared it, after all, that night at the ranch. But now he was holding back. I’d catch him watching me, a pained expression on his face. Sometimes he seemed his old self, teasing me and joking around. But then he’d catch himself and stop, as if remembering that he needed to be more careful. Like I was fine, delicate china, the kind you only used on special occasions for fear it would break. I wanted him to use me every day.

  I sat down at the kitchen counter and started toying with a brochure laying there. It was something from his company, a glossy portfolio showcasing some of his luxury properties. The kind of thing you’d give a potential client or investor. I traced the letterhead: Obsidian Investors.

  He’d named his company after something I’d said one night, a bit of rock I’d found and given to him. I’d teased him that his heart was cold and dark. That had never been true, not then and sure as hell not now. I always knew he had this side to him, romantic, caring, loving. And he’d named his company after something I’d said one night six years ago. I’d been with him all along. The man blew me away.

  But he was, literally, blowing me off. How much walking around in a skimpy, silky gown could a girl do before she gave up? At least one more time, that’s how much. And this time, I’d get more direct.

  I found Declan in the bedroom sitting in a chair, leaving a message for his lawyer on his phone. I walked around behind him, brought my hands to his shoulders and massaged, kneading my fingers into the hard wall of his muscles.

  “Unh,” he groaned, putting his phone down. I loved the sound, the look of him with his eyes closed in pleasure. The feel of him, his massive shoulders, his broad back, had my whole body tingling with anticipation. He felt so tense, as if he’d been holding himself stiff for all of the past week. He needed to unwind.

  He turned around and lightly grasped my hands in his own. “I should be massaging you, not the other way around.”

  OK, then. I didn’t know if he meant the offer for real or not, but I decided to take him up on it. Smiling at him shyly, I
reached up to the tie around my waist and with a pull, unbound the knot. He watched me, heavy-lidded, as if he couldn’t take his eyes off. I brought my hands to my lapels, enjoying this now, feeling his reaction, his need. I drew my fingers down the sides of the robe, down the swell of my breasts. Then I parted the robe and let it drop in a pool of silk at my feet.

  He sucked in his breath. I stood there, completely naked, letting him see all of me. His eyes burned with palpable hunger, yet still he sat in the chair, his hands balled into tight fists. He was working so hard to hold himself back. He just needed me to let him know how very much I wanted him to let himself go. A massage, that would be a good excuse for him to touch me. He could justify it to himself as a soothing, healing gesture. I’d just have to seduce him into making it more.

  “I’d love a massage,” I murmured, running my hands up and down my arms. My breasts thrust out, completely bare, my nipples peaking for him under his heavy gaze. I could see his jaw set hard, his throat tense as he swallowed.

  I lay down on the bed, stomach down, my back, thighs and ass naked and splayed there for his pleasure. He paused and I could almost feel the tension, sense the war waging within him. But then he took a step toward the bed. I smiled into the pillow.

  With slow, strong hands he worked me. Taking his time, he rubbed and kneaded every inch of my body, down my arms and along my hands and up to my shoulders. He devoted a long time to my feet. He caressed and stroked and he might have thought he was helping me relax, but really it was driving me wild. Who knew the arch of my foot could feel sexy? That he could run his fingers along it and make me think about how it would feel if it were his tongue? Ankles? Come on, since when did they become an erogenous zone? Yet his hands were so huge, so powerful and calloused and he touched me with such reverence, exploring every inch like I was a work of art. Good as it felt, though, I didn’t want him to just touch my feet. I wanted him to travel right on up my legs with licks and nips and sucks.

  But he didn’t. He kept using just his hands, and moved up to my back where he spent a lot of time digging in by my shoulder blades and pressing along the sides of my spine. The sound of his breathing alone turned me on, his exhales, the occasional grunt in the back of his throat as he stroked me. I sighed in response, wanting more, letting him know how much I was enjoying his touch. As he worked his way down my back, stroking the small of it, the dip right before the swell of my buttocks, I let out a moan. Long and low, there could be no mistaking what it meant. I was wet and ready. I wanted him so much, I throbbed and ached and couldn’t take much more of the massage. He needed to stop holding back.

  But still, he worked his hands down my lower legs. He rubbed my hamstrings. I couldn’t help it, I started squirming a little, pressing my hips into the bed. I needed more friction, more sensation against my swollen clit. As his hands touched the backs of my knees, I remembered how he’d spanked me. The feel of his large, rough hand on my ass. The shock and the sting, followed by his soothing caress, just like how he touched my legs now. I was so slick and hot. He must be able to tell how much I wanted him, how much I was fantasizing right now about him taking me over his knee and spanking me, hard, then stroking, then licking. And, oh, his thick cock, how it felt when he took me, when he parted my thighs and plunged into me. I could almost come just thinking about him stretching me so wide and filling me so deep.

  He pulled away. Just as I was panting, wriggling, and moaning under his touch. He cursed under his breath.

  The man had a will of steel. Good thing I did, too. I turned to see him heading for the bathroom. His cock stood out long, hard and full, pressing urgently against the crotch of his jeans. Oh, Declan. Didn’t he know that cock was for me?

  He was at the door when my voice halted him. “Declan, I’m going to slip into the hot tub. Why don’t you join me?”

  He closed his eyes, his hand frozen on the doorknob. A smile crept over my face. I had him now. I stood up, completely naked, my sex slick and throbbing for him, my nipples swollen and peaked for him to taste. As I started walking, slowly, he opened his eyes, feasting on me. I walked right past him over to the private patio off the master suite. A huge, steaming hot tub stood there waiting for us, outdoors but completely enclosed and private.

  I eased into it, in no hurry, my movements fluid and luxurious. Then I looked up at him, half submerged, my breasts still rising out of the steam. “Come with me.”

  That was it. He stripped down in seconds flat, watching me the whole time. His cock sprang free, huge and engorged and I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. The veins surging along its length, the thick crown with a glistening drop of pre-come. I couldn’t wait to touch it, taste it, ride it all night long.

  He slipped into the tub and I was on him in a heartbeat, kissing him full and hot on the lips, jaw, throat, anywhere I could get at him. My hands roamed his body, feverish, touching where before I’d been looking. He groaned as I clasped my palms around his cock in the steamy water and began to stroke.

  “Kara.” He stilled my hands, his voice sounding strained. “Let me love you. Let me make you feel good. I want to take care of you.”

  A girl couldn’t say no to that. Hands to my waist, Declan lifted me up to the top step of the tub. My bottom resting in shallow water, my legs still soaked in the hot, massaging bubbles, but my breasts were out on erotic display. I looked at him with glazed eyes, leaning back on my elbows.

  “You taste so good,” he murmured as he dipped his head down to lick me. I moaned and spread my legs open, dying for him. “I’ll never get enough of you.” With his strong hands he lifted me to his mouth and licked me full and long. He groaned as he did it as if he’d never tasted anything so sweet. He spread my juices along my sex, flicked at my clit with his tongue, then plunged into me deep. I moaned and pressed against him, wanting more.

  I began to move against his face, pushing my pussy into him, growing needier, hungrier. I whined as he ate me, so close so fast. He groaned in primal satisfaction, digging his large fingers into my ass as he ground his face into my sex.

  I needed to come. I’d been so horny the past few days, so turned on but untouched. I fisted my hands in his hair and shoved my sex into his face, needing, demanding. He groaned into me and I threw my head back at the vibrations, starting to pant and moan as he worked me in a faster rhythm, licking and sucking and tongue-fucking my pussy. My need about to spill over into orgasm, I quivered and tensed. He sensed it, always so in tune with my every response. Exactly when I felt like I’d scream if I didn’t come, he bit down on my clit and sucked, hard. I shuddered and bucked under him, screaming out his name as the waves crashed over me, engulfing me in intense pleasure over and over again.

  Rosy and pink, I drifted back to reality, slowly lowering my body into the hot tub. He sat next to me on a shallow step, watching my every move, looking like a lion satisfied with his meal. I rose up and circled my arms around his neck, smiling and feeling slightly mischievous.

  “That was good, Declan,” I purred. I could feel his cock still hard as a rock against my thigh. But still he sat back, not driving into me, not taking me the way I needed.

  “Anything for you, Kara.”

  “Anything?” I asked, breathy, deep in my throat. I brought my hands up to his shoulders, my palms tracing the outlines of his muscles, caressing his pecs and circling his nipples. His eyes closed and I could feel his breathing pick up, become more labored. My hands roamed his body, traveling down the planes of his abdomen. He groaned as I found his cock, hard, pressing up, needy, thick and ready.

  “Oh,” I moaned in appreciation, clasping my hands around his length. “Declan, you feel so good.”

  He groaned again and swore, still with his eyes closed, still with his hands by his sides. Still holding back. “I don’t want to hurt you, Kara,” he choked out. It was difficult for him to talk while I stroked his full, impressive length, feeling him grow even longer in my hands. “Give you time,” he managed.

  “But I don�
��t want time,” I whispered to him, leaning forward and brushing my breasts to his chest. “I want you.” My hands kept working, running the length of his prick, circling his tip, slowly traveling the length down to cup his balls, then circle his shaft. “I need this,” I whispered in his ear. “I need your cock.”

  A deeper, more tortured groan escaped his lips. “Yeah?” Elaborate words eluded him. Good.

  “I do,” I continued, breathy with my own desire. “I need you inside me,” I continued, parting my thighs and placing one on either side of his own. “I need your huge cock up inside me. I need to ride you, Declan.”

  “Uh, yes!” he moaned, opening his eyes and bringing his hands to my hips. I knew he was about to drive me down hard on his cock. But I brought my hands to his and stilled them.

  “I’m in control,” I whispered wickedly in his ear. He groaned again as I brought my hands to his shoulders, pushing him against the side of the hot tub. “I’m in charge this time,” I said, bringing a tongue down to circle his ear.

  He placed his hands down on either side of his thighs and watched me, rapt. I grasped the muscle of his large shoulders and looked deep into his eyes as I positioned myself over him. His thighs were so large and muscular, I had to stretch my thighs wide open. Once I’d straddled him just right, I grasped his thick shaft in my hand and drove my wet pussy down hard onto it, taking him in full and deep with one, intense thrust.

  “Ah!” I screamed, overwhelmed and filled with him, so intense at this angle.

  “Yes, Kara,” he encouraged me, his hands now up at my lower back as he watched me, riveted. I started to ride him.

  “Oh, so good, Declan!” I panted as I began to move, grinding my hips up and down, stroking myself with his shaft. This was the massage I wanted, deep and intimate, stroking my core, my clit. Riding him I could position myself exactly how I wanted it most, making it so intense as I came down on him, rubbing my clit against his rock-hard cock.