Unleashed: Volume 1 (Unleashed #1) (21 page)

“Sit.” Declan
pointed at a stool next to a granite countertop.

All mixed up, I decided
it wasn’t such a bad idea. Tugging the ridiculously tiny skirt I
wore down as much as I could, I perched up on the stool. I crossed my
legs and pretended to look out the window. Act casual. It was a
challenge when my nipples stood out hard and aroused, pressing
against the black silk of my demi-cup bra. My shirt still lay on the
floor of his private elevator where he’d ripped it right off of me.

What had just happened?
Had he spanked me for disobeying him? And had I loved it? A bit
different than what I’d planned for that night. I’d intended to
have a stern conversation with him, terminating our arrangement
before it even began. A wild, reckless, no-holds-barred one-week
bargain? That was out of the question. That kind of thing didn’t
happen in real life, only in books. The naughty kinds. My favorite.

I squirmed on the
stool. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath my skirt. My panties
were also back in the elevator, right where they’d been ripped off,
too. I squeezed my thighs. I was still so wet. My sex throbbed. He
hadn’t let me come. I needed to come.

“Do you like the
view?” Declan asked. He stood over by an impressively well-stocked
bar, placing ice into two glasses.

“Oh, yes.” Right,
the breathtakingly impressive view before me. The entire wall was
comprised of windows overlooking Billings at night. We had to be in
the tallest building in the city. Headlights, streetlights, lit
squares in city buildings all jostled together, framed by the dark
wilderness beyond. The days were so long this time of year I could
still see the faintest distinction between the black jagged ridge of
the mountains and the subtly lighter sky.

Inside was just as
impressive, with an open flow from the chef’s kitchen into the
high-ceilinged expanse of living room. The few pieces—and yes, they
were pieces, not furniture—stood out sleek and modern. I couldn’t
see any clutter anywhere, nothing on the tables or counter tops, no
knick-knacks, houseplants or recipes torn from magazines. The whole
penthouse screamed of wealth and privilege. And looked like no one
actually lived there.

“Your hair’s much
longer now.” Declan poured some amber liquid from a tall glass
decanter, then replaced the stopper.

“My hair?” I ran a
couple of fingers through my ponytail. They instantly got caught in a
tangle. It had been quite an elevator ride.

“It used to be past
your chin, not touching your shoulders.” He poured some tonic into
the glasses.

I remembered, back
during those summer months with him when I was 18. I had worn my hair
shorter, sometimes with a headband or in two ponytails. Now my hair
was much longer, largely due to neglect. I hadn’t had time for
haircuts during the past couple of years, hadn’t done much more
than pull it back. But at the salon yesterday they’d loved it and
refused to cut more than an inch or two.

Declan strode leisurely
over to me with our drinks, the ice clinking against the glass. He
looked frustratingly composed and put-together. Of course he still
wore all his clothes, tall and gorgeous in an impeccably tailored
dress shirt and dark jeans. Self-conscious, I tried to finger-comb my
locks.

“Don’t.” He
looked at my nervous hands. I stopped. “I like it like that. It
reminds me how I fisted my hand in your hair and spanked you.”

I flushed, suddenly
embarrassed as a schoolgirl. His dirty words brought another rush of
sensation between my legs.

He handed me a drink,
then crooked a finger under my chin, tilting my head up until I met
his eyes. “You look amazing.”

I couldn’t help but
blossom under his praise, a soft flush blooming in my cheeks. I
suppressed a smile and looked out at the view again, taking a sip of
my drink. He’d made it strong. I set it down on the granite
countertop. Being near him was intoxication enough.

He stood next to me and
I could feel his heat. I could reach out and touch him if I wanted,
exactly the way I’d dreamed of for so many years. And now it wasn’t
just a fantasy. He was standing right there, close enough to reach
out and weave my fingers though his hair, kiss him on his full,
sensual mouth.

I kept my hands by my
sides, cleared my throat and fidgeted on the stool.

“What were you doing
down there in the bar?” Declan asked in a low, level voice.

“Waiting tables?”
My voice came out breathy and nervous. He waited for more
explanation, a dark look in his eyes. I shrugged. “I’m not good
with a lot of time on my hands. I had a hard time waiting today.”

“You were impatient?”
A dangerous smile played on his full lips.

I swallowed and shook
my head, denying it though I knew it was true. I had been impatient
to see him. I didn’t know why I was trying to preserve my dignity
while I was sitting there in nothing but a scrap of a skirt and a
lacy bra.

I remembered how he’d
torn off my shirt in the elevator, how he’d pinned my hands over my
head and devoured my breasts, sucking and licking as I cried out.
Declan’s gaze fixed on my chest as if he were remembering the same
thing. I shifted on the stool again, agitated and still so wet. He’d
brought me so close in the elevator, then left me wanting, needing
more.

“Is it hard for you
to wait, Kara?” He drew closer still, bringing a finger to my jaw.
He traced my face lightly as if memorizing a sculpted work of art.

I shook my head no, my
pussy throbbing yes. “I just didn’t like sitting around waiting
for you.”

“Mmm. You didn’t
like me having all the power?” Teasing now, he tilted his head
slightly to the side. He studied me, caressing my neck with his
hands. My lips parted, my breath quicker now.

Softly, he trailed his
fingers over my skin. Strong, broad hands, thick calloused fingers
traced the outline of my bra. Teasing me, he slipped a finger under
the strap, bringing it back out, dipping along the lace, circling but
not touching my nipples. Back in the stockroom he’d pinched them,
hard, and sucked them full into his mouth.

In a low whisper, near
my ear he asked, “Or do you like me having power over you?”

A hushed moan escaped
from my lips. He chuckled, low and gratified.

“You made me wait a
long, long time for you,” he murmured. “Six years.” His lips
made their way slowly down my throat, his fingers stroking my back,
my shoulder, my collarbone. He wove a hypnotic spell, capturing my
senses with his voice, his fingers, his lips traveling down to the
hollow at the base of my neck. “But now you’re mine. You’ll do
whatever I please, for one whole week.”

I shivered at his
words, my eyes half-closed, my breathing starting to come in soft
pants.

“We have an
agreement. I’m going to take care of you, Kara, wipe out every debt
you have, get you back on your feet, anything you need. And in
return, you’re going to give yourself to me. Entirely. Completely.
You’re going to surrender to my control.”

“Declan…” I began
to form a protest.

“You sent this.” As if
anticipating my hesitation, he took his phone out of his pocket. He
tapped the screen, then showed me a text. My text.

I’m
in. One Week. Anything you want.

Hard to argue with
that. I blushed.

He dipped down and
whispered in my ear, “I like making you blush.” His lips found my
lobe, licking and sucking the tender flesh. His hands circled my
waist, stroking my skin, building the wicked heat throbbing between
my thighs. So light yet so insistent, his tongue found the most
sensitive spots at my neck.

Then he pulled away.
“We have a few things to consider.” What was that, now? I could
barely pull a coherent thought out of my jumbled brain other than
‘yes, more, now,’ but he suddenly sounded all business.

“We’re flying to
New York on Monday to spend the week. You’ll need some clothes.”

“Clothes?”

“I have some business
in the city and you’re coming with me. You’ll need to go shopping
tomorrow. And I have a question. Are you protected?”

“What?”

“Are you protected?
Or do I need—?”

“Oh, oh,” I
stammered and blushed again. “Yes.” I didn’t add that it didn’t
make any sense that I had an IUD, a virgin on birth control. A couple
of years ago I’d decided to do it. Safe, simple, effective, I’d
hoped maybe it would give me the push I needed to get out there and
start getting busy. Even back then I knew I’d been mooning over
Declan for way too long. But then my father had gotten sick and
suddenly the problem of my love life or lack thereof hadn’t
mattered anymore.

Declan nuzzled into my
hair, inhaling, taking in my scent as he caressed my shoulders. “I’m
clean, Kara. I’m going to go bare with you.”

I knew he was talking
but I could scarcely process his words with him so close, breathing
me in, mesmerizing me with his touch.

“I’m going to do
things to you you don’t even know about yet,” he continued, his
hands up again at the swell of my breasts still in my bra. I was
breathing so hard, I could see my rib cage moving in and out, my skin
quivering under his touch. Why did we feel like such a perfect fit,
his hands so large and strong as they palmed my breasts, his fingers
cupping and caressing, teasing me along the edge of the lace. “And
you’re going to love it all, aren’t you, Kara? You’re going to
learn to crave my discipline.”

“Declan,” I panted,
reaching up to his shoulder, so large and so powerful. He grasped my
wrist in his hand, holding it secure, bringing it behind my back. He
kept it there, pinning it behind me while he stroked the soft inside
of my wrist.

“I’m going to bring
out your darkest desires,” he murmured. I shivered at his promise,
his warning. Watching my face, taking in my every reaction, he
brought his free hand to my aching nipple, pressing erect and needy
against the border of the lace. Slowly, gently, he eased the demi cup
down, just enough to set it free. So swollen, so sensitive, I gasped,
looking down and seeing how exposed I was. My body begged for his
touch.

“I’m going to
unleash your fantasies, the ones you don’t even admit to yourself
that you have. I’m going to give you what you want when you stroke
yourself in the dark at night.” With that, he brought his large
fingers to my sensitive nipple and pinched, hard, shooting sensation
directly down to my throbbing, slick sex.

“Ah!” I cried out,
eyes half closed, pushing my breast into his hand. He still held my
arm behind my back and I loved the feel of his strength, his control.

“You’ve been
naughty.” His voice grew harsher, more disciplined. “Naughty
girls get punished. You’re going to take your punishment, Kara. And
you’re going to like it.”

Confused, scared by the
strength of my own reaction even more than his words, I broke away.
“I need…” To find where I left my mind, slap some sense into
myself, start breathing again. “Where’s the bathroom?”

He leaned back and
pointed through a doorway.

I made it there,
closing the door and locking it behind me. Splashing cold water on my
face, I tried to clear my head. I closed my eyes and pressed into a
white hand towel, soft against my skin, and stayed like that for a
minute steadying my breath.

It all felt like too
much. I’d come here seeking his help, knowing it was risky, but I’d
had no idea to what extent. I’d never imagined myself in this
position, faced with having to choose whether or not to offer myself
up for a week to the man who already held such power over me. I never
would have believed I’d be so tempted to say yes.

I was older now so I
guess I’d thought I’d be wiser, more in control. I’d dismissed
my earlier feelings as teenage infatuation. I didn’t think Declan
would still affect me so strongly. But he made me absolutely crazy.
It might even be worse than it ever had been before. It shouldn’t
be possible, but it was. I’d been a fool to think otherwise.

I opened my eyes to an
expanse of white marble. In the mirror, a trashy skank escaped out of
a bar brawl looked back at me. Hair sprung every which way, lips
swollen from rough kisses, I wore nothing but a bra since my shirt
had been torn clean off.

What did everyone think
down in the bar? Declan had barreled his way through, shoving chairs
and men aside like a predator pouncing on its dinner. Thankfully he
hadn’t punched that guy who’d had his arm around me. He hadn’t
had to, the Ken doll had shrunk away.

Trish must have lost
her mind. Declan had made quite a scene, tossing me over his shoulder
like a warrior claiming his prize after a battle. I remembered the
longing in Trish’s voice when she said she wanted a night with him.

Damn, was she right. I
exhaled, hands on my stomach. Declan was all that. I could still feel
his hands on me, the roughness of his palm followed by a soothing
caress. Oh God did I want him.

In the mirror, I had to
admit, though I looked like I’d been through a tornado and a wolf
attack I also looked… alive. Eyes bright and shining, lips plump
and parted. He’d woken me up. I’d been sleepwalking day to day
for a long, long while. Now, every fiber of my being was tingling and
buzzing, craving his next touch.

Part of me wanted to
just let go, be reckless, allow myself to do this. I was so sick of
playing it safe, doing what was expected, stoically meeting whatever
challenges life threw my way. And there’d been so many challenges
these past few years, sickness and death and bankruptcy. I was only
24 but sometimes I felt like those numbers had been reversed. I
wanted to be wild, for just one week, and have the freedom to not
care.

But that was exactly
the problem. I did care. I brought my palms down against the cold
marble.

I could already feel it
starting again with Declan, the magnetic way he drew me to him, the
attachment welling up deep within me. I did care about him, I always
had. Pretending I could do one week, a simple business transaction,
keeping feelings and emotions out of it? That was impossible. No way
it could happen.