Unleashed: Declan & Kara (Unleashed #1-4; Beg for It #1) (10 page)

In the center of the
table a candle flickered in a hurricane glass. But the heat I felt
came from his body, radiating into mine. His thumb caressed my hand,
slowly stroking my skin. His large thigh pressed against my own.

He dropped his other
hand to the table. It made an awkward bang and the plates and
silverware jumped. I started and quickly drew back.

“Sorry about that,”
he grumbled, then took a sip of ice water.

I carefully crossed my
legs and slanted them to the side once again.

He gave a sharp exhale,
pulled at his collar as if trying to loosen it, and then asked the
innocuous, “How was your day?”

Oh, so we were going to
play normal? I could try that. “Fine, thanks. I went shopping.”

“Yeah, I can see
that.” He bit back a swear. His eyes traveled up to my neckline,
then down to my hem high up on my thigh. The attention made me
squirm, the pressure between my thighs growing. I wondered if he
could sense my arousal.

He cleared his throat.
“Did you go downtown?”

“Well, I started
there and went in some boutiques, but it don’t go so well. Remember
that scene from
Pretty Woman
?”
Declan looked at me blankly. “You know, the Julia Roberts movie?”
He shook his head. Not up on the classic chick flicks apparently.
That made sense. “Anyway, the fancy shops didn’t go so well. But
I found a great little consignment shop and a nice woman there helped
me out.”

“I could have bought
you something,” Declan grunted, seeming displeased. “You could
have used my card.”

“Well…” I looked
at him, a hand turned up in confusion. What was he talking about? He
hadn’t given me his credit card. “What?” I finally managed.

“I could have bought
you something. I’d like to do that.” His hand reached out again,
finding mine. He stroked the sensitive inner skin between my index
finger and thumb. How could he make that feel so intimate? He looked
into my eyes. “I’d like to buy you something you could wear for
me.”

I swallowed, suddenly
needing a sip of something cold. The waiter appeared, not a moment
too soon, with a chilled bottle of white wine. I sat back in my
chair, dizzy, my hand still tingling from Declan’s touch. The
waiter poured each of us a glass, then placed the bottle into an
ice-filled bucket. I watched as a bead of condensation slid down its
neck.

At my side, Declan sat
so close. His huge, powerful shoulders strained against his shirt,
his chest massive. I could see his pulse beating in his neck. I
wanted to press my lips to it, lick him and breathe him in. I barely
recognized myself. I clearly was not the same woman who expertly and
relentlessly rebuffed all advances from any and all men. No one got
my motor running.

Except Declan. Then and
now. Gone was the lean, rangy look about him. Now he exuded
confidence and power, sitting there like he owned the place. Which I
guessed he did.

His eyes met mine,
catching me looking at him, admiring him. His nostrils flared and his
gaze drifted to my lips. The rest of the crowded restaurant faded
away into a dim buzz. Apart in a quiet corner under soft lighting, I
could imagine him leaning in, closing the distance between us.

“Is it to your
satisfaction?” the waiter asked, still there. We both started.
Declan swore under his breath.

“Yes,” Declan
grunted and he left. Neither of us had tasted the wine.

“So.” I cleared my
throat. I needed to do this. I had to remember why I was there
tonight. “I’d like to discuss my business proposal. A loan I can
pay back.”

“Kara.” He leaned
toward me. His hand rested on the table, his long, strong fingers in
a fist. One of his knuckles looked red and slightly swollen, as if
he’d punched something, and I noticed a small cut.

I reached out and
caressed his hand. “Are you hurt?”

He drew back, exhaling
sharply with a hiss. He sat still in his chair, looking at me with a
dark wash of emotions, holding his hand as if my tenderness and
concern had scorched it.

Then, slowly,
deliberately, Declan brought his chair closer to the table. He leaned
forward. Underneath the tablecloth he reached out to touch my bare
knee, grazing it lightly with his large fingers. I shivered at his
touch.

“Come closer,” he
ordered in a husky whisper. I looked down. I knew I shouldn’t. We
were in a crowded restaurant and moving closer would give him more
access. But his fingers stroked me, a few inches up and down my lower
thigh, up and down, so light, so gentle, so delicious.

I brought my hands down
to my chair and shifted it over, closer to the table, closer to him.
The corner of his mouth curved up into a smile, wickedly satisfied at
my compliance. I looked away, nervous, embarrassed, but then those
thoughts got swept away in the sensation of his large, rough palm
caressing its way up my inner thigh. Slowly, in control, stroking me,
making me part my legs even as I didn’t realize I was doing it.

My breathing grew more
rapid and shallow. Heat built in my core, a throb down between my
legs, the scrap of lace panties on my newly waxed, sensitive sex
growing wet. He hadn’t even touched me there, but I wanted him to.
I didn’t care that we were in a restaurant surrounded by people.
All I could think about in that dimly lit corner was how much I
needed the stroke of his large, thick fingers. He was getting so
close, almost right up to where I needed him most.

“I have something to
discuss with you, Kara.” His voice, low and dark, poured over me
like rich caramel. “I want you to give it serious consideration.”

“Yes,” I exhaled,
restless, eager.

“I have a proposal.
An arrangement. This week I’m going to New York on business. I want
you to come with me.”

My head felt foggy.
“Come with you? Where?”

“New York”

“And do what?”

“Serve me. For one
week.” I grew still. What was he saying? “I’ll give you all the
money you need for the ranch,” he continued, his voice steady and
sure, his fingers still stroking my thigh. “In exchange, you’ll
give me one week. All mine, every second of it.” He leaned closer.
Into my ear he whispered, “You’ll surrender to me, Kara. Agree to
do anything I say. Everything I want.”

My eyes widened with
surprise. He drew back slightly, enough to measure my response.

“You’ll serve me in
every way,” he continued. “Meet all of my needs. Fulfill every
fantasy I’ve ever had about you.” He leaned in again to whisper
close in my ear. “And I’ll make you come so hard you’ll forget
your name.”

I closed my eyes and
shivered. Then I pulled away and closed my legs.

“What are you talking
about?” I shook with a mixture of lust and shock.

He leaned back as well.
“I believe I’ve made it clear, Kara. I’ve put a proposal on the
table for your consideration.”

“That’s… you’re
disgusting!” I crossed my arms across my chest, my traitorous body
still aching for his touch.

He watched me, saying
nothing.

“How could you?” I
sputtered, anger now rising up and flooding over me. “You’re so
arrogant! I’m so insulted.”

“Is that all you
are?” he asked with a dangerous, knowing look. Damn my body for
throbbing in response.

I pushed my chair away
from the table, hissing, “This is ridiculous! You’ll give me
money for sex? I’m not a whore!”

“I never said you
were. Just like I never said I was a good guy, Kara.”

“Yeah, well, let me
clear that up if there’s still any question. You’re not a good
guy. You’ll give me money to be your…” My voice dropped to a
furious whisper, “sex slave? Who do you think I am? I’m a strong,
independent woman! I’m running a ranch!”

“Into the ground.”

“You asshole!” I
stood up. “Yes, I need money, but I’m not that desperate. I’m
done here.” I threw my napkin on the table.

Furious, flushed, I
tugged my dress down. It had ridden up quite a bit while I’d been
sitting, offering myself to Declan under the table, practically
letting him finger-fuck me in the middle of a crowded restaurant.

“Would you like to
hear about tonight’s specials?” A chipper, cruise-director of a
voice cut through the moment like a knife.

“No!” we both
barked in response. The waiter turned tail.

I had to get out of
there. Where was the bathroom? I quickly scanned the room and spotted
a promising archway. First I’d duck in and pull myself together.
Then I’d burn what rubber Bessie had left on her wheels and get the
hell out of town.

I turned down a
hallway. A door in front of me was labeled “Employees Only.” Had
I gone in the right direction?

Then a strong hand came
up behind me, gripped my arm and pulled me through that door and into
a dark room.

I barely got out the
start of a protest when hot, hungry lips found my own. Declan. In the
darkness, I knew him by scent, the musky heat that burned into my
memory and defined all that was man. He crushed me to his body,
pressing me up against the wall, kissing me with fierce, demanding
need. A small part of my brain tried to fight. It started up with a
weak protest that almost rose out into words, but then he bit down
lightly on my lower lip.

“Kara,” he groaned,
trailing a fevered tongue along my outstretched neck. A low moan
escaped my throat. His hands expertly found my own, bringing my
wrists up over my head against the wall and securing them in his
large, rough grip. Both of my slender wrists fit easily under his
hand. Panting, I struggled against him, torn between trying to resist
and trying to get closer.

With his free hand he
grabbed the straps of my dress and bra and pulled them down, exposing
the top, creamy mound of my breast.

“I need,” he
panted, groping the wall. “I need to see you.” When he found the
light switch and flipped it on, his gaze feasted on me.

We were in a stockroom.
My arms stretched up above my head, he pinned me against the wall,
his huge body pressing against my own. He brought his free hand to my
breast, cupping, caressing, and then his mouth, licking hot flames
across my flesh. My body molten with lust, I knew this was wrong. I
should be protesting, even yelling for him to stop. But the cry from
my parted lips didn’t tell him that. It urged him on, begging for
more. I couldn’t think, all I could do was feel as he lapped and
sucked. My nipples pebbled hard, straining for his attention against
the lace of my bra.

“Please,” I heard
myself moaning, not even knowing what I was saying. “Please,
Declan.” He clutched my ass and rocked his hips against me. I could
feel every inch of his rock-solid length. Then, with just his thumb,
he lightly grazed my nipple. Slowly, so slowly he circled it and I
could feel the pattern of the lace, rough against my aroused skin. I
needed that lace gone. I had to feel his skin on my skin. I whimpered
and struggled, trying to move closer.

He made a growl of
satisfaction deep in his throat. “Do you need this, Kara?” he
asked, teasing and taunting me as he continued to slowly,
deliberately caress my aching peak. I moaned and arched my back,
showing him yes but too shy to say it.

“Tell me, Kara. Admit
it.” He continued so slowly, lightly circling and teasing my
nipple. I needed more, so much more. I whimpered. “I want to hear
you tell me you need this.”

I panted, quiet but he
heard it. “I need it.”

With sudden ferocity,
he ripped the lace of my bra away and took my nipple full into his
mouth. He sucked hard, then bit down on my swollen tip. I gasped, at
once filled with shocked pain and ripples of intense pleasure. I
could hear myself cry out as I twisted toward him, needing more. Now
I struggled against his grip because I needed my hands free to grab
him, clawing and clutching him to me.

With a growl, Declan
flipped me around. “Put your hands against the wall,” he
commanded. “Keep them there. I want to look at you.”

I whimpered and obeyed
him on instinct, not knowing what I was doing or why it made me even
more wet to do it. His large, rough hands grasped my hips and pulled
me out so I was standing away from the wall, bent over.

“Now spread your legs
for me.”

I moaned and did as I
was told, moving my feet in my high heels over and apart to give him
full access. Wanting more contact, I arched up toward him, rubbing my
ass against the huge, thick cock in his pants.

He growled at me and I
felt a short, sharp spank against my rear. I cried out, a burst of
surprise rippling through me.

“Stay still,” he
commanded.

I whimpered, so
inflamed and agitated, but did as I was told, holding still as best I
could. He still hadn’t touched my pussy, still hadn’t found out
how wet I was. At this point, I wondered if I was dripping down my
leg.

My dress still covered
me, barely, and I had one last flash of embarrassment. We shouldn’t
be doing this. I shouldn’t be here with him, wanting him so much.
He’d just propositioned me like I was a hooker. But when I opened
my mouth all that came out was a deep moan of need.

“Yes.” He stroked
my ass through the fabric of my dress, caressing my curves. “That’s
right,” he coaxed another moan out of me. “You need this.” His
hands kept my rear right where he wanted it, upturned and displayed
above my parted thighs. He cupped his fingers over my cheeks and
traced the hem of my dress, teasing me, reminding me how close he was
to seeing everything. I knew I should move away. It was my last
chance, my last opportunity to deny him, to deny my own needs.

“Are you nervous
about showing me?” I quivered at the sound of his voice, so low,
rough and dangerous. “Showing how wet you are for me?” He inched
up my skirt, so slowly. I squirmed, embarrassed but hot and desperate
under his touch. “Are you worried about me finding out how much you
want me?” Another inch. His thumbs traced my ass crack, pressing
against the fabric. “Because once I’ve seen you swollen and wet,
dripping for me, you’ll never be able to pretend again. I’ll
always know how much you want my cock rutting deep inside you,
fucking you hard.”