Unleashed: Declan & Kara (Unleashed #1-4; Beg for It #1) (64 page)

We started kissing
again, his hands winding into my hair, caressing, twining into the
strands. He pulled me down to him, closer, and thrust up in me, still
hard. “I’m going to fuck you all night long,” he whispered into
my throat, kissing me in the sensitive spot where my pulse beat.

“Yes,” I sighed,
hands feathering through his thick, soft hair as he began thrusting
up inside of me in a slow, steady rhythm. I spread my palms along his
chest, sounds of pleasure escaping from my lips as he trailed kisses
across my collar bone. How could he be so hard again already?

“Oh, Declan.” I
wrapped my thighs around him tight and took him in as much as I
could. With this man, my passion had no boundaries.

The night passed in a
blur, lovemaking and adoring words, stroking and coming and caressing
in disbelief. After all this time, after all the torment, we were
finally together. We’d finally done it, managed to work things out,
overcome our obstacles. After all those many years, we were together.

I didn’t know when we
fell asleep. I recalled dozing at one point, only to wake with him
behind me, spooning me, his hands at my breasts moving from slow and
luxurious to teasing and playful, coaxing my nipples into stiff,
aching points between his thick, expert fingers. He’d entered me
from behind, my juices slick, and he’d held me as he’d fucked me,
one hand securing my hip, one large palm around my throat. I’d
arched my head back, offering myself up to him, wanting him to be
able to see my breasts in the moonlight, my hard nipples, my jagged
breathing. I wanted to show him how much I wanted him all the time.

He came in me again, we
settled to sleep again, and then the morning sunlight woke me. It
didn’t feel too early, the sun shone bright and strong through the
window of his old cabin. I could see the big house up on the hill,
right from where we lay on his old bed. All those nights, he could
see my bedroom window while I could see his. I wondered how many
nights we’d spent in separate bedrooms, looking out at the other’s,
wondering what the other was doing, touching ourselves in the
darkness while we burned with longing.

No longer. I looked at
him sleeping, almost impossibly beautiful in such a masculine way.
His bare chest with the tattoos and scars I’d now have the time to
learn all about, how and why he got them, what he was like and felt
then, how it all added up to Declan now. I wanted to know everything
about him, every intimate detail, and spend the rest of our lives
taking care of each other the way only we knew how.

I’d start right now,
I decided. I’d go up to the house where there was actually food and
cook breakfast. A big one with eggs and bacon and biscuits. We’d
worked up quite an appetite last night. I’d barely eaten in days,
come to think of it. My stomach had been too tied in knots, jealousy,
despair, fear all taking up too much space to share with anything as
mundane as food.

Now, I didn’t have
that problem. As if on cue, my stomach gave a low rumble. I smiled,
bringing a hand to it. OK, time to cook.

Quiet, not wanting to
wake him, I lightly rolled off of the bed. I used the bathroom with
the door closed, then pulled on the clothes I found strewn all over
the cabin. My t-shirt was under the couch. I didn’t know how that
had happened. But, anyway, mission accomplished, I managed to dress
and make my way over to the door without waking him.

I paused in the entry,
giving him one last adoring look. Sunlight hit the foot of the bed,
but his face still reposed in shadow, his dark, thick eyelashes
closed in heavy sleep. Good. He needed to rest. He’d looked so
tortured. Everything was going to be OK now. I stepped out and closed
the door softly behind me.

Outside, the sun shone
and the birds sang and white puffy clouds danced in the bright blue
sky. I hugged myself, the widest smile imaginable spreading across my
face. He loved me. Declan loved me. My Declan.

And I owned the ranch.
Oh what a beautiful morning. Bacon and eggs and biscuits, kisses and
more sex, curling up together and loving each other the rest of our
days. Life was perfect.

My head was so far up
in the clouds, I didn’t even react when an SUV pulled fast into the
driveway. I just stood and watched the car come at me. It stopped a
foot away. Right as I finally thought to scream, run, fight, large,
heavy hands wrapped around my mouth, gripped my waist and forced me
into the car. It all happened so fast I had no time to think, no time
to yell for help.

Hot panic flooded my
senses. A man held me so I couldn’t see him, couldn’t identify my
captor. I kicked hard in the car, struggling to free myself and
spearing my elbows and feet into the girth of the man holding me
down. As the car sped out onto the highway, I broke away and my feet
connected right into his groin, right where it hurt.

But then I took a
sharp, painful jab to my head and I faded into darkness. My last
thought before I passed out was that Declan was still sleeping. He’d
have no idea I was gone.

§

The pain in my head
split through me like a knife. It hurt like hell. I tried to bring my
hand to my head to rub where it hurt most, but I couldn’t move it.

My eyes flew open. I
remembered. The grabbing, the car, the fight. Where was I?

Hot panic and cold fear
fought within me, sending chills and sweat through my body. I was
sitting on a chair and my hands were tied behind my back, tight. My
legs were bound, too, to the legs of the chair. I still had my
clothes on, the t-shirt and shorts from the night before. My mouth
was bound and gagged.

I couldn’t see much.
My eyes searched around in the dim light, a wide open room smelling
of must and mildew. It looked slightly familiar. Where had I seen it
before? I needed to think. Every clue I could piece together could be
the one that saved my life.

“Ah, she’s coming
to,” a mean, nasty voice spoke from behind me. I recognized it
right away. The Toad Man. Lymon Culpepper.

I struggled against my
restraints, writhing in the chair and calling out against the gag. He
walked in front of me, his beady eyes cold and dark as he watched me
flail. I panted and fought, to no avail. He’d tied me tight.
Realizing the futility of my actions, I stopped. For now.

“No, go on,” he
encouraged me, his voice flat and businesslike. “I enjoy watching
you struggle.”

I hated him. I wanted
to spit in his face and claw his eyes out.

“Ooh, I like that,
too,” he said, appraising me. “All that heat in your eyes. I’m
going to enjoy taking it all out of you. Breaking your will. Making
you kneel for me. It’s so much more fun when there’s a fight
first.”

Cold, deliberate, he
dragged a chair over near me. He placed it down and sat in it, squat
and nasty, watching me bound and gagged. I couldn’t reach him,
couldn’t get to him. But I’d figure out a way. He had me helpless
right now, but I’d find an out. I just needed to keep calm and
focused and bide my time.

A large figure stepped
out from the shadows. In an instant, I knew he’d been the man who’d
grabbed me, held me with his meaty fists in the car. The goon, the
300 pound monster I’d met the other day. Fuck. It would be harder
to get out of this with two of them.

Panic swept through me
again. I was completely helpless, tied tight to the chair. No one
knew I was there. No one even knew about this warehouse. I couldn’t
help it, I screamed and struggled, knowing he was watching me and
getting off on it. But the survival instinct was strong and I
screamed and writhed in my restraints.

“I like your screams,
too, Kara,” Lymon said, sitting in the chair, his stumpy legs
spread wide apart. He rested his hand on his inner thigh. Next to it
I could see a bulge, pressing against his pants. He was hard,
watching me. My helplessness and fear was turning him on.

I didn’t want to give
him that pleasure. Trying to control myself, I took as deep a breath
as I could through my nose. The gag let in some air, but it almost
panicked me more to try to breathe through it, reminding me how
helpless I was. These monsters controlled my airflow. They meant
business. I closed my eyes and steadied my breathing.

“You can close your
eyes, Kara. But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re here,
trapped. I’ve got you right where I want you.”

My eyes flew open and
fixed on him again with hatred.

“There’s that
fire,” he nodded, pleased. Oh, how I hated him. “I’m going to
take your gag off soon, Kara. I’m going to enjoy listening to all
your screams. The screams no one else can hear.”

My eyes widened again
in panic and I could feel my throat constricting, needing more air. I
balled my hands into fists, struggling against the ropes that bound
them together in back of the chair.

“I like watching your
tits while you struggle,” Lymon said, now stroking the base of the
bulge in his pants. “The way you’re tied up, they’re forced out
for me to see. But I don’t like that t-shirt.” He glanced over at
his goon, hulking by his side. The other man was younger, maybe
around my age, and his eyes fixed on me, hungry. My stomach turned
with revulsion.

“Cut it off of her.”
Lymon’s voice issued the order, cold and hard. The goon smiled,
lecherous and leering, and approached me with lumbering steps. In his
hand he held a knife, a sharp one. The metal glinted in the dim
warehouse.

“No!” I couldn’t
help but struggle and protest, flinching and helplessly trying to
move away. But I couldn’t move. I was bound there, sitting under
his hulking form as he stood over me with his knife.

“Hold still,” Lymon
instructed. “We don’t want that pretty skin marked up. Yet.”
After the
yet
, he
chuckled like he’d made a funny joke. I gave an involuntary shudder
in fear.

The beefy, thick face
of his henchman loomed over me. He balled up my t-shirt in his
sweaty, hairy fist, then took his knife to the thin cotton. With
great satisfaction in his eyes, he split my t-shirt open right down
the middle, leaving me completely naked and exposed. I hadn’t found
my bra that morning in the post-lovemaking tumble of my clothing. I
now had nothing between me and my captors.

Moaning in protest, I
tossed my head to the side, not wanting to see my nudity, or the
looks in their eyes as they now took me in. I could sense the goon
step away, giving Lymon precedence. First dibs.

“Yes, Kara,” Lymon
coaxed me, his voice chilling and cruel. “Feel how helpless you
are. I like that.” I whimpered and hated myself for it. I could
hear the sickening sound of a zipper. Oh God, was he undoing his
pants? Hating to look, compelled to do it, I glanced at him and saw
he now had his penis in his hands. He held it, erect, and slowly
stroked it as he watched me struggling, naked, bound to the chair.

“This could have been
better for you, you know,” he continued, his voice oddly soft,
almost crooning. “We were going to have fun, you and me. This
wasn’t how it was supposed to work. You were going to come to me
for protection. I was going to give you time to do it, let you turn
yourself over to me.”

I couldn’t help but
watch him now, listening to his horrible, hideous words, his hand
working his cock.

“I had it all worked
out. I’ve waited for this for some time now. I can be a patient
man. You were going to come to me.”

I couldn’t help it,
my eyes widened. I shook my head no. That would never have happened.
I never would have thrown myself at this man’s feet. I never would
have given him control over me. He disgusted me to the core.

His empty hand balled
into a fist. “But then someone got in the way and gave you back
your ranch. Someone changed the plans. But I don’t let people do
that to me. I don’t let people take what’s mine.”

He leaned toward me and
I could smell his rank breath. “It’s much better now, Kara. This
way, I get to force you. I’m going to like it so much more. This
way, it’s going to hurt.” His eyes glittered with excitement and
arousal.

My head shook no again,
my breath coming faster, fear thrilling through every limb. He took
it all in, breathing in my fear and getting harder, wanting me to
fight it, hate it, struggle against him.

“This could have gone
the easy way. I was so close. You had no family. No home. Desperate.
Just how I like it.”

The goon still held the
knife in his hand. He breathed heavy, open mouthed, eyes feasting on
my breasts while he held the weapon. I watched it in terror.

Lymon followed my gaze.
“Give that to me.” The goon handed it over and Lymon grasped it.
One pale hand on his erect penis, the other on the handle of the
knife, he appraised me.

“You’re a little
slut. I can see it in your eyes. I know what you want.”

Sweat broke out on my
brow as real panic hit. This man wanted to hurt me. He wanted to
terrify and torture me and I couldn’t stop him.

“You’re a little
whore, aren’t you, Kara?” Now he stroked the flat side of the
knife as he stroked his swollen, fleshy cock. The man was insane. I
could see it in the cold, emotionless way he watched me. Completely
unhinged. “I have big plans for you,” he assured me. “I know
what whores like.”

I whimpered and twisted
in my seat. I needed to get away. He terrified me.

“I’m going to fuck
you so hard, Kara. You’re going to bleed. But first you’re going
to suck some cock.”

No, my struggles grew
more urgent. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t do it. I wasn’t capable of
taking him in my mouth.

“Yes, you’ll suck
me like a good little whore,” he calmly answered my physical
protests. “But I also like to watch. I want to watch you struggle
until you give up. See you get humiliated. He’s first.”

The goon took a heavy
step forward as if he’d been waiting for this, dying for the
command. With beefy hands he unbuttoned his pants and dropped them to
his ankles. His meaty dick sprang out hard and he palmed it as he
walked toward me.