Unleashed: Declan & Kara (Unleashed #1-4; Beg for It #1) (71 page)

We didn’t have much
family at the ceremony. I had a former foster mother on my side.
She’d fallen ill and been unable to care for me for very long, but
she’d stayed in touch and I knew she meant well. I had her in a
nice house now, with a home health care attendant whom she said made
all the difference. Angie, my PA, and her kids were there, looking
uncomfortable in their starched Sunday best.

I never would have
believed it, but Shelly came, too, the tiny girl I’d known for only
a few, brief months during my last stay in a foster home. I’d
looked out for her until I’d gotten hauled into juvie. The world
had always seemed too much for Shelly, like it would eat her up and
spit her out. She’d spent hours sitting in the corner with her
Beauty and the Beast
CD, playing it over and over and singing along.

I’d mentioned her to
Kara and, Kara being Kara, she didn’t let it go. She’d gotten
people involved, and they’d gotten other people involved, and
before I knew it we were meeting Shelly for coffee at a shop
downtown. Shelly was 19 now, and still way too skinny for her own
good with shadows under her eyes. So, of course, Kara had set right
to helping her out, involving her in all the planning for the
Christmas party for the foster kids. She’d even seen to it that
Shelly got hired on as staff, seeing to event planning. I more than
loved Kara. I was in awe of her. She healed bones I’d long given up
on ever setting right.

On Kara’s side, she
had a few cousins and an aunt, the one she’d told me about visiting
in Texas. And the entire town she’d grown up in showed up,
including Dot from the diner and Mandy from high school and a bunch
of other people whose faces I recognized as they insisted on pumping
my hand and wishing us the best of luck.

The one puzzle piece
not in place, at least according to Kara, was my father’s side of
the family. A big puzzle piece. Three brothers-and-a-sister-sized
puzzle piece. Plus a grandmother in there for good measure.

I’d thought about
them a lot in the intervening months. I hadn’t gotten in touch with
them, though. It was my father I really would have liked to have met.
To think, he had been a real estate investor just like me. Crazy.
Months ago when Kara had suggested that I had the instinct for it,
and it might be that my father did the same thing, I’d been pissed
off. But she’d been right.

There’d been a whole
lot of things I’d been pissed off about that I now had to look at
in a new light. It took a while. I’d been so used to thinking of my
father as a low-down dog who abandoned his son. Now it turned out he
hadn’t even known that I’d existed until after I’d been born.
He’d sent my mother money every month, and tried to track me down
and get in contact with me when I’d been a teenager. It was almost
too much to wrap my head around. I’d been starving and stranded,
barely a roof over my head and even when I had one, I couldn’t
trust it would last. They never did. But my father had been a
billionaire.

My mother, well, I’d
always known she was a fuck up. No mystery there. But the lying? The
selfishness? That was next-level. She’d lied about my name to keep
my whereabouts a mystery. Moved frequently not just to keep out of
trouble but to keep off the radar. She used the money she got from
her baby daddy not for healthy food and a nice home, but for her
drugs.

But there was no point
in wallowing in bitterness, no reason to burn with anger. My mother
had led a hard life, losing custody of her only child and serving
prison time. Ultimately, she’d died a lonely addict’s death.
She’d been punished enough for her crimes. And nothing came from
bitterness but more bitterness.

But my father. And my
sense of self. Those deserved some consideration. I wasn’t a cast
off. He had wanted me. I’d learned in the intervening months that
he’d wanted to send me off to some fancy boarding school. Imagine
that? Foster homes and juvie vs. a $50,000/year school for the upper
crust of society. I’d probably have gotten kicked out for fighting
on the first day. But, still, he’d written me into his will. And
he’d talked to me at that gala at the Met. We’d actually shook
hands, had a few minutes talking together. I remembered the urgency
in the way he spoke to me, the intensity of his blue eyes, how he’d
wanted to learn more about my past. He’d looked sick, too sick to
be out that night and I’d been right about that. He’d been
wracked with cancer, only another month to live. But he’d gone out
that night in the hopes of meeting me and seeing for himself, his
long-lost son.

Over the past few
months, their family attorney had mostly left me alone. He’d gotten
in touch once or twice, letting me know that Grandmother Kavanaugh
would like an RSVP. The holiday party was in mid-December, just after
our honeymoon. There was nothing preventing us from going to it. Just
my stubbornness.

Kara wanted to go, I
knew that. She was a family person, she’d explained to me. She
wanted a boatload of kids. For some reason that thrilled me. Maybe
some foster ones, too. So, to her, it made sense to reach out to my
family, meet them all and establish contact.

More and more, I could
see the sense in her words. Each day with Kara, I could feel the
anger that had engulfed me my whole life slowly ebb and fade. I could
still scowl and stomp around with the best of them, but Kara would
catch me at it and I’d forget what I’d even been upset about. I
still worked out at the gym like the hounds of hell were nipping at
my heels, but that was more out of habit than necessity. I slept
better, too.

Maybe, I’d told her.
Not before the wedding, but maybe. It was the best I could do. She
knew me well enough to understand even that was a big step for me.
So, she’d let it drop. But I knew she’d bring it up again at some
point, and I figured I’d probably give in. I couldn’t say no to
Kara, not for long. Especially since what she asked for always seemed
to be for other people.

I’d realized saving
her family’s ranch hadn’t even been about what she wanted, not
really. She’d felt obligated to her father’s memory. Even though
Harlan was the one who’d honestly driven the ranch into the ground,
she felt bound and determined to rescue it. That’s what she did,
she rescued. She sure as hell had rescued me.

Good thing she wasn’t
all saint. I looked over at my wife, lying next to me in an
impossibly tiny string bikini. I’d insisted she wear it today out
to the beach and she’d agreed but only after she’d found a big
cover-up and I’d reminded her we’d have a private cabana,
complete with white cloth curtains we could draw to shut out the
world whenever we wanted.

It was our honeymoon,
after all. It couldn’t be all holding hands and gazing at the
stars, though we’d done a fair amount of that as well. She really
brought out the romantic in me. But I was still a dirty dawg.

“I have something for
you.” My voice had a husky undertone and Kara turned to me,
expectant. Excited.

“You do?” She
smiled, the angel in a sinner’s body. Her curves looked unreal,
barely contained in the ice blue string bikini. She could be a Bond
girl, only I wouldn’t want that many eyes on her. She was mine, all
mine.

“First, I need to rub
some lotion on you. The sun is very strong here. It’s dangerous.”

“That’s not the
only thing around here that’s strong and dangerous.” Her gaze
traveled to my arms, powerful and corded thick with muscle. I loved
seeing her heat up for me, desire blooming within her. The devil in
me wanted to play.

“Lie on your back.
For now,” I instructed. She lay down, settling her head back on one
of the low pillows and looking up at me, ready to do what I asked.

I took some warm cocoa
butter lotion and worked it between my fingers, then started at her
feet, spending a long time before I even traveled up her legs. I
loved watching her there, lying before me, her pale, creamy skin so
exposed, her lips parted, her hips starting to wriggle every now and
then as I lit the fire in her. We had nothing to do today, nothing at
all. I’d make this last.

By the time she was
lying on her stomach, her breathing had quickened and she was
starting to get wet. I knew because I’d tease her every now and
then, grazing my finger along her pussy. She’d gasp and start to
arch toward my touch, and I’d take it away. I was a bastard when it
came to these kinds of games, especially since I’d learned how much
she ultimately loved them.

I’d lowered the
curtains on three sides, but kept the fourth open, the one facing the
ocean. It was enough to signal to the staff that we wanted privacy.
But Kara still needed to keep quiet. I wanted her to have to suffer a
little. That made it more fun.

I’d been suffering
for hours now, watching her in that bikini, her ass and tits barely
covered. She’d laugh, throw her head back and my eyes would darken,
imagining her like that for an entirely different reason. She came so
much harder after a long build-up, the tension radiating from her
shattering into a mind-blowing release. I wanted that for her, for
us.

I left her ass for
last. I traced the outline of her bikini bottom, toyed with the
string ties on the sides, massaged small circles on the outside of
her cheeks displayed to me. She moved under my touch, pliant,
moaning. I’d taught her how much she liked me playing with her ass.
I kept her guessing about what I’d do when. She liked that, too.
Today, I had a new toy.

“I have something for
you,” I murmured, husky. She whimpered in response as I drew a
finger down the crack of her ass, pressing against the fabric.

“What if someone
sees?” she asked, nervous.

“You’re going to
have to be very, very quiet,” I warned her, first undoing one side
of her bikini bottom, then the other. Her ass was so round and ripe I
wanted to take a bite. I used my palms to massage her, work her, then
dipped my thumbs down and found the wet center of her pussy. Like a
candy with the juicy part inside, I wanted to lick it all down.

“So wet for me.”

“Mmmm,” she hummed
and purred as I stroked.

I pressed the cool
metal of the butt plug against her warm skin. She hissed in reaction,
but didn’t pull away. I’d trained her well. She’d take what I
gave.

Slowly, using her own
arousal as lubricant, I took the plug to her asshole and started to
gently fuck her hole with it. I worked it gradually but insistently
against her tight ring.

“Relax, baby,” I
guided her. With my hand up at her bare throat, I could feel her
pulse racing. I took a pillow and placed it under her hips, tilting
her ass up at a better angle. “That’s it,” I coaxed her as she
parted her thighs and offered her bottom up to me. I gripped her ass
cheek and pulled it to the side, giving me more access.

“Declan, it feels so
big!” she moaned.

“It is big. It’s
going to fill your ass.” With that, I pushed harder and it slid
further, past her opening. She gasped and her eyes widened as she got
stretched. Her hand clutched at a pillow and I knew the sensation was
strong.

“That’s it, baby.
Take it up your ass.” I pushed the plug 100% of the way inside her
asshole until the circular end lay flush with her cheeks. I stroked
her for a moment, calming her quivering flanks, teasing her sensitive
inner thighs. I loved seeing the tip of the plug sticking out of her
ass, tangible evidence of her submission.

Then I tied her bikini
bottom up again, covering her.

“You can lie on your
back now.” I gave her a playful spank.

She looked at me,
incredulous. “This is…I’m very…full!”

“Yes, you are.” I
took delight in her discomfort, knowing how it would all end. But
she’d have to walk through more fire before she got the deluge of
relief. She flipped over and settled down against several pillows,
propped up next to me so she could see the ocean. I noted with
satisfaction her nipples pressed hard against the bikini top. The
plug felt big and it stretched her full, and she liked it. Nasty
girl. I wanted to see how much she could take.

The moment she settled
in comfortable, I flicked the switch I held in my palm. The butt plug
began a gentle vibration.

She gasped, “Declan!”
Her body tensed, her palms pressing at her sides against the cushion.

“Stay still,” I
warned her, watching her struggle, wanting a front-row seat as her
arousal built and threatened to crest and break.

I played with her like
that for a long time, almost an hour. I knew no mercy. I’d slowly
build up the vibrations, let her moan and pant, her thighs rubbing
together but I wouldn’t let her touch herself. She wanted to,
desperately, I could tell by the way she kept fisting the pillows at
her head and gripping the cushion at her sides.

Every now and then I’d
torture her, saying, “Let me check if you’re ready yet.” I’d
reach down to her pussy and slowly push her bikini bottom to the
side, watching her pant, her ribs moving up and down. Sometimes she’d
watch me, her eyes glazed with lust. Sometimes she’d throw her head
back, eyes closed, as if wanting to block out any sensations except
the ones I gave her. I’d bring my thick finger to her sopping wet
pussy and growl appreciatively. Then I’d taste her, because I
couldn’t resist, the honey sweetness so delicious on my tongue.

Then I’d stop. “Not
yet,” I’d taunt her. Her mewls and whimpers, soft pants and moans
made me rock hard.

Flicking on the
vibrating butt plug pushed deep into her ass, I brought the pressure
up to medium. She tensed and her eyes fluttered back in her head, her
jaw set.

“You like that,
baby?” I whispered to her.

“Yes…uh…” She
was grunting, starting to lose her ability to talk. “Uh, I
need…uh…” I liked her non-verbal, overwhelmed by physical need,
desperate for me to do anything to give her relief.