Unleashed: Declan & Kara (Unleashed #1-4; Beg for It #1) (75 page)

I was proud of myself,
though. I remembered the first time I’d visited New York I felt
like such a country bumpkin. This time around I thought I did a
slightly better job of blending in, though I doubted I’d ever
master that sophisticated fast-paced hustle of native New Yorkers.
First, I smiled way too much. Second, I liked having random, friendly
conversations with strangers. And finally, I enjoyed crafting. Those
facts alone seemed as if they’d to keep me forever separate from
the true heartbeat of the city. But it was a fun place to visit,
especially with Declan.

“Let me warm you up.”
With his arms around me, I was already feeling pretty toasty. Next to
the crackling fire, he eased off my jacket and kissed my throat. I
sighed into him, loving his nearness. As much as I liked visiting
with and meeting his family, nothing beat time just the two of us.
We’d spent all those years apart. Now, I never wanted to let him
out of my sight.

He took my hand and we
sat down on the soft rug in front of the fire. He pulled me into his
lap and I leaned back against his broad chest.

“This sweater’s
soft,” he murmured into my ear, grazing his palms along my sides,
my stomach, around my breasts. “But not as soft as your skin.”
With a swift motion, he pulled my sweater up and over my head,
discarding it onto a chair behind us.

I’d noticed just in
the past week or so that my breasts were starting to get bigger. That
must be the first response my body was having to pregnancy, and my
regular bra felt somewhat tight. I spilled out of the cups, my
breasts practically tumbling out, begging to be freed from the
restraints.

Declan growled with
satisfaction and I felt it rumble in his chest as he pressed me into
him. He cupped my breasts in his large hands.

“So beautiful,” he
murmured in appreciation, massaging me, swiping his thumbs across my
nipples. He always made me so aware of my sensuality, his touch and
his words creating the sense that I was the ultimate seductress. I’d
never felt particularly confident in my sexual appeal. In fact, for
years after Declan left I’d turned off that whole side of myself.
I’d functioned on autopilot for a long time.

But that time was over.
Back with Declan now, he’d opened the floodgates and passion flowed
through me, never far from the surface. I arched my back, pressing my
breasts into his hands, loving the way he touched me, the rough
possessive feel of his masculine hands, the sure and steady way he
held me against his strong body.

Against my rear, I
could feel him growing hard and I pressed against him, wanting more.
He hissed between his teeth and brought a hand to my hips, pushing me
where he wanted me.

“You see what you do
to me?” he asked, grinding against me, and I moaned in response. He
was such a master at building my arousal, guiding my anticipation
until I panted and begged for him. Right now with just the pressure
of his shaft against me, I could imagine how good it would feel if he
sank into me. How fully I’d take him in, how deeply he’d plunge
into me.

His fingers wound lower
and unfastened my pants, then slid them down my legs. I kicked them
off, happily giving him access, and he whispered his way back up my
inner thighs.

“I’ve wanted to
take you here in front of a fire from the minute we walked into this
room.”

I tipped my head back,
luxuriating in his kisses along my throat, up to my ear. He slipped a
finger along the seam of my panties and I shivered at his touch.

“But I want to make
sure, are you feeling up to it?” As he asked me, he pressed his
thumb against my clit. I still wore my panties, but he knew exactly
how to touch me.

“Yes, Declan,” I
panted, bucking my hips up to his hand. Why didn’t he slip his
fingers under my panties already? He liked to keep me waiting but I
didn’t want to wait.

“You have to tell me
if you’re not,” he warned me, stroking slowly along the silk.
“Over the next few months you may have days when you’re not
feeling your best.”

Oh, no, was he talking
about cooling things off during my pregnancy? That was not happening.
“Listen,” I turned my face toward his. “You’d better not be
thinking of not touching me when I’m pregnant.”

He chuckled low in his
throat. “Easy, now.” He brought me back again, pressing me
against his long, hard cock. I sighed in pleasure at the feel of him.
“No one’s talking about not touching.” As he spoke, he drew his
fingers along my skin. The reverent way he touched me, it almost made
me feel as if he were worshipping at my altar.

“I just want you to
know, I obviously can’t keep my hands off of you. So if you need me
to cool it—”

“Declan! Don’t talk
like that!”

He laughed again,
clearly enjoying my desperate response. I liked that he was being
sensitive and all, but there was a time and a place. Maybe when I was
big as a whale in my ninth month I’d be feeling differently. But we
hadn’t reached either that time or that place yet.

“So what you’re
telling me…” he drawled lazily, sweeping his hands along my body.
“What I’m hearing from you…” he teased me as I started to
pant under his hands, wondering if I was going to need to rip my bra
and panties off of my body myself. Because I’d do it, see if I
wouldn’t.

“What you need…”
Finally, his hand slid underneath my panties, his fingers finally
against my slick slit. With his other, he palmed one of my breasts,
pulling down the cup to let me spill out for his pleasure. “You
need to be fucked.” As he spoke, he plunged two fingers up into my
wet, quivering sex.

“Ah!” I cried out,
my eyes closing at the sensation. He knew how to make me feel so
taken with just his fingers.

“You need to be
fucked hard and rough.” He took my nipple between his fingers and
rolled it, then pinched it with his thick, calloused thumb and
forefinger.

“Yes!” I cried out,
pleasure shooting directly to my clit.

Without another word,
he rolled me onto my back and tore off my panties. He ripped my bra
to the side, yanked his own pants off and bore down on me. The rug
felt soft against my back but he pressed down on me, hard, and then
draped my legs up and over his shoulders one after the other. He
tilted my pelvis up, his massive hands clutching my ass, his fingers
biting into my cheeks in rough possession. I could feel the head of
his huge cock right at my wet entrance and wanted nothing more than
to sheath him in my heat.

“You want it?” he
teased, looking down at me already panting and writhing beneath him.

“Yes!” I begged,
knowing at this angle it would feel intense.

He sank into me, full
to the hilt, filling me up and my eyes rolled back into my head at
the intensity of it. I clawed at him, screaming with pleasure as he
started fucking me, pounding into me, relentless.

“Declan!” I cried
as he worked me, grinding my pussy against him. I felt so completely
possessed, so dominated as he thrust into me again and again.

He reached out one of
his large, strong hands and grabbed onto my breast, holding it as he
pounded into me. “So. Fucking. Hot,” he groaned out, watching my
breasts, watching his cock pound into my wet heat, feasting on my
reactions.

In our frenzy, we moved
along the rug and I felt the edge of the couch now grazing the top of
my head. I brought the palms of my hands up to it and pushed against
it so I could get more purchase, grind into him harder. I needed him
so fiercely, I needed him to consume me, take me right up over the
edge.

“Yes,” he grunted,
liking that I pushed into him, aroused that I wanted still more from
him. “You like it like this.”

“Yes,” I moaned,
loving that he knew everything about me. I had nothing to hide from
him, nor him me. We were the perfect fit to each other’s puzzle.

“I want you to come
for me, baby.” He thrust into me, his cock impossibly huge. His
words sent me over the edge.

“Ah!” I screamed,
the waves of orgasm crashing over me, engulfing me whole. My mind
went blank as pure pleasure, white hot, raced through my entire body.

“Take it!” he
roared as he exploded in me, his come rocketing out deep inside. I
could feel the force of him, the fierceness with which he possessed
me.

“Declan,” I cried
out, pulling him nearer, needing him even closer though he was
already deep up inside of me. He unwrapped my legs from his
shoulders, easing then down on the floor, and brought his chest down
to mine, still supporting the majority of his weight on his elbows.

“I love you, Kara.”

No matter how many
times he said it, it still thrilled me to my soul. I’d been so
convinced for years that I’d never hear him speak those words. It
still seemed impossible to me sometimes, but there he was, with me,
my husband.

“I love you, Declan.”

I didn’t even realize
it until he brought a finger to my cheek.

“Don’t cry, Kara.”
He kissed my cheeks, stroking my face.

“Oh, you know I’m
just happy,” I reassured him. This was part of the whole floodgates
thing. He’d opened them up and now I had some strong feelings
flowing unrestrained through me.

“I’m so happy,
too,” he murmured to me, nuzzling into my hair. “Happier than I
ever imagined.”

We lay like that in
front of the fire, sharing bits of thoughts, both of us wrapped in
the joy we had together, and would soon share with our baby.

“It keeps getting
better, Declan.” I smiled at him and played with his thick hair. I
wondered if he’d know what I meant.

“It does,” he
smiled in agreement.

He knew. What we had between us.
Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, it did. What a
future we’d have together. Starting now.

THE
END

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Unleashed
!
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Keep reading for a
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Undone.

Kara and Declan
kicked off the
Beg for It
series with
Unleashed
.
It ended with the bombshell—he’s got siblings! A whole bunch of
them! Meet Declan’s brother Ash in the next book in the series
Undone
available:

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amzn.com/B01BMKY282

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bit.ly/koboundone

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bit.ly/nookundone

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Take one bad boy rock
god. Mix slowly with one wholesome librarian. Add a dash of
paparazzi, a twist of scandal, and you won’t believe how good this
dish tastes.

Ash

It’s pretty easy
being a rock god. Party. Perform. P*ssy. Repeat. I’m 26 and it’s
worked for me for years. Until I was caught ripping out the heart of
America’s sweetheart in a video gone viral. Now #HatePlayerAsh is
trending on Twitter, she’s writing a song about how much I suck and
I’m in desperate need of image rehab, fast.

Good thing paparazzi
chased me into that library. Had I not ducked under that desk I never
would have found myself next to the long, sexy legs and disapproving
gaze of Anika Ivanov. In my world of use and get used, she’s a
unicorn. A kind, 24-year-old, hard-working, family-oriented
children’s librarian. My agent agrees, she’s the one to set
everything right. All she needs to do is fake a month-long public
romance, let the world see me fall hard for her, then dump me in a
brutal, public display. It’s genius.

Now I just have to
convince her to agree. And convince myself that the only reason I
want to spend the month with her is to improve my image. It’s not
her full, luscious lips or her soft, seductive laugh or those
fantasies I keep having of tying her down to my bed as I make her
quiver and pant and call out my name.

Ana

Ash Black. In my
library. Under my desk. It’s hard to believe it happened. I’ve
listened to his voice enough times, my favorite soundtrack as I walk
down the streets of New York. My secret bad boy crush, the
smoldering, shirtless star of the tabloids, all muscles and tattoos.
Then one day he shows up and kisses me in my break room.

What’s even crazier
is how he wants me to spend the next month. Backstage at his shows in
L.A., San Francisco and Vegas, candlelight dinners in New York and
Paris. He wants the world to believe he’s fallen in love. With me.

I’ve got to say no.
He’s a walking disaster with a dirty mouth and wicked hands that
melt my panties right off of me. This month would take everything in
my well-ordered, neat little life and shake it up like a snow globe.

Then why am I so
tempted to say yes?

Ana

One
Month From Now

I pulled against my
wrist restraints, panting as his tongue trailed a slow, teasing path
down my stomach. A moan escaped my lips. I needed to touch him, fist
my fingers in his thick, jet-black hair and dig my nails into his
broad, muscular shoulders. But I couldn’t even see him. He’d
blindfolded me. Twisting my head to the side, I could still picture
him, tattoos licking along his biceps, down by his abs, right at the
start of his V.

“Please!” I
couldn’t help but cry out. I needed more, needed his tongue lower,
needed to be set free so I could at least touch myself if not him.
He’d worked me up into such a frenzy. With a low, satisfied growl
deep in his chest, he dipped his tongue in a lazy circle around my
belly button. He insisted on having me his way, tormenting every inch
of me until I begged for it.