Unleashed: Volume 1 (Unleashed #1) (11 page)

He groaned and traced
his fingers down the length of my lace panties, slowly, pressing the
lace into my soaking pussy. I panted and couldn’t stop myself from
pressing back into his fingers, begging him for more.

“So wet for me,” he
panted. With sudden ferocity, he tore away the scrap of lace. I’d
never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. He gave a deep growl of
satisfaction like an animal, a beast scenting its mate in heat.

“Now turn around.”
Hands on my shoulders, he turned me to face him, then picked me up
and placed me on a wide, wooden shelf at the level of his waist.
“Hold on up here.” He placed my hands up along an upper shelf.
Then he commanded, “Spread for me.”

I gasped as he knelt
down and hooked my knee up and over his shoulder. He dove one hand
underneath my ass cheeks, and used the other to push my remaining
thigh up and out to the side. Then he brought my quivering, drenched
pussy right up next to his face for inspection. In the harsh, exposed
light bulb of the storeroom, there was no hiding, no pretending and
being coy. No turning him down and pretending to be disgusted.

I panted as his gaze
devoured me, pure male satisfaction at my glistening folds. “So
wet, my Kara. So bare for me.”

Ever so slowly, he
flicked his tongue across my slit. I cried out with the intensity of
it, a shot of pleasure coursing electric through my entire body.
Slowly, expertly, he began licking me, sliding his tongue along my
slick petals, stroking, coaxing pure pleasure from my throbbing
flesh. Oh God, it felt so good. I had to touch him. I took my hands
off the shelving, bringing them to his silky, soft hair, his massive
shoulder, the muscles corded and bunching under his shirt.

“Hands where I told
you, Kara,” he growled.

I whined. It was
torture to keep my hands off of him. I didn’t see why I had to.

“You don’t want me
to stop, do you?” he warned me.

I brought my hands back
up, one wrapped around a pole, the other gripping the shelf above me.
My breasts out, nipples hard, legs spread wide, I held myself there
for him to devour. And he began again, teasing, controlled, slowly
licking like flames I desperately wanted to flare into a wildfire. I
knew I was making noises, mewling and crying out, but I couldn’t
stop myself. Panting, consumed with desire, it was all I could do to
remember to keep my hands up. But I had to. I needed him to keep on
doing exactly what he was doing, building my pleasure, my body
quaking and readying itself for the ultimate release.

“You’re so close so
fast,” he praised me and I moaned in response. He brought his hands
to my inner thighs, parting my legs even more to give him more access
and I gave it, willingly. “But you may not come until I tell you
you can,” he instructed me. “Do you understand me, Kara?”

“Yes,” I moaned,
eyes closed, head tipped back. His tongue swirled expertly around my
clit, teasing, pulling, licking, then fucking me deep and hard. So
close to orgasm, my moans turned more urgent, into begging and
pleading. I couldn’t take it any longer. I needed to come, right
that second. But I needed him to bring me there, to let me come, and
he wouldn’t do it. He seemed to always sense when I was right on
the verge, starting to shudder and build to release and then he’d
leave my clit wanting, waiting.

“Declan,” I begged,
hands up grasping the shelf.

Moving his hand up to
cup my hot, wet pussy he stood, leaned over me and whispered in my
ear, “What do you want, Kara?”

I moaned and arched my
back up against his heat, grinding my slippery sex against his hand.
I needed relief. He chuckled low and gruff and I felt a flash of
anger at his composure. But then he swirled my clit with his finger
and every emotion other than fierce lust disappeared completely as he
expertly coaxed me once again to the brink.

“Yes, please,” I
begged, panting.

“Please, what, Kara?”
he asked, infuriating, in control. I bucked my mound against his
hand, feeling the rough callouses on him, wanting to come, needing to
come. Low and sexy, his cheek against my own, he whispered, “I like
you dripping on my fingers like a little slut.”

I moaned. It was so
filthy and I craved it from him.

“Now tell me what you
need,” he commanded.

All pride gone, I found
myself begging. “Declan, please let me come. Please, I’m begging
you, please. I need to come.”

“Good girl, I like
hearing you say that.” His voice caressed me and I basked in his
praise. “What else do you want, Kara?” His fingers began to
tease, stroking and sliding up and down my wet slit. “Do you want
to serve me?” He started to fuck me with his thick finger, but not
deep enough. I spread my legs wider, panting, moaning. Leaning into
my ear, he whispered to me, “Do you want to be my whore?”

Arching back my head, I
gasped and groaned with lust, his dirty words bringing me so close to
orgasm.

He reached up quickly
and pinched my nipple, twisting it and then leaving it, tingling and
throbbing. I gasped with the mixture of pain and pleasure. “Say
it,” he growled. “Tell me you want to serve me.”

“Yes!” I cried out

He pinched my nipple
again, hard, then brought his other finger down to my swollen,
throbbing clit. He circled it, then stroked directly over the slick
nub. “Do you want this, Kara? Do you want to do what I say? Serve
me? Pleasure me? In all the ways I’ve always wanted?”

“Yes,” I panted.
“Declan.”

“Say it,” he
commanded. “Say you want to serve me.”

“Yes, Declan. I want
to serve you. Please!”

Roughly, he knelt down
before me once again, grasped my ass in his large, strong hands and
pulled me toward him. With animal need, he buried his face in my wet
pussy and began eating like he’d been starving for it, like he’d
never tasted anything he wanted more. I pushed against him, crying
out as his tongue instantly found my clit. Swirling, flicking, he
worked me in a frenzied rhythm as I cried out and bucked against him,
wild for more.

“Now come!” he
issued the stern command, then sucked on my clit full and strong. I
responded at once, coming hard and completely out of control.
Shuddering and gasping, I cried out his name again and again as he
sucked me mercilessly.

I barely knew where I
was or what was happening, I only knew I’d never felt such intense
pleasure, never experienced such complete release. The waves crested
and broke over me, leaving me limp and dazzled as he lapped and
licked, a growl of pleasure deep in his chest.

“Ah, Kara. So
beautiful,” Declan murmured, standing up while I still sat there,
dazed and dripping. “There’s so much more I can show you.”
Gazing at me with primal satisfaction, he made sure I watched as he
licked my juices off of his fingers. “This is just the beginning.
But only if you agree to my terms.”

Declan

Then

Friday night, the rest
of the guys had called it quits over an hour ago. I’d been out
mending a fence over in the north pasture. I rode in, gave my horse a
good brush and some fresh hay and water, then went to check on a sick
calf. She looked skinny. You could see her back vertebrae and her pin
bones in the rear stuck out sharp. Most of the other calves seemed
fine, they’d taken to grazing grass with gusto, but not this one. I
checked her eyes: clear and not sunken, at least not yet. I changed
out the water, satisfied she at least looked stable.

Then I decided I’d
head to the barn and make sure Bill had brought in the baler for the
night. He was getting forgetful, leaving equipment out, neglecting
repairs. The belt on that baler looked worn and if we didn’t watch
it, we’d be looking at a pricy replacement. I saw why Harlan had
hired me, why he’d taken a chance on a 21-year-old kid with a
checkered past. I had the drive and the brawn he needed.

I washed my hands
before heading out. Wiping my hands on my jeans, I started over. And
then I stopped in my tracks.

Kara was walking down
from her house up on the hill. The sun hadn’t quite slipped behind
the ridge and it reached its last rays out to light up her hair, her
skin. She wore a simple white sundress, sleeves and everything. Not
like some of the skimpy tops she tortured me with.

Damn, but she looked
beautiful. All natural and glowing and fresh. It almost hurt to look
straight at her. I ducked into the shadowy barn before she could
catch me looking. That was the last thing I needed.

She’d been mooning
over me, watching me while I worked, bringing out cold lemonade and
fresh baked muffins. I knew she was curious. I was like some kind of
space alien dropped down into her green pastures. And she was right,
we were from different universes. The three years separating us might
as well be three decades. That girl was as sheltered as they came.
She’d lived in the same house her whole life, surrounded by her
childhood art projects and family quilts. The girl kept houseplants.
They filled up the windowsills and in the mornings I could hear her
humming as she watered them, talking to them like they were her
babies.

A girl like that didn’t
have any idea what it was like to have to move out of a place at 2
a.m., tiptoeing and carrying everything in one big trip so you
wouldn’t wake up the landlord. She probably couldn’t even imagine
a world where you had to lie awake all night waiting for a creak in
the floorboards, wondering who in your new foster ‘family’ might
be coming to try to hurt you and how. She’d never know that kind of
pain existed, and she never should.

But all those
differences, all the many things separating and dividing us didn’t
matter, anyway. Bottom line was I wanted this job and her daddy would
fire my ass if I so much as touched a hair on her head. I didn’t
plan on being a ranch hand the rest of my life, but I liked the feel
of a ranch, the rhythms. I understood it, somehow, even though I
hadn’t grown up on one. There was a lot to learn on Harlan’s
ranch and, hell, I had a small, clean cabin all my own. I had enough
money for food, a pick-up truck, and Saturday nights down at the
local bar. Life was good.

Shit, she was heading
into the barn. Quick, before she saw me, I ducked down behind the
baler. I needed to check the belt, anyway. It wasn’t like I was
hiding from her.

She walked in, singing
to herself as all Disney princesses did. I wouldn’t have been
surprised if a few small animals came out to listen, maybe a bird
perching on her shoulder and tweeting along. That girl was too much.

She was fussing about
something over on the bench. Safe behind the baler, I stretched out
to see what was happening. Looked like she was folding something, and
taking her time doing it. Not satisfied with the results, she shook
it out and then started over again, smoothing out the cloth,
carefully creasing the sides then bringing over the arms. It was my
shirt.

Surprised, I somehow
managed to knock over a can of WD-40 with my foot. Kara gasped and
whipped around, her hand up to her chest in surprise.

“Oh! I didn’t
realize anyone was here!” She flushed pink.

I cursed under my
breath. “Yeah, I’m just finishing up.”

“Everyone else’s
done for the day. You always work so late.”

I shrugged. What was
she doing noticing things like that? She really needed to focus her
attention elsewhere. Nothing good could come of this.

“What are you doing
with my shirt?” It came out gruff and accusatory. She winced. I was
an asshole, I knew it, but the best thing this girl could do was turn
tail and run right out of this barn. She thought she wanted to get to
know me, probably had some half-baked notion that she wanted to
become my girlfriend. Like I could pick her up on a Saturday night,
shake her daddy’s hand and let him know his little princess would
be well taken care of out on the date. Then we’d sit out at the
Dairy Queen and hold hands or some shit. She had no idea what she was
playing with.

“I just…” She
stammered and fidgeted like she did when she got nervous, tucking a
piece of hair behind her ear and biting on her lower lip. I clenched
my hands at my sides. “You left it out on a fence. I washed it and
saw you were missing a button so I sewed on a new one.” Her voice
faded to a near-whisper.

“You sewed a button
on my shirt?” I strode toward her, closing the space between us.
“Why?”

“You were missing
one.” She looked up at me, nervous and shy. “I’ve done it for
Bill, too. And my daddy. I can sew a button on your shirt.” She
stood, defiant and gorgeous in her white sundress, insisting on her
right to mend my clothes.

I stood there like an
idiot. I didn’t think anyone had ever sewn a button for me before.
It shouldn’t matter but it did. My mouth felt dry.

That was the problem
with Kara. I wanted to shrug her off, or even look down on her,
dismiss her as a spoiled brat. But then she’d go and do this kind
of shit. It shook me up, shifted the ground right underneath my feet.

This close, I could
smell her, a clean strawberry scent. Her hair gleamed, smooth, shiny
and thick. I breathed her in like some pathetic teenage jerk.

“I thought about
bringing the shirt down to your cabin, but—”

“No!” That snapped
me right out of it. “Don’t come to my cabin.” That was the last
thing I needed, her knocking softly on my door late at night.

She looked down at the
floor. Damn, were her eyes filling with tears?

“Listen, Kara.” I
exhaled and took off my cowboy hat, rubbing my hand along my forehead
and through my hair. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”
She beamed and glowed. The way she looked up at me, it was like she
saw me as her hero or something. Me. Fucked-up, beat-down me.

Lust, that I was used
to with girls. They liked what I had to offer. But this kind of
bright shine in Kara’s eyes? It was a whole new level.