Unleashed: Volume 2 (Unleashed #2) (15 page)

“You like serving me,
don’t you?” I demanded.

“Yes,” she moaned,
panting, begging. All pretense of dusting gone now, her fingers
spread wide against the desk. I stroked her glistening mound and
rubbed her clit.

“So wet,” I
praised. She trembled and moaned against me. “Do you want me inside
of you?”

“Yes!” she moaned.

“That’s good,” I
grit out, my teeth clenched. “Beg me, Kara.”

“Please, Declan,”
she begged, thrusting her hips toward my hand. “Please fuck me!”
Her voice sounded urgent, her eyes closed. Spread out over my desk,
tits bare on the cold surface, she begged for me to take her with her
words, her legs spread wide, her sex dripping and throbbing. Making
fast work of my belt and buckle, I undid my pants and slid down my
briefs. My giant, hard cock sprang out, veins engorged, ready to
pound.

“Remember those
nights together in the barn, kissing in the darkness?” I asked. She
whimpered in response, panting. “I couldn’t do this back then.
But I can now.”

Grasping her hips in my
large, wide hands, I positioned the thick tip of my shaft at her
slick entrance. With one long, powerful thrust I entered her,
sheathing my steel inside of her delicious, wet heat.

“Kara!” I called
out, nearly driven insane by the feel of her, so tight and ready.

“Yes!” she cried in
response, pressing against me. I closed the small distance between us
in an instant, pressing my hard length completely into her yielding
softness.

I pushed her back down
with one hand and used my other to arch her ass up for better access.
“Like that, baby. So good. Now hold on. I’m going to fuck you
hard.”

She grasped the sides
of the desk like she was told. I started in on a rhythm of long,
strong, forceful thrusts, plunging into her again and again. Driving,
relentless, I demanded everything from her. She gave it willingly.
She wanted it all. She stood up on tiptoes and I nearly lifted her up
off the ground each time I pounded into her.

“Fuck! You’re so
tight,” I groaned.

“Declan!” she
moaned.

“Take my cock. All of
it.”

She opened her legs as
wide as she could and bucked up against me, offering all of herself
up into the intense pleasure. She cried out again and again as I
thrust and pounded into her. I stroked her clit, circling and
stroking, working her up again with me toward climax.

I never wanted it to
stop, this animal abandon, the raw, overwhelming lust, building and
building as I rutted into her like a beast. But I could feel it
erupting, flowing through me with consuming power.

“I’m coming!” I
shouted as I started to gush inside of her, pouring my hot seed into
her depths.

“Yes!” she
screamed, shuddering and coming around my cock, milking it with her
contractions.

“Kara!” I groaned,
one last thrust, sweaty and thoughtless and completely, utterly
spent.

Kara

Then

I sat out on the porch
swing in front of our house, dangling my feet and staring off into
the middle distance. I was useless. I knew I should be doing laundry
or cleaning the kitchen or getting things ready for dinner. It was
four o’clock on a Tuesday. I had no business sitting around doing
nothing, but I seemed incapable of doing anything but that.

A soft rain fell all
around the porch. It had rained pretty much non-stop these last
couple of days, like the sky had given in exactly when Declan and I
had. There was only so long you could hold things inside. Sooner or
later, that dark, looming cloud would burst open and you’d find
yourself in a deluge.

Last night in the barn
I’d practically thrown myself at him. I couldn’t help it, when I
was with him my body took over. I could still feel the stroke of his
fingers, hot and rough and urgent, reading my body like he knew it by
heart. I hadn’t known it could feel so good to be with a man. Now,
it was all I could think about.

After all those months,
all that fantasizing, he was more incredible than anything I’d ever
imagined. My own brain couldn’t conjure it up on its own. I had
nothing to compare it to. Technically, I’d had some experience with
boys. I’d kissed three of them, Bruce, of course, plus a guy in
10th grade who, for three weeks, had carried my books and waited for
me outside of school every day. And, if you insisted on counting it,
there was the 9th grade Spin-the-Bottle game with Tony Falcone. Then
Bruce and I had spent some time making out in the cab of his truck,
his breath steaming up the windows as his paws roamed me and tried to
make their way up and under my clothes. It had felt a lot like a game
of whack-a-mole, my hands finding his and battling them off until he
found the next opening somewhere else. I’d thought it hadn’t been
too bad, that maybe that was all there was to it anyway. Now I knew.

You could buy a
strawberry from the supermarket that had been shipped, packed, maybe
even frozen along the way until it turned into an angry little nub
that tasted like cardboard. Or you could pick a strawberry right off
the plant in late June, pushing aside the leaves and twisting it off
from the stem to pop it into your mouth where it exploded, melted,
and pulled together all the flavors of summer into one, sweet,
succulent bite with the juice dribbling a bit at the corner of your
mouth. Technically they were both strawberries. The experience sure
wasn’t the same.

When I was with Declan,
my heart started beating out of my chest. I could barely remember my
name. I knew, when we were together, when I was in his arms and could
smell him and feel and touch and his lips were on me, he could ask me
to do anything. Without a moment’s hesitation, I’d say yes. He
touched me like he was worshipping me, memorizing every curve.

And who knew it could
feel so good to be bitten? It wasn’t like he bit me hard, he never
drew blood or anything, but every now and then he’d give me a light
nibble on my lip or my earlobe. I blushed at the memories, my body
responding instantly. Sitting pretty on the porch swing, I felt a
throb between my legs and my breasts felt heavy, restrained in their
bra, with two hard, ripe pebbles at their centers pressing against
the cotton of my dress.

Now that I knew, how
could I manage to stay away from him? I already felt like I couldn’t
breathe during the day, like I literally held my breath until
midnight. Sometimes I’d see him around the ranch and it physically
hurt not to be able to run to him, to throw my arms around him and
bury myself in his chest.

He was supposed to
leave soon. It was the end of August and he had plans to head out in
a couple of weeks. But that couldn’t happen. Most days I simply
pushed the thought of him leaving out of my head, telling myself it
couldn’t actually come to pass. I knew I couldn’t live without
him. He’d become like air to me. The way he held me all night long,
breathing me in like he couldn’t get enough of me, like I was his
oxygen support, I had to guess he felt something like the same way.
He’d want to keep seeing me, wouldn’t he? He couldn’t see this
just ending, abrupt, never seeing me again just because his season as
a ranch hand happened to be over?

I knew he’d be going
to work at another ranch a couple of hours away. I’d drive those
two hours in 90 minutes flat, watch me do it. We could keep seeing
each other, keep spending time together. And then, maybe, who knew
what could happen next?

I wasn’t dumb, I knew
my father wouldn’t like Declan and me together. I knew it made
sense while Declan worked here to only see each other in cover of
darkness, a deep secret, hidden away. I liked the world we’d
created in the barn, warm together in the hay, resting my head on his
chest so I could hear his heart beat. But it was also true that we
were hiding out.

Because Daddy, if he
found out about us, he might more than not like it. He might flip the
hell out. Declan was right, my father was a bit overprotective. Or,
OK, crazy overprotective. I was his only child, his princess, the
only family he had. He’d raised me all on his own and he’d made
it his life’s mission to make sure everything worked out perfect
for me. In his mind, that meant getting me safely tucked into a
picture frame with exactly the right kind of stand-up guy from
exactly the right kind of respectable family. He’d warned me off of
no-good, tattooed, low-life guys my whole life and that I understood.
Where we parted ways was I loved life on the ranch, but he was dead
set on wanting more than that for me. He still talked about me going
off to college, like we could ever afford that. He told me he didn’t
want me worrying over the weather and government policies affecting
prices, he didn’t want me toughing it out under the sun, calluses
on my fingers and sweat on my brow. He wanted me in the lap of
luxury.

But Daddy would come
around. It might take him a little while to adjust, to move off of
that college-kid mayor’s son track he liked so much. Bruce was OK,
but Declan. Every other man paled in comparison. My father was
stubborn, but he loved me more than anything and, if I had to say so
myself, I had him wrapped around my little finger. What I wanted I
generally got. And I wanted Declan.

I believed in him. I
knew he didn’t have a penny to his name, but I didn’t care about
that. He was smart, tough and hard-working. He was full of ideas and
somehow I knew he’d make good on them. I wanted to be part of it
all, take on life together as an adventure.

I loved him with all my
heart. I hadn’t told him, of course I hadn’t. I didn’t want to
scare the man like that. I’d only admitted it to myself that day
the rains came when Declan had called me over underneath the weeping
willow tree and finally taken me into his arms and kissed me like his
life depended upon it. That moment with him, the feelings had flooded
through me: bliss, safety, home. Love. Not to mention the deep fires
he stoked within me, the urges, the needs he’d uncovered in me and
turned on full-blast. I couldn’t get enough of him and knew somehow
that I never would. And I knew in my heart this wasn’t a teenage
infatuation, this was a deep love that would only ripen and mature
over time.

If only he felt the
same way. When we were together in the darkness, I knew he did. I
felt it deep in my bones. Our hearts beat together as one. But then
daylight would come and with it, doubts. Maybe he thought I was
boring? I had no experience, that must be clear to him, and he was
used to girls who knew how to please a man. I probably seemed like a
grade-school idiot to him. He might lose interest. Maybe he even
looked forward to leaving the ranch?

But at night I didn’t
worry. I knew, in his arms, it was exactly where we both wanted to
be. I felt his craving and had no doubt that he needed me as much as
I needed him.

Down past the barn I
saw a tall, lean form. In a fraction of a second I knew it was
Declan. The slope of his shoulders, his stride, everything about him
had been burned into my DNA. I thrilled to his touch, his nearness,
everything in me zipping to life at the sight of him.

We usually met at
midnight, but I couldn’t help myself once I’d seen him. I’d
only have a couple more weeks, a handful of days and nights when I’d
be able to see and touch and taste. Who knew what would happen after
then? It made me reckless.

I flew down to him, not
even wearing shoes on my feet.

“Declan,” I called
out, breathless. He looked up, his face twisted in pain. “What’s
wrong?” I rushed to his side.

“It’s nothing.”
He tried to brush me off, but winced again as he reached his hand
around to his back.

“Let me see.”
Bringing my hand to his arm, I turned his back to face me. Blood
smeared his t-shirt right at the center of his upper back. “What
happened?” I gasped.

“It’s nothing,”
he tried again, though now I could see it wasn’t nothing. “A
stupid thorn. I’d pull it out but I can’t reach it.” He brought
his hand around and up his back again, but his fingers landed a few
inches short of where they needed to get.

“Let me help you,”
I insisted.

“It’s fine.”

“Um-hum.” I was
used to big, tough men who didn’t know when they needed help. My
father had made that mold. I took Declan’s hand in mine. “Let’s
get this thorn out and clean you up.” I remembered he had a First
Aid kit in his medicine cabinet.

He gave a frustrated
grunt and followed me, admitting defeat.

Inside his cabin, I
headed straight for the bathroom. He sat outside of it on his bed and
stripped off his bloody t-shirt. He groaned as he did it, probably
pushing that thorn deeper inside of him as he twisted to get it off.

“I could have helped
you with that,” I chided. Men. Sometimes they behaved like big,
overgrown bears. I half expected him to take a swipe at me with his
paw.

Now that I got a closer
look at his back, I could tell it wasn’t a serious injury. He just
needed someone to get the thorn out.

“Here goes.” I held
my breath. The thorn was so big I didn’t need tweezers. I grasped
it between my thumb and index finger, getting a good grip. He sat
still as I gave it a fast pull. It came right out, clean and neat.

I exhaled. “You’ll
be fine.”

“I knew that,” he
replied like a petulant child.

I brought an
alcohol-soaked gauze pad to the wound at the center of his back. He
hissed and I knew it stung. “I suppose you could have taken care of
all this yourself?”

He exhaled, relaxing
under my ministrations. “Thank you,” he finally managed.

“There, was that so
hard?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I took my time now,
using a fresh gauze pad to make sure the whole area looked good. And
so I could spend another few minutes touching him. His back looked so
strong and broad, rippling with muscles. In the afternoon light I
noted a few scars I hadn’t seen before. I traced them lightly with
my fingers and asked, “How did you get these?”