Unleashed: Volume 2 (Unleashed #2) (7 page)

I stepped out of the
room. What was going on? Was I having some sort of problem with my
conscience? Was that guilt rising up inside of me? I didn’t do
that.

That was the fun of
being the guy in the black hat in the classic Western. You didn’t
worry about all that right and wrong crap. You grabbed what you
wanted, drank booze, screwed lots of women, piled up whatever money
you could get your hands on and didn’t worry about the rest of it.
You knew it didn’t matter because either way it was all going to
end the same. You were going to die bleeding out in a gutter
somewhere one day. The only person crying over you would be whatever
girl you happened to currently be paying for her services. She’d
miss the money.

That’s all this was
with Kara, anyway. I shook off the rest of it. I hadn’t come that
far in life being a worrier. I went after what I wanted and I got it,
simple as that. Right now I wanted Kara Brooks. I wanted her so bad
my teeth hurt. So, I was going to have her, every way I could come up
with and then some. For one week.

Because I didn’t do
more than that. More simply wasn’t an option. If she was a
more-than-a-week type of girl, that was her problem. She knew enough
about me to know I wasn’t playing around. I didn’t actually have
a ring under the pillow, about to shout “surprise!” and release
the doves with a marriage proposal. She wasn’t 18 anymore, the
child circled by the wolf. She was 24, a full-grown woman, walking
into this with her eyes open.

But the question
remained—if I could have any woman I wanted, why would I mess with
the one who could mess with me? Kara was the one woman who’d ever
gotten under my skin. And she’d been a goddamned virgin. I should
avoid her like the fucking plague.

I took a shower, hot
water pounding over my strained muscles. Clean and dry, I dressed in
fresh laundered sweatpants and a crisp, white t-shirt. And I got my
head screwed on right.

This was a transaction,
nothing more. Kara was just like the rest of them. She was into me
for the money, like every other girl. I was a cold, calculating
bastard and I knew how the world worked. Kara needed something and I
had it. I wanted something that she had. That’s how bargains went
down.

So what that Kara made
it feel different? It didn’t matter that she still smelled of
honeysuckle and strawberries and her smile lit me up. Six years later
she made me feel like a 21-year-old kid again, tough on the outside,
but yearning and hopeful within. I hated that shit. It was a waste of
time and it was weak. And it was 100% on me if I fell for that roses
and rainbows shit.

I needed to keep this
clean. Simple. Clear-cut. I was taking a girl with me on a business
trip to New York. We were going to have a week of hot, nasty BDSM
sex. I’d get the rush of training a neophyte, a woman with a body
for sin and the mind of an innocent, bringing out the sub within her
responding to my dom. And then I’d say goodbye.

My bedroom door stood
open. I walked back in.

Kara still reclined
against a mountain of pillows, her hair framing her face in a mess of
golden wisps and tendrils. Her bare shoulders peeked out at the top
of the covers, hinting at the creamy paradise below.

With a yawn, she turned
to me, her eyes fluttering open. “Morning.” She gave me a slow
grin, looking as content as a cat in a patch of sun.

“If you can still
call it that,” I had to tease.

Her eyes widened. “What
time is it?”

“Don’t worry about
it, there’s no reason to be up early.”

“But you’re up and
I never sleep in,” she protested, still sleepy. “Except for
yesterday.” I loved the flush that stole across her face. I
wondered if she was thinking about how well she slept after the
orgasms I’d given her. I grinned with pride.

Back in the living room
I called room service and ordered most of the menu. I didn’t know
what she liked and I was starving. Then I made some coffee. Carrying
two mugs into the bedroom, I told myself it wasn’t strange that I
still remembered how she took her coffee six years later.

“Thanks.” She gave
me a shy and grateful smile, taking a sip.

Breakfast arrived. That
had to be one of the best perks of being the owner, you never had to
wait for a thing. I took the large tray myself and carried it back
into the bedroom. No pimply teenage delivery boy got to check out
Kara. She was mine, all mine.

“Ooh!” She sat up a
bit, the down comforter still up and keeping her maddeningly modest,
covering far too much. I’d have to do something about that. She
surveyed her options: waffles, eggs, bacon, sausages, scones and
fresh fruit. I set it all down on a low table by the window.

“That looks amazing.”

“What do you want?”

“All of it.”

“Atta girl.” I took
a plate and fixed her a sampler.

She took it from me,
hesitantly. “Are you sure I should eat on the bed? What if I stain
the comforter?” She gestured at the expanse of pure, snow-white
fluff.

I shrugged. “Not a
problem. I don’t clean it.”

She took that in,
clearly not accustomed to a life in which others cleaned things for
you. I’d gotten used to that pretty quick. I made myself a plate
and sat on the side of the bed as we ate. She obviously liked bacon.
I smiled at her and she giggled a bit, acknowledging how she was
relishing her food.

“I always say, never
trust a person who doesn’t like bacon.” She shrugged.

“So true,” I
agreed.

Finally placing her
plate to the side after doing some excellent work, she took her
coffee mug into her hands and settled back onto the pillows. She
looked comfortable. Too comfortable.

“We have some things
to discuss,” I told her.

She tensed, instantly
looking nervous.

“The terms of our
agreement.” Wide-eyed, she waited. “We fly to New York tomorrow.
There’s a gala at the Met I’ll take you to Saturday night. Then
Sunday, we’ll fly home and I’ll pay off all of your debts.”

Leaning forward, I
looked into her eyes. “Do you understand what I mean when I say
you’ll serve me for the week?”

She shivered slightly,
nibbling on her lower lip. I should have done more of this last
night. It wasn’t like me to overlook the fine points of a contract.
She got me too fired up and I didn’t like that. I’d regain
control, starting now.

“This week, I give
the orders,” I explained. “You follow them. No questions asked.
You’ll serve me in every way.”

She sat up straighter
in the bed. That comforter still over-performed.

“You’re going to be
my sub, Kara. Do you understand what that means? I’ll be your
master, controlling you, teaching you. That means you’ll need to
trust me completely.”

“Declan, I…” she
hesitated.

“That means no more
secrets. You should have told me you were a virgin.”

“I’m sorry,” she
began, looking down and starting to nibble nervously on her thumb. “I
should have but—”

“It’s all right,”
I waved off her apologies. What mattered was the future. “This week
you need to open up completely to me. You’ll need my guidance. You
have to reveal everything to me. That’s how this works.”

“I don’t know if…”
She hesitated, biting her plump lip, twirling a strand of hair around
her finger. “I’m not sure that I can… do everything you ask.”

“Why not?” I
remained level and cool, letting her speak.

“Because…” She
tilted her hands and eyes upwards. “I don’t even know what sort
of stuff you’re into. Are you going to make me sign a contract or
something?”

I smiled. “Has
someone been reading
50 Shades
of Gray
?”

She blushed,
embarrassed. “Maybe.”

Giving her a dead
serious look, I asked, “Would you like to see my Room of Pain?”
She froze. I couldn’t help but slip into a grin.

“You’re joking,
right?” She smiled but still sounded hesitant.

“Yes, I’m joking. I
mean, I have an Iron Maiden in the closet, but that’s only if
you’re bad.” I couldn’t let this go yet. She was too fun to
tease.

“What’s an Iron
Maiden?”

“Forget about it.
Kara, I’m not into inflicting pain.”

She looked at me,
dubious. I was the one who tortured her nipples and gave her a stern
spanking last night, after all. My cock stirred at the memory.

“Not much pain,” I
modified my response, giving her a wicked smile.

“I just want to know
what you’re into.” She sounded nervous, but also curious and
maybe a little eager. I liked that.

“Let me show you.”
I brought a hand to her arm and began to stroke her forearm,
caressing the sensitive, smooth skin on the inside.

“But what—?”

“I know what I like.
I have a good idea what you’ll like.”

“But I just—?”

“You don’t get to
ask,” I instructed her. “I’m in control.”

She looked at me, eyes
wider, lips parted.

“If at any point you
want to stop,” I continued. “You can. Contract null and void.”

“On both sides,”
she added. Thinking about the money.

I nodded. I fought the
urge to tell her that of course I’d pay off everything anyway. I’d
do that for her right now, even if she picked up and walked right out
the door. The money wasn’t an issue. But I wanted the week and I
knew she wouldn’t give it to me without the right incentive. She’d
fly away like a frightened bird. She needed a reason to accept this.
Her family’s ranch, that seemed like a good one. Even though deep
down I knew she’d said yes because she wanted it. She couldn’t
admit it to herself yet, though. I’d make sure she screamed it
before the week was out.

Nervous, she picked up
a strawberry and began to nibble it absentmindedly. A ripe, full one.
She toyed with it in her mouth. I watched, transfixed, her lips, her
tongue, her teeth. I leaned closer and she froze, realizing what she
was doing and the reaction it was provoking. Our eyes met and I could
see it, the switch flip on in her as well. So hot, so quick between
us. Always there, a live current of electricity.

She paused. Then,
instead of putting the strawberry down, she made it more deliberate.
Slowly, she brought her tongue out to flick the tip of the
strawberry, taste it, then lick it. Eyes on me, she drew the
strawberry into her mouth, sucking on it as she slowly pulled it out.
I watched as her perfect lips formed an O around that ripe, round
berry, saw her pout and lick, slow and deliberate.

I could think of
nothing but her doing that to my cock. It sprang to urgent attention,
pressing against the cotton of my sweatpants. The elastic waist hung
low on this pair and I saw her eyes flick over to it, saw the fingers
on her free hand knead the comforter. I could almost feel her reach
over, pull my waistband down, and bring her lush, wet mouth down over
my hard, straining shaft.

“Push the covers
down,” I ordered. “Let me see your tits.” Her eyes widened just
how I liked. I could read surprise in them mixed with a flood of
desire.

Slowly, infuriatingly
slowly, she put the strawberry down on the plate and then sat back on
the bed, taller and straighter now. The creamy blanket still covered
most of her breasts. Nervous, she brought both hands to the bedding
and paused for a moment. Then she pushed it down around her waist,
removing her protection. Bared to the morning light, her breasts were
two perfect mounds, almost too large for her frame yet all the more
sexy because of it. Girls paid for breasts like hers, but there was
nothing like the real thing. There was nothing like Kara.

“Lie down.” She
worked her way down to recline on the bed. I walked over to the
closet and pulled out a pair of restraints. Black silk, they fit
tight on the wrists while still feeling soft and slippery against the
skin. They were a good starter pair.

“Bring your hands up
above your head.” Her eyes widened as she watched me walk back to
the bed, black silk trailing from my hands.

“What—?”

“You asked what I
liked. Now I’m going to show you. No more questions, Kara. Obey.”
My voice bit out, harsh. She needed to learn the rules of the
arrangement. I needed to see if she’d like them as much as I
thought she would. She paused again, hesitant, glancing at the
handcuffs, then down at her naked breasts. That’s right, I wanted
her to think it through. Be fully aware of her vulnerability. Then
give it to me. I said nothing, letting her work it out, my cock
straining against my pants. I loved seeing her struggle.

Then submit. She
brought her wrists up above her head. She looked up at me, biting her
lip, but trusting. The sight of her lying there, choosing to give
herself to me, stoked my fires like nothing else.

I grasped her wrists
and fastened them securely but lightly to the bedpost. Her arms were
pulled above her, but not uncomfortably. I wanted her to feel
fastened but not in pain.

“See, that doesn’t
hurt.” I stroked my fingers down her arms, along her side. Her
ribcage rose and fell, her breathing starting to come in pants. Her
nipples stood out, dark pink and pebbled. She liked it.

“I like seeing you
like this.” I kept my voice cool, in control. “I can do what I
want with you.”

“I’m nervous.”
She looked up at me, her arms drawn above her head, arching into my
touch.

“Good. It heightens
your sensations. Close your eyes.”

She looked at me,
hesitant. Then closed them. I could keep her like this, let her
choose to keep them closed. There would be something satisfying about
it, her constant choice to do my bidding. Sometime I’d have her do
that. This morning, though, I was going to use a blindfold. She’d
asked me what I liked.

I selected one from my
closet. She fidgeted on the bed, wondering what I was up to, what I
was going to do next.