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Book: Unleashed: Declan & Kara (Unleashed #1-4; Beg for It #1) by Callie Harper
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Authors: Callie Harper
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I
name the terms. My terms would be that she submit to me and serve me
for one week. It would be an exchange, a business transaction. I’d
have seven days to do everything I’d always wanted and make her beg
for it.
Because deep down I
knew Kara wanted it. She needed to serve me, yearned for it, even if
she wasn’t yet aware of her own base desires. She needed me to
stoke them, teach her the nature of her own lust. She was a true
submissive, I could tell, and she needed her dom to bring it out.
I wanted to teach her
how much she needed it. I wasn’t going to force her. I didn’t get
off on coercion. If a woman wasn’t into it, it wasn’t hot. What
got me hot was the thought of making Kara crave the discipline she
knew she should fight. The thought of her choosing my power, asking
for it, helpless without it. When she knew she should pull her
panties up and march right out of the room, I wanted her to slide
them down, baring her flesh and then see her arch her ass up,
quivering, desperately seeking the palm of my hand. I needed to hear
her beg to serve me.
My thick cock grew
larger in my hand and I pumped its rigid length, drawing close. I
could picture Kara in the next room, naked, wrists bound to the
headboard of my bed. I could hear her voice begging me, please
Declan, pleading with me to fuck her. My breathing grew ragged, my
cock straining for release as I imagined taking my time with her,
mercilessly making her come again and again. I could hear her calling
out my name, raw, pleading for more until I finally plunged hard into
her tight, wet, needy pussy.
I came hard, shooting
out a thick load as I groaned. I rested my palm and forehead against
the shower wall. Panting. Still hard. Ready to take control.
CHAPTER 5
Kara
Then
If you’ve never been
to Montana, you can’t possibly imagine what you’re missing.
Everything’s so crystal clear, the blue of the sky, the white of
the puffy clouds, the outline of the mountains in the distance.
Picture all that, then add a big, drop-dead gorgeous man on horseback
in the middle of it. Long legs in worn jeans, faded cotton shirt
clinging to his broad shoulders, a cowboy hat dipped down low.
Let me also say a few
words about cowboy hats. There are a lot of different kinds and,
honestly, men who haven’t worked on a ranch probably shouldn’t
even try to wear one. The risk of looking like a tool was too great.
On a scale from 1 to 10, a cowboy hat on a guy was either going to be
a zero or an 11. On Declan, he went right to 11. The brim pulled
down, it highlighted the strength of his jaw, the hard angle of his
chin. He let it shade his eyes and I could never tell what he was
thinking, or if he was even looking at me. It drove me crazy.
Today, I decided to
bring him lemonade. Technically, I wouldn’t bring out an ice-cold
pitcher to just Declan. It would be for him plus the other couple of
guys working on our ranch. But it was all for Declan.
A twinge of guilt
gnawed at me. I did have a boyfriend. But school was almost out and I
didn’t see us dating much longer than that. As the quarterback and
the cheerleader, pieces of the larger puzzle of our high school
scene, we worked. But as Bruce and Kara? Not so much. We never talked
about what would happen when he left for college in a couple months.
We both knew it would end, and neither one of us would be torn up
about it.
Walking toward the
barn, pitcher of lemonade in my hands, I wondered if I’d chosen the
right outfit. First I’d tried on jean shorts with a cropped tee and
wedge sandals. With some lip gloss and my hair in a high ponytail, I
thought I had it going on. Once I hit the hallway, though, I lost my
nerve. How could I seriously strut out across the yard in the middle
of the day in 3-inch heels? Even if my father didn’t see me, Bill,
our foreman, probably would. He’d known me since I was about six
years old and he’d be sure to shake his head, maybe even tsk tsk.
I’d feel like an idiot, probably
name the terms. My terms would be that she submit to me and serve me
for one week. It would be an exchange, a business transaction. I’d
have seven days to do everything I’d always wanted and make her beg
for it.
Because deep down I
knew Kara wanted it. She needed to serve me, yearned for it, even if
she wasn’t yet aware of her own base desires. She needed me to
stoke them, teach her the nature of her own lust. She was a true
submissive, I could tell, and she needed her dom to bring it out.
I wanted to teach her
how much she needed it. I wasn’t going to force her. I didn’t get
off on coercion. If a woman wasn’t into it, it wasn’t hot. What
got me hot was the thought of making Kara crave the discipline she
knew she should fight. The thought of her choosing my power, asking
for it, helpless without it. When she knew she should pull her
panties up and march right out of the room, I wanted her to slide
them down, baring her flesh and then see her arch her ass up,
quivering, desperately seeking the palm of my hand. I needed to hear
her beg to serve me.
My thick cock grew
larger in my hand and I pumped its rigid length, drawing close. I
could picture Kara in the next room, naked, wrists bound to the
headboard of my bed. I could hear her voice begging me, please
Declan, pleading with me to fuck her. My breathing grew ragged, my
cock straining for release as I imagined taking my time with her,
mercilessly making her come again and again. I could hear her calling
out my name, raw, pleading for more until I finally plunged hard into
her tight, wet, needy pussy.
I came hard, shooting
out a thick load as I groaned. I rested my palm and forehead against
the shower wall. Panting. Still hard. Ready to take control.
CHAPTER 5
Kara
Then
If you’ve never been
to Montana, you can’t possibly imagine what you’re missing.
Everything’s so crystal clear, the blue of the sky, the white of
the puffy clouds, the outline of the mountains in the distance.
Picture all that, then add a big, drop-dead gorgeous man on horseback
in the middle of it. Long legs in worn jeans, faded cotton shirt
clinging to his broad shoulders, a cowboy hat dipped down low.
Let me also say a few
words about cowboy hats. There are a lot of different kinds and,
honestly, men who haven’t worked on a ranch probably shouldn’t
even try to wear one. The risk of looking like a tool was too great.
On a scale from 1 to 10, a cowboy hat on a guy was either going to be
a zero or an 11. On Declan, he went right to 11. The brim pulled
down, it highlighted the strength of his jaw, the hard angle of his
chin. He let it shade his eyes and I could never tell what he was
thinking, or if he was even looking at me. It drove me crazy.
Today, I decided to
bring him lemonade. Technically, I wouldn’t bring out an ice-cold
pitcher to just Declan. It would be for him plus the other couple of
guys working on our ranch. But it was all for Declan.
A twinge of guilt
gnawed at me. I did have a boyfriend. But school was almost out and I
didn’t see us dating much longer than that. As the quarterback and
the cheerleader, pieces of the larger puzzle of our high school
scene, we worked. But as Bruce and Kara? Not so much. We never talked
about what would happen when he left for college in a couple months.
We both knew it would end, and neither one of us would be torn up
about it.
Walking toward the
barn, pitcher of lemonade in my hands, I wondered if I’d chosen the
right outfit. First I’d tried on jean shorts with a cropped tee and
wedge sandals. With some lip gloss and my hair in a high ponytail, I
thought I had it going on. Once I hit the hallway, though, I lost my
nerve. How could I seriously strut out across the yard in the middle
of the day in 3-inch heels? Even if my father didn’t see me, Bill,
our foreman, probably would. He’d known me since I was about six
years old and he’d be sure to shake his head, maybe even tsk tsk.
I’d feel like an idiot, probably
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