Unleashed: Declan & Kara (Beg For It 1) - Page 14

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I closed my eyes and shivered. Then I pulled away and closed my legs.

“What are you talking about?” I shook with a mixture of lust and shock.

He leaned back as well. “I believe I’ve made it clear, Kara. I’ve put a proposal on the table for your consideration.”

“That’s… you’re disgusting!” I crossed my arms across my chest, my traitorous body still aching for his touch.

He watched me, saying nothing.

“How could you?” I sputtered, anger now rising up and flooding over me. “You’re so arrogant! I’m so insulted.”

“Is that all you are?” he asked with a dangerous, knowing look. Damn my body for throbbing in response.

I pushed my chair away from the table, hissing, “This is ridiculous! You’ll give me money for sex? I’m not a whore!”

“I never said you were. Just like I never said I was a good guy, Kara.”

“Yeah, well, let me clear that up if there’s still any question. You’re not a good guy. You’ll give me money to be your…” My voice dropped to a furious whisper, “sex slave? Who do you think I am? I’m a strong, independent woman! I’m running a ranch!”

“Into the ground.”

“You asshole!” I stood up. “Yes, I need money, but I’m not that desperate. I’m done here.” I threw my napkin on the table.

Furious, flushed, I tugged my dress down. It had ridden up quite a bit while I’d been sitting, offering myself to Declan under the table, practically letting him finger-fuck me in the middle of a crowded restaurant.

“Would you like to hear about tonight’s specials?” A chipper, cruise-director of a voice cut through the moment like a knife.

“No!” we both barked in response. The waiter turned tail.

I had to get out of there. Where was the bathroom? I quickly scanned the room and spotted a promising archway. First I’d duck in and pull myself together. Then I’d burn what rubber Bessie had left on her wheels and get the hell out of town.

I turned down a hallway. A door in front of me was labeled “Employees Only.” Had I gone in the right direction?

Then a strong hand came up behind me, gripped my arm and pulled me through that door and into a dark room.

I barely got out the start of a protest when hot, hungry lips found my own. Declan. In the darkness, I knew him by scent, the musky heat that burned into my memory and defined all that was man. He crushed me to his body, pressing me up against the wall, kissing me with fierce, demanding need. A small part of my brain tried to fight. It started up with a weak protest that almost rose out into words, but then he bit down lightly on my lower lip.

“Kara,” he groaned, trailing a fevered tongue along my outstretched neck. A low moan escaped my throat. His hands expertly found my own, bringing my wrists up over my head against the wall and securing them in his large, rough grip. Both of my slender wrists fit easily under his hand. Panting, I struggled against him, torn between trying to resist and trying to get closer.

With his free hand he grabbed the straps of my dress and bra and pulled them down, exposing the top, creamy mound of my breast.

“I need,” he panted, groping the wall. “I need to see you.” When he found the light switch and flipped it on, his gaze feasted on me.

We were in a stockroom. My arms stretched up above my head, he pinned me against the wall, his huge body pressing against my own. He brought his free hand to my breast, cupping, caressing, and then his mouth, licking hot flames across my flesh. My body molten with lust, I knew this was wrong. I should be protesting, even yelling for him to stop. But the cry from my parted lips didn’t tell him that. It urged him on, begging for more. I couldn’t think, all I could do was feel as he lapped and sucked. My nipples pebbled hard, straining for his attention against the lace of my bra.

“Please,” I heard myself moaning, not even knowing what I was saying. “Please, Declan.” He clutched my ass and rocked his hips against me. I could feel every inch of his rock-solid length. Then, with just his thumb, he lightly grazed my nipple. Slowly, so slowly he circled it and I could feel the pattern of the lace, rough against my aroused skin. I needed that lace gone. I had to feel his skin on my skin. I whimpered and struggled, trying to move closer.

He made a growl of satisfaction deep in his throat. “Do you need this, Kara?” he asked, teasing and taunting me as he continued to slowly, deliberately caress my aching peak. I moaned and arched my back, showing him yes but too shy to say it.

“Tell me, Kara. Admit it.” He continued so slowly, lightly circling and teasing my nipple. I needed more, so much more. I whimpered. “I want to hear you tell me you need this.”

I panted, quiet but he heard it. “I need it.”

With sudden ferocity, he ripped the lace of my bra away and took my nipple full into his mouth. He sucked hard, then bit down on my swollen tip. I gasped, at once filled with shocked pain and ripples of intense pleasure. I could hear myself cry out as I twisted toward him, needing more. Now I struggled against his grip because I needed my hands free to grab him, clawing and clutching him to me.

With a growl, Declan flipped me around. “Put your hands against the wall,” he commanded. “Keep them there. I want to look at you.”

I whimpered and obeyed him on instinct, not knowing what I was doing or why it made me even more wet to do it. His large, rough hands grasped my hips and pulled me out so I was standing away from the wall, bent over.

“Now spread your legs for me.”

I moaned and did as I was told, moving my feet in my high heels over and apart to give him full access. Wanting more contact, I arched up toward him, rubbing my ass against the huge, thick cock in his pants.

He growled at me and I felt a short, sharp spank against my rear. I cried out, a burst of surprise rippling through me.

“Stay still,” he commanded.

I whimpered, so inflamed and agitated, but did as I was told, holding still as best I could. He still hadn’t touched my pussy, still hadn’t found out how wet I was. At this point, I wondered if I was dripping down my leg.

My dress still covered me, barely, and I had one last flash of embarrassment. We shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be here with him, wanting him so much. He’d just propositioned me like I was a hooker. But when I opened my mouth all that came out was a deep moan of need.

“Yes.” He stroked my ass through the fabric of my dress, caressing my curves. “That’s right,” he coaxed another moan out of me. “You need this.” His hands kept my rear right where he wanted it, upturned and displayed above my parted thighs. He cupped his fingers over my cheeks and traced the hem of my dress, teasing me, reminding me how close he was to seeing everything. I knew I should move away. It was my last chance, my last opportunity to deny him, to deny my own needs.

“Are you nervous about showing me?” I quivered at the sound of his voice, so low, rough and dangerous. “Showing how wet you are for me?” He inched up my skirt, so slowly. I squirmed, embarrassed but hot and desperate under his touch. “Are you worried about me finding out how much you want me?” Another inch. His thumbs traced my ass crack, pressing against the fabric. “Because once I’ve seen you swollen and wet, dripping for me, you’ll never be able to pretend again. I’ll always know how much you want my cock rutting deep inside you, fucking you hard.”

I gasped as he pulled what remained of my dress up to my waist, leaving my buttocks completely exposed in the bright glare of the stockroom light. I squirmed again, but his masterful hands wouldn’t let me get away. He held me firm and steady and arched up for him to see everything.

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 beas

t 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.

Tags: Callie Harper Beg For It Erotic
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