Unleashed: Declan & Kara (Beg For It 1) - Page 49

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Without another word, I brought my hot tongue to her pussy, giving her a long, slow lick. Spreading her folds, I began stroking her with my tongue, licking and sucking, teasing her swollen nub. When she began bucking against my face, I went further, plunging my tongue up inside her while bringing a finger to her clit, circling, stroking while my tongue fucked her.

Her breathing grew ragged. Her moans began to turn into a scream of pleasure. Just as I could feel her begin to tense up for release, I stopped. I drew back a few inches. Blowing across her wetness, the cool sensation made her twist and moan.

“No coming yet, Kara,” I warned her, wickedly. She whimpered in protest. “I had to wait a long time to get what I wanted. You used to get me so hard. Even after you started meeting me down at the barn. I wanted you, but I couldn’t have you. Not the way I wanted.”

“Declan!” she moaned, my words seeming to bring her even closer to climax.

“I used to jerk off, picturing you like this.” Bent over, her legs splayed, she displayed her bare pussy, slick and needy for me.

“Declan,” she panted, “I need—”

“Turn around and stand up.” I issued the command in a harsher, darker tone. Her knees were weak and wobbly with desire, but she complied. She used the shelving to help her to rise up. She turned and stood before me, her skin flushed deep pink with arousal, her lips parted, her hair still up in a ponytail but not neat any longer as several strands escaped in tendrils around her face. Her lips parted slightly, she looked at me with fierce longing.

I almost took her mouth with my own, wrapping my arms around her in a crushing embrace. But not yet. No rewards yet.

Her nipples stood out, pushing against the lace boarder on her bra. I stepped closer, bending down slightly as if to inspect them. Kara whimpered and her breathing ratcheted up once again. Under my scrutiny, my hot breath across her skin, her nipples peaked even more. I traced a finger across the lace, skimming the tips. She tilted her head back, hands fisted by her sides, her eyes closed.

I flicked my tongue across her erect nipples, still wrapped under the lace. Then I brought a finger along the edge. Slowly, so slowly, I pushed it away. The bra down below her mounds, her nipples popped out, explicit and begging for attention.

“Yes!” she mewled. “Please, oh, yes!”

But she was being naughty. She was enjoying herself instead of remembering her purpose. She was there to service me, to give me pleasure. Grabbing her swiftly around the waist, I sat down on the edge of my desk and hauled her over. I pulled her across my lap, backside up ripe and ready.

“You are here to serve me.” I brought my hand down with a hard smack. She gasped and tensed. Leaving my hand on her ass, I caressed her curves with my fingers, dipping down once more to her wet heat. The pain followed by the pleasure drove her wild. She groaned, twisting in my lap, desperate to press against the hardness of my cock. I brought my hand down on her again and again, assaulting her soft, pink cheeks with harsh smacks. Then I angled my large hand so my fingers landed on her pussy. I started following each stinging whack with a long, demanding stroke.

“Declan!” she screamed, so close, right on the edge. I brought my hand down and quickly shifted her, turned her so she was sitting up in my lap. One hand fisted in her hair to tilt her head back, I brought the other hand to her ripe breast. I took the aching nipple between my fingers and gave it a twist. She screamed again, about to come, digging her ass into the rigid budge of my cock.

“Don’t come,” I growled down close into her ear, rolling her nipple between my fingers, lightening the pressure into a caress, then clamping down again. Swiftly, I slid a hand down again to her molten core, stroking her there. Reading her every reaction, I worked the waves and near crests of her desire. I teased and tormented her ripe, aching nipples. I slid one, then two fingers into her slick folds, plunging in deep, then withdrawing, then plunging in again.

Just as I could feel her starting to disobey me, starting to let her quivering and moaning mount into shudders of ecstatic release, I withdrew my hands. I placed her to the side and abruptly stood up. She leaned against the desk for support, her eyes glazed with lust. I nearly forgot my game looking down at her like that, so very much mine, belonging only to me.

I took a few steps back.

“Stay there,” I ordered, then strode out of the room and over to the bar to fix myself a new drink. I needed to put some distance between us. This was about getting her fired up, but I needed to stay cool. The ice in my drink had melted. I’d been playing with her for a long time.

She liked this game, this play of power. I was giving her a mere glimpse at the BDSM world, a taste of how it felt to be a sub serving her dom. I’d figured she’d like it, but I hadn’t been prepared for how much. Or the rush I felt with it, the thrill she gave me as she responded so rapidly and intensely to my commands and punishments. I needed to keep my shit together.

A minute later, cold glass of bourbon in hand, I re-entered my office. She stood at my desk where I’d left her, the palms of her hands pressed to the surface at either side as if propping herself up. It also had the effect of thrusting her shoulders back, her tits out, her nipples hard, aching and raw with need.

I approached her. With one hand, I stroked her skin, appreciating the smoothness of her tapered waist, the swell of her hips. She panted as I caressed her. That was how I wanted her all week. I wanted the slightest touch from me to coax a dramatic response, a spark of my physical dominance igniting her flame within.

I set my drink down on the desk. With one finger, I lightly traced the outline of her slippery sex. I crooked the other finger under her chin, making her look up at me with those lustrous, pleading eyes. Then I slipped my other finger down into her juicy folds. She gasped.

“So wet,” I murmured in appreciation. “Are you wet for me?”

“Yes,” she moaned.

“Say it.”

“I’m wet for you, Declan. You make me so wet.” Wanton, her lust made her uninhibited. She gave me exactly what I wanted.

But she needed more punishment. “Pick up the duster,” I commanded, pointing an accusing finger at it. She’d dropped it when I’d pulled her across my lap to spank her. Shaking slightly, she bent down and retrieved it, her swollen nipples now fully exposed, her shaved pussy glistening and slick between her legs.

“Over here.” I stood behind my desk, making her walk around to the other side of the mahogany expanse. Pointing to the immaculate surface, I ordered, “Dust it.”

Heels apart, ass up, she bent over and assumed the position, eager and desperate. With her back straight down over the desk, her exposed breasts splayed out above the smooth surface. I looked at her drenched slit and could feel the satisfaction of taking her. I knew she’d come instantly, then again and again as I fucked her hard and deep and relentless.

But for now, I went back to tracing her cheeks. “Keep dusting,” I reminded her. She dutifully moved the feathers over the surface.

“Remember how I used to work for you?” I asked in a deep, husky voice. “I was a lowly ranch hand. You were up in the house on the hill.” She said nothing, breathless, as if hanging on my every word. My fingers swept and swirled, drawing her under my spell.

“Now you work for me.” I plu

nged a finger deep into her wet heat, pressing my other hand on her back to force her sensitive nipples and breasts onto the cool, gleaming wooden surface of the desk.

“Now, you do what I say. I’m in charge.” Her moans mingled with my commands.

Hand up, I spanked her again, then stroked and teased. Then another firm slap until she was nearly begging and crying out in shaking need, a trail of her juice sliding down her inner thigh.

“Please, Declan,” she begged, straining against my finger. First I used one, then two, then three fingers to fuck her deep in her hot, tight, pussy. Then I brought a thumb up to tease her quivering asshole, circling, caressing.

“Please,” she pleaded, begging for my fingers to go deeper. My huge cock strained for release, desperate to ram inside of her.

“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.”

Tags: Callie Harper Beg For It Erotic
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