“It is almost July Fourth,” she exclaimed. “That’s America’s birthday.”
The woman was certifiable. But again, I felt the slight start of a smile, just when I had every right to be pissed off about her ridiculous assault on my penthouse. It would all have to go, clearly, right back into those bags they came in and returned to the knick-knack brick-a-brack flea market where they belonged. But not right this second.
“Oh, I love this one!” she exclaimed, pulling yet another pillow out of the bag. It had a big, red heart on it. She tucked it against the arm of a matching large black leather chair. Surveying her work, she giggled.
“You having fun?” I asked dryly.
“Declan, even you have to admit, your apartment is so bleak.”
“Bleak?” I looked around. This penthouse apartment? Chicks loved it, high up looking over the world, everything in it high-end, luxury. Hell, I loved it. What was wrong with it?
“Bleak, you know, lacking color. Seeming cold and empty.”
“I know what the word means, Kara.” Now a lecture on vocabulary, this girl was going to put me over the edge. Up to this point, all I’d heard in my apartment from members of the fairer sex had been oohs and aahs, first while admiring their surroundings, then while enjoying themselves in my bed.
“There’s nothing homey about this place.” Kara giggled again, sneaking back over to her bags. One thing remained. She lifted it up, now bursting out in a gale of laughter. “Until now!”
She held one last pillow in her hands, her crowning achievement. Tassels, that was the first thing I noticed, lots and lots of red tassels all around the edges. The bulk of the pillow looked like it was made out of velvet, a background in pink, a large smiling bear in brown, and a big, fat heart in red, of course. The bear held the heart in his paws, as if offering it up in exchange for a big hug.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked.
She burst out again in what could only be called a gleeful cackle. “I thought it would be perfect in your favorite chair!”
Oh no, she wouldn’t dare.
But dare she did, walking her sassy little self on over to my favorite leather chair, the only one in my apartment I had to admit that really felt comfortable for sitting. My decorator hadn’t liked it, said something ridiculous like it was more country manor than city slick, but I’d insisted anyway. It had a few cracks in it, a warm chestnut brown leather.
And now it had a pillow on it with a bear offering up his heart.
“That’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” I took a step closer, almost admiring the handiwork. It took some doing so make something that bad.
“I know, isn’t it?” she laughed. “It’s so over-the-top.”
“Do you think someone handmade it?”
“Definitely.” She nodded. “Someone took a long time stitching up that smile.” She poked me in the chest, turning the full force of her 100-watt smile on me. “And now you’ve got him in your favorite chair.”
“How do you know that’s my favorite chair?”
“How could it not be?” She gestured at the other two pieces of furniture in my living room. Gleaming with hard leather, they imposed rather than welcomed, seeming to dare onlookers to try to sit on them. I guessed she had a point. She hugged her hands to her shoulders and rocked back onto her heels, glowing with satisfaction over her accomplishments.
“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” I asked.
“I am.” She laughed. “I’ve messed up your whole apartment with flowers and pillows. You’re just lucky I didn’t get you any potpourri. Or scented candles.”
I took a step toward her. She took a step back, a teasing gleam in her eye.
“Hardly looks like your place anymore,” she continued. “No more Mr. Cool.”
“Mr. Cool?” I took another step toward her. She took another step back, laughing.
“That’s your thing, right? Mr. Cool. Mr. Control. So dark and mysterious.”
She was teasing me? Nobody teased me.
“So, I’m dark, am I?” I had her cornered now against the wall. I placed a hand up above her shoulder and leaned over her, not touching her but commanding the space she inhabited.
“Yeah, you know.” She cleared her throat, clearly growing a little nervous. Unsettled.
“Mysterious?” I whispered, bending down, closer, toward her neck. She smelled incredible, not something you could buy in a bottle, musky and sweet and I wanted more of it. I wanted to scent her like an animal and bury myself in her. But still I didn’t touch her. I liked the feel of her starting to quiver underneath me.
“Do you like that? Not knowing what I’ll do next?” I leaned in to her ear, flicked my tongue just once against her lobe and then sucked it full into my mouth, capturing it between my teeth. She shivered against me.
I released her. Now with both large hands up close above her shoulders, I looked down into her eyes. Their crystal blue was starting to turn smoky.
“I am dark,” I continued in a low voice. “And I do like control.” Her eyelids fluttered closed for a moment. I watched her swallow in anticipation, her breath starting to come faster.
“I think you’ve had your fun for today, Kara. It’s time for you to get to work.”
“What?” Her eyelids flew open, startled.
“You heard me.” My voice grew stern. “You need to get to work. Go into the bathroom and strip naked.” I commanded her as if issuing a punishment. “Put your hair up.”
Her eyes wide, she looked up at me in surprise, unsure.
“I’m going to leave something for you on the bed. Put it on and come to my office.”
I turned away and strode toward the kitchen. I heard nothing for a moment, then the satisfying sound of her heading into the bedroom and the bathroom beyond. I picked up the black shopping bag I had with me earlier and looked in to make my selection. Now it was my time to play.
After laying out my selections for her on my bed, I closed the door behind me and went to fix myself a drink. I wanted to give her time alone to hesitate. I wanted her to feel nervous, and then to choose to dress up for me. I wanted her to see herself in my full-length mirror, how slutty she looked, how hot. Maybe she’d turn and stick her ass out, admiring how she filled it out and how much she revealed. Maybe she’d reach a naughty finger down to touch herself, already wet, while she watched.
Fuck, I was hard already. I poured myself a drink, quick, devoid of any rituals I might typically enjoy with decanters and twists of lime. I took a sip, welcoming the burning sensation in my throat. It took a lot of willpower to stay on the other side of that door. But I was good at that. Especially when I knew that taking my time, delaying gratification, would stoke the fires, making them burn brighter. Problem was, I already felt like a raging inferno. Instead of quenching my thirst, spending time with Kara just seemed to fan the flames.
I walked down the hallway to my office, entered and sat down in my large, wooden desk chair, drink in hand. I placed one last thing for her on the wide, flat, empty surface. Then I waited for her to come to me.
Tonight would be her introduction to submissive play. I’d make her work for me and I’d discipline her. It would require a lot of restraint from me. I’d had many years to cultivate my cravings, and now they howled to be let out. But I needed to hold back. I’d always had to hold back with Kara. All those long, torturous months back when we’d first met. All of the intervening years.
Tonight would be tame, a test to see how she responded. I’d see if I couldn’t make her yearn to serve me. I had a feeling I could make Kara discover a craving she never knew she had. But I needed to build things slowly. If I tended the fire in her, stoked it so her pleasure overcame any shyness or reservations, I bet by the end of the night I’d have her begging for my discipline. Then we’d have the whole week together to explore and explode.
Shy, moving slowly, she finally emerged. I was glad I was sitting down. I swallowed but remained seated, surve
ying her intently as she approached.
She wore stiletto heels and sheer black stockings that ended in a band mid-thigh. Small fasteners connected a garter belt to a short, sheer black skirt with a lacy frill along the edge. Could it be called a skirt when it just skimmed the edge of her pussy? I could see her sex outlined through the lace, black in a g-string thong underneath. The sheer, demi-cup bra revealed so much of the swell of her breasts, pushing them up and out but still covering the tips of her nipples with an inch of lace.
Hesitant, yes, but I could see her sensuality in the way she moved, the slightly languorous way she placed one foot in front of the other in those heels. The way she held her shoulders back, erect posture for me, giving me the full display I desired. Little white satin bows flitted along the tops of the stockings, the edges of the skirt, the bottom of the bra. They gave the outfit the coquettish vibe of a French maid without going over-the-top Halloween costume. I already knew the bow I liked the most: the one in back of the bra I could use to take it off.
But not yet. First, play time.
She stood before me, her long blonde hair drawn up into a neat high ponytail, just like I’d instructed. She looked to the side, flushing pink.
I scrutinized her from top to bottom as if she’d come in for a job interview with a tough, demanding boss. The skirt rested low on her hips. She started to fidget with it as if embarrassed by how little it covered, trying to pull it down.
“Stand still,” I commanded. I didn’t want her covering herself up. That wasn’t in the cards tonight.
She pouted slightly, but brought her hands to her sides, standing back at the ready.
Sitting in my chair, drink in hand, I nodded at my desk in front of me. The surface lay bare except for a feather duster.
“Pick it up,” I ordered.
“The duster?” she asked, hesitant.
“Now.”
She hurried to grab it. Clearly awkward, she stood pressing it to her thigh, almost hiding it behind her leg. Like if she did I couldn’t see it.
“Start over here.” I pointed to some built-in shelves by my side, as if giving orders to new help.
Kara looked at me, unsure. I could tell she hadn’t done any role-play before. I was happy to give her instructions, but I was a strict teacher with high expectations.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” I warned her.
Not meeting my eyes, she took a few steps over to the shelving. Half-hearted, she lifted the duster up and moved it around an edge.
That wouldn’t do.
“Do you see this?” I swiftly stepped in front of her, ran my index finger across a low shelf and held it up to her face, close. “Filthy,” I said, low and husky. Her eyes flicked up to meet my own, nervous. “You’re going to need to bend down and really get in there.” I pointed down low.
She looked where I directed her, shifting her weight from one foot to the next. Then something seemed to click. She stopped doubting and gave herself over to it. She took a small step forward and slowly, deliberately placed one heel to the side, then the other about three feet away. Nice. I liked seeing her legs spread. And then, like something out of my fantasies, she slowly arched the small of her back, lifting up her perfectly rounded ass, and lowered herself down to the shelf I’d told her to clean.
I took a sip from my drink and watched her. Straight, long legs like a dancer, jacked up on those heels. She kept her back straight, doing all of the bending at her hips. The position forced her ass up high, on display, perfect for me to see everything.
I walked around slowly, stalking her, stopping right in back. Legs spread, the lace skirt ended high up on her crack, barely covering her bottom. She still wore her g-string thong, the V of satin at the top visible beneath the lace. Putting my drink down on the bar, I focused all of my attention on her. Down between the swell of her ass cheeks, I could see the plump outline of her pussy, so close to me and yet still covered.
She moved her feather duster along the shelf, giving each inch full attention. I could see her breath coming fast, not quite panting yet but excited, the cool air against her ass cheeks, heat building in her sex. Vividly, I pictured bringing a finger up between her legs and running it slowly down that patch of fabric, heightening the sensation of the silk against her shaved slit. My cock pressed against my jeans. But I wouldn’t touch her, not yet.
As if she could feel the intensity of my gaze, she squirmed a bit, tilting her butt slightly away from me. Distracted, she stopped dusting.
With a sharp smack, I spanked her bare bottom. Not too hard, but I had the element of surprise. She gasped, her free hand grasping the edge of the shelf tight.
“Keep working,” I ordered her, gruff.
She made a small sound in the back of her throat. Taking her punishment, she brought her pink bottom back into position, thrust out for me to do what I wanted. The feather duster started moving again, bit by bit.
“Good,” I praised her, stroking just one finger along her inner thigh. “I need you to hold still and work for me.” I could feel her quivering, but she kept her position, ass up, legs spread, head and shoulders down.
I traced her cheeks as she kept dusting. Lightly caressing her, up along the edges of her tiny skirt, I reminded her how much she exposed. I ran my fingers down her inner thigh, then up again, so close to her sex, but not touching. Not even grazing her. But I could feel it in her breathing, see it in the way she held herself, so tense, so coiled. She craved my touch.
One hand resting on her ass cheek, I angled her up slightly. Finally, slowly, deliberately, I brought a finger between her legs and up against her pussy. I pressed the fabric into her folds. Wet for me. I hissed in approval. She gave a small moan in response and pressed back against my finger.
“Keep working,” I reminded her. She stilled, working hard to restrain herself. Then she moved the duster again as she’d been told. Still separated by a strip of silk, I kept my finger on her throbbing slit, moving so gently, so leisurely, perusing her folds. I’d graze her clit, tease it for a moment, then leave it.
“Do you remember, Kara?” I began in a low voice as I stroked her. “Back when I first met you. Those summers I worked at your ranch?”
“Yes.” The ache in her moaned response made me hard as a rock. I loved seeing her bent over for me, doing as I told her.
“Remember how you used to tease me? You’d strut around the ranch in miniskirts.”
“No, I didn’t tease!” She looked around at me, wide-eyed, innocent.
I gave her a sharp spank. Her eyes closed with the intensity of my touch.
“You loved it,” I corrected her, cutting off her weak protest, then continued to stroke her. “You wore tank tops so tight I could see every inch of your tits. Daisy Dukes cut up to here.” I traced a line along the swell of her cheek and she moaned, pushing her ass toward my hand. “I couldn’t touch you then. I could look, but I couldn’t do this.”
In a swift, rough motion I ripped off her g-string and threw it to the side. I knelt now, bringing my face exactly level with her sex. Her breath became a pant. I brought my hands to the base of her ass, thumbs wrapped under inside her inner thighs. My large, insistent fingers spread her even more open for me. She complied, nudging her feet further apart.
I brought a worshipping finger to her wet, swollen folds. “I used to watch you, Kara, and wonder if you were wet like this for me.”
“Yes, Declan,” she moaned.
Soaked in her juices, I brought my finger to my mouth to taste. Salty and sweet, just like her. I needed more. “This is what I wanted to do to you.”
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 beg
an 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.
Unleashed: Volume 2 (Unleashed #2) Page 10