What you realized when you got into top earners was that almost everyone with wealth came from wealth. But they liked to think that they’d grown up middle class, figure I probably had as well. They didn’t see the invisible padding they’d had all around them their entire lives, their parents and extended family helping them out not simply with cash—and sure that helped—but with risk mitigation. If they crashed and burned after they gambled, they’d have a soft landing. I knew any misstep would take me out of the game completely.
Good thing I thrived on risk. I liked the razor-thin margin between success and failure. It pumped me through with adrenaline. No investor could be frightened by risk, but I went one step further and actually sought it out. The higher the odds, the more I liked the gamble.
Ready for a high-stakes game, I followed Kara up the stairs into my plane. The interior was organized into two sections. Up front there was a gleaming hardwood table and four wide, leather seats. That’s where I did business, ate meals, and played poker with VIP clients and partners who expected nothing less. The back was dedicated to kickin’ it with a stocked wet bar, a leather sofa sectional and a 65-inch flat-screen retractable TV.
I placed my hand to the small of Kara’s back and steered her toward the back of the plane. “We don’t need the table,” I explained. Giving her back a light caress, I added, “Though I might want to put it to use later.”
I let my fingers graze her ass and she gave a light, nervous laugh, instantly flushing pink. A devious smile pulled at the corner of my lips. I wanted her to remember last night, bent over my desk and working for me, ass up getting spanked and stroked. I could hear her desperate moans of pleasure, feel her wetness sliding along my thick fingers. I wanted it on her mind, too, a spike of arousal as she boarded my private plane.
She settled on the couch next to the window. Bottles of water, magazines and light blankets were stocked in various bins and pockets to meet our needs. Sometimes I paid an attendant to tend to food and drink service for the flight. Not this time. Today in the cabin of the plane Kara and I would be alone.
“This is crazy.” Kara caressed the smooth, buttery leather with her hands, taking it all in. I sat next to her and stretched out my long legs. Now that I didn’t have to do it anymore, I wondered how big guys like me even made it onto commercial airplanes, squeezed into coach, trying to get some work done next to a tantruming toddler and behind some dude with his seat reclined all the way back.
“A private plane!” she exclaimed with a laugh, standing to check out the fully-stocked bar.
“Help yourself.”
“What do you want?”
I shrugged. “Whatever you’re having.” She started fixing us two glasses with rocks, limes and Pellegrino.
I liked watching Kara enjoy herself, take in the opulence of my surroundings. It had all amazed me, too, when I’d started out, though I’d never showed it. I’d discovered I was a master at blending in and I used my skills to the utmost, immediately commanding a presence among men of far more consequence. Weakness didn’t get you into the ballgame, and no matter how many times early on I’d wanted to exclaim “no shit!” when someone rolled up in a tricked-out Bentley or pressed some button like James Bond to reveal a wet bar in a C-suite office, I’d had to play it cool.
Now, I was the one used to seeing other people get off on my private plane. Girls loved it, the exclusivity, the intimacy. I usually felt aloof, watching them take it in, my game playing into theirs. It almost got boring. But sweet Kara with her high ponytail and bright eyes, so unpracticed, fresh and real, she made me feel it all over again.
She sat next to me and handed me a drink. “How did you make all this money, Declan?” From her it didn’t sound greedy or fawning. It sounded simple. She knew I’d had nothing. How come I now had so much?
“Wilderness tourism.”
“I figured that. But how did you do it?”
“You want my story?”
“I want your story. From where we last left off.” She took a sip, her words bringing up memories for us both. I’d certainly left off. I didn’t like being that guy, the one who’d stolen off in the dark of night. But it was better that way. She knew what I was capable of, the real me.
“I worked at that ranch I told you about, the one opening up to tourists.”
“I remember you telling me about it.”
“The guy running the place took a bad fall, spent months in a full body cast. He needed someone to take over. I did it.”
“And you were good at it.”
“Damn good.” She smiled at my arrogance and I gave her a wink. “After the accident, even after he healed up he wanted to slow down, spend more time with his family. So he made me a partner.”
“OK, but how’d you grow it into all this?” She gestured around to the private plane.
“Full of questions, aren’t you?” With her, somehow I didn’t mind. She wasn’t a journalist mucking around looking for dirt in my past. They set my teeth on edge.
A magazine had just done a spread on my properties, complete with a photo of me, tall and cool in a custom-made Italian suit. At first, they’d wanted me in a cowboy hat and old dusty Wranglers up on a horse. I’d killed that idea. That part of my life was behind me, now. I’d devoted too much time and effort into becoming the consummate businessman. No sense in reminding anyone that deep inside I might still be a no-name cowpoke. Hell, with my luck, too much publicity would stir up the muck and my deadbeat father might come creeping out from the slime, eager to meet the son he’d abandoned now that there was cash in it.
But talking to Kara put me strangely at ease. “I invested,” I told her. “I never spent a cent on myself, took everything I earned and put it into properties, buying, improving, expanding.”
“How are you so good at it?”
“Instinct.” It sounded crazy, but I somehow knew how to spot opportunities, how to make something out of nothing.
“Yeah?”
“Guess it’s in my blood.” I didn’t know how to explain it. I saw a lot of guys with MBAs who lacked it. I didn’t know if it could be taught. I didn’t even know how I’d learned it. I just knew I had it.
“Is that what your family does?”
“What?”
“Your family.” She stopped, perhaps growing shy at the suddenly cold look in my eyes. “I mean, you never talked much about them. But your parents, what do they do?”
“My mother knew how to hustle.” I gave a dry laugh. “I don’t know about my dad. I never met him.”
“So, you don’t know. Maybe—?”
“No.” I cut her off. I didn’t like how much weight she placed on family, like what your family did defined you. I’d spent my whole life proving the opposite. I didn’t want to sit here with her speculations, like maybe I was a chip off the old block. My father was a dog who’d run out on his pregnant girlfriend, if she’d even been that to him. I didn’t know who he was and I had no interest in finding out.
“Look, we’re taking off.” I shifted on the couch, gesturing at the window and bringing a large thigh against her slender leg. She looked down, instantly riveted by our physical contact. She could feel it too, I realized, the intense electricity that ran between us. Even the slightest contact provoked a full charge.
Reaching over to her thigh, I placed a hand on her white jeans and began tracing the inside seam with my thumb. I didn’t reach too far up. It was the kind of gesture you could make in public without raising an eyebrow. But we were in private, the pilots up front in the cockpit, and this was just the beginning.
She sat up straight, her limbs becoming still and aware.
“Do you see the hotel?” I asked, reaching my other arm across her to point out the window. My bicep grazed her breast and I felt the heat of her through my shirt.
“Yes,” she murmured, drawing in her breath, her nipples growing taut. So responsive. It brought out the predator in me.
“Did you enjoy yourself in my hotel?” I
asked, stroking steadily along the seam on her inner thigh.
“Yes,” she purred. While I enjoyed her happy chatter, I liked watching talking become more difficult for her, her body starting to take over and leave her mind blank.
“I like these jeans, Kara.” My palm moved now along both her thighs, admiring her, slowly stoking the fires, the cotton form-fitting and soft. “They mold to your curves.” My fingers came near the center of her V, but not quite touching. She parted her legs for me to allow more access, her breathing growing shallow.
“Did you buy them for me?”
“Yes.”
“Stand up and show me.” Shy, hesitant, she stood up. I motioned with my finger for her to turn around. I wanted to see her from all angles. Her ass was a work of art in those jeans. “Take them off,” I growled.
“But we’re on a plane!” Kara protested as if we were in the middle of coach surrounded by other passengers.
“Are you worried someone’s going to press the call button? An air marshal’s going to come arrest you?” Her eyes flitted around the plane’s interior as if testing out the likelihood of those scenarios.
“It’s just you and me, sweetheart,” I confirmed. “The pilots are up in the cockpit. They’re not coming back here.” I turned the force of my dark gaze on her. “It’s time for you to strip down the way I want. Give me your foot.” She stretched out one of her legs. I grasped her ankle in my hand. “First these have to come off.” I reached down to her gold high-heeled sandals, fumbling with the straps.
Laughing, she pushed my hands out of the way. “Your fingers are so big.”
I let her do the work. She nimbly yet nervously unfastened her shoes. As she bent over, she gave me a glimpse of her breasts cupped in her bra. Not for long. Once the heels came off, she rose, still uncertain, a hand on the couch. Slowly, she unfastened her jeans. I loved the first glimpse at her lingerie, the bit of lace that emerged as she pulled the jeans down along the curves of her hips. Cream lace, simple, skimpy. Nice.
She took them off entirely and lay them on the couch.
“Now put these on again.” I held up the strappy heels to her, dangling from one of my fingers.
Hesitant, she retrieved them from me, then slipped into the pair. I liked watching her bend over, twisting slightly as she fastened the buckles, her hair still up in a demure ponytail. With those long legs she certainly didn’t require the heels to look like a knockout, but there was something about heels paired with lingerie and nothing else. I felt myself growing hard, a long, thick erection pressing against my jeans.
“That’s good.” I shifted in my seat and unfastened my top button. My cock strained for release. “Now take off your shirt.”
Nervous, excited, she looked at my crotch, unbuttoned yet still zipped. I knew without saying it again, she was thinking about what I’d said this morning. She needed to take her punishment. Her lips parted sweetly. Oh, what I had planned for that lush mouth. She was thinking about it, all right, and she wanted it as much as I did.
Complying with my command, she lifted her shirt up and overhead, then tossed it lightly next to her jeans on the couch. I swallowed. Soft, lush curves wrapped in creamy lace, naughty and nice all at once, like Kara herself. Flushed and jittery, she stood before me, a heady mixture of nerves and arousal as she displayed herself. I knew her well. She needed me to help bring out this side of her, access the deep well of pleasure she had hidden within.
“Turn around and show me,” I ordered, my voice growing gruffer with desire. Her panties skimmed the swell of her buttocks, rising up and dipping down. I wanted to trace the outline with my tongue, rip them off with my teeth.
By the time she turned back to face me, her nipples were peaked, swollen and straining at the fabric.
“Come here.” She took a slow step toward me. My cock grew harder as I spread apart my large, muscled legs. “Kneel.”
She sucked in her breath at my primal demand. Then she knelt down on one knee, then the other, right between my legs. Her eyes flitted to the massive bulge in my jeans. I brought my hand down and ran a thumb along my thick length. Her eyes widened as she followed the movement.
“Kara.” My voice, low and controlled, stroked her. “This morning, you touched yourself for me. Do you remember how you did that? Stripped naked and kneeling before me, your hand in your pussy?”
“Yes.” Her voice came out in a hushed, beckoning moan. She brought a hand to rest lightly along my inner thigh.
“Hands by your sides,” I stopped her. She froze, then returned her errant hand, fingers back to graze her outer thigh. She had to learn who was in control. “Now, you and I need to discuss something.” I kept my voice firm, disciplined. “Do you remember this morning? When I came on your tits?”
“Yes, and I—”
“Answer only what I ask you, Kara,” I commanded. “Do you remember when I came on your tits?”
“Yes.” Her lips closed and she looked up at me shyly. The more she showed how much she loved me taking control, the further I wanted to go.
“Think about it. I’m going to ask you a question and you need to be completely honest with me. Did you like it, Kara?” She moaned, swaying slightly. “Did you like the feel of my come dripping off of your tits?”
“Yes,” she panted, aroused by her confession. Her breasts strained against the creamy lace, her nipples hard.
“I marked you, Kara,” I continued, my voice low, level, controlled. “You’re mine. Say it.”
“I’m yours,” she readily agreed.
“Good,” I growled, her compliance feeding my hunger. “Now show me your tits.” Swiftly, she did as I asked, removing her bra. She knelt before me, her breasts rising and falling with each breath, naked and full. I brought one finger to the bottom of her swells. She shivered, her eyes closing.
“Your breasts are very sensitive, Kara. Even the slightest touch brings you great sensation. That’s very good.”
I removed my hand and reached over for my bag, feeling her watching me. I brought out a black leather case and rested it on the fabric between my legs.
“Open it.”
With shaking hands, she reached out as if it might bite her. I shifted in my seat, my cock already throbbing as I thought about what was to come. She lifted the lid and sat back, clearly not knowing what to make of the contents.
“What is that?”
“Are those,” I corrected, taking the black implements out of the case. “These are nipple clamps.”
“What?” She straightened up.
“Clamps. For your nipples. A starter pair. To begin your training.” Lightweight and plastic, they were meant for breaking in a new sub, to accustom her to the feel without too much pain. I held them up so Kara could see the shape, the small circles perfect for her.
“Declan, I’ve never…I’m not sure—”
“I want you to wear these for me, Kara.” I interrupted, reaching out to cup one of her large, soft globes in my hand. Grasping her aroused, dark pink nipple between my thumb and forefinger, I swirled, then pinched. I cherished the gasp she made, the way she arched into the pain. She might be frightened, embarrassed by the sex toy. She didn’t think she was that kind of girl. But I knew better. She’d love every second of it, the submission, the pain, the throbbing need that built inside of her solely under my control, for my pleasure.
“They’re adjustable,” I explained, bringing the black clamp to her pale, white flesh. “I’ll start them on a light setting. I want you to be aware of yourself, your tits. How I can see your arousal.” I brought the small plastic circle around her engorged nipple and fastened it. She sucked in her breath, shaking at my touch.
“That’s good, Kara.” I brought a hand to the back of her head, stroking her hair. She swayed into my touch. The sight of her eyes half-closed, her naked body before me, the black clamp fastened on her pink bud burned into my brain.
I brought the second clamp up to her remaining nipple and secured it around the pebbl
ed tip, tight. She hissed, looking down at the erotic display.
“You’re going to wear these for me on the flight, Kara. You were a very naughty girl this morning. You came without my permission.” An aroused whimper escaped her lips.
“This is your punishment,” I continued. “Are you ready to take your punishment from me?”
She paused, biting her lush lip. Kneeling before me, she slowly looked up and met my eyes. “Yes,” she breathed out as if unable to stop herself from saying it.
I brought a finger up to one clamp, drawing her attention to the adjustable size. “I can tighten them any time I want.” I grasped the strap and pulled. She gasped and quaked, her bud clamped tight. It was still on one of the loosest settings. I could make the loop a lot smaller, constrict the blood far more, make her squirm with discomfort and need. I closed the other clamp a notch as well.
I stroked her cheek, rewarding her for taking the punishment, and she leaned into my touch with a moan. “I can tighten these more,” I warned her and she shivered. “I want you to think about that while you sit here.”
I brought my palm to my side, touching the spot where she’d been sitting before. Without my having to say it, she obeyed my wishes and came to sit next to me, naked except for her lacy panties, high heels and nipple clamps.
“Now, I have some work to do. You sit still like a good girl.” All business, I took out my laptop from my briefcase. I swiveled out a flat work surface from underneath the couch, then opened my computer onto it. I had a couple of reports to look through, some financials to oversee. Most of all, I wanted to make her wait for it.
My attention focused on the screen, I scrolled through and made a few changes to documents. Kara sat beside me and squirmed. I hoped the couch’s leather felt cool against her ass, the lace of her panties pressed up against her wet pussy. I bet she was getting embarrassed and worried, wondering if I’d dip my fingers between her legs to check on her arousal. And I would, just not yet. For now, I’d let it build.
Her first time in nipple clamps, she had to be feeling it intensely. I could see her breath coming in shallow pants, her large breasts quivering above her moving ribcage. Her hands traced along the couch as if she didn’t know where to put them. Her gaze kept drifting down to her own chest, the black clamps standing out against her white breasts, her nipples protruding far out, fastened and displayed for my perusal.
Unleashed: Declan & Kara (Unleashed #1-4; Beg for It #1) Page 31