Unleashed #3

by Callie Harper

  “Fuck,” he exhaled, his hand up fisting his hair. He shifted along the couch, positioning his hips directly under my face. I brought my hands to his briefs and smiled. Still looking somewhat dazed, but also glazed with lust, he lifted his hips. I slid his briefs down off him completely.

  His huge cock thrust out now, exposed completely for my enjoyment. Seeing it in its glory I once again marveled over how it fully fit inside of me. It looked so huge and powerful, veins pumping through it, more pre-come at the crown. I stroked admiring fingers up and down its length, brought my tongue down again to swirl up his come and taste. He swore again, his hands grasping the couch on either side.

  I opened up and took him into my mouth, surrounding him with my wet heat. He hissed and I sucked, drawing him in. I felt a heady rush, the thrill of desire, as I brought one hand to his balls and caressed them, keeping the other at the root of his cock. I didn’t know how I was going to take him all the way into my mouth. But I wanted to, dearly. I wanted him deep down my throat and I couldn’t wait for him to come, to swallow all of his load. My pussy felt so wet I bet I was dripping, a slow bead making its way down my inner thighs.

  I looked up at him and met his eyes. He was watching me like a hungry animal, intent, burning up. He looked like he’d never seen anything he wanted more than me on his cock. I moaned and took it in deeper, sucking and swirling my tongue, wanting more of him.

  “Fuck!” he called out and brought his hands to my hair, twining them in my locks. “Suck me, Kara.”

  I did as I was told, his command sending a deep throb straight to my sex. I needed to serve this man. I’d do everything he told me and more.

  Then, abruptly, he pulled me off of him. Dazed, I kneeled between his legs, looking up. What was he doing?

  He brought a hand to his huge prick. It looked even bigger than it had before, swollen and slick from my mouth. I watched, riveted, while he stroked it right in front of my face, but kept his other hand fisted in my hair. Keeping me there, close, watching but not touching.

  “You want to suck this?” he asked, his voice low and thick.

  “Yes!” I cried out, my hands up on his thighs, fingers clutching him with need.

  “Did you touch yourself last night, Kara?”

  “Yes,” I readily admitted.

  “Did you come?”

  “No.” I looked into his eyes, heat flooding my gaze. “You didn’t tell me I could.”

  He growled in satisfaction, his hand still wrapped around his cock. “Strip for me.”

  My legs weak with desire, I stood up, wobbly. Looking at him the whole time, I peeled off his t-shirt, letting him see my breasts. He took me in, heavy-lidded in appreciation as he stroked himself. I brought my fingers inside the waistband of his boxers, slid them down and stepped out of them. Now he could see how wet I was, glistening and dripping with need for him.

  “Show me,” he commanded, eyes locked on my pussy. “Show me how you touched yourself.”

  Following his directions without hesitation, I brought my fingers down to my throbbing clit. My eyes closed in pleasure as I found myself, stroking and circling my swollen flesh. I was so close, so ready on the brink.

  “And your tits,” Declan barked. I moaned at his command and brought my free hand up to my breasts, rubbing, kneading, caressing.

  “That’s right, just like that,” Declan praised me and I moaned again, his words stroking me as much as my fingers. “You see this?” His words opened my eyes again and brought my attention to his cock in his hand. “Do you want to learn how to suck this? Exactly how I want you to do it?”

  “Yes,” I panted, my hand frantically working my slit.

  “Do you want me to train you?”

  “Oh God! Yes!” I didn’t know why the word “train” almost sent me over the edge, but it did, my eyes closing again at their own will, the intensity of my reaction nearly engulfing me.

  “Kneel down before me,” he thundered. I complied, scrambling to kneel down between his thighs, right next to his cock. “Keep touching yourself. And show me your tits.”

  I worked myself, thrusting, circling, and arched my back. I thrust my breasts out to him, my nipples standing out like two dark pink buds, throbbing with need.

  “Yes!” Declan jerked his cock over my tits. Hot come spurted onto them, splashing up over my aching nipples.

  “Oh! Declan!” Shock and lust ripped through me and I threw my head back, my breasts toward him and came. Throbbing waves of pleasure broke up and through my body under his assault. He kept coming on me, each new hot load of come on my breasts driving me into another crest, another cry out as I shuddered in orgasm.

  With a deep, satisfied groan, Declan shot his last drop out of his cock onto my waiting breasts. I sighed in release, deep, primal pleasure flooding my entire body. He sank back onto the couch, watching me. I dropped down onto my calves, feeling my wet, slick pussy against my ankles. It felt like I might slide off. I could still feel his thick, warm cream sliding down my breasts. My nipples covered in his come was the nastiest thing I’d ever seen in my life, but it stroked me deep in my core. The visceral evidence of his pleasure surrounded me, rewarded me.

  “We’re getting on a plane in one hour,” he said, looking at me with wicked, heavy eyes. “I’d like to keep you exactly like that, kneeling before me, covered in my come.” I met his eyes and gave him a low smile in response. I wanted that, too.

  “But I have other plans for you, Kara. We’re heading to New York for the week. And you’ve been a bad girl.”

  My eyes widened, my smile fell. What was he talking about? He looked at me, intense, controlling. “You’re going to need to take your punishment. I didn’t tell you you could come.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Declan

  In the limo to the airport, Kara chattered away with excitement about heading to New York City. I liked the way she called it by its full name, not New York or the city. There was nothing jaded about Kara.

  Fresh-faced in a simple ponytail, she looked luminous with barely any makeup. She’d gotten ready in ten minutes, about a half-hour shy of what it took most women I knew. She’d insisted on leaving a note for the hotel cleaning staff, telling them to bring the flowers home with them. I would have let them die without another thought. But that was Kara.

  A thin, white cotton top clung suggestively to her generous breasts. With it she wore fitted white jeans and high-heeled sandals. On any other woman it would be a run-of-the-mill summer outfit. On her, I wanted to rip it off her save those heels, find out what panties she had on, until I ripped them off, too.

  Last night I’d finally fallen asleep with the conviction that I was ending this. I’d take my hand out of the fire, let sleeping dogs lie and all that. I was going to send her back to her ranch with a big, fat check because terminating our arrangement would be the best for the both of us.

  Then, she’d woken me up, hot, wet and begging for me and I’d changed my mind. Simple as that. It wasn’t a matter of weakening my resolve. Strong men changed their minds. Frankly, I’d have to be a complete idiot to turn this down. Kara in New York at my beck and call for the week. I could do anything with her that I wanted. And I was thinking of passing up on that opportunity? Who’d be the sucker then?

  “I’ve only ever been on a plane twice,” she said sitting next to me, looking out the window of the limo. “My dad had an aunt who lived down in Texas. We visited her when I was a kid. She lived a couple hours outside of Dallas. I remember seeing all the buildings from the plane. So gigantic and sprawling, I couldn’t believe it.”

  “I mean—” she paused, glancing at me, growing self-conscious. “I’m sure you can believe it. I guess you travel all the time now.”

  I nodded. “More time on the road than off.”

  “What’s your favorite place to visit?”

  I didn’t need to think about it. “Rome.”

  She gasped. “Really? You’ve been to Rome? What’s it like?”

 
“It’s loud and gritty and busy. You’ll be walking around and suddenly you’re next to a ruin that’s been there since Julius Caesar. And the food is…” I shook my head. How could you describe perfection?

  “I’ve always dreamed about seeing Rome. And Paris.”

  “Paris is more polished and refined. Every street you turn down looks like a painting. It’s gorgeous. In Rome, motorcycles do 80 through the city roundabouts. There’s more people shouting.”

  “You like that.” She laughed.

  “It suits me more.”

  “Have you ridden a motorcycle around Italy?”

  “Not yet.” I could picture her on the back of a motorcycle, arms and legs wrapped around me tight. We could explore the Amalfi coast. I’d like her in a bikini next to me on the beach, watching her curves as she played in the water, massaging her skin with lotion, sliding a naughty finger down into her sex when no one was looking but we might get caught.

  I looked away and cleared my throat. “So what do you want to do in New York?”

  “The Big Apple!” She clapped her hands and went on to chatter happily about the classic tourist attractions, the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty and Rockefeller Center. Funny, I had to have been to New York 30 or 40 times by now, but I’d never done any of that stuff. All business all the time, in New York I put in my hours in Midtown or Wall Street offices by day. At night I ran the circuit of fundraising galas and gallery openings where big wigs liked to see and be seen. Partnerships formed over dry martinis and fancy ice sculptures as much if not more so than boardrooms. I played plenty, too, but the types of women I spent time with in New York didn’t exactly want to sightsee.

  You wouldn’t think a fortune made off of wilderness tourism would draw me to cities so often, but the larger my ventures grew the more I delegated. I found myself spending less and less time at my properties, more and more time forming partnerships and attracting new investors. All that happened where the money lived, and money lived in cities.

  The limo pulled right up onto the tarmac next to my private plane. A luxury, sure, but one I could afford, especially since it took money to make more money. A private plane served my lifestyle, got me to three far-flung places in the same day, while also giving me the space to close deals. Especially with the tech guys, I’d found. You flew them up into the wilds, gave them a taste of it all and on the way back to reality they almost always went in big to partner up on the latest luxury site.

  Kara’s eyes grew wide as a driver opened the door and escorted her out onto the tarmac. “Is that for us?”

  “It’s my plane.” I couldn’t deny a certain satisfaction at the statement. I didn’t think much of show-offs, the kind of guys who flashed their Rolexes any chance they got. But Kara made me want to show off, puff out my chest, show her the man I’d become.

  She brought her hand to my arm and looked up at me with gleaming sincerity in her crystal blue eyes. “I’m so amazed by you. You’ve accomplished so much. And you’ve done it all on your own.”

  Thankfully, my driver continued to escort Kara, helping her up the stairs into the plane. I swallowed, still able to feel her hand on me, the weight of her words. Goddamn. Apparently I could close major million-dollar deals with financial sharks and pound it out at the gym relentlessly for hours. But Kara? She about knocked me out with a few words.

  She was right, I had done it all on my own. She might be naive, but she got that. What killed me was how many rich guys thought they’d clawed their way solo to the top, too. They tended to have a huge blind spot—exactly where they were standing on their daddy’s shoulders, or getting a huge handout from grandma.

  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 remem
ber 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?”