Unleashed: Volume 2 (Unleashed #2) (14 page)

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 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 plunged 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.