Unleashed 3, p.1

Unleashed #3, page 1


Unleashed #3

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Unleashed #3




  Copyright © 2016 Callie Harper

  Cover Design Jada D’Lee Designs

  Ebook Formatting by Jesse Gordon

  All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real events, people, or places is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without the permission except in the case of brief quotations used for review. If you have not purchased this book or received a copy from the author, you are reading a pirated book.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status of products referred to in this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without permission.

  This book contains mature content, including graphic sex. Please do not continue reading if you are under the age of 18 or if this type of content is disturbing to you.
















  New York City. The city that never sleeps. Especially when you’re there as part of a no-holds-barred bargain to serve your master.


  I have her now, right where I want her. Mine, for the week in New York. The ultimate city to play in and the one I’d always wanted to play with.

  And now I have the money to give her everything, VIP at the hottest spots in town, waited on hand and foot at the poshest restaurants and spas, lavishing her with jewelry and a custom-made gown for a gala at the Met. I want to surround her with every luxury.

  But not because I’m a good man. I’m not good at all. It’s been six long years since I lusted after her as a penniless ranch hand. I haven’t just grown rich over those years. I’ve also become a master at domination, experienced in all of the wicked ways to wield power.

  Now I have the week to torment her the way she tormented me. She’s new to all of this, innocent, but she’s so responsive, so eager. This week, she’s going to submit to me in every way. And she’s going to love it. I won’t rest until I make her beg, again and again. When a good girl should say stop, Kara’s going to beg me for more.


  It feels like a fairytale, swept off to New York City in a private jet, a gown tailored to me for a black tie gala. Celebrities and Broadway shows and opulence beyond my wildest dreams.

  But if this is a fairytale, Declan is the beast. Dark, powerful, commanding every fiber of my being. He torments me. Blindfolded, bound, quivering and panting, I don’t recognize myself. I should fight it.

  But I love every second of it. I crave it. I never know what he’ll do next. Each level he takes me to, I find myself begging for more.

  The rational part of my brain knows this all has to crash and burn. Our two worlds can’t mix. This is nothing more than an arrangement, bound to end after the ball at the end of the week. Like Cinderella, only Declan is no prince. There isn’t going to be a sweet happy ever after here.

  But I can’t turn away. When the flames lick and burn so good, I can’t resist. All I can do is strip down and offer myself into the heat.

  NOTE: Unleashed: Hot Alpha Romance is a four-volume story launching the Beg for It series about the hot, alpha males in Declan's family and the battles they wage with the strong, sexy women who make them finally meet their match.



  I woke up early Monday morning in Declan’s king-size bed, buzzing and humming. Not with my usual type of activity, the urgency of getting to work, the daily need to Get Stuff Done. This was different. This buzz came from within, my mind and my body.

  Part of it was because I was about to go to New York City. Declan and I were going to fly there today. I’d been on a plane exactly twice in my life. The biggest city I’d ever spent time in was Boise, and now I was off to The Big Apple!

  But the other part of it, the real reason for my buzz if I were completely honest, was what we’d be doing while we were there. Sure, we’d do some sightseeing and that would be super fun. He’d mentioned a black tie gala at the Met. He might as well be taking me on a space shuttle trip to Mars for all I knew about it. I had no idea what to expect, but I bet it would be amazing.

  But really, we would be in New York to fulfill our bargain. We’d spend the week drowning in debauched sex. I’d serve him, doing whatever he wanted, submitting to his discipline, bound to Declan. I had a feeling he’d been going easy on me last night, having me dress up as a French maid, making me work for him. It made my knees buckle, but I knew he had much more in store for me, much darker fantasies.

  I should be freaking out. I should be packing up my things and planning my escape. I shouldn’t be slick between my thighs, thinking about how much I loved his punishments. Stretching between the sheets, I looked down and remembered I was wearing Declan’s t-shirt and boxers. They smelled like him. I inhaled, deep, and like an animated film I could almost see myself surrounded and intoxicated by the aroma, as if a sorcerer were working a magic spell on me. I thrummed and tingled and that ache began again deep inside of me.

  Last night he’d had me begging for him, out of my mind, squirming and panting as I wore next to nothing pressed up against his massive mahogany desk. The cool, hard wood had bitten into the exposed flesh of my soft ass as I’d offered myself to him. I’d kept my palms on either side of me on the desk as I let him stroke and caress my skin. His fingers had slid in and out of my pussy so slick, so easy. I’d never been so ready.

  He’d made me say dirty things for him, tell him how I was wet for him and beg him to let me come. No man had ever done anything like that to me before. I never could have imagined doing it, never mind loving it, craving it. I’d felt so out of control, hurtling downward on a roller coaster, the rush and thrill of it overwhelming every thought until all I could do was put my hands up and scream.

  And then he’d sent me into the bath, telling me I could play with myself. But in his gravelly, commanding voice, he’d said, “You may not come. You only come for me.” Oh my. I fanned myself. I was clearly out of my league.

  Up into the bathroom, I washed my face and brushed my teeth with the toiletries he’d sent to me Friday night. I couldn’t believe that was only three days ago. So much had transpired since then.

  The clock on the wall said it was six thirty. Back in real life, the day would already be in full swing. Our foreman, Bill, and the other ranch hands would be up and about, starting in on the day’s chores. I’d already be at work, serving up the smiles along with breakfast at the diner.

  I got back into bed. This was a week of debauchery, after all. And what would a wanton, fallen woman do? She’d climb right back into the king-size bed and luxuriate in the softness of the sheets, the fluffiness of the down comforter, that’s what.

  Where was Declan? I didn’t think he’d climbed into bed with me last night. Was he already at work? There was so much that I didn’t know about him. And now we were traveling to New York, into a whole next level of wealth, glitter, power and privilege. What kind of circles did he travel in when he was there?

  What sort of women did he spend time with there? Because I wasn’t stupid, I knew Declan had to always be surrounded by women. Who did he play with when he was in New York? All I really had to go on were TV and movies, and based on those there seemed to be two kinds of women in that city: rich, cultivated and educated at the finest private schools, sophisticated
and worldly beyond measure. Or models. I hoped very much we didn’t run in to any of them while we were visiting.

  Agreeing to this arrangement with him was such a huge risk with such crazy high stakes. If it ended badly, the crash and burn would be so devastating. When it ended, I reminded myself, not if. When it was over at the end of the week. When that happened, I was going to need to walk away with my head held high and never look back. The only way that would happen was if I kept some emotional distance in the days ahead. I had to stay aloof, remember this was a transaction. I could play with my body but I needed to keep my heart firmly under wraps.

  Back six years ago I’d been such a buoyant balloon, so high off of him and the feel of his kisses, his hands. Those nights together, just a handful, had felt like the world. Back as a teenager, in his arms I’d soared with unfettered rapture. I’d seen moonbeams and stardust shooting overhead, a huge, shimmering promise of joy. He’d tilted my whole world on its axis and I’d welcomed it with open arms.

  Then he’d left without saying a word. No note, no goodbye, he’d just up and gone. I’d walked around his empty cabin, opening up the cabinets and drawers looking for something to prove it wasn’t really happening. Like in one of those drawers I’d find a secret love letter tucked away, giving me directions where to meet him and telling me how he couldn’t stand to be apart from me, not even for a minute.

  The joke was on me. I’d fallen for him hard, but he hadn’t felt the same way. To him, it had been a few nights of fooling around, not enough to make him stay interested. I knew I didn’t have the experience he was used to. I’d probably bored him to tears. While I’d been exploding in fireworks, he’d probably been checking his watch, counting the minutes until he could dash.

  The crash after that high had been as bad as any junkie’s, maybe worse. I’d been so lighthearted before he left. I’d been a naïve kid. That phase had lasted a long time, I had to admit. My father had done a good job of sheltering me, maybe too good a job. The thing about a protective shelter was the shock once you emerged out of it. You didn’t always have the skills and background to know how to deal with the storm. I’d had to learn it all the hard way.

  I’d been a complete idiot. I’d sat in Declan’s empty cabin, crying. I’d cried a lot more after that, too, moping and dragging myself around like I’d been hit by a bus. My father hadn’t seemed to notice. That had felt good, for the most part. I felt pathetic enough without my father getting annoyed and frustrated with me on top of it. I felt enough of that about myself already. But sometimes I did wish I had a mother around, someone who might notice that my skin had faded into a gray pallor and I’d lost about 15 pounds because everything tasted like sawdust. Maybe I could have cried with a mother, instead of alone in my room or while folding laundry or watching some sappy movie showing me exactly what I didn’t have.

  Six years ago I’d fallen completely off the deep end and it had taken me a long while to swim back to shore. I’d been so crazed with lust and what my teenage brain had interpreted as love that I’d blinded myself to reality. That hadn’t worked so well for me. I hadn’t worked the poison out of my system for years. I think I still had some left in me now.

  You’d think all those memories would get my guard up. The intensity of the pain. The way he could flip the switch in him, making me feel the heat of the sun, then suddenly turning off to leave me alone on the dark side of the moon. You’d think I’d be panicking over the huge gamble I was taking, once again placing myself within his power so completely. I wasn’t any more experienced. I was just as vulnerable, if not more so. I had much more to lose now.

  And I did have alarm bells ringing in my head. Make that emergency evacuation sirens blaring. But the problem was, the rest of the noise strumming through me, electric and wild, was even louder. It was like trying to think rationally while inside a raging inferno. You couldn’t do it.

  Normally, I was a good girl. I worried and worked. But not right now.

  Right now, in Declan’s huge bed in his lavish penthouse, I brought a finger down and slipped it under the elastic waistband of the boxers I was wearing. True, I didn’t have any more experience now than I had back in the day. But Declan sure made me want to get it. I wanted the experience, with him. Here in Declan’s bed he worked his dark magic on me like always, just his scent and the memories of what he’d done to me depriving me of all reason.

  Exhaling with a sigh, I found my sex and began to stroke myself. I moved into my own rhythm, taking my other hand up to my breasts. Pushing the t-shirt up to give myself access, I ran my hand along my curves, brought my fingers up to play with my nipples. I remembered how he’d caught me doing this, back in the day. I’d let myself into his cabin, my need for him overwhelming any sense of decency. I’d been writhing on his bed, hands like they were now, up at my breast and down between my legs. His scent held the same power over me, then as now. In his bed, between his sheets, surrounded by his musky, masculine smell, I’d come so hard I’d shuddered and quaked and screamed out his name.

  I brought my finger to my clit, coaxing tremors from deep within. My breathing started coming faster. We’d both caught each other that summer, seen things we shouldn’t have. I remembered how I’d seen him, back in that same cabin, getting his cock sucked by that slut in town. I’d been so shocked. But I’d felt lust, too, watching the carnal, primal servicing of Declan’s needs. And jealousy. I wanted to be the one to do it.

  I wanted to be kneeling between his legs, his thick thighs open for me to worship his cock. I wanted to take him in, one hand around his base, feeding him into my hot, hungry mouth. I wanted to lick and suck, looking up at him from time to time to show him my devotion and see how turned on he was. I wanted to blow his mind. I wanted to make him breathe fast and hard, to feel his pleasure build under my licking and sucking. See him throw his head back and call out my name as he shot all his hot come down my throat.

  Shuddering, about to climax myself, I took my drenched fingers away from my pussy. “You may not come,” he’d told me last night.

  I pushed the t-shirt down over my breasts. Panting, I obeyed his orders. And in this Alice-in-Wonderland world, my obedience turned me on even more. The sweet torture of my voluntary submission. I had no idea why it made me pant even more with lust, but it did.

  Where was he? He might be out already at work, or at the gym. But he might be in the penthouse, just a room away. It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet. Maybe I could find him and we could start the morning off right.

  Opening the bedroom door, I saw him at once, asleep on the couch. Against the huge expanse of shiny, black leather, he lay there fast asleep. His head rested on one of the throw pillows. I had to smile. So they’d served a purpose after all, more than simply annoying him. That had been fun, getting to him like that when I’d decorated his penthouse. I’d see if I could get to him another way now.

  I moved toward him, admiring him like a sculpture on display in a museum. A blanket lay pooled on the floor. He wore nothing but form-fitting briefs. The hard planes and ridges of his muscles looked carved out of granite. Every inch of him rippled, defined. And those tattoos. Of course he still had them, but to see them again. I felt like those designs had been tattooed into the very fiber of my being. I could draw them in my sleep.

  What did he do to keep himself in such killer shape? He worked as a businessman now, no manual labor that I knew of, yet he looked even bigger than I’d ever seen him. He looked huge, all raw power, a sleeping lion. I drank him in, scanning the ink, following the patterns they formed around his bulging biceps, along his massive shoulders, down teasing by his chest. I needed to run my fingers and tongue along every line, angle, edge, ridge, taste all of him. One leg down off the couch, his thick thighs splayed open in invitation.

  Kneeling before him, I brought a hand to his knee. The typical Kara Brooks would have been shocked and dismayed, too shy and too damn polite to ever attempt such a thing. That Kara Brooks had left the building.

/>   I stroked my palm along his quad muscle. Such definition, such strength and dominance even as he slept. My other hand up as well, I caressed him, working my way up his legs. Under the stretchy, form-fitting cotton of his briefs I could see the outline of his cock. Eyes fixated on it, I stroked and pet, grazing and circling my palms up his inner thighs.

  My eyes widened as I could see his steel length growing, pressing against the fabric as it swelled in response to my touch. My lips parted and I brought my hands up, cupping his large balls and drawing my thumb down along the length of his hard shaft. A sleepy, aroused moan came rumbling from deep in Declan’s chest. I could almost feel it, like the growl of a bear in a cave.

  Old Kara would have shrank away, embarrassed and shy. But New Kara was in the house now, bold and wanton. I was tired of holding back. I’d agreed to a week of sexual servitude. It was time to deliver on my promise. I stroked my hand down the length of the thick, hard bulge in his briefs. Wondering at his enormous size, my hand traveled up to the crown, then down again to the base.

  “Kara,” he murmured, shifting his weight and starting to wake up.

  “Good morning, Declan,” I murmured wickedly, sliding the waistband of his briefs down over the head of his cock. It sprang to life out in the open, urgent and straining up, a pearl of pre-come forming on the tip.

  “Mmm,” I murmured, licking my lips and bringing my mouth down to taste. I swirled my tongue along his tip, hot and wet, licking him. He tasted delicious. I’d signed up to be his slut for the week. Right now, that sounded like a dream come true. I’d give him everything he wanted, make all his fantasies come true.

  “Kara, what are you doing?” He voice still sounded groggy and thick. I slid the waistband lower on his hips, freeing more of his cock. I brought my mouth down again, taking more of him in with a wet swirl of my tongue.

  “Mmm,” I moaned, positioning myself closer to him, kneeling right inside his leg on the floor, between his thighs. Taking my mouth off for a moment, I looked up into his eyes. “Declan, I want you in my mouth. Will you teach me how to suck your cock?”

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