I kept my hands by my sides, cleared my throat and fidgeted on the stool.
“What were you doing down there in the bar?” Declan asked in a low, level voice.
“Waiting tables?” My voice came out breathy and nervous. He waited for more explanation, a dark look in his eyes. I shrugged. “I’m not good with a lot of time on my hands. I had a hard time waiting today.”
“You were impatient?” A dangerous smile played on his full lips.
I swallowed and shook my head, denying it though I knew it was true. I had been impatient to see him. I didn’t know why I was trying to preserve my dignity while I was sitting there in nothing but a scrap of a skirt and a lacy bra.
I remembered how he’d torn off my shirt in the elevator, how he’d pinned my hands over my head and devoured my breasts, sucking and licking as I cried out. Declan’s gaze fixed on my chest as if he were remembering the same thing. I shifted on the stool again, agitated and still so wet. He’d brought me so close in the elevator, then left me wanting, needing more.
“Is it hard for you to wait, Kara?” He drew closer still, bringing a finger to my jaw. He traced my face lightly as if memorizing a sculpted work of art.
I shook my head no, my pussy throbbing yes. “I just didn’t like sitting around waiting for you.”
“Mmm. You didn’t like me having all the power?” Teasing now, he tilted his head slightly to the side. He studied me, caressing my neck with his hands. My lips parted, my breath quicker now.
Softly, he trailed his fingers over my skin. Strong, broad hands, thick calloused fingers traced the outline of my bra. Teasing me, he slipped a finger under the strap, bringing it back out, dipping along the lace, circling but not touching my nipples. Back in the stockroom he’d pinched them, hard, and sucked them full into his mouth.
In a low whisper, near my ear he asked, “Or do you like me having power over you?”
A hushed moan escaped from my lips. He chuckled, low and gratified.
“You made me wait a long, long time for you,” he murmured. “Six years.” His lips made their way slowly down my throat, his fingers stroking my back, my shoulder, my collarbone. He wove a hypnotic spell, capturing my senses with his voice, his fingers, his lips traveling down to the hollow at the base of my neck. “But now you’re mine. You’ll do whatever I please, for one whole week.”
I shivered at his words, my eyes half-closed, my breathing starting to come in soft pants.
“We have an agreement. I’m going to take care of you, Kara, wipe out every debt you have, get you back on your feet, anything you need. And in return, you’re going to give yourself to me. Entirely. Completely. You’re going to surrender to my control.”
“Declan…” I began to form a protest.
“You sent this.” As if anticipating my hesitation, he took his phone out of his pocket. He tapped the screen, then showed me a text. My text.
I’m in. One Week. Anything you want.
Hard to argue with that. I blushed.
He dipped down and whispered in my ear, “I like making you blush.” His lips found my lobe, licking and sucking the tender flesh. His hands circled my waist, stroking my skin, building the wicked heat throbbing between my thighs. So light yet so insistent, his tongue found the most sensitive spots at my neck.
Then he pulled away. “We have a few things to consider.” What was that, now? I could barely pull a coherent thought out of my jumbled brain other than ‘yes, more, now,’ but he suddenly sounded all business.
“We’re flying to New York on Monday to spend the week. You’ll need some clothes.”
“Clothes?”
“I have some business in the city and you’re coming with me. You’ll need to go shopping tomorrow. And I have a question. Are you protected?”
“What?”
“Are you protected? Or do I need—?”
“Oh, oh,” I stammered and blushed again. “Yes.” I didn’t add that it didn’t make any sense that I had an IUD, a virgin on birth control. A couple of years ago I’d decided to do it. Safe, simple, effective, I’d hoped maybe it would give me the push I needed to get out there and start getting busy. Even back then I knew I’d been mooning over Declan for way too long. But then my father had gotten sick and suddenly the problem of my love life or lack thereof hadn’t mattered anymore.
Declan nuzzled into my hair, inhaling, taking in my scent as he caressed my shoulders. “I’m clean, Kara. I’m going to go bare with you.”
I knew he was talking but I could scarcely process his words with him so close, breathing me in, mesmerizing me with his touch.
“I’m going to do things to you you don’t even know about yet,” he continued, his hands up again at the swell of my breasts still in my bra. I was breathing so hard, I could see my rib cage moving in and out, my skin quivering under his touch. Why did we feel like such a perfect fit, his hands so large and strong as they palmed my breasts, his fingers cupping and caressing, teasing me along the edge of the lace. “And you’re going to love it all, aren’t you, Kara? You’re going to learn to crave my discipline.”
“Declan,” I panted, reaching up to his shoulder, so large and so powerful. He grasped my wrist in his hand, holding it secure, bringing it behind my back. He kept it there, pinning it behind me while he stroked the soft inside of my wrist.
“I’m going to bring out your darkest desires,” he murmured. I shivered at his promise, his warning. Watching my face, taking in my every reaction, he brought his free hand to my aching nipple, pressing erect and needy against the border of the lace. Slowly, gently, he eased the demi cup down, just enough to set it free. So swollen, so sensitive, I gasped, looking down and seeing how exposed I was. My body begged for his touch.
“I’m going to unleash your fantasies, the ones you don’t even admit to yourself that you have. I’m going to give you what you want when you stroke yourself in the dark at night.” With that, he brought his large fingers to my sensitive nipple and pinched, hard, shooting sensation directly down to my throbbing, slick sex.
“Ah!” I cried out, eyes half closed, pushing my breast into his hand. He still held my arm behind my back and I loved the feel of his strength, his control.
“You’ve been naughty.” His voice grew harsher, more disciplined. “Naughty girls get punished. You’re going to take your punishment, Kara. And you’re going to like it.”
Confused, scared by the strength of my own reaction even more than his words, I broke away. “I need…” To find where I left my mind, slap some sense into myself, start breathing again. “Where’s the bathroom?”
He leaned back and pointed through a doorway.
I made it there, closing the door and locking it behind me. Splashing cold water on my face, I tried to clear my head. I closed my eyes and pressed into a white hand towel, soft against my skin, and stayed like that for a minute steadying my breath.
It all felt like too much. I’d come here seeking his help, knowing it was risky, but I’d had no idea to what extent. I’d never imagined myself in this position, faced with having to choose whether or not to offer myself up for a week to the man who already held such power over me. I never would have believed I’d be so tempted to say yes.
I was older now so I guess I’d thought I’d be wiser, more in control. I’d dismissed my earlier feelings as teenage infatuation. I didn’t think Declan would still affect me so strongly. But he made me absolutely crazy. It might even be worse than it ever had been before. It shouldn’t be possible, but it was. I’d been a fool to think otherwise.
I opened my eyes to an expanse of white marble. In the mirror, a trashy skank escaped out of a bar brawl looked back at me. Hair sprung every which way, lips swollen from rough kisses, I wore nothing but a bra since my shirt had been torn clean off.
What did everyone think down in the bar? Declan had barreled his way through, shoving chairs and men aside like a predator pouncing on its dinner. Thankfully he hadn’t punched that guy who’d had his arm
around me. He hadn’t had to, the Ken doll had shrunk away.
Trish must have lost her mind. Declan had made quite a scene, tossing me over his shoulder like a warrior claiming his prize after a battle. I remembered the longing in Trish’s voice when she said she wanted a night with him.
Damn, was she right. I exhaled, hands on my stomach. Declan was all that. I could still feel his hands on me, the roughness of his palm followed by a soothing caress. Oh God did I want him.
In the mirror, I had to admit, though I looked like I’d been through a tornado and a wolf attack I also looked… alive. Eyes bright and shining, lips plump and parted. He’d woken me up. I’d been sleepwalking day to day for a long, long while. Now, every fiber of my being was tingling and buzzing, craving his next touch.
Part of me wanted to just let go, be reckless, allow myself to do this. I was so sick of playing it safe, doing what was expected, stoically meeting whatever challenges life threw my way. And there’d been so many challenges these past few years, sickness and death and bankruptcy. I was only 24 but sometimes I felt like those numbers had been reversed. I wanted to be wild, for just one week, and have the freedom to not care.
But that was exactly the problem. I did care. I brought my palms down against the cold marble.
I could already feel it starting again with Declan, the magnetic way he drew me to him, the attachment welling up deep within me. I did care about him, I always had. Pretending I could do one week, a simple business transaction, keeping feelings and emotions out of it? That was impossible. No way it could happen.