Unleashed: Volume 1

“What’s that now?”

“I don’t have the money to—”

“Are you trying to say something crazy about not getting your hair done?”

“Yeah, I know I should, but—”

She held up her hand like a traffic cop at rush hour. I knew enough to shush. She kept her hand like that while she pushed a button on her cell phone and placed a call. I heard her say “special client” and “the works.”

Then she pressed a few more magic buttons on the register. “Oh, look, honey! It’s all on sale.” She gave me another wink.

My eyes filled up with tears, my voice cracking a little as I thanked her. I’d just met a real, live fairy godmother. She worked at a second hand store and wore an ostrich feather on a headband. The world was a strange and wonderful place.

“You go now, head on up to the salon on 8th. They’re expecting you. That man of yours is going to have a heart attack tonight.” She hustled me out of the store. “Have the EMTs waiting!” I had to laugh as I walked away, waving a grateful good-bye.

A few hours later I stood in front of the mirror in the salon’s changing room, not at all sure who was looking back at me in the reflection. I’d decided to change into everything—lingerie, dress, heels—at the salon. It had more appeal than the back of my truck.

In the mirror, gone was the rancher, the woman who tied her hair back in a functional ponytail and wore old boots and jeans. Gone was the waitress, a gravy stain across her apron. In her place stood a movie star.

I’d been buffed, polished and even perfumed by the city’s best. They’d done my hair, giving it crazy volume and big, luscious curls plus a few subtle highlights along the sides that made me look positively sun-kissed. They’d applied makeup like the pros, giving me a subtle sheen with smoky eyes and glistening lips.

I’d even gotten waxed. I hadn’t planned on it, but it had happened: my first Brazilian. I guessed if you were going to wear barely-there lingerie it went with the territory. And I had to admit, there was a part of me that had liked the naughty thrill of it. Of course Declan would never find out. The night wasn’t going to go there, but I still felt an excited charge. He’d never know, but it still would be fun, sitting across the table from him with my little secret.

I paid, and that about did it for my credit card. I was surprised it didn’t spontaneously burst into flames after the transaction went through, including a generous tip. My card’s swan song.

Then I took myself, little black dress plus a whole bunch of butterflies in my stomach, on up into my old pickup truck, Bessie. I wiped down the front seat first with a towel, laughing as I did it. We sure made a contrast. I might be dressed up to enter into Declan’s world for the night, but I’d drive home in Bessie afterwards, heels kicked off in the back as I stretched out my toes.

She started up with a few sputters, shudders and a lurch. I drove toward the restaurant as if into battle, my stilettos my weapon. Actually, they’d do pretty well in a pinch.

What I really needed was a full coat of armor. Seeing Declan, my body had responded like he was water and I’d been dying of thirst. In his office at 11 o’clock in the morning, he’d turned me into a hot, quivering mess. How would I handle sitting across from him at night in a romantic setting, soft music, maybe a candle burning between us?

I could hear Declan’s low voice, “I name the terms.” Why did that make me tingle with anticipation? Excitement. I shouldn’t think that way. But what would his terms be?

There were things I wanted to do with him, to him, for him. Things I never let myself think about during the light of day. Those fantasies I kept for late at night when I couldn’t sleep, when I lay awake in my bed frustrated. I’d give in, stroking myself until I dripped with need, until I shuddered and cried out his name.

Would those kinds of things be his terms? I hoped not. God help me, I didn’t know that I could resist.

CHAPTER 4

Declan

Then

The first time I saw Kara I knew I had to have her. I was talking with Harlan, her daddy, about working at his ranch over the next few months. He’d grilled me some, but seemed to size me up quick and decided to take a chance. I’d work hard for him and he knew it.

“That’s it, down there.” He was talking about where I’d be living over the summer, pointing to a cabin. At 21 years old I’d have my own place for the first time in my life. No more crashing on couches or sharing a room with other ranch hands, four of us up on bunks. It looked small, simple and just right.

Then she pulled up, her truck barreling into the yard like she was being chased by the cops. The dirt plumed up so I couldn’t see her full on when she first got out of the cab.

I swear, the cloud of smoke parted and she stepped out like something in a movie. Like it was slow motion, she shook out her hair in a blonde waterfall.

She had the hottest body I’d ever seen. I’m not joking. I had to keep my tongue from rolling out of my mouth like a cartoon character. She had perfect curves, the kind of hourglass figure you fantasized about. Full, ripe breasts, rounded hips and a tiny waist you needed to get your hands around.

Like I needed anything else to complete the fantasy, she was wearing a tight little cheerleading outfit. Right out of a skin flick, her short, pleated skirt gave me a mile-long view of her long, shapely legs. It ended right before the action really began, not more than an inch or two below the tops of her thighs. Her shirt stretched taut across the full, tempting curve of her breasts. Big, round and perky, pressing against the fabric, I could tell she was tamping them down in a jog bra. I wanted to set them loose, see them in something that really showed them off. Or, better yet, naked and all mine for the taking.

Struck as I was by the rest of her, I still noticed that she had the prettiest face. Sweet, pink pouty lips, bright blue eyes and that mane of

thick, golden hair like in a fairy tale. She smiled and I swear the sun broke free of the clouds in the sky above like in a Disney movie.

My eyes narrowed and a dark smile played at the corner of my lips. She might look like a Disney princess, but I sure wasn’t the prince coming to kiss her. I was a bastard. I wanted to see those rosy, juicy lips wrapped tight around my shaft, sucking wet and hard. I wanted to see her eyes glaze with lust as I stroked her pussy, making her come for me. I wanted to bend her over the hood of my truck, spread those legs and spank that high, tight ass. Then plunge my cock into her, deep, to claim her and make her mine.

“Kara, when are you gonna slow down?” Harlan chastised her.

“I was going the speed limit, Daddy,” she pouted.

Aw, fuck. The boss man’s daughter. I should have known. Pretty china up on a shelf, look but don’t touch. Just my luck.

“Come on over here and meet Declan.”

She started walking toward us and I should have looked away, but I had to watch her move. I leaned against the house, boot up, playing it cool. Like I didn’t have a huge hard-on for her. The hotter you got, the cooler you had to act. I’d learned that fast in life. The instant you showed your weakness you were fucked.

She took one long stride after another, sex on legs, a lingerie model on a photo shoot. Well goddamn, the boss had a daughter hot as fuck. 100% off limits. Harlan wouldn’t want me messing with her, that much I knew straight away. He’d likely cut my balls off and I liked my balls. If I’d known a stick of dynamite like her was included in the job offer, I might have turned it down. I didn’t need that kind of trouble. I needed the work. I didn’t need some cheerleader porn star prancing around me, screwing things up.

I could see her me checking out. She got close enough that she saw my tattoo. Part of me wanted to flex, give her a ticket to the gun show and see her eyes widen in appreciation. I knew girls liked what they saw, all muscle and man. I’d had more than a few women come up to me, using interest in my tattoos as an excuse to touch, flirt, show me what they wanted. I was only too happy to oblige.