Feathers and Thorne Series Books 1 - 3: The Complete Collection

Chapter Sixteen

Isabella

“Looking for me?”

I shudder, turning away from the window to see Carter standing just behind me, his eyes ice cold and poking holes through my chest. He’s stiff, impossibly stoic, but his breathing is somewhat ragged.

My back sinks into the window that frames the city at night.

“You’re bleeding,” I whisper, staring at his knuckles that are clenched at his hip, dripping thick crimson all over the floor. “What happened to you?”

He considers my question. “You, dove. You happened to me.”

My brow furrows at his claim. “I didn’t make you do that, Carter.”

“No, but you made me do this.”

He’s on me now, his chest pressed to mine, his body rocking with mine, and his lips locked onto mine. I tense all over, not sure how to react until the mauling kisses become softer, gentler, and I melt into them at last.

He hums a noise, something resembling frustration, and I catch a glimpse of him working to rip my shirt right off my back. What is he thinking? I press into his chest and run my hands across his face, trying to still his hostile need to make me naked in his arms.

“What… what are you doing, Carter?”

“I need you, dammit,” he mutters, gruff and antsy for more.

His fingers are curled into the back of my shirt, and I don’t know how to react, shivering in his dominating presence. He breaks his lips into a grin, his eyes freezing me in place. I swallow the sight of a man like this, a man so powerful and needy at this same time.

“I’m a virgin,” I squeak.

He nods, uncaring. “It will be okay, Isabella. I won’t hurt you too much.”

My eyes widen in horror with such an unsure promise as that one. “I’m scared, Carter.”

“Scared of me,” he purrs, “or scared of the sex?”

“Both,” I admit. “Sex with you, Carter. I’m scared.”

“I’ll help guide you through it, okay?”

Before I can say anything else, his lips are back on mine, his hands running down my back and hooking on either side of my ass. I’m lifted off the floor like a feather in the wind, whisked out of the kitchen, and back to my corner that hosts a bed.

His tongue is invasive against my teeth. My back hits the mattress, and he finally gets his wish, ripping my top off in a single, swift motion. Soon after, I am perfectly naked in front of him, his eyes drinking in the sight as he stands back like he is admiring a portrait in a gallery.

Something else glints through his features, though. Remorse? It’s hard to tell because he moves back so fast, working to undo his pants and kick them off along with his shirt. He kisses my breasts, his tongue dragging all over my cold, pointed nipples.

I gasp, his hand finding my inner thigh and shoving my legs apart. I know he’s making room for his hips to sink into my pelvis, but the mere thought of that scares me half to death.

“Mercy,” he growls into my lower abdomen, speaking the word against my skin in a humble snarl. “Mercy means stop.”

As afraid as I am, the thought of stopping our trajectory never crossed my mind.

He’s so attractive, especially stark naked and pulling on his thick erection.

The size is worrisome. I picked a daunting task for my first time, but I force myself to relax, his hands soothingly roaming all over while his lips make their way back up to my throat.

“I want you to scream,” he grates, speaking into the side of my neck.

I don’t have to question what that means. He prods his cock deep into my drenched, tight folds, and I have to arch my back to accommodate it all. He’s too much, he is everything, and he knows it, rocking his hips so hard into mine that it’s impossible not to scream.

He brings his thumb to my mouth, pulling my lower lip down and keeping it open, so every moan is exemplified into a yelp. His other hand roams down my side, lifting away from my ribs briefly before slamming down against the side of my ass.

Slamming it down too hard.

That scream he wanted is multiplied, the pain of the slap and the pleasure of his dick mixing at once, so concentrated on my core that I allow my floodgates to be lifted. Waves of pleasure crash through me. His grunting movements stall, and he smiles at my reaction.

“First orgasm,” he breathes, speaking into my throat. “Felt so great against my cock, dove.”

I swallow his words. “Can… can I have another?”

He raises his brow, undeniably intrigued by that question. “Fuck. Ask that again.”

My eyes are wide, and I blink slowly, innocently slow, watching him break. “Can I have another orgasm, Carter?”

His hips pull back, and he stands, his jaw locked now. “Turn over. Now.”

I fumble against the mattress, trying to turn over like he instructed, but his hands grip at my hips, and he throws me onto my knees. I try to steady upright on my hands, but he slams another slap across the back of my ass.

“Lean forward.”

I abide, desperate for another earthquake of an orgasm. I push my shoulders into the bed and point my ass in the air. Everything feels dirty, my body so exposed and my pussy dripping wet for his taking. He does take it, too, without another second to spare.

Another scream leaves my lips, and he holds my hips, pushing and pulling and yanking and throwing and slapping—it’s all too fast, too good, that I can’t keep up with it all. I break again, and his snarling response is another crack of his palm against my ass.

“Dammit, dove,” he snaps, bringing me forward just to yank me back, his erection throbbing inside of me in an impossibly delightful manner. “I’m going to come. Fuck!”

I anticipate him to pull out, but when he does, he doesn’t finish. He pulls me backward by a hand on my scalp, my hair knotted in his fist as he pulls me to my knees on the floor. I blink wide, terrified eyes at his erection, his other fist stroking it wildly.

“I have to see your face,” he bites, his tone too savage to recognize.

I am tempted to suck on his cock, curious about how that would feel in my throat, but when I lean forward, he pulls my hair and forces me back into place. I meet his eyes, loving the sight of being so degraded and owned by him from above.

“Don’t. Fucking. Move.”

I nod, his jerking hand circling the base of his cock all the way to the tip. Finally, he releases a strangled cry, the warm, white cum spouting from the end of his cock and trickling down my chin and neck. Feeling dirty already, I can’t help this newfound sexual desire that fills me.

Drawing my index finger over my breast, I draw a hint of his cum and push it between my lips. The taste is hot and sweet, like honey mixed with citrus. He releases my hair and chuckles to himself, kneeling while he draws his focus across my body, littered with his ejaculation.

“You look delicious like this,” he breathes, breathless and pleased by his artwork. “Did you like the taste of that, dove?”

My cheeks blush, and I pluck my finger out of my mouth, embarrassed by that motion now. His face goes hard when I don’t answer, and he swipes his thumb across my chin, forcing the swipe of cum into my mouth. I suck on his finger for a moment, watching him turn back into that hungry, horny monster he was just moments ago.

He pulls his thumb back and eyes the far window through the kitchen. “It’s almost daylight. I have work to get to. Go take a shower and get ready to go to work.”

I sulk at that command in particular. “Jacob sent me to the mayor’s office, Carter. Like he wanted me to get in trouble when I saw you… saw you kill…”

I don’t finish that sentence. It’s not really important.

“I know, dove. That’s why you’re going to quit working for him today.”

He retreats to get dressed, and I grab a towel to cover up, to dry off, and he watches every movement like he wants to lay me down again. I’m too shocked by his last command to worry about more sex.

“I can’t quit my job, Carter,” I groan. “I hate Jacob, but I have bills to pay. I need the money.”

When he’s dressed back up, he stands over me once again, his hand finding the back of my neck and gripping it a little too hard. He kisses my forehead and exhales into my scalp.

“You work for me now, dove.”